Hiding From the Light

Alex opened the door of the car and she passed him the books. ‘I didn’t know he was a reader,’ he said.

‘He’s got thousands of books. I’ve just got a job cleaning for him once a week. Poor old boy can’t cope up there on his own any more.’

‘Well, I hope you’ve still got time to look after my kids.’ Alex stacked the books safely and slammed the door. A quick glance had shown they all appeared to be about plants and flowers.

‘You know I have.’ She hauled the bike out of the hedge and straddled it. ‘You still want me tonight?’ She babysat for the Wests two or three evenings a week and sometimes looked after the children after school as well.

He nodded. ‘Paula and I are going to supper with someone she’s met on the train.’ He shrugged with a pained look towards the heavens. ‘Networking with knobs on. What did I do to deserve a commuting wife?’

Lyndsey grinned. ‘You know you love being a kept man! If Paula didn’t make all that lovely money in the City you and the kids wouldn’t be able to ponce around in the country having such a good time now, would you!’

‘True.’ He sighed. ‘Not that I’d have chosen redundancy and house husbandry as my preferred career.’ There was a moment’s silence. His face had grown solemn as he thought of the various failed business ideas, the so-hopefully printed cards, the silent phone at home. In seconds his smile returned. ‘Reckon those are rich weekenders, going to buy Liza’s? I wonder if they would employ me to run that place for them? The Simpsons had a decent living from that nursery.’

‘Not from Liza’s they didn’t.’ Lyndsey glanced fondly towards the cottage. ‘That’s why they are selling it. Their money came from their garden centre up in Bradfield. Letting this place to holiday-makers was all they did in the end, and even that was too much hassle. Their son doesn’t want to take it on now they’re retiring and I don’t blame him.’

‘I suppose so.’ Alex sighed. ‘Ah well, I must get on. See you tonight.’ He grinned. ‘I’ve told Sophie and James you’re coming to look after them and I think they’re planning mayhem, so be careful!’

Lyndsey raised a hand as he climbed back into the car. ‘Not to worry,’ she grinned. ‘Mayhem is what I do best.’

14 (#ulink_1e82a57a-a454-5011-b554-09027580c818)

The others were already there when Mark made his way into the shop. He looked round. ‘No sign of the new tenant yet?’

‘Not a peep.’ Colin was eating a toasted teacake, his fingers shiny with butter. ‘So there’s no one to ask. If we’re quick we can get the extra shots we need upstairs and be out of here before they come! All set?’ He stopped chewing and stared up at the ceiling with a frown. ‘You did check, Joe? It sounds as though there is someone walking about up there.’

They all stared upwards. Alice had gone very pale. Clearly audible, they could hear someone walking slowly across the boards above their heads, the footsteps dragging slightly, one then another board squeaking in sequence as they moved.

Joe gave a soundless whistle. He stubbed out his cigarette in the lid he was using as an ashtray on the counter. ‘I just stuck my head in the room. Maybe there was someone up in the attic. Or in the cloakroom. Shall I have another look?’ He did not seem too keen.

Mark glanced at the stairs. He recognised an extreme reluctance of his own to climb them. Last night, again, he had had the experience of waking suddenly, his heart thudding, the echo of a woman’s scream ringing in his ears. It had for a moment paralysed him with terror as he lay staring up at the ceiling, trying to steady his breathing, aware that he was bathed in sweat and aware too that this time he was too afraid to move, even to reach for the switch on the bedside light.

And now this. He saw Colin watching him, waiting for a decision. ‘Are we going up?’ Mark shrugged. ‘I seem to have a touch of the heebie-jeebies this morning. OK. This is silly. Let’s go. We need to see if we can capture a bit of this atmosphere on film.’ He took a deep breath.

Colin nodded. ‘Want me to go first?’ The Welshman raised an eyebrow, baiting him. The footsteps had stopped. They were all aware of the sound of traffic outside again, almost as though, before, it had not been there.

Mark nodded. He gave a wry grin. ‘If you like.’

‘OK.’ Colin hefted the heavy camera up onto his shoulder.

‘I’m not going up.’ Alice’s voice was shrill. ‘I don’t think any of us should.’

‘Alice.’ Joe’s tone was half reproach, half mocking. ‘Come on. You’re not scared, surely? Great big girl like you!’

Alice blushed scarlet. ‘No! No, of course not. I think this job sucks.’ Tossing the clipboard down onto the counter, she turned towards the door. ‘You don’t need me, anyway. I’m going for a walk.’

‘Alice!’ Joe shouted.

‘Leave her,’ Mark said quietly. ‘It’s getting to her like it’s getting to me. Come on. Let’s go up.’

Colin was already halfway up the stairs when the shop door opened. They turned to see a young woman standing in the doorway. With short dark hair and intensely bright blue eyes she reminded Mark of nothing so much as a woodland elf as she hovered on the threshold, gazing at them.

‘Can we help you?’ Mark turned away from the stairs with something like relief. If the new tenants were arriving they would have to hurry and the sheer number of people on the premises would perhaps do something to help dispel the atmosphere.

Her eyes were enormous. He found himself unable to look away as she took a cautious step inside, leaving the door open behind her. ‘What are you doing?’

Behind him Colin retraced his steps and put the heavy camera down on the counter. Mark smiled and stepped forward, holding out his hand. ‘Mark Edmunds. We have Mr Barker’s permission to be here. I’m sorry. We meant to be finished before you arrived.’

She looked anxious suddenly. ‘You were expecting me?’

‘Well, we were expecting someone.’ Mark dropped his hand as she had ignored it. ‘I gather you want to start stocking the shop as soon as possible? If we could have perhaps just an hour more, we could then get out of your hair.’ He gave her his most charming smile. It was not returned.

‘I am not here to stock the shop.’ There was a slight frown between her eyes. ‘I came because you are here to make trouble for us. For all of us who live here.’

Mark glanced at Colin, who raised an eyebrow and gave a mock scowl. ‘I can assure you, Miss …?’ He paused for her to fill in the name. She ignored the invitation and stood silently, her eyes fixed on his face, obviously waiting for him to continue. He went on, slightly flustered. ‘We have no intention of causing anyone any trouble. And we are here, as I said, with the full permission of Stan Barker.’

‘Stan told me you are here to film the ghosts.’ For the first time her eyes left his face and she glanced past him at the stairs. Mark resisted the urge to turn and follow her gaze.

‘We are making a documentary. One of a series about haunted houses,’ he said guardedly.

‘You have to stop it.’ Her voice was stronger suddenly. She rammed her hands down into the pockets of her trousers – tight-fitting jeans, cut off raggedly below the knee which emphasised the slimness of her figure. ‘You have to!’

‘May I ask why?’ he asked gently. ‘You said we were here to make trouble. I assure you that is not the case. Programmes like this are usually immensely popular –’

‘And stir things up.’

He realised with a jolt that the emotion which was fuelling the brightness of her eyes was anger. ‘It will make no difference to you. You and your friends –’ she glanced witheringly at Joe and Colin – ‘will finish your filming and disappear back to London and never come back here again, and leave us to deal with what you have left behind.’

‘I am sorry you should feel like that.’ Mark kept his voice even. ‘But as I said, the worst you will probably find will happen is an influx of sightseers. I find the locals usually like that. It’s good for the economy.’

‘I’m not talking about sightseers!’ She licked her lips nervously, an infinitesimal darting movement which reminded him of a small reptile. Her tone was dismissive.

‘Then what?’

She held his gaze for a moment, then for the first time she seemed to hesitate. ‘You are stirring things up,’ she repeated.

‘What things?’ Colin put in.

‘The energies …’ She bit her lip. ‘Your interest, the filming, talking about him. It is feeding the energies. I can feel it. The whole town is changing. The atmosphere. The feel of the place. It’s centred here. In this shop.’

‘Why?’ Joe had surreptitiously switched on his mike. The tape was turning.

‘This shop – the site – it has always been a centre. So much happened here.’

‘What happened here?’ Joe asked.

‘He brought the women here. Some of them. It was the house where Mary Phillips lived.’

‘One of the witchfinder’s accomplices?’ Mark nodded.