Tanners Dell: Darkly Disturbing Occult Horror

by Sarah England

  “Up here,” said Toby. “Come on!”

  “I wish I’d got my wellies as well,” Becky said, stumbling onto her hands and knees in the dark. “Aargh, we’re really not prepared for this, are we?”

  “I was supposed to be going out for a pint later an’ all – me shoes are a right mess.”

  For several minutes they climbed up the embankment, slipping on the mud and grasping at the undergrowth.

  “It’s gone dark quickly, have you noticed?”

  They stopped and took stock. Ahead was Tanners Dell, standing in a clearing of hazy moonlight. Surrounded by forest, the mill’s roof had partially caved in, ivy now pushing through it in twisted clumps; the stonework appeared luminescent, its windows sightless sockets; and against a deafening backdrop of pounding water the building exuded a preternatural stillness.

  Toby swung round as if startled by someone behind.

  “What’s the matter?”

  In the twilight he looked ghostly white. “Nothing. Thought I felt a breath in the back of me neck.” He adjusted his collar. “Spooky place, eh?”

  “We’re not going in, are we? I mean to try the key or anything?”

  “No, not tonight. Come on, let’s go – this place is creeping me out. We just need to find a path to the road and get back to the car. Fuck it if anyone sees us.”

  “No, don’t lose your nerve, Toby. We have to know where the paths and hiding places are, then go back the way we came. We can’t be seen.”

  Neither spoke as they crept towards the mill and walked around it. By now the evening was as black as pitch and the lack of a torch was an obvious omission. On the north side a dense wall of forest barred the way, with the moors towering overhead. They skirted around the edge of the trees looking for an exit but there was nothing. “However did that poor gypsy girl escape from this?” Becky murmured.

  “God knows.”

  They worked over to the east side, eventually coming across a narrow track that forked in several directions. “You take that one and I’ll take this,” said Toby. “Let’s see where they go then backtrack. You’re right – we can’t afford to be seen. Sorry.”

  “Okay.” It sounded like a plan but without a torch, and looking into the army of grey tree trunks, Becky wasn’t at all sure. She couldn’t put him down again, though. “Okay,” she repeated, more quietly now as she picked out a vague trail and tentatively started walking.

  The silence was palpable, the path only as wide as one footstep, and the further into the woods she ventured the darker it became. Within seconds it was impossible to see the hands in front of her and she held them out like a blind man. Should she call out to Toby? Better not. Best to just keep going then backtrack exactly the way she came. The only sound now was the soft fall of her footsteps, the blackness thickening as it closed around her in a cloak. She couldn’t see a thing and panic stabbed in her chest. So what direction was this then? The path seemed to be tipping downhill now! Then all at once the trail ended, a holly bush bringing her up short. Right, so this led nowhere: time to head back. Turning around precisely one hundred and eighty degrees, she put one foot in front of the other with the intention of doing exactly that, only to find no track only thicket.

  For a moment she stood as still as a hunted animal, wondering what to do next, when a breath of air blew into her neck.

  Her heart rate sky-rocketed.

  Staring into the black forest with her pulse thumping hard, she instinctively put out her hands for the nearest tree trunk, then with her back pressed to the bark she inched around its girth, hoping to see something, anything that would give direction – somewhere to run to. Or perhaps it would be best to lie low and hide? Or should she just yell for Toby and hang it who heard? What to do? Oh what to do? The darkness was unbelievable. She waited and listened, holding her breath. Was there ever a place so silent? There wasn’t a sound. No one was here. No one…maybe she’d imagined…

  But then it came again – unmistakeable this time - a slight sigh.

  She sank onto the dank earth, flattened so closely to the trunk it hurt. Oh God, who was there? There was someone. Once could be imagination but twice… If only she could see. This was it, wasn’t it? Oh, she shouldn’t have come… Her fingers scrabbled at the bark behind as if somehow she could escape that way, and that was when she felt it…a gap…a hole. Was it big enough to get into? She felt around inside with both hands now. No, but there was something in there…she pulled it out…a pair of shoes, or what had once been a pair of shoes. Now they were simply small flaps of mouldy leather. This had been someone’s hiding place!

  “Becky!” someone hissed.

  Toby…oh thank God!

  Gradually her eyes adjusted to the movement of a figure emerging from the trees. “Over here,” she hissed back.

  Toby slid down the tree next to her. “I could smell your perfume! Anyway, I found a path back to the village. It comes out just below the houses opposite the church.”

  “How convenient.”

  “What about this one?”

  She showed him the shoes. “It doesn’t lead anywhere except here. It’s a hiding place – look someone left their shoes behind. ”

  “Cora?”

  “I’d bet on that. You definitely need her as a witness when all this is—”

  A rustle of leaves caused them to clam up.

  The silence was so intense, the dark so completely devoid of even a shadow to define it, that they reached for each other’s hand. Neither knew how long they waited for the feeling of menace to lift, but eventually a sliver of moonlight threw a shaft of light onto the grassed area in front of the mill. They had been within yards of it the whole time.

  “Come on, let’s go,” said Toby, yanking her to her feet.

  ***

  “I thought when you said, ‘Let’s go’, you meant we were getting the hell out of here. Come on – I don’t want to linger,” Becky whispered as they crept along the side of the mill by the brook.

  “Shhh…keep down low. I’ve decided we may as well check this out cos I’m not coming back here on my own again.”

  Becky’s nostrils flared and she took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Never in all her life had she wanted to leave a place so badly. She almost danced on her feet like an impatient child while Toby tried the key in the door. “Doesn’t fit.”

  “There isn’t any glass in the windows,” she pointed out. “Why would anyone need this key?”

  The rush of water behind him almost drowned out his reply. “…must be inside…basement…cellar…?”

  “Oh no! I thought you said…”

  Toby grabbed hold of her hand and they walked round to the front where the moonlight was strongest. “I can get in through here,” he said, pointing to one of the lower windows. “I have to do a recce and see what this key’s for. Then we’ll go, I promise.”

  “I’m scared.”

  “I’ll be two minutes. Wait here in the shadows and try not to breathe.”

  “Thanks. Well hurry up then. I mean it.”

  “Will you be okay?”

  “No. You’d better be really, really quick.” She looked over at the woods. Apart from the roar of the tumbling brook the air was still and icy, and a few stars sparkled amid high clouds drifting across the moon. “It’s nearly a full moon,” she observed. There was no answer and she winged round just in time to see Toby’s feet disappearing into the mill.

  She kept her back firmly to the wall, constantly scanning the immediate area, alert to the possibility that something horrible might emerge from that bank of black forest. From time to time the moonlight broke free of cloud, casting elongated shadows onto the grass. Oh for God’s sake hurry up, Toby…

  It occurred to her to just run towards the woods and take the path Toby had taken, which led to the village lane, and leave him to it. No, she couldn’t.

  Was that a voice?

  She strained her ears against the backdrop of roaring water. A very faint cry was emanating
from… she turned her head… from inside. Louder now, like a child sobbing. She held her breath.

  “Becky!”

  She physically jumped.

  Toby grabbed her hand as he landed on the soil next to her. “Someone’s here – come on - run like ’ell.”

  ***

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Drummersgate

  Wednesday evening

  Celeste isn’t coming to see me again. Ever. They told me tonight she’d died but I had a feeling anyway, and I know that sounds funny, but I did. I swear. Two of them – Emma and Dr Airy – sat either side of me probably expecting a major kick off. What they don’t get is that it doesn’t matter because we’re spirits and these bodily shells are just that – mortal, ageing, and transitory. But then I’m a certified mad person, so what do I know?

  I like this kind of day – slumping in front of the television in the day room with mad old Violet and silly Philly – it’s restful. Violet wears a flowery orange and yellow dress, which stretches skin tight over her massive stomach; her hair hangs in greasy, grey strands and her face is all red like it’s been boiled. She’s been in some sort of institution since she was thirteen because she started stabbing people to see what happened. Anyway, it’s okay as long as she doesn’t get a knife in her hand, not even to eat with – they give her a plastic spoon. And silly Philly chatters to herself like a little bird with fluttery wings for fingers. She hides things in drawers and scuttles round furtively as if she’s a secret agent, looking over her shoulder to see if anyone’s watching. It’s kind of funny to end up here with the mad, the bad and the dangerous because as far as I know I’ve never done anything mad or bad.

  I can feel Celeste all around me. She has a brilliant warm light like an angel and I know she wants to go to a higher place, but she’ll stay with me for as long as she can. It’s hard to say how I know she’s here – maybe if I describe it as a feeling of comfort, a presence or strength that I didn’t have before. A faith! Yes, that’s it – a faith. The others inside are quieter too, not just taking over whenever they feel like it, but talking to each other when Dr Airy helps us. It stops us thinking about bad stuff and we know what the triggers are now, like being followed or the smell of wood-smoke or urine. Words too – like people saying they’ll pray for me or that I’m a good girl or stuff to do with… No, I’ve got to stop cos I feel a bit odd.

  Focusing on the television now - what they’re saying - A home in the sun…

  I’m doing this when his silhouette appears in the doorway. I never thought I’d see him again and suddenly I’m back there, floating under the surface of the water with his face rippling on the surface in the trees; great hands heaving beneath my shoulders with the fingers digging in and gasping lungsful of freezing air.

  “Hello, Ruby,” he says.

  “Hello, Jes.”

  He sits next to me, glancing at me sideways a couple of times with a shy smile. “You took a bit of tracking down this time, I have to say.”

  “Where did I go?”

  He shrugs. “The usual. Only I didn’t get to you in time. That’s how you ended up here.” He looks around the room. “Maybe that’s not such a bad thing though, eh? You’ve had some help, angel girl, and you look ok.”

  “I’m clean and most of the time I know who I am, so yeah – I’m getting there. How about you? You clean?”

  He shakes his head. “Never will be. Hey, I heard about your friend – Celeste, was it? I’m sorry.”

  “‘They’ finished her off.”

  A dark shadow passes behind his eyes. “Ruby, how much do you know about what’s still going on? Your nurse, Becky, sent someone to visit me recently and he told me you have a daughter.”

  “Alice!”

  “He said they’d do a satanic baptism and...”

  Satanic…I can feel my lip trembling. I’m falling backwards….

  “Ruby, you’ve gone strange.” He’s got hold of my arms and he’s shouting for someone.

  The next thing I know it’s dark and I’m lying on my bed.

  “Jes?”

  “He’s gone now,” says Emma. “You had a good chat with him, though. Well, Marie did. Shall I tell you what happened because he was very excited – wanted to ring someone called Toby straight away. I didn’t get it to be honest, but you probably will.”

  “My head’s banging. I feel sick.”

  “I’ll fetch you some paracetamol and then I’ll tell you what was said if you want? Are you up to it?”

  I have to sit up and lean over the side of the bed: my entire skull is pounding. “Yeah, I’m up to it.”

  ***

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Laurel Lawns Private Hospital

  Later that evening

  Noel met Michael in the car park at Laurel Lawns. The man was in a shocking state. Michael had deteriorated so dramatically in the last forty-eight hours he had to be helped out of the passenger seat by both Noel and the younger man he’d arrived with. Tottering like an old man of ninety, he clung onto two walking sticks with bony claw-hands as he tap-tap-tapped his way across the tarmac on match stick legs, which frequently buckled from under him. It was clear to Noel that he’d said his good-byes. This would be his last act of goodwill.

  The younger man, dressed in a long overcoat, which gaped at the neck to show a clerical collar, introduced himself as ‘Harry Tate.’ He had a firm handshake and an arresting persona. Over six feet tall with a large frame, he possessed solid shoulders and a direct blue stare. “I’ve been given the lowdown,” he said as they walked. “Obviously this is all totally under the radar. To be honest I’ve only agreed because Michael asked me to.” He indicated his friend’s health, “Well…let’s just get it done, shall we? I have to warn you, though, Noel, these things can and do sometimes go wrong. Do you know anything about exorcisms?”

  Propped up by the two younger men, Michael had to stop frequently in order to recover his breath. Every step was a huge effort, his bones as fragile as a bird’s. He exhaled through dry lips in little whistles, focusing determinedly on the doorway to the hospital while Harry quickly brought Noel up to speed. He explained that he’d studied demonic possessions and the rites of exorcism. However, he had never performed one alone before and never in this country. It was supposed to be sanctioned at a high level and they really should have a doctor and a legal representative present, plus a member of the patient’s family.

  “We don’t—”

  Harry nodded. “I know. Like I said, let’s just get this over with and pray to God it goes to plan.”

  Michael stopped, shaking his head. “Have…faith…”

  “You’re right,” said Harry. “But Noel here needs to know how traumatic this is going to be and—”

  “I saw The Exorcist,” said Noel, “and if it’s going to be anything like that I’m not looking forward to this one bit.”

  Harry grimaced. “It won’t be, don’t worry. But my concern is that it’s without the church’s sanction and we don’t have medical consent and—”

  Michael stopped him again. “Stop…wittering…”

  Harry nodded. “Fair enough, my friend.”

  On arrival at the main door Harry turned to face Noel, “Okay, well here’s what you need to know because I’m going to be relying on you now. First of all please don’t underestimate the power of the demonic. If you do they will attack you and you will know about it and could even be physically harmed. You will need to pray hard throughout and never ever engage with the patient even if it looks like she’s appealing to you, calling your name or whatever. Do not interrupt me and do not deviate from your prayers. When I tell you to do something you do it. And you must repeat ‘The Litany of Saints’ as I read through it. Also, the demons will look for weaknesses and directly attack them so do not be put off – do not respond or show dismay or shame or anger. Do not respond in any way. Hold fast. Finally it’s going to take at least two hours and we may have to come back and do it all again. Do you unders
tand?”

  “Yes,” he said quietly.

  The other two looked at him searchingly.

  “Yes,” he said again, with more conviction than he felt. Looking at Michael he asked, “Are you sure you’re up to this?”

  “I’m well in spirit. And Harry needs me here.”

  “Okay then,” Noel said. “Well, can I just ask one more question before we go in?”

  “Of course,” said Harry.

  “Am I in danger of being possessed? Will it get into me just from being present?”

  Harry looked into his eyes. “I can’t say that won’t happen. It might. You need to have faith and pray hard.”

  “I’m scared to death.”

  “Don’t show it,” said Harry. “Come on – let’s do this.”

  ***

  True to her word, Nora had informed them correctly: Crispin Morrow was off duty and the locum was not on the premises. The second she saw the three men she motioned them to come round the back way. “She’s a lot worse,” she said over her shoulder as she hurried down the corridor to the room furthest away from all the others.

  The room people go to die in.

  As if reading his thoughts, Nora turned to look at Noel when they got to the door, and gave him a half smile. “I know you’ve seen some sights but you must prepare for a serious shock. I’m afraid there is nothing more we can do, though, except keep her restrained and sedated. Dr Morrow refused to allow a second opinion or to have her transferred to Intensive Care. And he wouldn’t allow the clergy in either, even though quite a few of us begged him to reconsider. She has no one, you see? Anyway, that apart, I’m really glad you came.” She turned to face Michael and Harry, “I hope you can help her die in peace.”

  Harry nodded, and then Nora took out her keys and let them in.

  She had not understated the situation.

  Lying on the bed with her limbs in restraints, Kristy resembled a corpse following a car crash. Her eyes were staring at the ceiling unblinkingly; her skin mottled purple, and her swollen tongue lolled to the side. Plastered back from an oily forehead her blonde hair had been pulled out in clumps, and the dishevelled sheets revealed a body covered in gouges – the deepest of which were on the insides of her arms from repeatedly yanking out her intravenous infusions. Blood spattered the bed and there was an unmistakeable odour of sulphur in the air.