by Simon Clark
‘Theo? No, he wouldn’t; I’m sure of it.’ Eleanor ran upstairs, if anything, her anxiety increasing by the moment.
The footsteps reached Sally as soft thuds on carpet. Her eyes roved over the ceiling as she tracked the sounds the three made as they opened doors to the rooms. Her heart thumped painfully hard. Even when she sat on the sofa in the reception area, it showed no signs of easing. Nerves taut, she paced in front of the desk. Every so often, she climbed a stair or two in case she could see anything of their search. Yet by now even the sound of their feet had faded so much that all she could hear was the clamour of her own heart.
Just what’s wrong with Eleanor’s brother? she wondered. Why did he need the medicine so badly? Why does he have such a fear of leaving his cottage? And what had made him go and do just that?
Even to look at the big front door of the hotel troubled her. She expected it to fly open to reveal a maniac. All too easily, she pictured the wild hair, the staring eyes, the hooked fingers, the crazed leer – and poor Sally Wainwright, all alone in reception. He’d be on her in an instant, hands at her throat.
Plucking up courage, she hurried towards the door to check that it had been locked. To her relief, she saw a couple of hefty bolts were firmly pushed across the frame. Even so, when the clock struck eight she spun round with a cry.
Silly girl, she scolded herself. It’s only the stupid clock. She listened hard. But now she could hear nothing of the three upstairs. The maniac will have slit their throats by now. Sally told herself to shut up. And even put her hands over her ears. But that didn’t stop disturbing thoughts about the maniac slipping under her bed. He’d lay there grinning until she went to sleep then . . . Stop it! Sally prowled from the reception area into the dining room. But all those empty tables seemed just too ghostly, as if they waited for phantom diners. Sally quickly returned to the reception desk.
Got to keep myself busy, she told herself. Besides, I’m an adult now. Taking a deep breath, she composed herself. Sally decided to take a firm grip on her courage and search for the missing brother on the ground floor. A quick check of the office revealed no brother (a lunatic one or otherwise). She checked under the reception desk. There. All done. No brother here.
Then she noticed the door tucked behind the desk. Ah . . . the basement. Last night they’d sheltered in it during the air raid.
But did she really, really have to go down there? Don’t be such a coward, Sally Wainwright. Soon you will star in a feature film. Famous actresses aren’t scaredy cats. She found the door to be unlocked. Which makes sense. You don’t want to be hunting for keys when the air-raid siren starts. Straightening her back, as she’d seen Beth do when gathering her resolve, she switched on the light, then descended the stone steps.
Just like last night, there were the chairs they’d occupied when the siren sounded. Here it was: a vault of cold silence. And there, set in the floor, the big, iron grate. Eleanor said it connected with a smuggler’s tunnel that led to the sea.
So: nothing to be afraid of. She walked across the floor slabs, her heels clicking. Just look in the corners at the far side, then go back upstairs. Job done. Nobody down here. I’m alone. There’s no one. As she returned to the steps, she kept up the mantra. Nobody here. I’m alone. Everything’s normal down here. No problems. Nothing to be afraid of. She repeated that mantra to block out her sudden eruption of terror. For there was something to be afraid of. A man stood beneath the iron grate. He watched her through the bars, his face nearly level with her feet. He didn’t move. The eyes were very white. Yet in their centres lay fierce black pupils.
‘There’s nothing there,’ she whispered, heart racing. ‘I’m imagining it. There is nobody under the grate. I’m going back upstairs now. Everything is fine. I’m not scared . . .’
‘Who are you?’
Sally screamed and clutched her stomach. ‘You’re not real, you’re not real.’ She planned to dash for the steps, only now she couldn’t; fear had locked her muscles tight. She couldn’t move an inch.
‘Who are you?’
Sally shook her head.
‘Come here. Talk to me.’
She found herself turning to stare down through the iron bars. There he was. Oh no, I don’t like this. Her heart slammed against her ribs. She could barely breathe. Purple shapes flashed across her eyes. Shock had made her so dizzy she swayed. Yet her attention locked on that pale face beyond the bars. A cold flow of air gushed up from the pit in the floor.
‘Please talk to me,’ whispered the stranger. His eyes locked with hers.
‘Can’t,’ was all that Sally could say.
‘Oh, you look nice. Very beautiful.’ He worked a pale hand through the bars, so that it appeared to grow from the floor like a white flower. ‘If you won’t tell me your name, then shake my hand.’ Fingers flexed. The nails were pale blue. An even blue like the sky in spring. ‘Shake hands. Please.’
She swayed. Shock always did this to her. It made her feel faint. Now she was sure she’d topple over at any moment. What’s more, she realized she’d fall on to the grate. The intruder’s face would only be separated from hers by that inch-thick lattice of iron. His hands could easily touch her.
‘Tell me your name, beautiful. Go on, just open those ruby lips. Form the vowels. Say it.’
The basement grew darker as the blood flow no longer reached her brain. She felt top heavy. Slowly, slowly, she began to topple – towards the abomination.
‘Sally! We’ve found him!’ The voice came from behind. ‘Sally? What’s wrong?’
Sally’s knees folded. Dizzily, she turned her head. Eleanor had grabbed hold of her. However, her eyes returned to that bone-white face in the pit of shadows.
‘I’ve got you,’ Eleanor panted. ‘I won’t let you fall.’
The stranger beneath the grate spoke conversationally, ‘Eleanor. I’m sorry it happened to Theo. Victoria didn’t know what she was doing. If I could turn back time . . .’
Eleanor put her arm around Sally’s waist and guided her up the steps to the reception area. Then she closed the door on the cellar. And whatever it was that intruded there.
Beth Layne stood beside Alec at the open attic window. At that moment, Eleanor arrived with Sally. However, when the women entered the attic Beth sensed all hadn’t gone well. Alec had been obliged to kill the lights, so as not to breach the blackout. Even so, in the midst of this gloom, she could tell that the colour had drained from Sally’s face. And was that a flash of fear in her eyes? Her friend shot glances back at the door, as if expecting to see a figure blunder in.
‘Everything alright?’ Beth whispered to Sally.
‘Yes . . . I think so . . . but . . .’
Eleanor declared, ‘My brother’s out there on the roof. I’ve got to bring him in.’ Immediately, she rushed for the open window.
‘Wait,’ Beth hissed. ‘You can’t just go clambering out there.’
Alec agreed. ‘You’re forty feet from the ground . . . It’s pitch black out there.’
‘I’ll be fine. The moon’s coming through.’
Beth had to grab the woman to stop her climbing out. The drop would be lethal if she slipped. ‘Eleanor, wait. Plan the route first.’
‘She’s right,’ Alec said. ‘Now there’re four of us we can bring him back safely.’
Beth positioned herself so she could see Theo Charnwood. He was a shockingly gaunt man; he possessed an angular face, high cheekbones, and strangely gleaming eyes, which stared up towards the cliff-top cemetery. For some reason, he’d decided to climb out of the window, then stand on the low wall that ran around the edge of the roof. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. The roof itself sloped steeply. That rim of stone, which topped the brick wall, presented the sole level part of the structure. In front of him – and below him – was only cold night air, until it reached the equally cold and unforgiving hard slabs of the yard.
‘Try calling him,’ ventured Sally. She seemed to be recovering her composure.
/> Once more Beth glanced at her, wondering just what had happened downstairs. Good grief, there might be fifteen hotel rooms, but there’s no place for guests: this entire building’s choc-a-block with secrets. She didn’t intend the thought to be flippant. Without doubt, this hotel reeked of mystery. Its walls oozed strangeness. The hotelier hid her true self behind a mask of normality. And her brother climbs out on to the roof. To admire the view? To throw himself to his death? Who knows?
‘Why don’t you just call him?’ Sally suggested again.
‘When he’s like this he won’t respond to commands,’ Eleanor said. ‘I’ll have to go out there and bring him in.’
‘I’ll do it.’ Alec slipped off his jacket.
‘No, it’s got to be me.’
The moon peeped from behind a bank of cloud. Its glow revealed the brother. He stood perfectly still and perfectly straight. He wore black trousers, while on his top half a white shirt, open to the waist, fluttered like a shroud in the breeze. Beneath them, Whitby’s lanes were deserted.
Eleanor climbed out on to the parapet.
‘Easy does it,’ Alec murmured. ‘It’s a big drop.’
‘I know.’
Beth said, ‘If you wait by the window we’ll follow you . . . form a human chain.’
‘No, the three of you stay here.’
‘No deal,’ Alec told her. ‘We’re helping. I’ll go next, then you grab my hand.’
Beth turned to her friend. ‘Sally, you stay inside the window. Just hold on to my belt as tightly as you can. Do you think you can?’
‘I’ll do it. Trust me.’
The parapet had a five-inch span. Eleanor had to shuffle along it like a tightrope walker. To one side rose the steep pitch of the roof; the other side, a deathly drop to the ground. Alec joined Eleanor. With his right hand, impaired though it was, he could tightly grasp her left hand. Then Beth climbed out. She stood with her back to the edge of the window frame. She found Alec’s hand, then held it tight. His powerful fingers encircled hers. She could feel Sally clutching her belt. And so forming a human chain, the three stood at the edge of the roof. Sally performed the role of anchor inside the attic. Sometimes they were in moonlight, which revealed clustered roofs of cottages and the face of the cliff, then the silver orb retreated behind cloud, and they were engulfed in darkness.
Beth closed her eyes to concentrate on her balance. Fingers of cold air trailed over her face. Don’t slip, she told herself, just don’t slip. When she opened her eyes again, Eleanor had reached her brother. His shirt rippled in the breeze. With calm eyes, he gazed at the cliff-top cemetery. It seemed as if he heard a voice calling his name from far away; it entranced him. His eyes never strayed from the night-time gravestones.
For a while . . . a long while it seemed to Beth . . . Eleanor patted Theo’s arm to attract his attention. She even stroked the side of his face, as if she were trying to gently wake a sleeping child. Eventually, he stirred. Without any fuss, or even a word, he consented to be led back to the attic window. Nobody spoke as they carefully retraced their steps. Then, thankfully, one by one they re-entered the safety of the attic.
Still with utter gentleness, Eleanor guided her brother away to the cottage in the yard.
Beth, Sally and Alec regrouped in the hotel bar. Nobody had spoken since Theo’s rescue.
That is, until Sally regarded them with troubled eyes. ‘His shirt was all open. Did anyone see his chest?’ She took a breath. ‘It was covered with teeth marks. Dozens and dozens of teeth marks.’
Six
The three had only been in the bar for a few minutes when the siren began its wail over the town. The people of Whitby would be making their way to their own cellars, or underground shelters built in their gardens, or, if they lived in apartments, they’d head for communal shelters. After months of hearing sirens calling them to take shelter, this migration to the bunkers had, at least, lost its element of panic. Most people would sigh that their night’s sleep was going to be interrupted, as they ambled to their subterranean dens.
Alec grunted and said, ‘Don’t those Nazis ever take a night off?’
As the siren faded they all listened for the distinctive bark of German aircraft motors overhead. At the moment, however, nothing could be heard.
‘We should take shelter in the basement,’ Beth told them. ‘That’s what Eleanor told us to do whenever the warning sounded.’
Alec hesitated. ‘Perhaps I should help her get her brother to the basement.’
‘Oh, he never takes shelter during air raids,’ Sally told him.
Beth stood up. ‘But we should. If Eleanor goes down to the basement, and we’re not there, she’ll feel obliged to search for us. And after the evening she’s had that wouldn’t be fair.’
‘I’m staying here.’ Sally shuddered. ‘I hate that rotten hole.’
Beth took her friend’s arm. ‘Sally, you’ll do no such thing. I promised you I’d look after you in Whitby. I’m not going to leave you up here if the bombs start to fall.’
‘But it’s horrible down there.’
‘Alec and I will be with you.’
He smiled. ‘I’ll sing old Scottish ballads to you. My voice is guaranteed to take your mind off bombs and horrible old basements. Ladies?’ He held open the door for them.
Sally went grudgingly. ‘But will it take my mind off Eleanor’s brother? Who do you suppose made all those scars on this chest? They were bite marks, weren’t they? And made by human teeth?’
Beth guided her friend with a firm grasp. ‘Now isn’t the time to speculate. Those bombers could be here at any moment.’
Alec opened the basement door. ‘We can talk to our hearts’ content once we’ve got that protective masonry over our heads.’
Despite having been in a café that took a direct hit from a bomb just a couple of weeks ago, Beth realized the man was remarkably calm. All he’d suffered was a cut to the eye. She gazed at his face. The eyepatch must be a constant reminder to him of the event that had cost his colleagues their lives. And the female casting director was more than a colleague. Because the man escaped death, does he now believe he’s invincible? And is he convinced that he’s been spared in order to fulfil some great quest?
They entered the basement. A single light bulb illuminated the vaulted ceiling. Just as before, the chairs were clustered together. As they crossed the floor, Sally froze. She stared at that forbidding iron grille set into the stonework. Beth noticed the expression on her friend’s face, as if she’d suddenly remembered something that appalled her.
‘Sally? What’s wrong?’
‘Earlier, I came down here, when we were searching for Theo. I . . . Something wasn’t right. I . . .’
Alec turned a chair towards her. ‘Sit down, dear. You’ve turned very pale.’ Sally’s eyes bulged, as they remained locked on that pit of shadows, one from which frigid air rose.
Beth put her arm around Sally. ‘What happened? You can tell me.’
Sally refused to sit, her muscles so tense that her entire body quivered. ‘I came down here. Then I had a dizzy turn. I would have fainted dead to the floor, if Eleanor hadn’t caught me. She’d come to tell me that you’d found Theo.’ She swallowed, as if an unpleasant taste leeched across her tongue. ‘I blacked out. Only for a few seconds, but I dreamt that a man was in there.’ She pointed at the iron bars. ‘He stood beneath the grate . . . He was looking up at me and saying things. His eyes were so . . .’ She shuddered. ‘He wanted to shake hands with me. He even pushed his hand up through the bars. All I can think about are those eyes . . .’
Alec brought a straight-backed chair to her. Gently, he encouraged her to sit. ‘You’ll feel better in a moment. And, remember, a dream can’t hurt you.’
Sally gripped Beth’s hand. ‘Only, I’m not so sure now. It’s too clear for a dream. And I’m certain I remember seeing the man before I fainted. But what with the shock of Theo being out there on the roof it all got jumbled inside my head. In fact, the mor
e I think about it now, the more I’m convinced I saw a man standing down there in that hole in the floor. He wore a white shirt. His eyes . . . Beth, there was no colour in them. No irises. Just whites, with black pupils in the centres. He looked just awful. And he wanted to shake my hand. But there was more to it than that. He . . . He planned to do something when he got hold of me.’
Alec went to stand over the grate. His eyes widened in surprise, as he looked down at something beneath the bars. ‘My good God.’
Beth joined him. Cold air vented up into her face. She heard a flurry of whispers.
Sally blurted in panic, ‘What’s wrong, what’s happening!’
‘It’s the sea,’ Alec marvelled. ‘It’s flowing into the bottom of the hole.’
Sally cried out in fear.
‘Hear that whispering sound?’ He sounded full of glee. ‘It’s the waves washing against the stonework.’
Groaning, Sally looked as if she’d faint again.
Beth rushed to comfort her. ‘It’s nothing to worry about. Remember, Sally, Eleanor told us that sometimes, if the tide was really high, seawater would flow along the tunnel.’ She turned to Alec. ‘It connects with the harbour.’
‘Splendid.’ He grinned. ‘It’s bound to be one of those old smuggler tunnels. They’d have unloaded tobacco and brandy, and all that naughty contraband from the boats, and brought it up here to be hidden. Ah, I wonder if there’s a nice bottle of Cognac still secreted here?’
‘If the tunnel leads to the harbour, someone might have got in.’ Sally’s anxiety grew. ‘He could creep up the tunnel and break into the hotel.’ She grimaced. ‘And I never want to see his rotten eyes again. They made my blood run cold.’
‘Sally, it was a dream; you must’ve been in a dead faint for longer than you thought.’
‘Or some local peeping Tom.’ Alec crouched in order to study the grating. ‘He sneaks into the tunnel, so he can look up ladies’ skirts.’
‘Alec,’ Beth scolded.
He became serious again. ‘There’s nothing to worry about, Sally. See this grate?’ He stomped his boot on it. ‘Solid as a rock. One man couldn’t lift that. Even if some local lad managed to get into the tunnel he wouldn’t get any further than this.’ He laughed. ‘It’ll even keep Adolf himself out and all his ruddy Storm Troopers.’
