Sarah Rayne - What Lies Beneath

‘She says she has to be somewhere else,’ said Ella’s mother, ‘so you’ll have to come with me. Don’t screw your face up like that, it’s ugly and it’s also very common.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘Priors Bramley.’

Ella stopped screwing up her face, not because it was ugly or common, but because the words Priors Bramley brought back the remembered horror. She had not exactly forgotten about the man who had poured out the music in the church and sobbed so frighteningly, but after a while the memory had receded. There were all kinds of important things going on in her life – lessons and homework and the school play – and he had got pushed to the back of her mind. But as soon as her mother said this about going to Priors Bramley, it all came back.

‘I can’t come,’ she said. ‘I’ve got homework to do.’

‘What homework?’

‘Um, something for tomorrow’s nature study.’ She did not look at her mother when she said this, because Mum could always tell when she was lying.

‘You don’t have nature study until Friday,’ said Mum.

‘Well, no, but – but it’s the serial on TV Children’s Hour . It’s the last one tonight, so I don’t want to miss it.’

She offered this last excuse hopefully, but her mother was not having it. Ella had not really thought she would. She said, ‘I’m sorry, but I have an important errand and there’s no one else who can come in to sit with you.’

‘I don’t need sitting with. I’ll be all right on my own.’

‘I’m not leaving you in the house on your own. Put on your coat, and you’d better fetch your gloves as well.’

‘Where are we going in Priors Bramley?’

‘To the manor.’

Ella turned round from rummaging in a drawer for her gloves. ‘Actually to the house?’ Nobody she knew had been inside Cadence Manor, so it would put her one up on the others, with their stupid play about princesses and silver curlews. It would even be worth missing the TV programme. Also, they could get to the manor across Mordwich Meadow, which meant they would not have to walk along the main street and past the church at all.

She asked how long the errand would take. Errands were things grown-ups did, and mostly you never found out what they were. ‘I’ve got to run an errand,’ they said, and that was all you were told.

‘Not very long.’ Mum’s voice sounded a bit trembly. ‘We’ll be back for your television serial,’ she said.

As they went along the little back lane towards the manor’s side gate, Ella tried to think about the TV programme and not about whether the man from the church might be prowling around. On one side of Cadence Manor was what had once probably been a lawn. Veronica’s family had a lawn in their garden where they sometimes put chairs and a table; Ella had had tea there several times. But this was a much bigger lawn, although the grass was so long it brushed the hem of her skirt and tickled her knees. They went towards the house, where a French window was partly open on one side.

And then, trickling into the glowing autumn evening, came sounds that sent fear scudding through Ella. Music. Music she recognized – music coming from what sounded like a record player like the one Clem’s parents had. It was the music she had heard that day being played in St Anselm’s church.

As they neared the house there was a movement beyond the French windows, and Ella’s mother said, ‘You stay here, Ella. You’ll be all right. I have to just step inside the house for a moment to see someone, so you wait here like a good girl.’

Ella looked about her, trying to shut out the music. Cadence Manor was very old and there were a lot of trees everywhere. Under one oak, quite near the house, was a blur of blue, which might be gentians. You hardly ever found gentians, and it would be pretty good if she could pick some for nature study. She pointed to these.

‘Could I get some of those gentians? Nobody’d mind, would they? It’d be extra good if I could take them to school for nature study.’

‘I should think so,’ said Mum, looking to where Ella was pointing. ‘Only pick a few, though. And don’t go anywhere else in the grounds.’

‘I won’t. I’ll sit on that bit of crumbly wall when I’ve got them,’ said Ella.

She watched her mother walk up to the house and go through the French window. As she did so, the music shut off with a scrape as if whoever was in there had lifted the needle off the record’s surface and had not done so smoothly. The movement came again and this time an arm came up to the window, drawing thick curtains over it, almost all the way. As Ella watched, the movement was repeated at the two other windows. Whoever was in there had stopped the record and was shutting out the blazing sunset. Ella thought it was a bit peculiar. But the really peculiar thing was that no lights were switched on inside the room.

Ella went over to the blue fuzziness near the trees. They were gentians, and she picked several carefully. A couple of the roots came up with some of the flowers because of the dry ground; Ella thought she could put those in a plant pot and water them, so she wrapped her handkerchief around the roots to protect them, and then her scarf. There was what looked like deadly nightshade as well, growing a bit nearer to the house. Ella was not going to pick any of that; they had all been told it was just about the most dangerous plant there was. ‘Belladonna’, the nature study teacher had called it, warning them before a nature walk and showing a photograph. ‘It means beautiful lady, but you have to remember that some beautiful ladies can be dangerous.’ They had all laughed a bit embarrassedly, but they had promised to be careful.

Ella was not going to touch the belladonna growing in Cadence Manor’s grounds, but she was curious to see the real thing. It would be pretty good if she could tell at school how she had found some. She had just reached the place where it was growing when a sound from inside the house made her turn her head. Had that been Mum’s voice, calling out? Was Ella meant to go into the house? Perhaps she could go quietly up to the window and peep inside to see if Mum wanted her. If not, she could go back to the crumbly wall and Mum would not know she had looked in.

Still holding the gentians in the handkerchief and scarf she went forward, trying not to make any sound. The dry dead grass crunched under her feet but other than that everywhere was quiet, although once she thought something had moved within the old trees and she looked towards them, her heart racing. No, there was no one there, only the old trees with their trunks like gnarled faces. The curtains were still drawn but the French window was open, and Ella could see Mum. She was talking to someone. Ella could not see who it was, but it must be the person who had shut out the evening light.

She took a nervous step nearer and suddenly saw her mother was crying. This was dreadful. Mum never cried at home and she would never ever cry in somebody else’s house. She was always talking about not making a scene in public. But Ella could see that her shoulders were shaking and she was wiping her eyes with her handkerchief. Whoever was in there had made her cry. This did not exactly stop Ella being so frightened, but it made her feel angry. She went nearer. Yes, Mum was crying quite hard. Ella took a deep breath and, pushing open the glass door, stepped through it.

The room beyond the French window was dim and musty-smelling, but there was a faint scent of something sweet overlaying the mustiness, as if whoever lived in this room had tried to smother it by pouring scent everywhere. It made Ella feel slightly sick.

Her mother turned and started to say, ‘Ella, I told you to stay outside,’ but Ella barely heard because her whole attention was on the other figure in the room. It was seated in an old-fashioned high-backed chair, this figure, but the chair was set against one window so it was difficult to make out the person’s features. Ella squinted through the dimness, and saw some kind of high collar turned all the way up. Gloved hands, and dark clothes that fell in folds over the chair. And a blur where the face should be… Her heart started to thud and some of the anger trickled away, letting the fear back in. It was him. It must be. He was hiding from the light, exactly as he had done that day in the church. That was why the curtains were drawn and no lights switched on.