Virginia frowned. “I wouldn’t put any faith in what he says. How much did you tell him about your experiences in the field?”
“Nothing. Well, only a little about the first one, yesterday. I haven’t been in there today.”
Virginia leaned towards me, no trace of a smile on her face. “There are things you don’t know about George Nowell. Things that might make you have a different opinion of him. Suffice it to say, you can’t trust him. Don’t tell him anything you don’t want to come back and haunt you another day.”
“How long have you known him?”
She sat back. “Since we moved here four years ago. But there’s history between our families. I won’t bore you with it, but none of us like the Nowells.”
Something clicked in my brain. “He’s not related to Roger Nowell, the magistrate who ordered the arrest of the Pendle witches, is he?”
Virginia’s lips twitched. Almost a smile, but not quite. “You’ve read about him, have you? Yes, George Nowell is a direct descendant.”
“And was your family involved in that as well?”
Virginia gave a mirthless laugh. Harsh, grating. Unpleasant. If she felt like this, I couldn’t understand why she’d recommended the Feathers to me at all. “Involved is an interesting choice of word. Back in the seventeenth century, you would have found our surname spelt a number of ways, including D-e-v-i-c-e.”
“So, you’re…”
Virginia nodded.
“I had no idea any of their relatives were still living. I thought the whole family had been wiped out.”
Virginia shook her head and smiled. “They’d love you to think so, but no. I think that’s why George Nowell refuses to serve Martin. I don’t go into pubs anyway, or he would do the same to me.”
“I thought that was because of Martin’s former friendship with his daughter.”
The smile disappeared from Virginia’s face. “Charlotte Nowell is a little tart who sleeps with anyone she fancies and then complains when they dump her. She goes crying to Daddy and he promptly bars them. He’s become a joke all over Barrowford.”
I couldn’t think of a suitable reply, so I changed the subject. “I think I’ll try the Italian restaurant tonight. Is it open on Mondays?”
Virginia nodded, and when she spoke, the last few minutes might never have happened. All the old congeniality flooded back. “You’ll need to take your car though. It’s a couple of miles. I’ll get you the details.”
Virginia, Lillian Sayer and her daughter chatted outside. They all smiled at me as I came out of the house.
“I’m off to the Italian,” I said. “Could I give you a lift anywhere?”
“No, dear,” Ella said. “Thank you very much for offering, but we’re staying local this evening.”
As they did every evening. What did they find to do here? They never seemed to go anywhere. Oh well, each to their own, I thought. Just a couple of harmless eccentrics, stuck in a 1950s time warp.
When I returned from the restaurant, a few lights burned upstairs and in the hall. No sound of anyone still up and around, even though it was only a little after ten.
That evening was much warmer than the previous one and had made my room stuffy. I opened the window and breathed in the sweet night air. I picked up Wicked Enchantments and settled myself in bed with it.
I finished the book around midnight and then turned in, my head full of the awful travesty of the Pendle witch trials and the way a child called Jennet Device had been made to give evidence against her own mother.
I awoke with a start in the early hours. Voices drifted in through the open window, so I got up to investigate. In the moonlight, three female figures moved on the gravel drive. I hid behind the curtain. Judging by the dramatic gesticulations of one of them—a female with long, flowing hair—they seemed to be arguing.
The figure turned. Virginia. She pointed to the house and I realized I might be the subject of their argument. Why? I hadn’t a clue. But she was arguing with Lillian and Ella.
I retreated back to bed. A clammy coldness seeped into my bones. I had the strongest feeling that I couldn’t possibly stay on here. I had to leave. First thing in the morning. Quite how I would explain my sudden departure, I didn’t yet know. Hell, I couldn’t even explain it to myself. But I could always invent some family crisis. Too bad if Virginia charged me for late cancellation. It would be a price worth paying just to get out of here.
Those were probably the last sensible thoughts I had.
Outside, the argument continued. Not loud enough for me to make out any words. My eyes grew heavy, the poor night’s sleep from the night before catching up on me. I lay down and when I opened my eyes the next time, the morning sun streamed through the window.
“I’m sorry, but something’s come up at the last minute and I’ve got to go home.” The palms of my hands were sweating as I lied to Virginia. Could she tell? Those eyes gave away nothing and her reaction seemed friendly enough.
“Nothing too serious, I hope.”
I shook my head. “No, I’m sure it’ll all work out, but I need to get back as soon as possible. I quite understand if you need to charge me.”
“Oh no. I wouldn’t dream of it. We haven’t had to turn anyone away, after all. Besides, we’ve loved having you and we’d like to have you back with us one day soon.”
Virginia really sounded as if she meant that as well. Maybe I’d got it wrong. After all, why should they be arguing over me anyway? I almost changed my mind, but decided that would be too difficult to explain. I handed over my credit card, and a sudden pang of regret hit me. “Is Martin around? I’d like to say goodbye.”
“No, I’m afraid he’s had to go into Nelson this morning. He’ll be sorry he missed you.”
I felt a weight inside me sink to the pit of my stomach, rapidly followed by yet another strong wave of guilt and anger at myself. I’d developed a stupid infatuation for a good-looking man with a great body and a bad-boy reputation. Purely hormonal. I didn’t need that in my life right now. I had enough problems coping with my emotions as they were. I didn’t need any more complications. Getting away from here now would be the best idea all round. “Tell him I wish him all the best…” I said, “…and you too.”
She smiled warmly. “Come back and see us.”
I nodded. “That would be great.” As long as those two women aren’t here. But what had they ever done to me? Nothing.
Virginia waved me off as Lillian and Ella emerged from the house. They waved too. Too bad their smiles ended at the corners of their mouths. Their eyes remained cold. Impassive. What was it about those two?
I made it to the end of the drive. My breath came in short gasps as I fought for control. I slammed on the brakes and stopped. I had to return to the field. I didn’t have any choice. In seconds I was driving down the now-familiar road.
Minutes later, I’d parked and, as if in a dream, started to cross that field on another warm, sun-drenched day. Green and sunny Pendle Hill seemed harmless in this light. No trace of the menace it held when the storm clouds swirled around it. Gradually, the fog in my head cleared; my breathing returned to normal. This time, I got even further before the buzzing started, penetrating my head and forcing my eyes shut.
Again the childish laughter and fetid stench of human and animal waste, but now when I opened my eyes, I stood just eighteen inches away from a gnarled oak door. The entrance to Malkin Tower. Apparently of its own accord, the door slowly creaked open to reveal a small living room with a fire at one end. A cooking pot hung from a metal rod and hook. Dried herbs hung in bunches from the low timbers, over the scrubbed table. In front of me, the stooped and hunched figure of the old woman I had seen yesterday watched me with milky eyes.
She spoke in an accent so thick I couldn’t, at first, make out her words. Then, as if a mist had lifted, I could understand her.
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“Come in, child. I’ve been expecting you.”
I took a step in, and this time no barrier prevented me. The room felt warm and smelled of rosemary and lavender, laced with peat from the fire.
“Come, sit by the hearth. You are not dressed for this weather.”
I looked back outside. Until I’d stepped in here, I had been in some sort of bubble, still in my own place and time, with the sun shining, but peering into this other world. Here, a winter gale blew and whistled down the chimney. I shivered and moved closer to the fire.
The old woman limped around the table and poured something from a kettle into an earthenware mug. She handed it to me.
“Drink this. It will warm you.”
A scent of licorice wafted up to me, reminding me of my childhood. Without another thought, I sipped it.
Chapter Fourteen
“Sell me some pins, Master Law. I will pay you on your return.” Alizon had known the peddler would be on the dirt track that served as the main road to Colne. He could always be found there on a Wednesday, his pins, fancy goods, kitchen tools and all manner of goods in a pack on his back. Not so young now. He had to be forty and his burden must have weighed heavy.
He seemed to waver for an instant. Would he give them to her? Grandmother had to have them. The spell they had cast on Chattox and her daughter didn’t seem to be working. She needed the force of the metal to seal the magic, and Alizon had vowed to get them for her this very day. He must hand them over.
John Law scanned her up and down. Alizon knew he liked what he saw and he would be wondering. What would she give him for his pins?
“I cannot give them to you on promise of payment later,” he said.
She let her face fall. She caught him admiring the swell of her breasts, revealed at the top of her bodice. On this day, warm and sunny for the time of year, her shawl hung loosely around her shoulders.
He licked his lips, dry from the dusty road no doubt. He looked over her head at the familiar outline of the inn. He probably thought a pint of foaming ale would go down well now.
She had to try harder. Alizon pulled her bodice down lower and saw his attention return. “Master Law, you can have this now if I can have my pins.”
His eyes went from her breasts to the alehouse and back again. No doubt he hoped to do good trade at the inn, but he would have to be quick or the farmers and laborers would be going home. What did it matter? She could have him finished in five minutes and take her pins, and he could be away with a smile on his face. She added extra fuel to the flame she had started, slipping her left forefinger into an O she made with the thumb and index finger of her right hand and pushing it back and forth. Then she opened her mouth and sucked the finger. She saw him salivating. She had so nearly hooked him, until…
“Good afternoon, Master Law.”
Alizon glared at the laborer who passed them. He had broken the moment. He saw the expression in her eyes, his face turned fearful and he hurried away.
“I must go,” the peddler said, shaking his head. “Bring your money next week and you can have your pins then. I am late.”
“But Master Law, you shall have payment. Now. If you will only come behind the hedge with me for five minutes.” She touched his arm and lowered her voice to a seductive whisper. “Five minutes of heaven for six of your pins. A fair trade, I would say.”
He looked down at her. Then up again at the inn.
“No. It will take me many minutes to find your pins. Then I will have to put everything back again, and time is short. I must go to the inn. There is much business for me there.”
A wave of hatred and anger coursed through Alizon. “Then get you to hell, peddler!”
A black dog approached from the right and stood next to Alizon. The peddler backed away. Alizon began to laugh. John Law looked from her down to the dog and back again. The dog bared its teeth and barked.
“Hush now,” she said. “And do my bidding.”
The peddler’s face turned ashen. He tried to run, but the weight on his back hobbled him. The dog paced a few steps ahead of Alizon, who stood and watched, waiting for the inevitable. John Law would wish he had never set eyes on Alizon Device, let alone refused her six of his pins.
Her familiar sat on his haunches. The peddler had gone maybe two hundred yards.
Alizon muttered under her breath, “Now.” The dog raced towards the man, jumped up at him and disappeared.
With a cry, the peddler fell to the ground. He struggled to sit up. Alizon approached him, a smile on her face, and relished the fear she read in his eyes. He struggled to stand but that would be difficult. A demon force had struck him down.
From the inn, two men rushed out to the aid of the stricken man.
Alizon wrapped her shawl more tightly around her shoulders and quickened her pace towards him.
The peddler cried out, “No, no, keep her away from me. Keep her away!”
The men crouched down and looked up at Alizon with questioning eyes.
“He is delirious,” she said. “I saw him trip and fall, so I was coming to his aid.”
“We must get him to the inn,” one of the men said, and the two of them hoisted him to his feet, each taking an arm, but the peddler’s legs wouldn’t bear his weight and they had to carry him.
Alizon followed them at a short distance. John Law ranted, cursed her and said she had bewitched him. Now and again, one of the men turned and glanced over his shoulder. She gave them a reassuring smile. A picture of wide-eyed innocence.
In the inn, the landlady gave him a room. “We must get word to his son. Does anyone know where he lives?”
One of the men who had carried him came down the stairs, puffing from his efforts. “I only know it is somewhere in Halifax. He is not making any sense now, beyond accusing this young woman of bewitching him.”
No one at the inn knew Alizon, and her demure smile seemed to work, judging by the shaking of heads and sympathetic smiles directed towards her. She lowered her eyes. “I should like to pay my respects to him and wish him a speedy recovery.”
The landlady patted her arm. “Of course, my dear, of course you may. His room is at the top of the stairs, first on the right.”
He lay against the pillow, his face grayer than ever. As Alizon entered, he opened his eyes and whimpered.
She leaned over him. “I will have my pins now, Master Law. And you shall have nothing for them.”
His pack had been set down on the floor by a cupboard and she untied it, searching until she found the little box containing all his best pins.
“I would have paid handsomely for these but you refused me. Now you will pay for the rest of your life. Never again will you be able to walk the roads, peddling your goods. You are finished, Master Law. And all for the lack of five minutes.”
Tears streamed down his face. One hand fluttered on the bedspread. The other lay still. Paralyzed. The left-hand side of his face was drawn down. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out.
“Have a care who you accuse me to, Master Law. Do not make me finish the job.”
At her side, her black dog appeared for a few seconds.
John Law screamed.
Chapter Fifteen
“It’s coming closer…soon…”
“Laura. Laura…”
The voices drifted through my unconscious brain, one surreal, the other real and familiar, dragging me back. Clouds lifted and my eyes opened. My head felt heavy, sleep-laden, and I had difficulty focusing. I struggled to sit up, and someone’s arms helped me. Someone else leaned over me.
I should be in my car… No, I should be sitting in an upright, hard chair at Malkin Tower, talking to Old Demdike.
But I seemed to be in a dilapidated old house… The image flashed out of my brain as fast as it had flashed in.
At last, my
head cleared and I recognized my room at Barrowbrooke Farm. At least, it had been my room. I’d checked out, surely? Everything swam into focus and I saw Virginia’s face. But how had I got here?
“You’re back with us,” Virginia said. “Thank goodness. I was on my way to Newchurch and I saw your car parked, with you slumped over the wheel. I nearly called an ambulance, but you looked unhurt, so I decided to bring you here. I thought you must have fainted. How are you now?”
Ragged half memories drifted into my mind as I battled to recall. “I don’t remember returning to my car. I went to that field and had that vision again. Only this time… This time, I met her. Old Demdike. She gave me something to drink. Oh my God!”
“What?”
“The drink. She must have spiked it with something.”
Virginia stared at me. “You were actually in her house? Malkin Tower?”
I nodded and my head throbbed.
“And she gave you something to drink?”
“Yes, and I can’t remember anything after that, so… She must have drugged it. But why would she do such a thing?” I forced my foggy brain to remember anything else. “She told me she’d been expecting me. Then she invited me in to sit by the fire because it was really cold outside, and she gave me this drink. And that’s it until I woke up here.”
Virginia sighed. “Well, whatever happened, it’s clear you can’t go anywhere else today. You need to rest and get your strength back.”
Why had I doubted her? I now convinced myself that the argument I’d witnessed had nothing to do with me. “Thank you,” I said.
Virginia turned to go and then stopped. “What about that crisis you had to get home for? Do you need to call anyone?”
It took a moment to register with me. I never could lie well. My memory wasn’t programmed for it. “Yes. I’ll call when my head clears a bit more.”
Virginia left me alone, but I felt sure she knew she had caught me out, and I felt guilty.
In a few moments though, I drifted off to sleep.
When I woke up, the room was dark. Silent. But it felt wrong. Something had woken me. The shadows seemed different. They shouldn’t move like that. I clutched the duvet and realized I lay naked beneath it. Who had undressed me? And now, as my eyes grew accustomed to the shadows, they closed in on me
The Pendle Curse Page 13
