Читать книгу The Lake House - Helen Phifer - Страница 14
ОглавлениеWhen Annie got into the station she passed the sergeant’s office and heard Inspector Cathy Hayes muttering on the phone to someone. She carried on to the small changing room and hung her jacket up, zipping herself into her body armour and taking hold of her belt. She walked through into the office and was surprised to see an older man sitting at Jake’s desk. Looking at his collar number she saw it began with a seven, which meant he was a special constable and, judging by the sheen of sweat on his brow and the way he kept tapping his foot, a very new one at that.
‘Hi, I’m Annie. Is this your first day?’
He nodded, then jumped up and held out his even sweatier palm.
‘Morning, I’m George and yes it is.’
She shook his hand. ‘Don’t worry about it. You will be fine. It’s a good job you didn’t start yesterday. Have you heard about the severed head my colleague Jake found?’
His face turned white.
‘Oops sorry, I guess you hadn’t. Don’t worry. Things like that don’t happen very often around here.’
She didn’t add that this was unless he had to work with her, and then it might be a whole different ballgame. She’d terrified the poor guy enough in the space of two minutes. He’d be making a quick exit and never coming back if she told him how in the last two years she had been stalked by a serial killer who had abducted her and tried to kill her down in the cellar of an abandoned mansion, which had once belonged to none other than Jack the Ripper. Thankfully she had overcome Henry Smith to live to tell another tale.
Then there was her run-in with a nine-year-old ghost called Sophie and the evil Shadow Man who wouldn’t let her go to the light because he collected souls. Annie had fought him with the help of her now good friend Father John, and together they had managed to banish him to the darkness for good and set Sophie free. Last but by no means least was her run-in with Betsy Baker, the woman who, in 1732, had lived in Apple Tree Cottage, which was now Annie’s home. Betsy had poisoned her mother, then set her sights on the most eligible widower in town, killing his children and parents so she could have him and his house all to herself. Betsy had made Annie’s life hell when she and Will started renovating the cottage, giving Annie terrible nightmares and almost killing her in a car crash. Annie had been in a coma and watched the tragedy of Betsy Baker unfold while she was unconscious. Betsy had been hanged for her crimes by a group of angry villagers and buried in her own front garden in an unconsecrated grave.
Jake had helped Annie to dig her up and, enlisting the services of Father John, they had moved her skeleton to the safety of his church in Bowness where he’d dug a grave and finally given her a proper burial. Yes, it was probably best not to share this information with him so freely.
Cathy walked in and smiled at Annie as if she was about to eat her, which didn’t bode well for either her or George.
‘Morning, PC Ashworth. You drew the short straw. You’re answering any jobs that come in while your lovely colleagues conduct the inquiries regarding that poor bugger’s head we found yesterday. And you, George, I’m afraid drew an even shorter straw by having to work with our Annie here. She’s a walking disaster so I’m relying on you to keep her on the straight and narrow.’
He vigorously nodded his head. ‘I can try, ma’am.’
‘Rule one, George: none of this ma’am bullshit. It makes me sound like I’m your great-aunt. Call me Cathy unless you’ve really screwed up and need to crawl. Annie, I don’t want you getting involved in our severed head case unless it’s life or death. The last thing I want is to be getting indigestion worrying about where you are every hour. Just keep clear of it. Jake was in full agreement and said he’s happy to do your share of the door knocking, and we’ve brought in every PCSO from Barrow and Ulverston anyway so there are plenty of staff to do what needs to be done.’
Annie knew better than to argue with Cathy and she was quite relieved. She hated endless door knocking and leaflet delivering. Cathy threw the van keys at her.
‘Take George and give him the rundown on the area. Show him the best places to get some dinner and a brew.’
‘Yes, boss.’
Cathy grinned at them. ‘And if you both manage to keep out of mischief I’ll be one very happy woman. I’m on my way to see what the troops are up to, so play nice.’
Annie sat down behind the desk opposite George. ‘Let me just log on to my computer and see what’s been going on in the world of Bowness since I finished work last night – in case there are any jobs that need following up on – and then we’ll go out on mobile patrol.’
Annie’s radio began to ring.
‘Oh and can you bring me back some dinner? I ate my packed lunch before I’d had chance to log on to the computer this morning. Cheers.’
‘Yes, boss.’
George was smiling at her. ‘She seems okay then for a big boss.’
‘Yes, she is as long as you’re behaving…no, she is. She’s great and has been brilliant with me since I moved up here.’
She stopped herself again from giving him the rundown on her life. She didn’t know the man at all so until she did the less said the better. Her radio crackled and the voice on the other end called her number.
‘Can you attend Beckett House on Windermere Road, please. It’s a grade two. Elderly woman reporting the man who came to unblock her drains has come to some harm. She thinks he has disappeared in her cellar and may have come to some harm down there. She can’t go down to see if he’s okay because she’s not good on her legs.’
‘Roger, I’m on my way. Can you show me in seven zero and I also have…’ – she tilted her head to read the epaulettes on his shoulders – ‘…I also have 7993 with me.’
She stood up and George followed her as she strode outside to the van.
‘What’s a grade two again?’
‘It means it’s important but not as important as a grade one, which is an emergency response. There’s two-hour time limit on getting to the job.’
‘Oh, so no blue lights and sirens this time?’
‘No, sorry. Not this time. Anyway be thankful – it’s not very good driving through the twisty back roads around here at top speed, and it’s dangerous.’
‘Yes, it must be. I just wondered what it was like, you know.’
She did know. When she first joined she’d loved it when Jake had been her tutor and would answer emergency calls, then drive like a maniac to get to the job first so they could deal with it. It was an adrenaline rush like no other, but as the years passed she began to realise that most of the jobs were the same people with the same problems, which weren’t really that much of an emergency. The excitement had slowly passed and the dread of being stuck in custody all night with the same idiots took its place.
She decided that George wasn’t so bad and she would do her best not to give him a hard time.
She turned into the overgrown drive at Beckett House. She had been here to do inquiries when there was a missing man a few months back and all the sheds and outhouses had to be searched. The grey slate house, with its huge black and white painted windows and doors, would have been lovely in its day and George began to mumble about how the other half lived. The elderly woman who lived there was waiting for them on the front step and she looked distraught. Annie jumped out of the van.
‘Hello, Miss Beckett, what’s the problem?’
‘Hello, dear, I’m afraid I have some very bad news and it’s entirely my fault. I should have stopped him from going down there on his own. I knew all along it was a very bad idea.’
Annie gently took hold of her arm to guide her back inside and George followed behind. The old woman led them to the kitchen, which smelt of home-made shortbread and stewed tea.
‘Why don’t you sit down, Miss Beckett, and I’ll make us a fresh pot of tea, then you can tell me all about it?’
‘Would you, dear, or would you rather go and search the cellar first? Although I think it’s far too late for him.’
George was looking at Annie, inquiring whether Miss Beckett was as mad as a box of frogs or just delusional, and she shook her head.
‘I need you to tell me from the beginning what’s happened. This is George. It’s his first day as a special constable and he’s going to make the tea, aren’t you, George?’
‘Yes, yes, of course I will.’
He picked the still-warm teapot up from the centre of the table and tipped the contents into the sink. He then began making a fresh pot.
‘There was a terrible smell and I knew it was coming from the cellar. It’s been around for a few days but this morning it was really bad and I couldn’t stand it so I looked in the phonebook and rang the number from the first plumber’s advert that I saw. They sent two men out and that was all right because it has to be two, you see. You’re much safer in a pair. But they couldn’t see what the blockage was and they didn’t have the right tools. Well, they left and one of those Irish men… What’s the word you use for them now instead of gypsies?’
‘Travellers.’
‘Yes, I’m positive he was one of them. Well, he knocked on my door ten minutes later and, you know, he looked a bit of a rogue and had forced his way inside before I knew it, but he didn’t threaten me. Well, he offered to sort the drains out for me and I was desperate, you have to understand. The smell was horrific.’
Annie smiled at the woman who looked so frail that a strong wind would blow her over.
‘You’re doing really well, Miss Beckett. What happened then?’
‘Well, he went into the cellar but the lights had gone out. I told him he shouldn’t but he laughed and told me that he wasn’t afraid of the dark. I gave him a torch, then I came back in here and it was then that I heard the music, the old music of the wind-up jack-in-the-box that belonged to my brother, Joe. I just knew something bad had happened. I shouted to him but the only thing I heard was a muffled scream and it sounded like it was a long way away.’
George was standing behind the woman rolling his eyes and Annie actually wanted to tell him to grow up, but she didn’t. The poor woman obviously thought something had happened; she may have dementia, for all she knew, or she might be telling the truth.
‘Did you notice if this man had a car or a van? Maybe he decided to leave and didn’t tell you?’
‘No, he didn’t have any vehicle that I could see. He walked up the drive. I know because I watched him from the kitchen window.’
‘Well, in that case I think the best thing to do would be for George and I to go down into your cellar and have a look around, and then we’ll search the rest of your house from top to bottom, if that’s okay with you?’
‘That would be wonderful, thank you.’
George placed the teapot back down on the table and waited for Annie’s instructions.
‘Right, do you want to show us where the cellar is so we can give it a quick check?’
‘I don’t know if I should let a young thing like you go down there. It’s such a dangerous place; it always has been.’
There was something in the woman’s eyes that looked straight through Annie’s and said quite clearly, ‘I’m not talking rubbish; this is all true.’ And Annie knew then that she believed her. She nodded her head.
‘It’s okay. I promise I understand. I’ve dealt with a lot of things that were slightly unusual the last couple of years and I know how to look after myself because I’ve had to. Anyway, I have George here to help, so please don’t worry about me.’
They followed her along the corridor to where the cellar door was situated and Annie felt her stomach do a full-length flip. The hairs on the back of her neck and arms stood on end and she felt a cold chill run through her bones. Martha stared at her.
‘You feel it, don’t you? You know it’s not right. It’s never been right since the day this house was built. I’ve been stuck here my whole life waiting for my brother, Joe, to come back and making sure that whatever it is that lives down there can’t get out.’
Annie looked at the number of bolts and padlocks on the heavy wooden door and wanted to slide them all back in place, lock the cellar up tight and leave Beckett House right now. But she couldn’t leave this poor old woman to deal with whatever it was hiding down there on her own. She wished that Jake was here. Even though he hated anything like this, just his sheer size and muscles always made her feel a whole lot better. George, who was looking bemused, was an inch shorter than her with a bit of a paunch, and didn’t instil the same sense of security. She wondered if she should ask for Jake to come and back her up because, technically, she was on her own and this man she couldn’t find might be up in the bedrooms right now, stealing the family heirlooms.
Annie pulled her thick, black leather gloves from her pocket and slid them on; then she took the torch from her body armour and pressed the button to switch it on. George fumbled to get his out of the loop he’d tied it to so that he wouldn’t lose it, but he managed to get it out and did the same. She said a quick prayer for whoever might be listening to protect them both from evil, and then she worked loose the bolts that were still fastened. Pulling the door back, she reached for the light-pull and tugged it. Watery light filled the cellar steps and she noticed the old woman, who was shaking, let out a small sigh and relax her shoulders. Taking this as a good sign she shouted, ‘Hello, it’s the police. Is there anyone down there?’
They were greeted by silence. Annie nodded for George to follow her. He didn’t look quite so bemused now. She shouted again and again but beyond the underlying feeling that something bad had happened down there, there was nothing. When she got to the bottom she stood on the last step and shone her torch around, even though there was a light on, because it didn’t reach the dark corners. She knew what horrors could lurk in dark corners because she’d seen them for herself. The vast cellar looked empty. There were boxes and shelves filled to the brim with all sorts of stuff but they were all pushed against a wall and there was nowhere for this man to be hiding.
She bent down and, with one gloved hand, picked up the torch that had been abandoned on the floor and switched it off. There was a smell underneath the damp and she tried to place it, but she couldn’t. Although every sense was on heightened alert, she didn’t feel as if there was anything in here right now. But it definitely felt as if something had been here. It had left an echo of itself. She stepped down and began heading to the very far corner where the big, iron drain cover was pushed to one side. So someone had been down here, because she was pretty sure Martha Beckett wouldn’t have been able to lift it. There was also a big damp patch next to it, along with an assortment of tools that looked older than she did.
She walked across to the hole, wondering if the man had fallen into it and hurt himself. As her shadow blocked out the light and she stood over it a sense of dread settled over her. It was so strong she felt her own knees go weak. There was movement at the bottom of it and she forced herself to shine the torch down to see what it was that was scaring her so much. Whatever it was moved fast as the light filled the hole. If she’d blinked she would have missed it. George, who had followed her, was standing behind her peering over her shoulder.
‘Did you see that? What was it?’
Annie felt better knowing he’d seen whatever it was, but it wasn’t their missing man – it was on all fours. If someone had fallen into that hole they wouldn’t be hiding from them, they’d be screaming to be helped out.
‘I don’t know, maybe a rat.’
‘Some big rat – it was bloody huge.’
Annie didn’t say anything else. She knew that it wasn’t a rat and she knew that it wasn’t the missing man. What she did know was that whatever it was knew that she had been looking for it, and that really scared her. She stepped back away from the hole. A fear inside her of falling down it and coming face to face with whatever it was made her break out in a cold sweat.
‘Come on, he’s not down here. Help me pull the cover back over. It’s dangerous leaving it open like that. Anyone could fall in.’
Or anything could get out. But she didn’t say that aloud.
‘I think our man decided to cut his losses and run when he saw how deep the hole was and that it might be full of rats. I bet he’s long gone and it wouldn’t surprise me if her purse or the family silverware are missing.’
The cover was heavy and it was hard lifting it up. Between them they managed to shove it back in place as best as they could. Annie cringed at something sticky on her gloves and led the way back upstairs. She shone the torch onto the back of the door and wondered what the symbols meant that had been carved into the wood. George whispered, ‘Are they devil-worshipping signs?’
She shook her head and lowered her voice. ‘No, I don’t think so but I can’t say for sure. Come on, let’s get out of here.’
She stepped into the hall, closely followed by George, and they slammed the door shut. Annie slid all the padlocks across before making her way back down to the kitchen.
‘There’s nobody down there now, Miss Beckett, although we can tell that he was down there because there are some tools near to the drain and the cover was off, but I think he’s decided to call it a day and left. Do you have anywhere I can wash my hands?’
‘Oh dear, I was afraid that was what you would say. Yes, just down the opposite end of the corridor there is a washroom tucked under the stairs.’
‘Thank you. I’ll just wash my hands and then we’ll do a search of your house to make sure he’s not hiding anywhere.’
She walked along to the washroom, desperate to wash whatever the black gunge was from her gloved fingers. Using her elbow to press the light switch she went inside and turned the tap on, letting it run for a moment to get hot. As she held her gloved fingers under the tap she gasped to see the water had turned blood red. Tugging the gloves from her fingers she lifted her hands to examine them and make sure she hadn’t cut herself on the rusty drain cover, but they were fine, and the water was now running clear. Picking up the soap she scrubbed it against her skin and then let her hands stay under the hot water until it began to scald her. There was a towel next to her and she dried her hands on it. The mirror above the sink had steamed up and she rubbed at it with the corner of the towel so she could see herself, but what she saw looking back at her made her scream so loud that George came running down the corridor and hammered on the door.
‘It’s okay. I’m okay. Sorry about that. There was a massive spider.’
‘Oh, just checking. You gave us a fright.’
Annie didn’t look in the mirror again for fear of seeing the grey, gaunt face with the huge red eyes and row of razor-sharp teeth staring back at her again. Her heart palpitating, she wondered if somehow that sweet old woman had at one time summoned a demon to her house, because she couldn’t think of any other way to describe the monster she had seen staring at her from the mirror. She turned around in the small space, relieved that she was alone, and made her way back to the kitchen. Miss Beckett looked at her but didn’t say anything.
‘Right, we need to check the rest of the house if that’s okay with you, and then we’ll have that cup of tea.’
The old woman nodded, but she knew full well that they wouldn’t find that young man anywhere upstairs, although she wished they would. She didn’t even care if he had been up there and stolen the antiques. It would be better for her to know he was still breathing and alive than to lie in bed at night wondering exactly what it was that had taken him. She went back to the cellar door to continue snapping all the padlocks shut while Annie and George went upstairs.
They started on the third floor, which was the attic. The staircase that led up to it was a proper staircase and not a ladder like Annie had been expecting. There were two huge rooms, which were separated by a small landing in the middle. Both of them had bits of junk in them. One was full of old suitcases and the biggest, dustiest Christmas tree she had ever seen, but there was nothing to suggest he was hiding up here. There was a small door that led underneath the eaves, but it was bolted from the outside and Annie sensed that whatever was behind it had nothing to do with them. She turned around and George grabbed her arm.
‘What about in there? He could be hiding in that little room.’
‘He could, but unless he’s Alice in Wonderland or can shut bolts across from inside a room then I somehow doubt it.’
His cheeks flared red and she felt mean. ‘But apart from that, yes, he could have been. Well spotted.’
They went back down the stairs and onto the huge landing. There were seven bedrooms and a separate bathroom and toilet. Annie started on one side and he started on the other. Most of the rooms were empty. There were only two that were still fully furnished – one that was clearly Miss Beckett’s with its pale pink, rose-covered, faded wallpaper. It was at the far end, away from the staircase, and the one next to hers was a little boy’s room, which hadn’t been used for a very long time. But it was spotless. Even though the things in there were old-fashioned and probably worth a bit of money to a toy collector, it was clean and tidy. There wasn’t a speck of dust on anything and the bed was made, ready for whoever’s room it was to climb into. George walked in and whistled.
‘Man, what a room; it’s like something from a museum. The stuff in here must be worth a fortune; all the toys are in mint condition and valuable collectors’ items.’
He began to look around, getting excited at the pristine Corgi cars, while Annie felt a huge sense of loss that was so consuming it made her want to curl up and cry. Something awful had happened to the little boy whose bedroom this was. She was careful not to touch anything because she didn’t want her psychic sixth sense to pick up on it and let her know exactly what. It was too heartbreaking.
‘Come on, he’s not in here and we have no business being in here.’
George put down the tin car he was admiring and nodded his head, then followed her out of the door, which she closed.
‘Well, he’s not here; he must have decided to leave. I just hope he isn’t planning on coming back later to rob her.’
Annie nodded in agreement. She couldn’t tell him what she really thought because he would think she was nuts. They checked the last room together and went down to the kitchen where Martha had made a fresh pot of tea.
‘You didn’t find him?’
It wasn’t a question; it was more a statement of fact.
‘No, we didn’t and it doesn’t look as if anything is missing. You will need to check yourself and let me know if there is. Can I ask you if you have any help – a cook or maybe a cleaner? This is a big house for you to look after by yourself.’
‘Yes, thank you, I have a wonderful housekeeper called Dawn who comes in two days a week to help me. So what are we to do then? I know you might not believe me but I know in my heart that he went down into that cellar and never came out.’
George’s mobile phone began to ring and he apologised and walked out into the hall to answer it.
Martha lowered her voice. ‘Your friend might think I’m ready to be committed to the insane asylum but you know I’m speaking the truth, don’t you, dear? You sensed it. I could tell.’
‘Yes, I did sense something and I also thought that I saw something moving down in the drain, but it was so fast I didn’t actually see what it was. I believe you, I really do, but I have to go by the evidence and there isn’t any at the moment to say that this man has come to some harm, or even to prove that he was here. If his family report him missing then we can come back with a search team and go down into the drains, but at this moment in time I can’t say for sure that he has.’
‘What you mean, young lady, is that you have no proof that he was ever here and that I might be imagining the whole thing.’
‘To be blunt, Miss Beckett: yes. I do believe you, though, and whatever you do you mustn’t go down into that cellar on your own.’
Martha chuckled. ‘Officer, the only reason I’ve lived to this ripe old age is because I never go down into that cellar. I’ve only ever been in there once when I was a child. I was scared beyond belief and I never went back down. But thank you for your concern. I suppose we will have to wait and see if this young man’s family or friends report him missing. What will happen, then, if someone reports that they saw him coming into this house but he never came out?’
‘Then we’ll send a search team in.’
‘And will this search team be told that something dwells in the drains underneath my cellar that has a taste for human flesh? I will not be responsible for anyone going down there.’
‘If it comes to that, then yes, I will tell them myself.’
Martha nodded. ‘Thank you. You’ve been much more accommodating than I ever imagined. You have a gift, don’t you? That isn’t always a blessing, but you use it wisely and I can tell that you help those who need it. I hope you can find it in your heart to help me when the time comes.’
Annie’s radio crackled, breaking the silence as the control room shouted at her again to go to a burglary at the rugby club. She stood up.
‘There’s no need to see us out. We can manage. But can I just tell you to make sure you keep everything locked up and secure? I know that he seemed like an okay kind of man, even though he was cold-calling, but you can’t be too sure. He may try to come back later and burgle the house.’
Martha smiled. ‘Oh I always keep everything locked up, but it’s not to keep the burglars out, it’s to keep whatever is in this house in.’
Annie nodded at her and felt her whole body shiver at the thought of having to live here alone, terrified by something you’ve never seen.
They got into the van and Annie reversed. Sticking her arm out of the window she waved and then set off to go back through town to the rugby club.
George sighed. ‘Oh my God, do you deal with nutty people like that all the time? I mean, at one point, when we were down in that cellar, I could almost have bought her story and my heart was beating ten to the dozen, but it just seems a bit too farfetched for my liking.’
‘I don’t think she was nuts. I think she’s a scared, vulnerable old woman. I also wouldn’t be surprised if we get a phone call from her tomorrow to say her house has been broken into. It sounds to me as if he was checking it out and will be back later.’
‘What does that go down as then – you know, when you update control?’
‘Suspicious incident, then I’ll have to submit an intelligence report and a vulnerable adult form. The next job will probably be a bit more standard. You can be the officer in charge if you like.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means you get to run the case, take the statements, request CSI. See how you feel when you get there.’
Annie hoped he felt like saying yes because she couldn’t stop thinking about that face she’d seen in the mirror and the blood on her fingers. It was unlike anything she’d ever seen before. Did things that look part human but are clearly not live in drains and sewers? Was that even possible or was her imagination on overdrive after the severed head yesterday? She didn’t know, but either way she suspected that Miss Martha Beckett and Beckett House would be seeing a lot more of her in the near future.
31 December 1930
Joseph loved playing hide-and-seek. It was his favourite game and he was lucky enough to live in a house big enough to play a really good game of it. Sometimes it took his sister ages to come and find him, although he hated it if she took too long because he got bored. Today was one of those days where he was bored. He had no idea what she was doing, but if she didn’t come soon he was giving up and playing something else. Then he heard her footsteps running up the first staircase and stifled a giggle. She hated the attic and would go mad with him for hiding in here although she hated the cellar even more. She said the attic was full of spiders and the cellar was full of rats. A right proper girl she was and he sometimes wished that he had a brother to play with, but then he would remember that she was only five so he shouldn’t complain. He was nine so he was almost grown up compared to her. She began to call his name so she must be fed up of playing. Joe had tucked himself away at the back of the small cupboard in the attic. The door was tiny and only really big enough for a child to go in, and he wondered quite a lot why it was there and what purpose it served. It was one of those questions he always meant to ask his father but he would forget about it until the next time he saw it. His father was hardly around anyway. He was always at work at the amusement park. Joe wished he could go there more often with him, but his mother always said it wasn’t a place a child should be spending time in unless it was for a fun day out.
‘I give in, Joe. I can’t find you and if you’re hiding in the attic I’m not coming up there anyway. I told you I wasn’t.’
His mother began to call them and he scrambled out of his hiding place as he heard Martha clattering back down the stairs. For a small child she had feet like an elephant. He hit his head on the doorframe and rubbed it with his hand to take away the sting. Slamming the door shut he ran out of the room and down the steep attic stairs to the landing below, then down the next set of stairs and straight into the dining room where he’d last seen his mother bossing Lucy, their housemaid, around while she was trying to set the table for tonight. He barged through the door and straight into Lucy.
‘Careful, Master Beckett, you’ll do yourself an injury rushing around at that speed.’
‘Sorry, Lucy.’
His mother nodded her head with approval at his manners although he could tell she was a little displeased with him. He looked down and saw the black marks on his clean white shirt and realised why.
‘Sorry, Mother, we were playing hide-and-seek.’
Martha was already standing next to her.
‘Yes, we were and he was cheating again. I told him I wasn’t going up to the attic but he still hid up there.’
‘Now listen to me very carefully: when the guests begin to arrive later on I want you both to be on your best behaviour. No bickering between yourselves and definitely no hide-and-seek in the attic. Do you understand what I’m saying, Joe?’
‘Yes, Mother.’
‘Good. I understand you might be excited and need to burn off some energy. It’s such a dismal day outside and you can’t go and run around the garden, so another fifteen minutes of play and then I want you both to go and get washed and changed.’
‘Yes, Mother.’
They both spoke in unison and she stood up, holding out her arms to them. They ran over for a hug and she squeezed them tight.
‘Now you know that I would like nothing more than to spend tonight reading stories to you both, but your father is an important man and with great importance comes great responsibility, which means he must invite all the other important men and women that he works with into our home to share our precious time. I promise you both that, after dinner tomorrow, when the last guest has gone home, both your father and I will play whatever games you would like and read as many stories as you desire. How does that sound?’
‘Wonderful, Mother.’
‘Good. Now go and play for a while before you need to start acting like two of your father’s waxwork dummies. I love you both very much.’
She kissed them, one after the other, on the tops of their heads and then patted their bottoms, shooing them out of the dining room.
Joe ran along to the kitchen to see what Mary was cooking. He was starving. The halls were filled with the aroma of roast beef and roast chicken. Martha followed him, and Mary laughed to see them both looking like a couple of street urchins, with dirt-streaked hair and faces, and black marks all over their clothes.
‘Where the devil have you two been? Up to no good, I’ll bet. I suppose you’ll be looking for some biscuits and a drink of milk after all that exploring.’
They both nodded and climbed onto the wooden chairs around the huge kitchen table that filled the middle of the room. It was covered in plates and dishes of food, and Joe had begun to lift the lid off one when he felt a tap on the back of his head.
‘Hands off! I haven’t been awake since five o’clock this morning baking and cooking for you to put your scruffy little hands all over my works of art.’
Martha giggled and he stuck his tongue out at her, which made her giggle even more.
They sat and drank the glasses of milk as they nibbled on warm shortbread biscuits that had just come out of the oven. When they finished and Joe had wiped his milk moustache from around his lips he bent his head towards her and whispered, ‘One last game of hide-and-seek and then I’ll play dolly hospital with you.’
‘You promise? You have to nurse the dolls and make them better and not grumble about it.’
‘I promise.’
‘I suppose so. Please can I count in here? I hate having to wait on my own.’
He nodded his head, jumped off his chair and ran towards the door. ‘No peeking, Martha – I’ll know if you cheat.’
Then he was gone. Martha could only count to twenty and then she had to stop and start all over again. She was watching Mary pipe icing onto the biscuits and forgot all about going to find Joe until she heard him call her name. He sounded like he was far away. She jumped off her chair and began walking towards the hall.
A door banged behind her and she turned to see the cellar door ajar. He was just being mean and he was a big, fat cheat. She had told him not to go in the attic or the cellar and he had gone into both. He knew she didn’t like them. Well, he could wait in there all day. There was no way she was going down to look for him in the dark. She shivered. Just thinking about the dark and the rats made her want to cry. What if they nibbled her feet while she was walking around in the dark? She sat on the bottom step of the staircase and waited for him to get fed up and come back up. After what seemed like for ever she stood up and walked along to the door. She stood and listened and thought she heard her brother crying. Opening the door she stood on the top step and shouted, ‘It’s no good pretending. I don’t care one little bit if you are upset. I told you I wasn’t going down into the cellar to look for you so you might as well come back up.’
Martha expected him to come bounding up and clip her round the ear for being so cheeky to him, but he didn’t. She listened again, only this time she heard a scratching and a dragging sound. She had no idea what it was but it sounded like something much bigger than Joe. Getting cross now she folded her arms and shouted at the top of her voice, ‘Joseph, I’m going to tell Father if you don’t come out of there right this minute and play dollies with me. You promised you would. Don’t be so mean.’
Still there was no reply and Martha felt scared. What if he’d fallen over and hurt himself in the dark? It would serve him right but he could have at least called out and told her he needed some help. Worried now, she began to suck her thumb and turned to run and find her father. She didn’t have to go far as he was striding along the corridor towards her.
‘Martha, what have you been doing in the cellar? Why is the door open?’
‘It was Joe not me. We are playing hide-and-seek and I told him I wouldn’t look for him down there or in the attic but he’s still gone down. Only he’s not answering when I shout to him.’
A look of alarm crossed her father’s face and he moved her to one side and leant forward to tug the light-pull and illuminate the steps.
He ran down them and began to look around for Joe, who was nowhere to be seen. He shouted, ‘Joseph Beckett, if you don’t show yourself now you will not be able to sit down on your bottom for a week. I mean it.’
There was no reply. He looked at the drain in the corner that led into the sewers and saw that the iron grating was out of place. It had been moved and not put back properly and his head began to pound. Surely a nine-year-old boy wouldn’t have the strength to move a heavy iron cover on his own and then move it back again? He ran towards it and fell to his knees, looking down into the black hole. ‘Joseph, are you down there? Are you stuck? Do you need help? If you do, then answer me, boy. I won’t be mad at you. Just tell me if you are down there.’
A scuttling, scratching sound made him jump back. It sounded as if there was nothing more than rats down in that hole. But who had moved the cover? Unless it was the builders who hadn’t put it back properly and he’d just never noticed before. He stood up, taking one last look around the cellar, and then he ran back up the stone steps to Martha who was now crying.
‘He isn’t down there, Martha. Now where else could he be? Why don’t you show me the places he likes to hide in the attic? Maybe he’s fallen asleep and can’t hear you shouting.’
She nodded her head and grabbed hold of her father’s hand, leading him up the stairs to the attic, but she knew in her heart that Joe was down in that cellar somewhere because she had heard him crying down there.
They checked the entire house, and by this time her mother and father were panicking. Martha had been told to sit in the kitchen with Mary after she’d shown her father all of Joe’s hiding places and he was nowhere to be seen. Martha watched Lucy put her coat on and go outside to check the gardens in the pouring rain, but she could have told her not to bother. There was no point. Joe was in the cellar somewhere, except she didn’t know where; her father came in with Davey, the gardener, who doubled up as the caretaker when it was winter. They both had lanterns in their hands and were going down into the cellar to look for Joe. Her mother had come into the kitchen to sit with her and was very quiet. She didn’t speak a word and her eyes were watering, and all Martha could hear was Mary saying over and over again, ‘Don’t you worry, miss. He won’t be far. Up to no good as usual. They’ll find him. You just wait and see.’
After the third time her mother screamed at Mary, ‘Shut up, please, just shut up. Where is he? He can’t have just disappeared.’
Martha had never heard her mother shout at anyone, not even her father, and this scared her more than the thought of Joe being down in the cellar.
Her mother grabbed her hand. ‘Where is he? Where did you last see him, Martha? This is very important. He might have hurt himself and need our help.’
‘I was in here. He begged for one last game of hide-and-seek and ran off. When I went to look for him the cellar door was open and I heard him down there, but he was crying, and then it went quiet and he didn’t make another sound.’
Her mother stood up and ran to the cellar and her husband and Davey.
James was down there scratching his head in disbelief. Between all three of them they pulled out every box, case and trunk to search inside them. James looked at the old wooden crate he’d brought in here one evening before he, Eleanor and the children had moved in. It looked as if the lid had been ripped off and put back on. A ball of fear lodged in the base of his spine and he had to force his feet to move towards it. Had someone been down here and taken the thing from inside it? Perhaps Joe had caught them stealing it and they’d taken him as well.
Another thought crossed his mind and he tried to block it out, but he couldn’t. He had an uneasy feeling about the empty crate, which should have contained the supposed, magnificent, one and only captured Windigo in the whole world, and now didn’t. He tried to think who knew about it and when the last time was that he had looked at the packing crate, but he couldn’t remember. James knew it was a long time ago. He’d moved it in under the cover of darkness with help from Archie, one of his most trusted workers, and he’d sworn him to secrecy.
If Eleanor had known he’d brought that thing into their home she would have been beside herself. It terrified her. She’d made him promise that he wouldn’t bring it anywhere near their house, but it was worth a lot of money and he didn’t want to leave it lying around the amusement park until the building that was going to house it was finished. It wasn’t alive. It was dead. At least it looked as if it was dead. In fact, he didn’t even believe that it was real. He had no idea who had made it, or how, but it was a very good piece and one of its kind. So why could he not shake the uneasy feeling that the monster’s disappearance had something to do with his son who was now missing?
He thought back to the night he had first set eyes on the creature, as he’d walked down the cobbled street and, for the second time in ten minutes, asked himself what he was doing. Why did the man who had the piece he wanted to add to the display of his sideshow of freaks and monsters want to meet in a dark back alley in Piccadilly? He knew he should have sent one of his employees but he needed to see the thing for himself, to see if it was real or at least looked realistic, because the asking price had been a lot of money and this wasn’t exactly one hundred per cent above board. There were no shipping papers from America. where it was from, to go with the skeleton. In fact there were no papers at all. This was a strictly take a look and pay cash on the spot deal.
He stopped and looked at the blackened door in front of him. This must be the one. As he lifted his hand to knock it opened a crack. The smell of stale ale and something that had gone off escaped, making him take a step back. ‘Who is it?’
‘Mr Beckett.’
There was some shuffling and fumbling and then the door opened wide enough for him to step through. For a moment he contemplated turning around and walking away. For all he knew he was about to get beaten and left for dead.
‘I thought you were. I can tell by your fancy clothes and the sound of your shoes on the stones outside that you’re not one of us.’
James, who had never looked down on anyone in his life, even though he had been brought up the son of a businessman, thanked God that he wasn’t one of them – whoever they may be.
‘Come in before someone sees you.’
He forced himself to step inside the dark hallway and tried not to flinch as the man slammed the door behind him.
‘So you are looking for something special for your fairground, are you? Something the likes of which the world has never seen?’
‘I am. That’s very true but I don’t know if you can show me anything that I want. I’m afraid I might have made a mistake coming here.’
The man smiled, showing a mouthful of rotten teeth.
‘Oh you’ll want what I have, all right. It’s been kept in the dark, underground, for five years, waiting for the right buyer to come along.’
The man led James along the narrow corridor into a room that was brightly lit by many candles. Inside it was an assortment of boxes and crates of all shapes and sizes. He continued walking to the back of the room until he reached one that was almost seven feet tall and looked more like a coffin than a crate.
‘Tell me, Mr Beckett, do you believe in those Red Indian folk tales at all? A man of your stature must like to read. Do you have any interests in the Algonquin tribes?’
James shook his head. ‘Not specifically – I have read a lot about the history of the Indians but nothing that I can recall about that specific tribe.’
‘Have you ever heard of the thing I’m going to show you? Apparently it’s bad luck to speak its name. It came over from North America with my great-uncle who went out there and became a bit obsessed with their way of life. He spent many years with a certain tribe and this was the parting gift he brought back.’
James could feel his heart begin to race. He was scared yet at the same time morbidly fascinated to see what was in the box. He felt his knuckles flex. He needed to see inside that crate. There was no way – no matter how much he disliked the dirty, smelly man standing in front of him – that he could leave now.
‘They say that they don’t exist but my uncle knew they did. A shaman told him all about them. He said they would sit around the campfire telling tales of horror and cannibalism. These things dwell in caves and like the dark. The tribesmen had a name for it; they called it the “evil that devours”.’
‘Well, that’s all very well and good, but if I’m to buy this thing from you I need to see it, please, so that I can make all the necessary arrangements to ship it back to the fairground.’
The man studied James then nodded. ‘Very well. I’m fed up of taking care of it. I’ll be glad to see the back of it.’
He stepped forward and began to unlock the padlocks keeping the case secure. James had never felt a greater fear yet he stepped towards the crate, eager to see whatever it was inside. Finally the man pulled the lid back and it swung open, revealing the most revolting thing James had ever seen. His instinct was to back away at the smell of burning flesh that emanated from the box and he cupped a hand over his mouth.
‘The only way to kill them is to burn them and that doesn’t always work.’
He said it matter of factly, like it was no more difficult than swatting a fly.
James stared at the thing in the crate. It looked like nothing he’d ever come across. It had a gaunt, skeletal body that was covered in some kind of grey skin. The head was larger than the average man’s, although a similar shape, but it was the teeth that made his breath catch. They were long, sharp and pointed and would look more at home on a sabre-toothed tiger. James looked at the man, who shrugged.
‘It’s an ugly bugger, all right.’
It was then that James looked down to the thing’s hands. Only they weren’t hands – instead of fingers there were long, sharp, black claws. The man stepped forward. After slamming the door shut, he began to padlock it once more.
‘Sorry, that’s about as long as I can stand to look at that thing. It scares me.’
So many thoughts were running through James’s head that he had difficulty processing them all into the right order. The one that was at the forefront was the one that kept screaming at him that he simply had to have that thing, no matter what the cost. Even if it turned out to be a complete fake it would draw the crowds from miles around to the amusement park. The crowds would flock to see it. This was the thing he had been waiting for. It could turn the park’s fortunes around for good.
‘I’ll take it.’
Those three words echoed in his mind. And where was it now? It had been the only thing from his freak show to survive the great fire that burnt down the fairground in 1919. It had been relatively unscathed apart from the blackened and cracked glass that surrounded it. He had stayed all night fighting the fire and by the morning he had been exhausted, but the whole time he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Eleanor Sloane who lived at 3 Park Place.
Once he’d got cleaned up and smelt a little better he had gone straight round to find her house. He had to see her again to see if she still had the same effect on him as she’d had last night. The tree-lined street was very different to the life he was used to. The houses were so big he thought he could probably fit half of his fairground friends into one of them and they still wouldn’t be falling over each other. He found number three and stood outside staring up at the whitewashed town house, trying to pluck up the courage to go and knock on her door. As if she’d be interested in him. Her parents would be mortified to have someone who was from the fairground knocking on their door in broad daylight. He remembered how his shoulders had slumped and his heart had broken in two as he turned and began to walk away. He had no business knocking on that door because he had nothing that he could offer Eleanor. What he had owned was now a blackened, charred mess. A motor car pulled up and a man who looked very well to do got out of it. James carried on walking and was shocked to feel a hand on his shoulder.
‘Can I help you, sir? Is there a reason you were standing staring at my house?’
James paused and wondered if he should lie, but then he had never been a very good liar and he wouldn’t live with himself if he didn’t at least speak some truth.
‘Sorry. I’m James Beckett, sir. I met your daughters at the fairground last night and I was wondering how they both were?’
‘Are you the young man who saved their lives?’
James nodded. He hadn’t thought of it that way but, yes, he supposed that he was.
‘Well, then, why don’t you come inside and see for yourself? It’s the least I can do. You have no idea how much my girls mean to me and I am for ever in your debt, young man.’
He turned and began striding towards his house, and James grinned and rushed after him. He had been expecting a telling-off, not a thank you. The man pushed the doorbell and immediately a young housemaid opened the door. James followed Mr Sloane inside and found himself staring around at the grand surroundings.
‘You wait in the library while I go and find my wife and daughters. I know that my wife would very much like to thank you in person. Would you like a drink, something to eat?’
James shook his head, not sure what to say even though his stomach was rumbling and his throat was parched from the smoke he’d inhaled all night long.
Before long the man came back in with the very beautiful Mrs Sloane, who rushed over and hugged him.
‘Thank you so much; Eleanor told us how brave and kind you were to both her and Agnes. We can never repay your kindness. Did you stay on to fight the fire all night?’
‘I did. I had to. You see that fairground was half mine and now there’s nothing left but a couple of exhibition pieces.’
‘Oh how dreadful. You must be exhausted and in shock. Do you have anywhere to stay?’
He shook his head. ‘Not at the moment – everything I had is gone.’
She looked at her husband who nodded his head as if he knew what she was about to say.
‘Well, then you must stay here with us as our guest until you sort something out. I won’t hear of you saying no. It’s the least we can do. I’ll get Bertha to show you to the guest room where you can have a hot bath and then something to eat. Isn’t that right, Harold?’
‘It is indeed. I wouldn’t bother arguing with her about it because you’ll never win. Just accept and it will be much easier for the pair of us.’
‘Thank you; I don’t know what to say. That’s very kind of you both.’
He saw Eleanor come down the stairs and then start running towards him.
‘Oh I’m so glad that you’re here. I’ve been awake all night thinking about you.’
He felt his cheeks burn but he also felt his heart skip a beat at the sight of this beautiful young woman who was so relieved that he was still alive.
James knew that he had been very lucky because he had soon forged a strong friendship with Harold and the rest of Eleanor’s family. When he had told her father his plans to open up a permanent fairground on some land in Manchester he had managed to secure through a private deal, he had thought it was a splendid idea and wanted to know everything about it.
James brought himself back to reality and looked around. Now here he was, eleven years later – a partner in a very successful amusement park, married to the woman he loved and with two beautiful children. God could take it all back this very moment in time if he returned Joe to them safe and sound. He could take back the money, the house, everything – he just wanted his son safe in his arms.
They had checked every inch of the room while James had been in a daydream, but there was still no sign of Joe. The men went over to the drain and lifted the cover off, then leant over to look inside with the lamp, but there was nothing down there except the smell of something gone bad. James looked around at them all.
‘There is no way on God’s earth that Joseph would have been able to lift this cover off, climb down there and pull it back over. Davey and I can only just move it and we’re both grown men. I don’t understand it. Where is he?’
Davey shrugged. ‘Why don’t we start at the top of the house again and go from room to room, leaving no cupboard or trunk unturned. If he’s nowhere to be found then we need to get the police, Mr Beckett, because I don’t know where he can be and boys can’t just disappear into thin air.’
Mrs Beckett nodded her head. She didn’t trust herself to speak because she was on the verge of crying, and if she did, she was afraid she wouldn’t stop. Where was her son whom she had kissed not thirty minutes ago? He would not be so foolish as to hide for this long when everyone was shouting his name and looking for him. All three of them went back upstairs and Davey shut the cellar door.
