'Trapped?' said Andrew, 'Trapped where? Did she not die?'
'No, she died alright! My Pa saw her with his own two eyes. Carried the coffin at the funeral. Dead as can be. But George Meadowbank wouldn't believe it.'
'Jesus,' said George, 'Wasn't there a son?'
'Oh yes,' she said, with more than a hint of bitterness. 'Clarence his name was. Moved in with his son, Godfrey, just after the funeral. He'd lost his wife about four years previous. When those two moved in, things started to get really strange.'
'Strange how?' said Andrew.
'Well you see, the story was that Clarence moved in to take care of his father. His first move was to fire most of the workers. Said he was embarrassed by how unhinged his father was becoming.'
'Must have been a shit time,' said Andrew, 'Having your mother die and then seeing your own father falling apart right in front of you.'
'You'd think so wouldn't you,' she said, 'And that's what Clarence wanted everyone to believe. But the truth was, he believed his father. He believed she was still alive.'
'I don't get it,' said George, 'Wasn't he at the funeral?'
Gladys was nodding. 'Yup. Open casket and all.'
'But then why?'
Gladys just shrugged. 'My Pa said later that it was probably to fuel the delusion. To get his father sent to the looney bin so he could inherit the estate.'
'Sounds plausible,' said Andrew.
'Does, doesn't it?' she said, 'But the thing is, Clarence couldn't fire all the staff. Some of the more essential ones, like my Pa, were needed to keep the place running. Pa kept his head down and did what he was told. Which meant he got to see more than he was supposed to. Got to see the digging.'
'Digging?' asked George, 'For what?'
'Don't know. Pa didn't know either. He was never allowed in the house when the work started. All he said was about six months after Mrs Meadowbank died, Clarence brought a team in. Tonnes of earth was dug out from beneath the house. Most of the mounds you can see on the grounds today are from that dig.'
'I don't get it,' said Andrew, 'What were they looking for?'
'I told you it got interesting,' she said. Eyes glimmering. 'But we never got to see what they were digging for. The work went on for weeks and then one day without explanation, the team was sent away and all remaining staff - including my Pa - were fired. The place was locked tight like a fortress after that. The only thing allowed in or out was a delivery truck; came once a week.'
'They just locked themselves away like that?' said Andrew, 'Including the boy?'
'Yup. No contact for months. We were still here and could see into the grounds, but we never saw anyone in there. Then one day shortly after a delivery truck had come, the place was crawling with police.'
'What happened?' asked Andrew. He was intrigued by the story, but couldn't deny the feeling of dread slowly building.
'What happened next,' said Karen, who’d crept in whilst the old lady was telling her tale. 'Was a missing persons case that still hasn't been solved.'
'I thought you said there weren't any open cases,' said Andrew.
'There aren't,' she said, 'The case was closed. But in a small village like this, that sort of news never goes away. Apparently, the delivery driver stumbled on the bodies of Clarence and George in the hallway. Both dead from gun shot wounds. Both self inflicted. The boy was nowhere to be found. The whole village was out searching the woods for days. Never found a body.'
Andrew turned to George. 'Did you know this story?'
'Like I said, I've heard bits and pieces from the villagers. But I didn't know the boy's body was never found.'
'Jesus,' said Andrew, 'What about the digging? Did they ever find out what that was all about?'
Karen shook her head, 'The place was apparently searched top to bottom. They'd done some extensions to parts of the cellar, but nothing more.'
Andrew frowned and turned to Gladys, who had been watching the exchange through narrowed eyes. 'What do you think happened?' he asked, 'Was the boy buried down there?'
'Oh no,' she said, 'They'll never find that poor boys body. They dug so far down, that poor boy is in hell.'
The room fell silent and she looked at each of them in turn. Thomas, who had been quiet throughout the entire conversation, had turned white as a sheet.
Gladys gave a harsh cackle that made them all jump, 'Told you it got interesting.’
12
A look passed between them and, in unison, George, Thomas and Andrew stood. 'Thank you for the illuminating story Gladys,' Andrew said, 'But we've got to get moving.'
She gave a slight nod, 'Just remember what I told you. Something happened down there under that house. Something evil.'
He held out a hand and she grabbed it with that dry leathery skin once again. 'Understood,' he said, 'And thank you again.' This time, the only response was a gentle wave of her hand; like a queen waving off her suitors.
Margaret had joined the end of the discussion, with Lucas presumably still hidden away in the kitchen.
'Are you OK to watch the boys?' Karen said, 'Just whilst we check things out.'
'Of course!' she said, 'They'll be safe here.'
'I'm going with you,' said Thomas flatley. 'It's my mum. You can't leave me out of this.'
'No Thomas,' said Karen, 'It's far too dangerous. I need to know you boys are alright.'
George held out a hand and touched Karen's arm, 'The boy's right,' he said, 'It's not our place to keep him out of this. If he wants to come, he should come.'
'George, I really don't...'
'Karen, we leave him here and he's going to come after us anyway. I get what you're saying, but the boy comes.' There was a look between Thomas and George that wasn't lost on Andrew; it was a look that was way more than just a look. Way back in his mind, a tiny alarm bell began to ring.
'Fine,' she said, admitting defeat, 'But this one is on you, George. Are we clear?'
'Crystal,' he said and they headed out.
Lucas appeared in the kitchen doorway, eyes red with fresh tears. 'Is mummy coming home now?' he asked.
Thomas un-shouldered the bag, knelt and hugged his brother. 'I'm just going to get her,' he said, 'You stay here with Margaret and Gladys and I'll be right back.'
'Do you promise?'
'Promise,' he said. 'Anyway, I've got a nice police lady to look after me now.' He ruffled his brother's hair and smiled. Lucas smiled back and as the tears came again, Margaret stepped in to lead him back to the kitchen. Thomas was eternally grateful for this, as the last thing he wanted was for his brother to see he was crying to.
The others were waiting at the end of the garden. 'Everything OK sport?' Andrew said.
Thomas nodded and wiped his eyes. 'Yeah, sure,' he said.
'What's in the bag kid?' he shot George a look, but before he could answer, a shout came from the house.
'Wait up!' Margaret said, 'You might need these.' She handed Thomas two black torches which he took and stuffed into the bag, again grateful for her timely intervention.
'Thanks Margaret,' Karen said, 'Let's hope we don't need them.'
'You all take care now,' she said, and before anyone could answer, she turned and headed in.
Andrew looked at his watch. 'Ok, it's nine fifteen,' he said, 'Let's hope that guy hasn't got too much of a head start. Did you get anywhere with any back up?'
Karen shook her head, 'I've reported it in, but it won't officially be a missing persons case until it's been twenty four hours. Most of the manpower has been diverted for this manhunt down south. As far as the system knows I'm just "following up" on an enquiry.'
'So it's just us then?' he said.
'Looks that way. For now, anyway.'
'Better hop to it then,' he said and set off towards the mansion.
They navigated the locked gate with varying degrees of success. Thomas and Karen went first; climbing and landing like elegant gazelle's. George followed and climbed with an ease that defied his age; la
nding not quite so elegantly but still in one piece. Andrew struggled with the climb and once over the other side fell the last few feet; ending up on his ass in the dirt.
For the second time that morning a subtle look was passed between George and Thomas when Andrew offered to take the bag as they climbed. There weren't quite alarm bells ringing, but he wasn't keen on the secrets. Karen hadn't seemed to have taken notice of the bag and he wondered if she had spotted the conspiracy. For the few brief minutes they had spent together earlier this morning, Andrew could tell that George was on side. If he had a few surprises tucked away in that bag, they could only be for the good of the group.
Or so he hoped.
'Do you believe any of that shit?' Thomas asked, 'You know, from the old lady.'
'I believe this place has a lot of secrets,' Andrew said, 'If that's what you mean.'
'Yeah, I get that. But what about the stuff about digging into hell. You don't believe that do you?'
'Do I think Peter Hatton has taken your mum and my wife into hell? No I don't believe that. Do I think there's some weird shit going on here that's doing a good job at ruining my fucking morning? Then yeah! But don't worry, we've got the local PD to help us,' he winked at Thomas and looked over to Karen. She was shaking her head, but that quirky half smile was again curling at her lips.
The mansion's driveway was probably around half a mile long and it snaked its way through overgrown borders that once would have been resplendent in colour; undoubtedly kept that way by Gladys's Pa. The driveway itself was pitted with holes and overgrown in places with ugly clumps of grass. As they neared the building itself, they could make out an equally overgrown and rusted old fountain that acted like a miniature roundabout at the head of the drive. Andrew could imagine dark suited butlers rushing down the mansions steps to greet new arrivals and then whisking their stately limousines away; valet parking at its finest.
Most of the mansions windows had been boarded up and a dirty red/brown stain ran from each of the top floor window ledges. Apart from that, the place wasn't in the total state of disrepair it had looked from afar. Andrew was surprised by the lack of graffiti or petty vandalism, although based on the story they had just heard, maybe he wasn't that surprised.
'Looks like Mr Big Feet isn't too bothered about leaving a trail,' said George. He pointed towards the grand double doors and, sure enough, the right hand side stood half open. Shards of wood littered the ground where clear force had been used to get inside.
They made their way up the crumbling stone stairs and with Andrew in the lead, squeezed through the open doorway. Inside, the boarded up windows created a dusty gloom that even the bright morning sunshine couldn't quite breakthrough. Ahead of them lay a wide hallway with a curved double sided staircase spiraling to the left and right.
'Are we all agreed that we should start with the basement?' Andrew said and they all silently nodded in agreement.
'We could waste a day searching this place,' said George. 'Best to stick to what we know.'
'Which way is it?' said Thomas. 'There's about fifty doors here.'
Andrew put an arm around his shoulders. 'Young man,' he said, adopting a terrible Yoda voice. 'We shall use our Jedi powers. Show the way they shall.'
'Or,' said George. 'We can continue to follow the trail of breadcrumbs our friend has left us.' He pointed to the floor and again it was easy to make out a set of large footprints heading to the left under the staircase.
'Or we can try that,' said Andrew, 'Lets see what’s behind door number seven!' He swung open the door revealing another stone staircase, leading down into complete darkness.
'Unless your Jedi powers stretch to "let there be light" Karen teased, 'You're going to need those torches.'
On queue, Thomas grabbed the torches from the bag and handed one each to Andrew and Karen. Then, again with Andrew in the lead, they headed down.
They made cautious progress as the further they went the colder it got, leaving a slippery sheen on the stairs. The torches were big and powerful, but the darkness was so all consuming they barely made a dent. After another handful of steps the floor levelled out. Faint light was drifting in through what was left of the ceiling high windows, revealing a large cellar. Along one wall ran a beaten looking wine rack and in the centre of the room was the remains of a prep table. Everything was covered in layers of virgin dust; everything except a diagonal trail of footprints.
'Tracks go that way,' said George. The footprints cut across the room and stopped abruptly in an alcoved area in the far corner. 'And it looks like he made at least two trips.' Unlike the clean set of prints they found behind the cottages, this was a mish-mash. Either the owner didn't know where they were going, or, as George said, they had made multiple trips.
'I don't get it,' said Andrew. 'Why come all the way down here only to head straight back out again. Doesn't make any sense.'
Karen was examining the walls of the alcove. 'I don't think he did head back,' she said. 'There's a breeze coming under this wall. Give me a hand here.'
Andrew and Thomas went to her and, together, the three of them pushed against the recessed portion of wall. There was some initial resistance and then the wall gave way; swinging open to reveal a second set of stairs. Although still crumbly and damp with moisture, they were clearly newer than the stairs leading from the main hall.
Andrew peered down into another dark stairwell. 'Door number eight looks just as enticing as door number seven,' he said, 'Is this the new extension?'
'Looks that way,' said Karen, 'Peter came this way. You can see his prints on the damp stairs.' She clicked on the torch and headed down.
It was a steeper and a much longer set of stairs, but nowhere near as gloomy as the first descent. When they were about halfway down a soft glow rose from below. The nearer they got, the brighter it became, making the torches redundant. They reached the floor and found themselves in a low ceilinged, dimly lit room with red drapes along each wall. In between the drapes were bare patches where large paintings would have hung. Above these patches were ornate looking metallic lamps that glowed with a soft blue hue. In the very centre of the room was the remnants of a billiards table; one leg had given way and the felt had turned a nasty brown colour as it curled from the edges.
Thomas frowned. 'Didn't they have enough room upstairs?' he said, 'Seems like one helluva job just to add a snooker room.'
Andrew was taking keen interest in the glowing blue lights. 'And if this place has been derelict for over seventy years, how come we have lights?' He tapped one of the units, it gave a slight high pitched hum and then settled. 'Was this the extent of the renovations?'
'I think so,' said Karen, 'But you have to remember this was way before my time. Way before anyone's, I guess.'
'This room is a ruse,' George said.
Karen frowned. 'A what?'
'It's a ruse. A sham. A fake. If we take it at face value - probably like your police friends did all those years ago - then it's an extension and private billiards room. But Thomas is right. What's the point? It would have taken us a whole day to search the mansion, it's not like they're short of space. This room is designed for people to stop looking.'
'But there's nothing in here,' she said, 'Fake or not, it's still a dead end.'
'Is it?' said George, 'Look there. Our big footed friend certainly found it interesting.' The dust was nowhere near as thick as on the upper levels, but even so, there was still evidence of recent activity. Scuff marks littered the floor, continued to the far wall and then, much like the previous level stopped abruptly.
Karen ran her fingers along the wall where the tracks ended, but this time there was no faint breeze. 'Then where did he go?' she said.
'A real mystery don't you think?' he said, 'Underground room. Only one way in, yet our quarry is nowhere to be seen. Real brain buster. Yet, I think Mr Hatton has made his first mistake.'
'George, if you know something,' said Andrew, 'Then spill.'
'It's just
a hunch,' he said, 'But what's the one difference between this room and any others we've seen.'
It was Thomas who answered first. 'The lights!' he said.
'Exactly. The lights. Our big footed friend has left the lights on.'
Andrew looked bemused. 'But how does that help?' he said, 'Lights or no lights, he's not here! What's your point?'
'My guess,' said George looking at Karen, 'Is that this place probably wasn't lit up with those weird blue Christmas tree lights when it was searched all those years ago.'
Karen shrugged. 'I've no idea,' she said.
'Think about it,' he said, 'You're a bunch of coppers and your searching this massive mansion and it's grounds for a missing boy. You come upon this place and let's just say it's either dark or lit up with some regular lights and you think, ok, nice new billiard room. Bit strange to build an extra room, but whatever, they're rich. You give it a cursory search but think nothing more of it. But come down here when those weird lights are glowing. There's a few things you're going to want to know.'
'Like what?' said Thomas.
A look of understanding crossed Andrews face. 'Like what the hell is powering those lights,' he said.
George was nodding. 'Bingo!'
'Sorry, you've lost me,' said Karen, 'They're just blue lights, you see them all the time.'
'Nowadays maybe,' said Andrew, 'But back in 1931? I'm thinking probably not.'
'Here and there,' said George, 'But pretty rare. Rare enough to generate a few questions at least, and with a child's life at stake, you're going to be following up on any lead you have. No matter how thin.'
Karen was deep in thought. 'Ok, I can buy the theory. But why go to all this trouble? Why build a fake room? What's it for?'
George was circling the room touching each of the lights in turn. Everytime he did, they each let out the same high pitched buzz and then quieted when he withdrew his touch. 'I'm hoping the answer is in these somewhere.' He reached the wall nearest the broken billiard table leg and touched the lamp. It gave the same hum, but when he withdrew his hand the sound continued for much longer than any of the others. He touched it again and held it for longer. The humming got louder and louder to an unbearable level.
Meadowbank: A dark fantasy thriller (The Shael Chronicles Book 2) Page 6
