Jimmy put his finger to his lips. ‘Sssh – he’s under the table, but don’t let on; it only upsets everyone. I can’t leave him by himself at home all evenin’.’
‘Saw you taking him out the other morning. He’s indistinguishable from the old Sykes, isn’t he?’
‘Yes, and a grand dog he is, too. We’re becoming real friends. He’s good company.’
‘Capital. There’s something a bit special about dogs, something extra in their companionship which you don’t get with a cat.’
‘Exactly.’
‘I keep wondering if Muriel should get another dog, but she can’t forget Pericles.’
‘When you’ve ’ad a good dog, yer can’t replace ’em easily. I’ve taken to ’im,’ Jimmy pointed under the table, ‘only ’cos he’s so like old Sykes in looks and that.’
‘And that?’ Ralph queried.
‘Habits an’ that. Uncanny it is sometimes.’
‘Uncanny?’
Willie interrupted. ‘This is leading somewhere, Ralph?’
‘You’ve both finished your drinks – will you allow me to get you another?’
Willie pushed his glass across the table. ‘Thanks very much. Same again, please.’
‘And me,’ echoed Jimmy. Ralph took their glasses to the bar. ‘He’s got something on his mind, he ’as.’
Willie agreed.
Ralph settled down again at their table and when they’d thanked him for their refills, he said heavily, ‘Sykes Wood.’
‘Yes?’ Jimmy said. ‘What about it?’
Willie looked away, tried to pretend he hadn’t heard. Jimmy lifted his glass and having taken a long drink, wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.
‘You’ve been there, haven’t you, to take a look?’ Ralph asked.
‘I ’ave, yes, but I saw nothing unusual at all, ’cept for a dead bonfire.’
‘I think there’s something untoward happening there. Do you?’
Jimmy put down his glass, and fiddled with the beer mat, making it straight and placing his glass right in the centre of it.
‘Per’aps.’
Willie looked anxiously at Ralph. ‘What do yer mean?’
Ralph leaned towards them both. ‘I think it’s witchcraft or black magic. Something of that ilk.’
Jimmy nodded. ‘Some years since we ’ad any of that round these parts.’
Ralph glanced about and then asked quietly, ‘Remember what happened then at the time?’
‘Must have been twenty years ago – no, maybe twenty-five. Tell yer who was involved,’ he counted them off on his fingers, ‘the Senior sisters, Simone Paradise’s French grandmother, Gwen Baxter’s mother and a woman who’d been evacuated ’ere during the war and stayed on – forget her name. Used the old cricket pavilion for services or whatever they called ’em. Right uproar there was. Old Reverend Furbank, not so old then o’ course, was at his wits’ end. Thelma and Valda’s mother finished up running screaming through the village in the night in her nightdress, got herself so frightened she ’ad. Blamed it on a black cat of Valda’s, said it was Valda’s familiar or some such. Looked damned ordinary to me.’
Willie joined in. ‘I remember that. They held a meeting in the churchyard one night – Hallowe’en it was. I ’ad a grave dug ready for the next day, and one of ’em fell in it and nearly died of fright. She dislodged a lot of soil and, before we could use it, I ’ad to get down in it and clear it out a bit and I found a dead cat. Horrible it was. But yer don’t have that kind of thing in this day and age. Heavens above. Course not.’ Willie shuddered.
Jimmy disagreed. ‘Don’t you be too sure, there’s a sight lot more going on in this village at the moment than meets the eye. There’s something nasty and I reckon Ralph’s suggested the very place where it’s all ’appening. And you know more than you’re saying, Willie Biggs.’
‘I don’t.’ Willie shook his head emphatically and tried to signal to Jimmy not to say any more.
‘You do.’
‘Care to investigate?’ Ralph said this very casually.
The hairs on the back of Willie’s neck stood up. ‘Investigate?’
Ralph raised a questioning eyebrow and said softly, ‘Tonight?’
Willie shook his head. ‘Rector and Dr Harris are out very late tonight. Gone to a party at the George. When I’ve finished here, I’ve promised to go and keep Sylvia company, seeing as she’s staying so late.’ The relief on his face was noticeable.
‘Very well – can’t be helped. I need you, Jimmy, because you know the woods so well. I have a powerful torch I keep in the car in case of a breakdown, so we’ll take that. Anything else we need?’
‘I’ll bring Sykes.’
‘Good – he might give us early warning if there’s anything wrong. Midnight, at my house, right?’ Ralph downed his whisky and said good night.
Jimmy surreptitiously put his glass down under the table for Sykes to drink the remains of his ale. ‘Well, well,’ he said slowly. ‘Who d’yer reckon we’ll find?’
Willie answered Jimmy’s question with a shake of his head. ‘You’ll see nobody. Not a bloomin’ soul.’
The church clock was striking midnight as Jimmy knocked at Ralph’s door. It was a cold night so he was well wrapped-up. He’d unearthed his old poaching jacket and Ralph answered the door wearing his Barbour jacket with a corduroy cap Muriel never liked him to wear in daylight.
‘You carry the torch, Ralph.’ Muriel appeared and handed it to him. Ralph looked at her in astonishment. She was dressed for going out, wearing that jaunty wool hat she loved, a thick winter coat and wellingtons.
‘My dear, you’re not coming.’
‘I am. I’m all dressed ready to go.’
‘I can’t possibly allow you—’
‘I’m sorry, Ralph, three heads are better than two and I’m coming.’
‘Absolutely not. It could be dangerous.’
‘Phooey! Dangerous? This is Turnham Malpas, not downtown New York.’
‘Jimmy! Say she mustn’t come.’
‘I’m having nothing to do with it. I’m not coming between married folk. But make up yer minds, please. It’s cold standing ’ere.’
Disappointed at not getting immediate support from Jimmy, Ralph sighed. ‘Very well, my dear, but at the first hint of—’
‘Ralph! Don’t mollycoddle!’
They climbed the stile into the woods and Ralph led the way followed by Muriel and then Jimmy. Somewhere close an owl hooted. Muriel jumped. The deep silence in the wood, to say nothing of the very deep blackness of it, unnerved her, though she would have died rather than admit to it. She’d lived in the country the first fourteen years of her life, but had never been what could be called a countrywoman. Now, take Jimmy, he was a countryman right to the tips of his toes. So too was Ralph. They actually enjoyed field sports – but not Muriel. The fields and woods gave her pleasure and they gave her space to breathe and she wouldn’t have wanted to live anywhere else, but … she tripped over a tree root.
‘Mind out,’ Jimmy whispered hoarsely. ‘Be careful, watch where you’re going.’
‘Sorry!’ Muriel stumbled on. They’d be there all too soon at this pace. Ralph wasn’t half determined once he’d made up his mind – just like he’d been as a boy at the village school. A twig flicked against Muriel’s cheek and startled her. Anyway it was more than likely they’d find nothing, absolutely nothing. She wished she’d brought a torch for herself; Ralph’s torch going on ahead wasn’t much use to her walking behind him, but the path was too narrow to walk alongside each other. Sykes ran back to check on Jimmy, and Muriel had to pause for a moment to avoid tripping over him.
It was Sykes’ low rumbling growl which upset Muriel; there was a menacing note in it which boded ill.
‘Quiet, Sykes! Shut up!’ Jimmy snarled, but the dog wouldn’t be hushed. ‘Wait, Ralph. Listen.’ The three of them stood quite still straining to hear what Sykes had already detected. Ralph had switched off his torch so that darkn
ess was even deeper. The owl hooted again, fraying Muriel’s nerves once more. An unexpected gust of wind rustled the trees.
Jimmy whispered, ‘There’s a while to go yet before we reach the clearing. Can’t hear a thing, can you?’
Ralph said he couldn’t either. ‘Let’s press on.’
Muriel followed feeling more alarmed than ever. Why ever had she said she’d come? She was always doing this, getting involved and then fervently wishing she hadn’t. As for Sykes … Dogs knew things human beings didn’t and she’d an idea that Sykes knew more than most. She guessed they’d chosen the right night, because … Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a pair of gleaming green eyes, low down amongst the undergrowth. It was only for a fleeting second but very frightening. Oh dear Lord, if she’d been a woman who crossed herself she’d have done it then and there. She poked Ralph in the back, and pointed but Ralph only shrugged: he could see nothing. Then there they were again, the eyes, watching them. Sykes, who was keeping close to Jimmy, renewed his rumbling growl. Muriel poked Ralph again and pointed but, as Ralph’s torch flicked the other way, the eyes could no longer be seen. Muriel didn’t really know whether she wanted to watch out for them again or whether she wanted to stare straight ahead and ignore them.
Jimmy cannoned into her as Ralph halted unexpectedly. The torch went out and they were in utter blackness again. That owl! It chilled her spine. They sounded so lovely at night when she was safely tucked up beside Ralph, but not out here in the dark. Then she smelt woodsmoke, and through the trees she could just detect a blaze. Oh God in heaven! There they were. Faintly she could hear strange chanting, like in church but different. Sykes’ ears were on alert, his head twitching from side to side as though detecting the direction of a sound he’d heard close by. Muriel thought about the green eyes, and her flesh began to creep. Had they got a wild panther in the woods? Was that what had got Mimi?
Jimmy’s shoulder was touching hers as they stood listening; he tugged at her sleeve and she felt rather than saw him turning off the path and going between the trees following Ralph. Towards the green eyes. Oh heavens above! She couldn’t see a thing. She stumbled amongst the closely packed trees, catching her arms, her face, her elbows, her feet on twigs and stones and low-lying branches. Once her coat caught on a branch and by the time she’d unhooked herself she couldn’t see Ralph ahead.
A hand reached out and grabbed her arm. It was Jimmy. They moved on stealthily until the chanting grew louder, the light from the fire brighter. Then Ralph stopped and crouched down. He waved his hand behind him to signal that they should do the same.
Between the bushes, they could see there were five of them dancing round the fire, black figures silhouetted by the flames. You couldn’t identify anyone, except to say one was short, one was tall, two were thin, one was fat. Then after the chanting had reached a climax and the frenzied dancing had slowed, one of the figures reached towards the fire and then walked towards a pile of stones. They were carrying something they had lit from the fire. Muriel saw they were lighting candles at the top of the pile of stones. The figures stood in a circle around the stones and then one lone voice began a chant. The only sound was the voice. Unchurchlike and yet churchlike. Worshipping and yet not. Fascinating but yet repellent.
The spell was broken by Sykes, who suddenly flung himself out of Jimmy’s grasp and hurtled towards the clearing. Muriel saw the green eyes again: Sykes was heading straight for them. Though the two animals were fighting in the light of the bonfire, it was impossible to see what was happening for they were fastened into a tight ball of snarling, spitting, scratching and yowling. Rolling over and over, never letting go. Occasionally Sykes yelped but mostly he snarled. The fight seemed to last an age; the effect it had was startling. The five figures simultaneously snuffed the candle-flames, picked up belongings from around the fire, and fled in five different directions.
Only the cat and dog remained, still fighting as though to the death. Jimmy raced towards them, shouting. Ralph shone his torch between the trees attempting to catch a glimpse of the figures fleeing into the darkness, but he was too late. They had gone. The cat and dog rolled too close to the fire and the cat’s shrill shriek as it rolled on the glowing ash at the edge of the bonfire cut Muriel’s fragile courage from under her. She screamed. The cat fled. The fight was over.
Sykes stood up panting, laughing in his doglike way at Jimmy, waiting for praise for his efforts. With one arm gripping Muriel tightly, Ralph shone the torch on Sykes. There was a long bleeding gash from his right eye down the side of his face to the corner of his mouth, and a tear down his left flank. But he was triumphant; no one could deny him his victory.
Ralph asked, ‘Did either of you catch a glimpse of who they were?’
Both Muriel and Jimmy shook their heads.
‘Neither did I. What a pity. No doubt in my mind that cat was Kate Pascoe’s.’
‘Nor mine. Must have been, ’cos they were of a size. Come here, old lad. Good dog, good dog. Jimmy’ll see to them scratches when we get home.’ Jimmy patted Sykes where he could without touching his wounds and Sykes wagged his tail. A job well done, he seemed to be saying.
Fired up by the fight and the flight of the participants, Jimmy wanted to find out more. ‘Let’s look around, see what we can find.’
They found that the candles were black. Muriel shrieked. ‘I read about that in a novel once. Oh dear! Oh dear!’
‘What did you read, my dear?’
‘They had the black candles.’
‘Who did?’
‘The witches!’
‘So we are right, it’s just as I thought.’ Ralph shuddered. ‘Let’s be gone from this evil place.’
He held Muriel’s arm in a tight reassuring grip. She was shaking with fear. Looking round the clearing, a place she had once thought was lovely, and indeed a place where as a girl she had often picnicked with the Guides, Muriel felt nothing but horror. To think it was people from her own village who were doing these dreadful things. Perhaps dreadful things to Mimi. And whatever it was that had frightened Rhett and the sergeant’s wife. Maybe they really had reincarnated Sykes. She shook herself. Pull yourself together, Muriel, she thought. You would come on this adventure, it’s all your own fault. ‘Let’s go, Ralph. Come on, Jimmy.’
Jimmy kicked a lot of earth onto the bonfire to damp it down. Ralph pulled one of the candles free from the altar, pinched the wick to make sure it was completely out and stuffed it in his pocket. ‘Evidence.’ Then he proceeded to kick down the column of stones, till it was just a heap, and the remaining black candles crushed into pieces.
As they left the clearing there was a massive clap of thunder directly above their heads, and huge spots of rain began to drop. By the time they’d reached the stile there was a full-scale thunder and lightning storm raging. Huge flashes of sheet lightning were spreading across the sky and Muriel was wishing she was safely at home in bed with Ralph; she wished she’d been there all night and had never encouraged him to come on this adventure. They’d found out more than they’d bargained for and she was frightened.
When they reached Jimmy’s cottage, Ralph cautioned him: ‘Not a word about what we’ve seen, Jimmy – to anyone. I shall speak to the rector first thing in the morning. I’m going to him because I don’t know what else to do. I’ll let you know developments. Good night, and thank you for coming with us, Jimmy. Someone had to find out. We shall have to put a stop to it, but I’m not sure how, when we don’t know who it was.’
‘But we do. It was Kate Pascoe’s cat, sure as eggs,’ Jimmy argued.
‘Yes, I’m certain you’re right on that score. Good night to you.’
Ralph and Muriel went to their own house and Ralph unlocked the door for Muriel but, before he followed her in, he stood in the road looking round at the sleeping village. Well, well. What next? But they’d withstand this crisis. The village had withstood heaven knew what for centuries – a bit of black magic wasn’t going to destroy it. Civil wa
r, world wars, plagues, kings and queens … all had come and gone, but here it still was, and here it would be for all time. The canker would have to be plucked out of its heart. He, Ralph Templeton, would see to that. He wasn’t going to allow some pathetic people with twisted minds to destroy the peace of mind of this beloved place.
Chapter 18
Hetty Hardaker rang the school-bell at five minutes to nine, as she always did. The children made their neat lines, Margaret Booth came to collect her infants and there was the usual hubbub of happy young voices, eager for the school day to begin. She couldn’t help smiling. Where else would she find such satisfaction?
‘Sophie, use your handkerchief dear, please. You haven’t got one? Go and get a tissue from the box in my room.’
‘Mrs Hardaker, it’s my birthday today.’
‘I know, Brian, I’ve got the candles all ready. I’ve put five out – that’s right, isn’t it?’ She laughed at her joke. The children chuckled.
Brian protested. ‘Eight!’
‘Of course. I know. Just testing! Right, Miss Booth?’
‘Right, Mrs Hardaker. Come along, Class One. Gently now.’
The only cloud on the horizon this morning was that Kate Pascoe was late. Hetty looked across at the school-house. The curtains were still drawn. Odd.
‘Miss Booth, could you take prayers? When I’ve done the register I’m going across to the school-house to see what’s happened to Miss Pascoe.’
‘Will do.’
Hetty slipped on her top coat and strode across the school playground. She kept thinking Spring was on its way but this morning she knew she was mistaken. The wind blowing across the open space between the school and the house was cruelly cold. She knocked on the front door. She knocked again. She tried the knob, but the door was locked.
Only the curtains in the kitchen were open. Shading her eyes she peered in. Everything appeared to be quite normal. Neat, tidy, nothing out of place. Typical Miss Pascoe. But acid green kitchen walls? Hetty shrugged her shoulders. She stood below the bedroom window and shouted, ‘Kate! Kate! Are you all right?’
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