by John Kitchen
At least it wasn’t hurting her. It was acting more like a mad dog leaping about on its chain. All it did was hiss from a throat that had no larynx and, it seemed, its only motive was to scare her.
If he could draw its attention away it might deflect the fury and give her a chance to escape.
Summoning all his strength he filled his lungs, and bawled. “Leave her alone, stone man. You want to pick on someone, you try picking on me.”
It was a wild challenge and he cowered, dreading what the ghost would do… And the thing heard. It had known he was there all the time, because it turned its eyes, and it was as if Lloyd was looking into the depths of history.
What came next, though, left him completely baffled.
The apparition acknowledged him with a nod, and then it made some sort of gesture with its left hand as if it was dismissing him – as if he wasn’t important, and straight away it turned back to Caitlin, parrying with its axe and driving her further towards the cellar steps.
Caitlin didn’t make any response when Lloyd shouted. She seemed to be so deep in her trance that she wasn’t aware of anything except the ghost.
Then, as if it had suddenly burned itself out, the spectre melted back into the wall.
Lloyd saw the pale luminosity fade into the stones, and there was stillness as deep as frozen snow.
Caitlin didn’t move straight away.
He felt really sorry for her. He couldn’t understand why this thing had picked on her like it had.
He didn’t go after her when she began her trance-like walk up the steps. It was best to let her get back to her room first. Besides, although he didn’t want to admit it, what he’d seen had left him so transfixed he wasn’t sure he could move.
His mind was teeming though – questions reeling without connecting.
Why did the ghost bully Caitlin? Because it was bullying her… and yet it wasn’t interested in frightening him – even though the spirits and the poltergeists back in his room had made his life hell.
After a few minutes he thought it was time to go back up the stairs, but, as he made to move, his nerves froze and his limbs wouldn’t budge. Then, as his instinct was telling him he must get out at all costs, he heard the door at the top of the stairs slam shut again.
The dim illumination of the forty-watt bulb began to stutter and he felt a cold sweat breaking out all over him.
This time the ghost had him in its sights and the swirls of dust began sweeping the floor, gyrating into pinnacles, darting silently towards their central point and, slowly the wall lit into the pale green luminescence he’d seen when Caitlin was there.
The creature had registered him, but obviously it only dealt with one person at a time… and now it was his turn.
He couldn’t begin to describe the fear. His eyes were stretched and it was as if he’d become fossilised.
All he could do was stare at the crumbling cellar wall as, gradually, the dust and light mutated and became like an ancient wall painting.
This time though, there was more.
The thing was crouched, but it wasn’t the bare-chested apparition that had raged at Caitlin. Now it was robed as it had been on the computer screen and it was wearing its woollen helmet. And in the wall, there were other objects.
Slowly, as the mutation continued, everything moved out into the room. The images hovered like holograms. And he could see what they were: pots – four of them – two patterned and two plain. They were simple, beautifully curved, and Lloyd couldn’t understand. It didn’t seem the ghost had any intention of terrorising him. When it saw him its first act was to lift its hand to its face and pull back its hair.
He peered into the darkness and he could make out a simple cylindrical ornament hanging from each ear. Then it pointed to its neck to show him the button holding the cloak together. After that it drew attention to its belt and Lloyd could see it, held together with what looked like a bone ring, or it could have been wood or metal… and, as he stared, he sensed the spectre was deliberately showing him these things.
To his shame he still couldn’t move, and when it lifted its arm he wasn’t sure if it was to show him the rectangular wrist guard or… it seemed to be beckoning. He wasn’t convinced he wanted to go near it, even if he could have done; he was suspicious, and if he got too near…
Slowly it lifted its head and the strange, unearthly sound came again – only this time he sensed words.
He couldn’t understand them. They were in some language the creature had known and used in his own time – but the sound – and the sight of the slow moving luminosity was the eeriest thing he’d ever seen and, instead of responding to the beckoning arm, as his limbs became free, he stepped backwards. He couldn’t help it. The whole thing had his head reeling and his stomach was in turmoil.
He saw it shake its head and whisper the sounds all over again – and then it faded back into the wall… And that left Lloyd with a whole new sensation.
He was ashamed.
He’d had his chance. The ghost had shown him no hostility, and he’d backed away.
But – if he had stepped towards it, if he had gone to the wall, for all he knew, it might have grabbed him. It might have dragged him down into its own world of shadows and death.
On the other hand it just might have wanted to tell him something. It just might, for some reason, have wanted to create a link with him, and that idea left him gaping.
Whatever the ghost’s plans though, he’d bottled out and now it was too late. He was left to wrestle with his own confusions and his own failure.
There was just the cold clamminess in the cellar now, and the smell of decay. The forty-watt bulb had settled and he knew, when he climbed the stairs, the cellar door would be open.
It wasn’t the same as it had been for Caitlin. He was in complete control of his movements. There was no trance and he remembered every detail of what had happened.
He knew, the next day, he would have to keep his nose clean If he messed up he would be in his room again, gated, and that would mean he couldn’t sort things out with Justin.
And it was hard.
All day, at school, he was biting his lip. Some of the teachers were such morons, they begged for abuse, and years of practice made it almost impossible for him not to dish it out.
Mr Simms had a go at Caitlin again and he was almost on his feet before he remembered the threat hanging over him, but the biggest pressure for a flair up came when they got back to the home.
It was Friday afternoon, which meant even more of them were crowded into the dining room. They were being dished up with standard end-of-the-day treats. This time it was a mini Mars Bar with a mug of over-stewed tea or a glass of reconstituted orange – whichever their shell-shocked taste buds preferred.
Rudi wasn’t there, and neither was Martin – but Craig Donovan was.
Lloyd had made a conscious effort to keep out of his way all day, because he knew that Craig had been eyeing him at breakfast. It wasn’t so easy back here though and he could see Craig jostling towards him.
He was just about to consume his Mars Bar and over-ripe tea.
He suspected that reconstituted orange would be so full of e-numbers that it might just push him over the edge. He had more confidence in his ability to deal with a hefty dose of tannin and caffeine.
He watched as Craig shoved across the room and he decided, if that guy had his sights on him, he’d better be told the truth now, because Lloyd wasn’t going to take any rubbish from him.
Then he heard a voice wafting over the pandemonium. “Hey, you – black boy.”
He’d said that in the computer room and Lloyd had let it pass, but he wasn’t going to this time. “That’s racist, man,” he said.
He pushed a couple of kids out of the way so he could face Craig front on.
“Yeah, well? I am racist, aren’t I? You going to make something of it?” Craig said. “And you is black, okay?”
It was all conducted at the high
est volume. That’s how it worked at Sarson Hall. Any abuse had to be heard by everyone.
“Yeah, all right,” Lloyd said. “If you say so, pink boy.”
The kids around sniggered and he was only a nanosecond away from a punch up – but, this time, Craig had designs for something else. “That’s another one you owe me,” he hissed. “You try getting mouthy with me and I’ll take you apart.”
He edged him into a corner where there was less chance of someone listening, and he lowered his voice. “Don’t you forget it neither. That’s twice you owe me – and owing me isn’t going to be easy. When we get back to school Monday I got a job for you. And you’re not saying ‘no.’”
Lloyd knew he couldn’t take him on. He would have to make some play at submission. “You going to tell me what this job is, or what?” he said. “So I can think about it.”
Craig looked around and there was a furtive restraint in his voice. “It isn’t no big deal,” he said. “But you breathe a word about it and you’re dead.”
Lloyd nodded.
“Okay. I got this line running at school, yeah?” Craig said. “Kids – they aren’t so smart – some of them, and I do their homework for them, right? Only, the teachers, they’ve got onto me. What I do is, I give these kids the answers to their homework and they give me a tenner. But I can’t be seen to hand the stuff over, because of the teachers; they’re watching me all the time. That’s where you come in, black boy, because they won’t suspect you. I give you the stuff for the kids in an envelope, right? Before school, then you do your bit at break time – give over the envelope and collect the money. You give the money to me when we get back. Okay? That isn’t any big deal, is it? You keep your mouth shut though, or, like I said, you’re finished.”
Lloyd had expected something worse than running homework. “How will I know who to give the envelope to?” he said.
“Okay, listen. Monday at school, right? I’ll show you the kid – but that’s all. So no one’s going to suspect nothing. Then, Tuesday I’ll slip you the homework. You got to give it to the guy, quiet like – so no one sees you. Tell him it’s homework from Craig – and he’ll give you the money. Make sure there aren’t any teachers around though.”
Lloyd nodded, but he was beginning not to like it. The more he thought about it, the more certain he was that this wasn’t homework.
“Okay,” he said. “Because I owe you, and it isn’t too much of a sweat. But it’s only this one time.”
He saw Craig’s face harden and he shook his head slowly. “I told you kid, paying me off isn’t that easy. If I ask you to do it a hundred times, then you’ll do it a hundred times, right?”
It wasn’t what Lloyd wanted to hear. He was certain now, there was something underhand going on, and he was cornered.
“You point the kid out to me Monday, and I’ll see, because I do owe you one for down in the computer room. But don’t push it. I got to be my own man.”
“Yeah, well –” Craig said.
It was clear from his shrug that, for the time being, he was done with Lloyd, but Lloyd was uneasy. Whatever Craig was up to, it wasn’t homework. He didn’t have the brain cells to do his own homework, so how was he going to do it for other kids? And to make matters worse, Lloyd hadn’t put up a fight. He’d been too afraid of getting gated again.
He looked around the room. He could have done with Rudi. If Rudi had been there, Craig wouldn’t have cornered him. He downed the tea and mini Mars Bars and shoved through the crowd to get out and find him.
Rudi was wandering down the corridor from Dave’s office with his hands in his pockets and he was looking pleased with himself.
“Me and Martin have been to see Dave,” he said.
Lloyd glanced at him and frowned, because people didn’t come back from seeing Dave looking like the cat that’s just prized open the pilchard tin. “Yeah,” he said. “What you go and see Dave for?”
“To get you back with us,” Rudi said. “We told him he’d got you all wrong with the punch up and it was just a bit of fun that got out of hand. We said you were a good guy and we really liked you being in with us.”
Lloyd had forgotten Rudi’s mission to get him out of the North Wing, and it caught him wrong-footed.
A couple of days ago he would have been glad, but now he wasn’t so sure. There was Caitlin. He didn’t want to leave her at the mercy of the ghost. And his mind was set on sorting this out. Being back in the main building, sharing a room with Rudi and Martin, would cramp his style.
“What did Dave say?”
“Dave was Dave,” Rudi said, “But we planted the idea in his head. If he doesn’t do anything in the next few days, we’ll go back.”
“That’s real nice, Rudi, man,” Lloyd said. “But…”
He had to tell him. He already knew about the apparition on the computer monitor and the poltergeist. There was no reason not to tell him everything. He could see he was looking puzzled.
“What do you mean, ‘But’?” he said. “You haven’t got a problem being back with me and Martin, have you?”
Lloyd shook his head and grinned. “No way,” he said. “You wanting me back, that’s respect man, that’s good, but – there’s stuff going on in the North Wing that I got to tell you about, and I got to stay down there for a bit, on hand like, to see it through.”
Rudi nodded and there was a glint of expectation in his eyes. “You going to tell me what it is then?” he said.
“No sweat. But you go and have your little Mars Bar first, and then we’ve got to find Justin, because, what I found out last night – well, we really need his help, him knowing all that history stuff.”
The grey of the skies and sight of bare trees pierced Lloyd’s senses as they stepped out of the main entrance.
No matter how often he walked into that expanse of abandonment, it always made him shudder. The curse of the ghost hung over everything, draining the life forces out of the place.
He pulled his jacket around him and told Rudi to do the same.
They found Justin at the back of the North Wing, turning over an unyielding bed of clay. Even the soil seemed contaminated with sterility. Justin leaned on his shovel and grinned.
“What’s up?” he said. “You look like a couple of guys on a mission.”
“We are, man,” said Lloyd. “I got stuff to tell you what will blow your mind – and yours too, Rudi, and I got questions that need answers, because it’s doing my head in.”
Justin laughed. “No pressure then!” he said. He looked at his watch and then at the sky. “I think it’s time I knocked off anyway. Digging over this clay is breaking my back.” His hair fell loosely about his face. “Shall we go back to the storeroom? That way you can help me clean off these tools and give me the lowdown on what’s doing your head in at the same time.”
They trudged around the corner to the main entrance of the North Wing.
“I know it’s cold outside,” Lloyd said as they pushed through. “But I got to admit, this place still freaks me out – so – when we’ve finished polishing up your spades and stuff, do you think we could go back outside? I mean, I get enough of this place, having to sleep in here, isn’t that right, Rudi? And I’ve been gated for the last two days.”
Justin nodded. He grabbed some sacking and began working on one of the shovels. “Right, what’s been doing your head in?” he said.
Lloyd told them – filling Rudi in with the bits he didn’t know – about Caitlin’s midnight walks and the ghost in the cellar.
“The guy had these crossed gaiter things on and he wasn’t wearing nothing above his waist,” he said. “And there was, like, this axe he was swinging. Then, when Caitlin had gone, he came back with them terracotta pots and stuff, and he had the cloak and helmet on.”
“It sounds like some sort of Neolithic man,” Justin said. “Or someone from the Bronze Age.” He went to his rucksack in the corner and pulled out a writing pad he used to make notes about planting and gardening. “
Do you think you could draw the pots? Because, if you could get them right, it might help identify him.”
Lloyd took the pad. He was good at drawing, and sketching things was no problem.
“I’ll draw the axe, too, and the guy showed me his necklace and earrings. I’ll draw the belt, too, if you like.”
He sketched quickly, with Rudi and Justin watching over his shoulder.
“You’re really good at that,” Rudi said.
“Yeah. It’s one of my many talents. You got to run to keep up with me if you’re talking about talents, man.”
“You’re not bad,” Justin said with a grin. “And you’ve got a great eye for detail. That’s definitely a pot from the Bronze Age – and the axe too. Draw the other pots and the ornaments.”
Lloyd completed the sketches. He wasn’t averse to adulation and he looked up, grinning. “That’s a good likeness, that is. I’ll sign it for you, if you want.”
“An early Lewis. I’ll frame it and wait till it makes my fortune,” Justin said. He looked at the drawings. “Have you ever seen pots like these before – in a museum or something?”
Lloyd shook his head. “Couldn’t find stuff like this, not even in the books we got out the library. Why?”
“Because, it looks like stuff from a tribe called the Beaker folk. They were really important,” Justin said. He stacked the gardening tools in a corner of the room and draped them with the Hessian sacks. “We could go outside now if you want. We can chat in the grounds – go for a walk or something.”
Lloyd was glad to be in the open air.
“There’s still stuff I can’t get my head round,” he said.
They wandered off towards a cluster of trees at the back of the building.
“What do you mean?” said Rudi.
“Well, when Caitlin was in that cellar and the ghost was there, it was like it hated her. There was this weird hiss and the guy was terrorising her – but, when it come back and I was there on my own, it wasn’t like that at all. It brought all them pots and stuff to show me – and it was like – trying to talk to me. It said things in this weird language too and it… well, sort of signed for me to come closer. That scared me, and I backed off – but it wasn’t trying to frighten me.”
