“I’m not making it up, I don’t tell lies.”
“No Robert we know you are not telling lies,” tried Becks desperately. “We just think something has happened that you don’t really understand, and we want to try and help you.”
There was a long pause before Robert replied.
“I thought you would be happy that Ellie was back, like I am.”
Mike desperately searched for something to say to fill the silence.
Robert beat him to it.
“I don’t want to talk to you anymore. I want to go to my room.”
“Robert,” said Alan standing up. “The vicar has come here especially today to see you.”
“I want to go to my room,” said Robert louder.
”We need to talk to you about this,” said Claire Taking Robert’s arm and trying to get him to sit down. He snatched his arm away and shouted
“I want to go to my room now.”
“Alright Robert,” said Mike trying to take the tension out of the situation.
He wanted to stand up but remained on the couch. “We can see you are getting upset, so it’s probably a good idea for you to go to your room now, but thank you for talking to me today and if there is anything that you ever want to talk to me about, I am always available.”
He slowly stood up and offered his hand. After a brief pause Robert shook it and almost smiled before opening the door to the hall and leaving the room.
All eyes were on Mike again. “Well,” he said, pausing for a moment. Before he could speak the hall door reopened and Robert took a step back into the room pausing just inside the door. “Yes?” said Mike hopefully. Robert looked at Claire,
“Can I have a bacon butty?”
“Bacon butty,” repeated Alan bewildered.
Claire blinked, composed herself and asked “Toast or bread?”
“Toast please with ketchup,” replied Robert smiling at everyone in the room before exiting again and heading upstairs to his room.
“One bacon butty coming up,” said Claire incredulously as she headed off to the kitchen.
Over more tea the Owens, Mike and Becks tried to plan a way forward. Alan kept apologising to Mike for Robert’s behaviour.
“It’s OK Alan,” said Mike. “He genuinely believes what he is saying, it would probably be a good idea to get in touch with the social worker and take them up on the offer of specialist bereavement counselling. When all’s said and done, I’m not a trained counsellor. I will speak to a friend of mine who has a lot more experience of these matters than me and see if he can help. In the meantime you know where I am. Don’t hesitate to call me anytime if there is anything I can do”.
He stood to leave but paused, “I’m sorry I don’t think I was much use today.”
Alan and Claire both rallied to his defence and said they were grateful for his visit and would contact the social worker.
As they saw Mike and Becks to the door Claire picked up a framed photograph off a side table and offered it to Becks.
“Happier times,” she said sadly.
“She was a lovely little girl,” smiled Becks showing the picture to Mike. The picture showed Robert and Ellie up at Rivington reservoir, both laughing happily, the sun glinting off the water behind them.
The hair on the back of Mike’s neck started to stand up and he suddenly felt cold. He recognised Ellie, the blond hair, the yellow duffle coat. It was the little girl he had seen outside the village shop a couple of days ago. He managed to mutter a few words of agreement before handing the picture back and leaving the house saying his goodbyes to the Owens in a daze.
*
“Are you OK?” asked Becks as she caught up with Mike a few yards up the road.
“Yes,” said Mike distractedly. “I just don’t think I did any good there.”
They made small talk up to her front gate, Becks assuring him that he had done his best. He declined the offer of even more coffee and said he would see her tomorrow. She turned to face him.
“You know if you need anyone to talk to, I’m always here.”
“Yes,” he replied smiling, “And I wouldn’t hesitate to call you if I needed to Becks.” He squeezed her arm and she squeezed his hand in return, holding it just a little longer than she had to. She went inside and went through to the front room, watching Mike as he walked up the street towards the vicarage alone.
“Go on, turn around,” she said out loud. As if on cue, Mike turned and gave a last look at Becks’ house before continuing up the street. Becks smiled, closed the curtains and went through to the kitchen. She poured herself a glass of white wine and took it back in to the lounge. She sat down on the sofa and fussed cookie while sipping the wine. It had been a long time since she had allowed herself to lower her guard and let someone inside her life. Not all her past relationships had been bad, but the last one had turned into an absolute car crash. The love of her life had turned out to be a spiteful jealous child in a man’s body, their break-up long and nasty. Still out of bad had come good. Leaving him far behind had been the spur for her pursuing her calling in the church. There were probably a hundred reasons why she shouldn’t even be thinking the way she was about Mike, not the least of which was he might not be interested in her.
She finished her wine. Be nice if he was though.
*
The bell went again and Dorothy Prentiss irritably put down her mug of tea and went through to the front of the shop. No one there again. She looked around the empty shop. There were a few drops of water on the floor. Odd it had been dry today. She scanned the shop more closely. One of the large plastic jars of sweets was sticking out from the shelf by a couple of inches, cola cubes. She pushed the jar back onto the shelf. She had definitely not left it like that. Frowning, she went back into the storeroom, turned the radio off and picked up her tea, listening intently. Before she had taken another sip the bell went in the shop again.
She hurried through to the shop. Empty again. There was more water, behind the counter this time, and the large jar of cola cubes was on the counter next to the till. She froze. What on earth was going on here? An odd thought crept into her head. She hardly sold any cola cubes these days, not since Ellie Parsons died, the little girl had loved them and bought them every other day. Twice over the last couple of days, through the shelving in the window she had glimpsed a yellow coat on the pavement outside the shop. But when she had looked properly there was nobody there. She suddenly felt sad.
She opened the jar of sweets, poured a generous measure into a paper bag and twisted the top closed. She paused briefly, wondering if she had become a silly old woman, then placed the bag of sweets on the counter. She put the jar back on the shelf and went back through to the storeroom.
The bell went almost immediately. She waited a full minute before going to look. The bag of sweets was gone. She shook her head sadly, Ellie Parsons, why was she not resting in peace?
*
Mike first went to the church, sitting alone in the calm of the pews, lost in his thoughts. It was impossible of course. His head told him that, but his heart told him that something was badly wrong. The girl outside the shop and the girl in the photograph were one and the same. He considered praying, but it was a long time since he had done that on his own. He didn’t gain any comfort from it anymore, maybe he never had. His thoughts turned darker as the time passed. He didn’t know how long he sat there but it was dark when he left and headed back to the vicarage.
He was not in the mood for eating but made some toast anyway. He forced himself to eat it and headed upstairs to bed. He badly needed a cigarette but forced that craving to one side. His bible was on the floor next to his bed but he picked up the bottle of Jamesons that was next to it and poured a large one. He phoned Tom and left a message to get back to him. He finished the whisky and decided against another one. He was tired and wanted to sleep. Maybe things would look better in the morning. He was asleep within minutes.
He was walking down a white t
iled tunnel, not unlike the London underground. Ahead of him walked a small figure in a yellow duffle coat he recognized immediately, Ellie. He called her name, but she carried on walking, turning a corner. He rushed to the corner to catch her up but she was already half way down the next tunnel. He called her name again but she ignored him or couldn’t hear him and carried on walking, turning another corner.
Again he ran to the corner to find her half way along another tunnel. It happened again and again, never gaining on her and never able to gain her attention. Finally he turned a corner and found himself at the top of a pair of escalators. He headed for the down escalator and saw Ellie already way ahead of him.
There were video screens at the side of the escalators that usually showed adverts. Glossy hard sell for a captive audience, these were showing something quite different. The first showed a naked pregnant woman helpless on the floor as two men stamped and rained kicks down on her. The two men paused as Mike passed and smiled at him.
The second showed an old man crying, tied to a dinner chair with cable ties. His wife stood next to him smiling holding a hammer. He didn’t know how he knew it was the man’s wife, but he did. She raised the hammer with both hands and brought it down, again and again, brutally smashing his head in, spattering herself with blood. As Mike passed she turned towards him and laughed.
The third showed a doting father standing over his child in a cot. Instead of a baby milk bottle the father produced a can of lighter fluid which he squirted over the baby before striking a match and dropping it into the cot. As the infant screamed and burned the man looked straight out of the video screen at Mike and grinning, gave him a thumbs up.
He tore his attention away from the screens and looked down the escalator. It seemed to go on for miles, disappearing into a fiery red glow at the bottom, the video screens an endless display of depravity. Ahead of him, Ellie turned to look directly at him, and smiled.
He awoke with a start, shaken to the core and drenched in sweat. He staggered to the bathroom and splashed water on his face, his heart pounding. It took a while to get his breath back and as he looked in the bathroom mirror he hardly recognized himself. He looked at the clock. Three-o-clock. He wanted to phone Tom, or even Becks, but he couldn’t at this hour, so went downstairs to make himself a coffee. He wouldn’t normally drink coffee as it kept him awake, but sleep was the last thing he wanted right now.
Chapter Five - Monday
He woke late. He had been drinking coffee until five-o-clock, and having finally gone back to bed had lain awake for over an hour before sleep finally came. Thankfully there were no more nightmares. He was in no mood for his morning run and made himself some beans on toast for breakfast. He was barely on his third mouthful when his mobile rang. It was Tom.
“How are you Mike?” said the familiar Liverpudlian voice, it sounded like a million miles away but it was the most welcome voice in the world.
“Well to be honest, I’ve got something I would like your advice on,” said Mike as nonchalantly as possible.
“Oh what’s that?“ replied Tom equally upbeat, both men trying not to set off alarm bells. Mike briefly outlined the situation with Robert and the Owens.
“Well, it sounds like the poor lad needs some proper counselling, I don’t mean to sound harsh, but it’s a medical matter not a church matter really,” opined Tom, “if that’s all there is to it.”
“Well, there is just one other aspect to this,” said Mike carefully.
“I thought there might be,” said Tom “Go on.”
Mike took a breath.
“Well I’m pretty sure I saw the girl myself in the village a couple of days ago. I didn’t realise it at the time, but I saw a picture of her at the Owens house and I’m certain it was her.” There was an awkward pause.
“All pretty little blond girls look the same Mike,” said Tom, “especially if they are dressed the same, I should know, my sister’s got three. I’m not even sure it’s the same three kids every time I visit . Anyway, what does Rebecca think of this?”
“I haven’t told her,” admitted Mike.
“Right. The first thing you do is tell Rebecca,” said Tom purposefully, “ I meant it when I said she was tough, she’ll probably give you a slap around the head and tell you to pull yourself together.”
” I also had a nightmare last night Tom,” continued Mike with difficulty. “Pretty graphic and the girl was in it. I can’t help wondering if I am going off the rails again.”
“Listen Mike,” said Tom.”You are not going off the rails. What you witnessed would push anyone to the brink. You came through that and compared to that, this is nothing. Trust yourself, trust Rebecca and trust us. I have some things I can’t get out of for the next few days but I promise you, before the end of the week I will get up there to see you. I might even bring Gregor with me. He hasn’t seen you for a while. Did you say there was a pub in the village?”
“Yes,” said Mike.
“Then I’ll definitely bring Gregor, he likes pubs. Don’t worry the cavalry will be there soon. Meantime speak to Rebecca. See you soon.” They said their goodbyes and rang off.
Tom Preston looked out of the window at the grey clouds over the rain lashed Derbyshire countryside. It hadn’t stopped raining for three days.
“Fuck,” he swore softly, scrolling through the contacts on his mobile. Gregor Fergusson. He needed to speak to him immediately. Had he gone in to the village? He made the call.
“Hello,” replied Gregor on the second ring.
“Hi Gregor, I’ve just had a worrying phone call from Mike Cunningham and we need to talk as soon as possible.”
“OK see you in a minute Tom.”
“A minute? Where are you exactly?” asked Tom, puzzled.
“I’m in the car park having a smoke,” replied Gregor.
Tom looked at the rain beating a tattoo on the window “It’s freezing cold and pouring down outside.”
“That’s sunscreen weather in Glasgow,” growled Gregor, laughing, and rang off.
A minute later Gregor walked through the door and deposited himself in the seat opposite Tom. They had known each other for the best part of twenty five years. They had met at a seminar. Tom’s parish was in inner city Liverpool and Gregor’s was in inner city Glasgow, so they found they had a lot in common. Gregor was over six feet tall and seemed almost as wide. His head with its greying red hair and beard emerging from a shapeless long leather coat that was probably older than he was. It was certainly the only coat Tom ever remembered him wearing. Within a few minutes in the heat of the office he started to steam.
“So how’s our boy Mike doing,” rumbled Gregor.
“Not great” replied Tom. He outlined Mike’s phone call.
“Hopefully Becks will be able to sort him out,” mused Gregor before continuing “You know we should have dug our heels in and kept Mike here.”
“That would have been a hard sell with the Bishop,” said Tom shaking his head.” Mike was pretty close to a breakdown according to the doctors.”
“Close but no cigar,” said Gregor pointedly. “And what the hell do doctors know of our work anyway. Mike came through. He had a rough time but he came out intact because he was strong. The sort of strong we need. He would have been good.”
“Well maybe in a couple of years we can get him back,” replied Tom.
“Do you think there’s anything to this?” said Gregor.
“Maybe. I said we would get up to see him later in the week anyway.”
“Yes, probably best,” agreed Gregor. “Be nice to see Mike again anyway.
*
Mike felt better after talking to Tom, but embarrassed at having had to call on his old friend for assistance only a few days into the job. He finished his now lukewarm beans and had a shave and a shower before putting on his dog collar. He looked at himself in the mirror before heading off up the village to see Becks. Tom was right. He needed to pull himself together. He should tell her everything
and maybe between them they could get to grips with this.
Becks was just returning from taking Cookie on her morning walk down the village. She was on the pavement rummaging through her handbag for her keys whilst the dog pranced about on her lead when someone walked heavily straight into her.
“Excuse me, watch where you’re going!” spluttered Becks turning to face them. It was Jesse Whitehill, whose head finally snapped up from his mobile phone. The text he had been reading was not good news and his mood was even fouler than usual.
“Watch what you‘re doing with that bastard dog,” he snarled, aiming a kick at the now growling cookie. It landed a glancing blow, the dog yelped but lunged at Whitehill snapping its teeth. Becks pulled her back with difficulty.
“That’s a dangerous animal that is,” sneered Whitehill, “If I was to make a complaint about it, I could have it put down.”
“You kicked her,” said Becks angrily.
“Well, we’ve only got your word for that, haven’t we, after all, no one else saw me,” smirked Whitehill.
“Actually, I saw you,” said a voice from behind him. Whitehill turned and found himself looking at someone’s chest. He looked up past a clerical collar into the face of Mike Cunningham. “Mr Whitehill, let me introduce myself. My name is Mike Cunningham, I am the new vicar of this parish, and if you kick that dog again, I will kick you.” Jesse Whitehill took half a step back,
“You can’t say that, you’re a vicar,” he spluttered.
“Oh yes,” said Mike sarcastically, “Vicars are supposed to be sweet and nice and turn the other cheek aren’t they.” He leaned in even closer to Whitehill’s face and growled “Well I’m not that kind of fucking vicar. I know your type and will be keeping an eye on you, now unless you piss off right now, I’ll put you on your arse. That’ll really impress your criminal friends, getting beaten up in the street by a vicar.”
The Haunting of Winter Hill Page 4
