by Guy N Smith
‘That's ridiculous!’ Marie felt a strong urge to hit the other across the face with the back of her hand. ‘I've just told you why Gabor needs people from out of the district. You're all steeped in superstition, that's what's the matter with you villagers, frightened to death by a crazed child-killer who was hanged over two hundred years ago.’
‘Hanged, aye, but not dead! He still lives, as do the hounds which hunted him down that day, but they'll not interfere with us if we don't interfere with them. You come here and within days there's been two deaths, fighting, and now there's one o' those gypsy children missing, not that she had any right to be here, either. You strangers are harbingers of doom!’
‘Missing!’ Marie held onto the counter as a momentary wave of dizziness passed over her. ‘When?’
‘Last evening, so they tell me. She's gone to Gabor Pool, you mark my words. That's where they all go 'cause there's no place else he'll take 'em, like he always used to. And there'll be more, you see if there aren't. You and your kind have stirred all this up and there'll be no peace for any of us here in the village until you've packed up and gone!’
The retort which was on Marie Halestrom's lips died away. Suddenly she was aware that no longer was Mrs Mainwaring staring hatefully at her, that the shopkeeper's gaze was now focused on Amanda; the two of them looking at each other, a mute exchange of expressions as though each read what the other was thinking.
Mrs Mainwaring's complexion paled, her lower lip was quivering, her mouth moved but no words came. Where only seconds earlier there had been anger now there was fear! Marie glanced at Amanda, caught her breath, for the look on the child's face was identical to her expression of the previous night when she had confronted the vagrant in the grounds of Gabor House. Her body was beginning to shake with that same demonic fury, any second she would erupt into a whirlwind frenzy of rage.
‘We must be going.’ Marie moved, caught Amanda by the wrist, began dragging her to the door.
‘Aye, and the sooner you go for good the better!’ Mrs Mainwaring called out, her voice trembling. ‘Now that you've unleashed the Gabor hounds God only knows what'll happen next. They'll not be satisfied until they've tasted blood!’
Outside on the pavement Marie stopped, pulled Amanda round to face her. This time it had happened in broad daylight, no plausible explanation could be offered. Only the child knew what was going on; She had to be made to divulge her secret.
‘Amanda, what is …’ Marie broke off for Amanda's upturned face bore no trace of that moment of silent fury, only the original sullenness, a rebellion against parental discipline.
‘Ice cream,’ Amanda said. ‘You promised ice cream.’
‘Yes, I did.’ Marie closed her eyes briefly. ‘But I'm not going back in that shop again. Ever. And neither are you. Come on, let's go home, there's some ice cream in the fridge in the kitchen.’
The overhead sun blazed down out of a cloudless blue sky. Insect life buzzed all around. An early summer heatwave, yet for Marie Halestrom the atmosphere had a touch of autumn about it; as if the whole countryside was going to wither and die.
CHAPTER EIGHT - THE MAINWARINGS
Amanda did not particularly want an ice cream. Least of all she wanted her mother's company and as Marie appeared to have forgotten all about her promise the child was content to go upstairs and play in her room.
‘Amanda, you're not to go outside on your own,’ Marie called up the stairs. ‘If you want to go and play in the garden then tell me and I'll come out with you. Do you understand?’
Amanda understood only too well. But there were a lot of things beyond her comprehension right now. Everything was like a dream from which she was incapable of extricating herself.
She could not understand why she hated the old man so much. At first he had seemed nice, sympathetic towards her because she was deaf like himself. But that was a façade to hide his wickedness. She'd found that out when he'd come into the grounds last night and called her in a strange sort of way that you'd've heard him whether or not you were deaf. That was why she'd snatched back the sash that she had given him the first time they met, she didn't want him to have anything of hers. She hated him more than she hated Mr Harrison the woodwork teacher at school. And Beguildy was frightened of her, absolutely terrified. She shook with anger at the very memory of him. He hated children, pretended he liked them, but anybody as perceptive as herself could see through him.
Then that woman in the shop … Amanda had sensed the way Mrs Mainwaring was trying to read her mind, searching for … something. And finding it! The child didn't know what it was but that was the moment they'd fused.
So perplexing, so frightening. And the woman had said something about a child going missing. That was when Amanda knew that she had to go back to those woods where she had almost gone with Beguildy last night. She had a feeling that it was too late but she must try to save the girl, whoever she might be. It wasn't going to be easy. Her mother wasn't going to let her out of her sight but she knew Marie couldn't possibly watch her every second of the day. Amanda had to await her opportunity.
For some time she remained in her room. In spite of her loss of hearing she could pick up vibrations, identify them. Mummy was preparing lunch in the kitchen, rattling pots and pans; Daddy was typing in his room across the landing, his big old typewriter clacking venomously. Astutely she worked out the view her parents had from their respective windows. They couldn't see the drive; she'd have to go that way and double back through the shrubbery to the woods.
Amanda forced herself to wait half-an-hour then tiptoed across the landing. The typewriter was still rattling behind the closed door of the upper study. She descended a few steps, knew that they creaked but hoped that her mother was making enough noise in the kitchen not to hear.
Amanda peered through the stair rail, saw that her mother was doing something over the sink; it looked as if she was peeling potatoes. That was when the child made up her mind, moved fast across the hall and out through the open door onto the terrace. Running until she reached the first bend on the drive, turning sharply into the bushes, knowing that she had made it. They wouldn't catch her now, no matter how hard they tried.
At that moment she spotted a car turning into the drive. Cautiously she parted the foliage, peered out, saw the light blue Minivan pass her and go on up to the house. On the side of the vehicle was large white lettering - POLICE!
Amanda experienced a feeling of despair, not for herself but for others. A premonition. Maybe she should go back, see what this was all about. But she changed her mind, struck off down a narrow overgrown track, running where she could because she had to get to the wood as quickly as possible.
Gabor Wood was dark and uninviting just as she knew it would be. But it didn't frighten her. In a strange subconscious way she was aware of the evil but knew it would not harm her; she didn't know why but it wouldn't. She'd given up trying to reason things out. She was here because she had to be. For Donna's sake. Funny, she suddenly knew what the missing girl's name was!
Moving from tree to tree, hoping that she wasn't making any noise. Sensing that she was not alone, flitting back into the undergrowth just in time to escape the searching gaze of two rough-looking men who were undoubtedly tinkers from the nearby site. They looked tired, worried, were talking but it was difficult to lip-read through the obstructing foliage. Just odd snatches of words … ‘no sign in the pool … maybe not in the wood … could be anywhere …’
Amanda crouched there trembling until they were lost to sight. Obviously there had been a big search for the missing girl and they hadn't found her. But Amanda knew she was in the wood, almost sensed her presence.
It was a relief to emerge into the daylight that surrounded the big pool. Amanda stood there in the trees looking at it, sensed the malevolence of the atmosphere, something heavier than the stagnant odour which hung over the dark water. The girl recognised the evil but it did not frighten her, in the same way that she did not fear Begu
ildy. Loathing, an inexplicable hate for something intangible, an unknown force driving her on. Those men, possibly the police as well, had been here but they wouldn't be coming back; not just yet anyway.
She walked across to the rocky ledge which rose steeply to follow the old quarry face, stepped sure-footed onto it. Ten yards up the slope she stopped, knelt down and peered over the edge, wondered how deep it was down there.
She did not know what she was waiting for, only that something was going to happen.
Five minutes, ten, it could have been half-an-hour before the murky surface rippled, seemed to clear so that the sun's rays were sparkling on it, casting strange shapes; meaningless at first but taking on a formation. Amanda watched intently, made out a face … becoming clearer. A young girl, it could have been her own reflection except that the features were much heavier, the hair darker auburn, eyes that saw and watched her!
Amanda Halestrom felt her heart beginning to thump madly, her breathing quicker. Excitement, not fear, knowing that the other was trying to say something to her only the way the water rippled made it difficult to lip-read.
It is dangerous here. I … other children.
A lot of questions Amanda wanted to ask but there was no time because those lips were moving again, words she must not miss because they would not be repeated.
He is strong and dangerous again after so long. Many more children will be lured here as we have been. Unless you destroy him he will destroy you too. There is not much time. Listen carefully for this is what you must do …
Amanda listened, nodded in the appropriate places, understanding the words, the instructions, but not the reasoning behind them. Like school, they never told you why. Then the reflection or whatever it was disappeared and the dark opaqueness rolled back.
She knelt there just looking down at the water, bemused, frightened, not by what she had seen but what she must do. She could feel the powerful forces all around, voices that seemed to whisper venomously from the surrounding trees; it could have been the summer breeze rustling the foliage or a fault in her hearing aid reception. But she knew it wasn't. She also knew that they couldn't hurt her as they had hurt Eddie Reece and Donna O'Brien. She was invincible, at the moment, but time was running out.
Another thought, one that worried her. In a way, she didn't know how, she was responsible for all this and it was her duty to try and stop it. Childish guilt, like an object left carelessly on a staircase which causes somebody to fall; no way of reversing the accident but you try to make amends in other ways.
The girl in the pool had told Amanda what she must do and now she had to do it.
Marie was on the verge of hysteria. Ron Halestrom knew she could not take much more, wondered how far off his own breaking point was.
‘Now there're two girls missing.’ Sergeant Williams scratched his greying hair. ‘But we'd better make sure she isn't anywhere about before I report it.’
‘She's run off,’ Marie almost shouted. ‘She's been acting strangely all morning, morose and defiant. Officer … it's as though … as though somebody's luring the local children away!’
‘I think all these happenings are coincidental.’ Williams didn't sound convincing. ‘But if the O'Brien child hasn't been found by morning we'll have to get a frogman down in Gabor Pool, Mr Halestrom. That Reece boy was found floating at the side but … well, they say it's tremendous deep in the middle.’
‘Oh!’ Marie's hand went to her mouth. ‘We'd better get there quickly, make sure that Amanda isn't … isn't playing about near the quarry.’
‘The tinkers are still searching the wood,’ the policeman replied. ‘Personally I don't think she's gone there but we can check. Maybe you'd like to do that, Mr Halestrom, while I report to the Chief and see what he wants me to do.’
Ron nodded, knew that Marie would accompany him. Damn that bloody child, she'd never played up like this before, not when they lived in the city. But it was different here, in a lot of ways.
It took Ron and Marie Halestrom a quarter-of-an-hour to reach Gabor Pool. The urge was to run breathlessly until they got there but the overgrown track, the low branches in the wood, prevented them, frustrated them.
At last they saw the pool. Marie hung back, clung to Ron's arm. The place was so sinister, engendered its own atmosphere of evil which you could not fail to absorb. And the sunlight no longer shone brilliantly down through the gap in the trees above the water; instead it was hazy, the sky a smoky colour, clouding over. Somewhere a distant rumble. May, true to its fickle character, was about to display its anger in the gathering storm clouds.
Not that Marie cared what the weather did; she didn't care about anything except Amanda's safety.
‘She's … not here.’ There was both dismay and relief in Marie's tone, frightened eyes searching the water, seeing nothing.
‘No, she must be playing somewhere else,’ Ron echoed her forced optimism. ‘There's an awful lot of ground for a child to play in.’ Or to get lost in.
‘But where? Where do we go from here, Ron?’
‘Well, we've established she's not in the house or the garden.’ A process of elimination but at Gabor one couldn't be sure of anything. ‘If she came this way maybe she's gone on beyond the wood.’
‘Whereto?’
‘Across the fields, maybe gone in a circle, through the village and back home.’
‘Am-an-da …’ Marie put all her vocal strength into that one shout, felt the way the trees seemed to hold it back then filter it out slowly through the open space above the dark water.
A second rumble of thunder, longer, louder … nearer. Oh God, it was like one of those stereotyped horror films they kept repeating on the television, canned thunder always on hand to release at the appropriate moment, only this time the atmosphere was right. Her nerves reverberated, picked up the electric currents in the air. The atmosphere was sultry, she was suddenly aware just how much she was sweating.
‘Let's go on.’ Everything in her cried out to be away from here. ‘We've got to keep looking.’
‘There's going to be a storm.’ Ron found himself shouting to make himself heard above the thunder. ‘It's a long way round by the village.’
‘I don't care. I don't care if we get drenched so long as we find Amanda.’ Hysteria wasn't far away. She could have rushed at those trees, the ones with twisted bark and knots like leering faces, pummelled them with her fists, kicked them, screamed at them.
Ron knew that they had to keep moving, not just for Amanda's sake but for Marie's. He took her hand, began moving off to the left, following a rabbit track which surely skirted the pool. Jesus Christ, three weeks without rain and it was going to chuck it down in a minute or two!
The going was rougher here, as though neither gypsies nor tinkers trespassed beyond the old quarry. Perhaps there was nothing to come here for or else … He didn't want to dwell on the alternative right now.
It was a relief to get out of the wood, fighting their way through a last bastion of waist-high brambles that seemed intent on trying to prevent these humans from escaping from a world of gloom and evil. Before them lay several acres of sloping grassland that had not been grazed for several seasons, its tussocks ablaze with the bright yellow of spreading buttercups. Above them the sky was a sinister mauve, dark white-tipped clouds scurrying over the treetops as though in pursuit, a company of chariots that rumbled and vibrated the whole landscape, fire flashing from the hooves of their invisible horses. The first heavy spots of rain were just starting to fall, splatting heavily on the lush growth.
‘There's the village.’ Ron closed his eyes as a flash of sheet lightning dazzled him. ‘See the church steeple over there? We can cut through the churchyard, down to the main street and back home. We'd better get a move on, though.’
The rain came fast and mercilessly, whipping their backs as they broke into a fast trot down the slope, saturating their flimsy summer garments, driven by the freshening humid wind. The ground was uneven, clumps of th
ick grass, rabbit holes beneath the springy surface. Several times they stumbled, only grim determination keeping them going.
Ron Halestrom cursed silently; he cursed the weather, the tinkers and those yobs at the holiday cottage, the police who only wanted to help within the bounds of duties laid down … and Bemorra who had frightened the wits out of a bunch of peasant villagers two hundred years ago and that fear had been kept alive by word of mouth and primitive superstition ever since. That was where it had all begun. Maybe Beguildy was intelligent enough to capitalise on it all by deliberately acting out the part, trying to pretend he was some kind of reincarnation. OK, if they wanted it that way, revelled in their little games of masochistic terror, then that was up to the people of Gabor. But Ron Halestrom wasn't having any of it. There was some tough talking and some sorting out to be done!
The thunder had caught up with them, was directly overhead, rumbling cannon fire with angry flashes, hailstones like grapeshot that stung and almost bowled them over like shot rabbits. Marie was breathless, her lungs threatening to collapse, only sheer willpower keeping her going. Trying to shout, to call Amanda, miming inarticulate words of desperation and hopelessness.
Now they were in the churchyard, instinctively seeking a moment's shelter in the tall hawthorn hedge through which generations of cattle and sheep had made their own entrances and exits. Marie saw the long triangular overgrown cemetery, moss-covered tombstones peering out of the wilderness, like grinning mouldering skulls rising from their graves. She shuddered, knew that at any second everything which she had so far kept under control was going to burst. She had reached her breaking point.
It was almost as dark as night now, torrential rain driving horizontally so that they had to shield their faces with their hands. And Amanda was somewhere out in this. Oh God!
