A leaky tap was responsible for the sound. How could I know a room with a basin existed behind that wall?
‘I suppose you know every secret room in this old house, do you?’
He smiled and turned the faucet until the dripping ceased, then closed the cupboard, locking it back up.
‘It’s funny to lock that isn’t it?’
‘It’s just one less room to check of a night, before this part of the house is closed up. With so many rooms the caretaker would be here all night otherwise.’
‘I don’t suppose there are many people willing to stay here all night either. Except you, of course.’
‘Of course.’ He strolled away grinning.
Six
THE DUNGEON
IF YOU FEEL FAINT OR SICK PLEASE TELL A MEMBER OF STAFF IMMEDIATELY
…Such was the sign on entering the London Dungeon. Stacey made a queasy sound and face to match, and then looked to us for reassurance.
‘Just remember that the smell isn’t real,’ I told her. ‘It’s meant to reflect the era it’s set in and get you in the mood.’
‘Oh!’ Stacey whined. ‘Look at that sign. There’s a Jack the Ripper tour today. It’s going to be scary!’
‘We won’t leave your side, will we, Bee?’
Beth’s eyes watered in a struggle to suppress laugher. ‘Of course we won’t, silly girl!’ She chuckled, linking her arm.
The pavement glistened under the feet of the queuing public, from a shower of rain that fell early that morning. Stacey wore her plum-coloured hair down and lashings of black eye makeup, more than ever. It was probably to compensate because Mrs Evans forbade it being so extreme at work.
Beth was very natural and rarely wore makeup. She was especially pretty when she laughed, which was most of the time. Stacey acted differently around Beth than she did when just with me. She behaved like a baby, wanting Beth to mother her.
Stacey was uncharacteristically quiet while Beth and I chatted in the queue, which circled the gloomy setting of a graveyard.
‘Don’t you guys leave me when we get in there!’ she whispered.
Beth burst out laughing, automatically giving Stacey a sidelong hug. ‘You better not change your mind, Stace. We’ve come all this way!’
We got to the first depictions of medieval persecution, where sets of mechanical mannequins portrayed various execution scenes, including boiling to death and hangings for witchcraft. Each were accompanied with their own distant recording of moans and wails playing overhead. Beth walked on and Stacey followed quickly. The scenes grew darker as did the corridors the farther we went. Stacey was by now incredibly edgy, which instinctively made Beth protective of her.
The scenery was very effective with the artificial smell of damp clogging our nostrils. Many of the Dungeon’s actors were walking about dressed as lepers and victims of the bubonic plague, often bothering the public by making them jump. I wandered away from Beth and Stacey for a moment, just to peer down the dark smoky corridor up ahead, in anticipation of the Ripper tour we would be going on. Soon the three of us made our way down there to start queuing for it. Having just surveyed the corridor, where it was empty of anything before, I noticed it now contained a mannequin dressed as Jack the Ripper. It stood at the far end. If it wasn’t a mannequin, then the actor in top hat and cloak, with white face and glassy eyes, was a very accomplished player. I knew his mission would be to scare the living hell out of us, so I gave him a wide berth, pulling Stacey with me. Beth was nearest to him but strolled past without a care. She would not be his quarry. Stacey however became unexpectedly interested in the doll-faced man. Curiosity, they say, is the very basis of education, in which we learn by our mistakes.
‘What a creepy looking dummy!’ she said. ‘Weird, it reminds me of someone.’
I wasn’t about to play any mean trick on her, so I whispered in her ear, ‘That’s not a mannequin. He’s an actor, just like the leper.’
I was further surprised when Stacey pulled away for a closer look.
‘No way!’ she whispered. ‘That’s not a man.’
The actor, a proficient in his profession, remained dead still. I stared at him too now, doubting myself, where he didn’t seem to breathe or blink. Stacey was almost nose-to-nose with him.
Very suddenly the doll came to life in one sinuous movement towards her. He silently drew from under his cloak a very long rubber knife, which looked as real as the man had looked fake. I’ve never heard a scream like it! If Stacey were at that moment auditioning for a part in a Saw movie, she would have gotten the role over any celebrity. The doll’s movement was to her a gunshot to Usain Bolt: she sprinted. She sprinted so fast back down the corridor that we couldn’t have caught her for love nor money. The actor then gave chase. It wasn’t unexpected that she ran. The quasi-Ripper didn’t appear to be feigning his intentions. I quickly followed and when I caught up, Stacey had dashed back into the Wicked Women section. The Ripper had cornered her between two possible exits. He outmanoeuvred her each time she tried for one of them. He was really enjoying this. Stacey’s face was clear hysteria. The Ripper ducked back and forth between her exits, goading her to choose one. I stood there puzzled at what to do. She screamed stupidly and grasped at onlookers, ready to start using them as human shields. She squeezed her eyes shut and didn’t see the Ripper turning away with a very satisfied grin on his porcelain face. Having had his fun he passed me and paced back down the corridor. Stacey reopened her eyes, and finding no sign of him, she legged it towards the entrance like the Tasmanian devil. I had trouble keeping up, but soon found her hiding in the toilets. Beth discovered us there, now finding it all hilarious. Stacey begged us to guard the door in case the actor had followed her, while she washed off her smudged eye makeup in order to reapply it. We stood outside like a couple of bouncers.
‘I knew coming here was a bad idea,’ I told Beth. ‘Why did I think she meant it?’
‘Maybe because she started working at Halton Cray.’ Beth raised her eyebrows, trying not to laugh.
‘I suppose, and after hearing about that missing girl too, no wonder!’
‘What missing girl?’
Since Beth had never heard of it, I proceeded to tell her about the disappearance of Tess McQueeney and her curious hiding place.
‘Sounds ominous. And Stacey knows about this?’
‘Oh yes, but she’s just glad to have her job. It’d be a different story if the girl were still missing or something worse. But since they’ve found her, she doesn’t give a monkeys. I can’t help wondering what happened to this girl. It’s so strange. What could she have seen to make her run off, leave her things behind and hide out in her own loft?’
‘Have you considered asking her?’
‘No. Frances, from the Cray, can’t even visit because the girl is so on edge. What chance have I? Besides, I don’t want to make her more jumpy with strangers asking questions.’
‘Just tell her your name’s Nancy Drew.’ She grinned, pulling her thick brown hair out of her face and securing it in a clip. ‘But these things generally have a way of sorting themselves out, Nance. Look at you finding out that Mark’s not so nice before you got too serious.’
‘Yeah, Bee. Lucky me!’
‘Alex, you’re too bloody sensible. I would have done a runner and left him with the bill!’
‘I’d like to see that.’ I laughed.
It took us the best part of an hour to convince Stacey that the actor wasn’t looking for her. She wouldn’t come out until we agreed to quit the Dungeon altogether.
Once outside in daylight and fresh air –
‘I know who that Ripper guy reminds me of now!’ Stacey blurted out with a quivering of her shoulders. ‘There’s a guy at the Cray who looks just like that! He scares the hell out of me.’
Beth and I sighed, rolling our eyes in unison, which made us all laugh.
‘I’m serious though,’ she persisted. ‘Have you seen him, Alex?
I shrugged and sh
ook my head, although I had an idea whom she meant.
‘So how’s it going working at Halton Cray together?’ Beth moved her eyes between us.
‘We hardly see each other, do we, Stace?’
Stacey had so much to say about working there that I let her prattle on. From what she said, she’d made good friends with Mrs Evans. For me, though I found the woman tolerable, there was something wanting.
Stacey’s words regarding the mannequin haunted me that night. I could admit some resemblance to Thom, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was exactly.
Seven
THE GOSSIP’S ADVOCATE
‘See and keep silent.’
– Sir Francis Walsingham
I reminded myself of those thoughts the next time I saw Thom at the Cray, passing from one corridor to another in no obvious mood. Mrs Evans had been with me and I caught her scowl in his direction. If looks had language, the word antipathy would certainly have cropped up.
It was a Saturday in early October. The Cray wasn’t foggy for the first time since I’d started the job. Mrs Evans regularly put me at the front desk since that time a leaky tap had petrified Stacey.
During the morning Stacey text me from the shop. She desperately wanted to talk to me about something, but I was happy to let the hallway separate us until lunch. I had a slight headache and wanted some peace, so while the coast was clear, I went upstairs into the Solomon Gallery for contemporary art; a modern room situated in the South East Wing. Some loud barking outside caught my attention. I looked out the window and saw a large German shepherd dog heading for the house. It was fierce in pursuit of a white and tabby tomcat. Both disappeared beneath my view, though I had pressed my forehead flat to the cold glass. They’d entered the alley and got inside. The dog growled and barked loudly. I heard panic downstairs before its noise abruptly ceased. As though afraid, I heard it whimper and whine a high-pitched cry. I glanced out the window and saw that dog, or one that looked exactly like it, come trotting out from the alley, panting and wagging its tail, before bounding off to some expert whistling in the distance.
On my way downstairs I stopped halfway on the landing, noticing through the window that cat in the courtyard. It was sitting on a barrel looking particularly smug. As I gained the entrance hall, I could hear Mrs Evans down the corridor talking to Frances.
‘Animals like that should be gotten rid of!’ she exclaimed. ‘It might have killed someone!’ Her voice dropped an octave. ‘Perhaps it does come in handy to have that ghoul aroun–’ She stopped talking having caught sight of me as I reached my desk.
‘You can go to lunch with Stacey today,’ she said, raising her voice to reach me. ‘In about half an hour.’ She attempted a smile.
Stacey and I met in the staffroom to retrieve our lunches and put on our jackets. Presently she was moaning about a difficult customer that she’d had to deal with. We left by the alley, walking round the south of the house towards the Rose Garden where the air was heavily scented with floral delights. I wanted to walk along the Shockers River, against its flow, where geese littered its sloping banks.
‘Let’s walk up this way,’ Stacey demanded, interrupting herself mid-sentence.
‘Why?’
‘Just because!’ she snapped, leading the way.
I then noticed Thom at quite a distance from us, crossing Westleigh Bridge to walk back towards the house. The river was wider and more stagnant beyond the bridge, which connected the various gardens to the meadows. Thom kept to the banks, where their steep earthy ledges exposed the roots of the weeping willows that lined them.
I wasn’t surprised to hear that Stacey had wormed something out of someone about him. Clearly she’d already spotted him, before referencing him to me as ‘Thom, the ghost.’
Absurd.
‘The other day,’ she began, ‘when I was upstairs on the Minstrels’ Gallery, he was in the North East Wing putting out some old-fashioned clothes. I went to the stairs, because who’d want to be stuck in a room with him and his scary eyes! But when I got to the bottom, who do I see down there? Only the ghost! He was upstairs one minute, and the next he’s in the Great Hall heading for the door. He definitely didn’t walk past me, and that’s the only way out. There’s no way! Unless the obvious.’
‘The obvious being that he knows and uses all the secret passageways in that house? After all, Stace, he’s been here for years. He must have an intimate knowledge of them. Do you remember the tapping noise at the front desk a few weeks back? I told you what it was, remember?’
‘Umm. A dripping tap?’
‘Yes. And where’s the tap?’
‘In a cupboard somewhere nearby.’
‘Stacey, I told you about the hidden cupboard opposite the desk. What I neglected to mention, because I never thought this conversation would arise, is that it was Thom who revealed it and turned the thing off.’
‘So, a hidden cupboard, like a secret room?’
‘Exactly. So you can imagine there might be others–’
‘Do you know any more?’ She got excited.
‘I’ve found one in this house before, years ago.’
‘Oh my God! Where is it?’
‘I don’t actually remember,’ I lied through my teeth, for no other reason than if I were to tell her it wouldn’t remain a secret. But for those who can keep a secret, it is near the window on the right-hand side in that small chamber, the De Morgan Gallery. Hidden within the wooden panels is an iron door, which opens on to a slender passageway. This leads to a narrow but steep staircase, which runs down to the cellars. I went down there only once and saw nothing except an endlessly dark enclosure with a low ceiling.
‘It was such a long time ago, Stace, and all those walls look the same. Besides, I’m sure there are more, that’s my point. Perhaps one of them hides a staircase and goes down to the Tudor kitchen from that gallery. It would make more sense than what you’re saying about Thom, wouldn’t it?’
She shook her head. ‘There’s more–’
I asked her to lower her voice, since her excitement increased. I should have told her to mute it. She was clearly exaggerating.
‘I told Mrs Evans, for a joke really, that I thought he was a ghost,’ she said in a creepy whisper, ‘because he’s always here, isn’t he, like he’s bound to the grounds, the place he died! He so reminds me of that Jack the Ripper guy–’
‘Don’t be so mean, Stacey! Look, if Mrs Evans has been suggesting all this, you have to take on board that without a dependable memory the woman most probably relies on her imagination. You have to remember that he lives here.’
I knew she didn’t really believe any of this. If she did, she of all people wouldn’t stick around.
She went on regardless, ‘And he never speaks to anyone, or touches them. He’s always looking so pale with those big dark eyes, like a ghost. Anyway, Mrs Evans was telling me that Tess is practically bedbound with some nervous disorder. Something must have happened here the night she disappeared. She’s warned me, Alex, to take care around the ghost. She said there’s something different about him.’
I cleared my throat to disguise the laugh I was suppressing. It answered everything if different was synonymous with facetious, or haughty, or irritating!
‘She said he was dangerous, Alex! That’s why the dog got so scared of him earlier.’
‘I saw that dog run off, Stace, and it looked happy enough to me. And for your information I once hit Thom with the jeep. There. Besides it being ridiculous I don’t think it would be possible to do that to a ghost.’
We came round the walkway under the looming octagonal turret and took the uphill path lined with mythical topiary. The scent on the air changed. I noticed the so-called ghost glance our way. He’d reached the edge of the Rose Garden, which was all that separated us from him. Keeping an even pace he headed towards the house, passing people on the lower path uninterestedly. A few of them, I observed, gave him a wide berth. The slanting rays of the sun were gildin
g the ground and casting our shadows out over it, stretching them to lengths nearly twice our heights. But for the life of me I couldn’t see Thom’s shadow. I searched, and searched again, but there could be no mistake! He overtook a couple with their children in tow, and glided along the path next to them, their black shadows racing ahead. His shadow was nowhere in sight as if he weren’t of any substance. I couldn’t believe it. And did he glide? – Once a seed’s been planted it’s only natural for it to grow, ideas to form. Our eyes will hunt for evidence to prove its existence.
I noticed how I was staring with my mouth ajar, when I saw Stacey following my gaze with incisive eyes. I quickly looked away and pretended not to have seen anything, which was true unless I was mad. She looked ready to interrogate me.
Thom vanished around the southwest corner of the house. Before Stacey could say a word, I threw in a change of topic, though the missing shadow was bothering me all the while.
‘What was it you wanted to talk to me about earlier?’
‘Oh, yeah! Well, just stupid Ben.’ She grimaced at pronouncing the name of her ex. ‘Well, not him exactly. I saw him yesterday with some new girlfriend – a right minger! I think he was trying to make me jealous. Fat chance! I wish Darren had been with me though. Anyway, Mark was with him. I mentioned you, you know, just in passing, but he pretended he didn’t know what I was on about. So I said that I’d seen you together in Carnelian’s and he was like “Yeah, well, she’s a nice girl and stuff, but it turns out she’s got a history I’m not all that impressed with.”’
‘History?’ I questioned in surprise. ‘What sort of history?’
‘I asked him that, but he tried to brush it off, saying it was just something he’d heard, and where there’s smoke there’s bound to be fire. I told him you were a good friend and whatever he’d heard was probably bull. That’s when he admitted that after a date with you in some café, a friend of his who’d seen you together phoned Mark the next day to warn him off.’
Halton Cray (Shadows of the World Book 1) Page 6
