There was nothing old lady-ish about Mrs. Cranford's living room. I had half expected a clutter of twee knick-knacks and ornaments, antique china, crocheted anti-macassars and armrests on stiff, fussy furniture. Instead I was sitting in a comfy, overstuffed armchair with burgundy upholstery. The walls were painted alternately cream and terracotta. A brightly woven Mexican 'eye of god' was hanging on one wall, facing a large dream catcher on the wall opposite. Scattered amongst the books on the bookcase were an odd collection of items: a crystal geode, a wooden flute decorated with black feathers, a string of alternating amber and jet beads. There was a sleek black laptop lying closed on the coffee table, between the coasters. It looked out of place when so many of the objects in the room seemed…well…hippy-ish.
Mrs. Cranford came in carrying a tray with a tea pot and cups. "I don't suppose you take sugar in your tea, do you Emily? But you should have some today all the same." She used the delicate silver sugar tongs to drop two lumps into a cup and stirred. I winced, thinking how gaggingly sweet it would taste. She held out the cup and saucer without the slightest tremor in her tiny, bird-boned hands. I wondered what benefit there was for her in appearing to be weaker than she actually was. She had dropped all pretence now we were alone.
I braced myself and sipped the tea to be polite. To my surprise I immediately felt better. Warmer than I had for days. I raised my eyebrows at Mrs. Cranford.
"I didn't put anything in it, Emily. It's the sugar. You needed to replenish your energy and close your centres down. Were you taught nothing?" She gave me a piercing bright eyed look. "I thought you seemed drained."
Centres? Energy? What was she on about?
"I duh don't nuh know what you m-mean." I confessed.
"Oh heavens! You're a natural aren't you? With no training at all." Mrs. Cranford rolled her eyes heavenward as if asking for patience. "Well we've no time this morning. You'll need to slip in after the service has started as it is. Your father won't be pleased if you don't show up."
"Dad duh doesn't c-care what I d-do. Ever!" I spat the last word out in defiance.
Mrs. Cranford pursed her lips. "Maybe so Emily, but you're a clever girl. You already know this village is full of gossips."
I nodded in defeat. Guess I wouldn't be getting out of it. "It's Em-Emily Luh Lynette."
"That's a mouthful. Even for me." She smiled showing a good set of teeth and suddenly I had a glimpse of what she must have looked like at my age. "It's a pretty name but I shall call you Emily. That's who you are here in Arncliffe."
"I p-prefer Eh-Emlynn," I offered.
"An appalling diminutive. I never could stand nicknames. They take the power out of the real thing. No, you'll forgive me but Emily it is. At least between us."
Gran had called me that, until she died.
"Oh-kay." I smiled for the first time that day. My black mood was lifting in spite of her strange warnings about witnesses and tombstones.
"That's better. You're a pretty girl, Emily, now you've got some colour back in your cheeks and you've stopped looking so sullen." Mrs. Cranford said, demonstrating a knack for appalling honesty.
I blushed. I had been sulking all morning, though not without reason.
"If I'd had your morning I expect I'd have looked sullen too. Why ever didn't you dunk Cynthia in the font? I could have done with a good laugh."
I surprised myself by laughing. "I wuh wanted to," I confessed. I helped myself to biscuits from the plate next to the tea pot. I was obscurely relieved to see they were arranged on a doily. Some evidence of her being a normal old lady. "Y-you said you wuh wanted t-to talk to muh me?"
"I did. But that was before I realized how little you knew. This isn't going to be a short chat I'm afraid. Let me ask you a few questions, though." She held up her little claw of a hand to forestall my protest. "You need to know what you're dealing with. In order to help you at all, I need to know what you must be taught. I suspect it is too late to extract you from the Pattern now, for all it's only been a few days. Have you seen Helen?"
I shook my head to clear it. I couldn't keep up with her mercurial subject hopping. Panic and relief tangled together in my chest. I wasn't mad. It was real. "I've b-been Helen." It felt good to say it out loud to someone but goose-flesh prickled up my arms and neck.
“Been Helen?” Mrs Cranford snapped a sharp look at me, her brows drawing together. “Whatever do you mean?”
I mumbled something inarticulate about seeing things through Helen’s eyes. Mrs Cranford caught the gist of what I was saying and her gaze went from sharp to laser-beam focused. “It’s huh-happened tw-twice now,” I finished
"Worse than I thought." Mrs Cranford put down her cup with a clatter. Droplets of milky tea stained the cloth on the tray. "It's happening much faster this time. I shouldn't wonder if your sister isn't already being dragged into the Pattern as well. Young girls in that house are never a good thing. And He'll have been hungry and waiting for over thirty years now. That's how long since the last one. It's a shame our new vicar isn't a bachelor like Reverend Ables. I'm not sure thirty years is enough time for him to weaken. And he must be stopped. Only how?"
I stared at her with my mouth slightly open. I was even more lost than I had been before. I wondered if Mrs Cranford was as together as I'd thought. I glanced at the bizarre collection of objects again, noticing a black stone Egyptian hawk god and an equal armed cross enclosed in a circle next to a corn dolly and a bundle of dried heather. Charms of protection. The thought passed through like lightening but I felt certain I was right. Who would need that much protection? Only one thing stopped me making an embarrassed and hasty retreat; Mrs Cranford knew who Helen was.
And the tea, I thought suddenly. She knew I felt physically ill after seeing the tombstone and how to make me feel better. If she's crazy, so am I. And I don't think I am. That settled it. I couldn't deal with this alone. I picked one of the things that was confusing me, at random.
"Puh Pattern? W-what's that?" Please tell me something.
"We really don't have time now, Emily." She compressed her lips.
I made a noise of disgust and she smiled that surprisingly young smile again. "Ah, I remember that feeling! Very well. But quickly. What we do in life casts shadows over what will happen in the future, sometimes long after we are Dead and gone. That vicarage, Arncliffe, the moors themselves are at the heart of a tragedy that keeps happening again and again. That is the Pattern. It's always young girls. They start the Pattern and feed it. I'm afraid it's already chosen you, Emily, to play the part of the witness."
"Wuh witness?" All the calm I'd felt was disintegrating. "And who is Huh He?" Did she mean the watcher I'd sensed on the moor?
"He is a dark man. Dark in spirit. He made his own dreadful bargain, don't ask me with whom or how. No one knows. No one living. All those other young girls merely pay the price."
I did not like the sound of that. Denial looked very warm and comforting about now.
"Don't worry. There's still time to pull your sister out. There's time to cheat him. Come to me on Tuesday. You're not at school yet? No? Good. Tuesday then. I'll try to explain more. I'd say tomorrow but my god-son is coming to stay for a visit. It's ten past ten you'd better run to the church. Use the east door; you'll be able to slip in through the vestry." She hustled me to the door taking my tea-cup as she went.
"Th-thanks…"
"Best be quick"
I paused at the gate as Mrs Cranford's breathy voice followed me.
"Emily? On Tuesday I'll need to know the things you haven't told me yet."
I winced. That would be a fun conversation. Even if Mrs Cranford was an ally. I felt a chill creep through me at the thought of the watcher, remembering what Grace had said that first night. It would explain why I'd been frightened of the moor from the start. I didn't want to believe I was already entangled in this Pattern, but something was going on. And it clearly wasn't going to leave me alone.
I Belong to the Earth (Unveiled Book 1) Page 13
