Sarah Rayne: What Lies Beneath

‘We’d better keep as close to the buildings as we can so we won’t be seen.’ Veronica kept looking nervously over her shoulder.

‘That’s my great-aunt Rose’s house, just along there,’ said Clem, stopping to point down a winding little lane near the bakery. ‘I used to go there for Saturday tea every week. We had fresh currant bread from the bakery.’

The village street was silent and still, and Veronica whispered that it was like a ghost town.

‘Maybe we’ll become the ghosts,’ said Clem.

‘Oh, no !’

‘It’d be good.’ Clem was well away on a new story. ‘We’d be the three children who haunt the deserted village. And when they build the motorway, sometimes drivers will see us, wandering down the road at midnight.’

‘It’s eleven o’clock in the morning,’ said Ella repressively.

‘I know, but you only get ghosts at midnight.’

They all knew the village quite well, which Ella thought should have made their walk ordinary, but somehow it did not. Priors Bramley seemed to have changed: it felt as if eyes watched from the deserted shops, and invisible people peered out from behind the shuttered windows. It’s waiting to die, she thought. It knows what’s going to happen.

Here was the little shop that sold bull’s-eyes and sherbet dab with liquorice sticks, and next to it was the wool shop where Ella’s mother bought knitting yarn and patterns.

With a show of bravado Clem pushed open the door of the sweet shop, and the little bell over the door clanged tinnily. It made them all jump, and Clem, who had been going to make a joke about asking for a quarter of fudge, backed away.

‘What’ll happen to the sweets and wool and everything?’ asked Veronica, in a half-whisper as they walked along the street. ‘They won’t be poisoned, will they?’

‘My great-aunt Rose said all the shop people packed everything away in wooden boxes and some vans came and took the boxes away. Buck up, Veronica, think how brave you’ll feel when we’re up in Mordwich Meadow, scoffing our sandwiches.’

‘We’ll sing “Happy Birthday to Ella”,’ said Veronica, trying not to let her voice wobble.

St Anselm’s was ahead of them, and Ella’s heart was starting to beat very fast. The lich-gate leading to the ancient, disused church was surrounded by trees – old cedars and English oaks. In the morning sunlight the leaves cast dappled shadows on the ground, and Clem paused to stare along the rutted driveway leading to the church itself.

‘My father says lich means corpse,’ he said. ‘Dead body. They used to carry the bodies up to the church and rest them on the lich-gate for the first bit of the funeral.’

‘That’s really creepy,’ said Veronica, shuddering. ‘Your father tells you horrid things.’

‘They used to ring a lich bell too, sometimes. Death bell,’ said Clem.

‘Well, whatever they used to ring, let’s get on,’ said Ella, who was hating being so near to the shadowy church.

‘It’s a nice old church, isn’t it?’ said Veronica, not moving.

‘My father says it’s tragic the way it’s been left to rot,’ said Clem. ‘Can you see the coloured windows? There look, through the trees.

‘One of the windows is broken,’ said Veronica. ‘And—’ She broke off, her eyes widening, and grabbed Clem’s arm. ‘Did you hear that?’

‘What? I can’t hear anything,’ said Ella, but her heart was starting to race.

‘ Listen ,’ said Veronica urgently. ‘Someone’s in there.’

From within the abandoned church came the sound of footsteps.

An icy hand closed round Ella’s heart, and her skin prickled with fear.

‘Veronica’s right,’ said Clem, still looking back at the church. ‘There is someone in there.’

‘Yes, but whoever it is, is only doing what we’re doing,’ said Veronica. ‘Saying goodbye to the church.’

‘Probably the vicar,’ said Ella, walking towards the manor, hoping the others would follow.

‘Shouldn’t we go in there and tell whoever it is to come out?’ said Veronica, starting back towards the lich-gate.

Ella turned and ran after her, grabbing her arm. ‘Veronica, we can’t, we’re not supposed to be here.’ She risked a glance along the path. There was the low door, black with age, slightly open, and it was possible to see the shadows lying thickly across the stone floor just inside. Pulling Veronica away, she said, ‘We mustn’t go in there, we really mustn’t.’

‘Anyway, whoever it is, he’ll know about the plane coming over at twelve o’clock and the bomb. Everyone knows,’ said Clem.

‘It’s a bit creepy, though, isn’t it?’

‘No. Let’s keep walking to Cadence Manor, like we said. Just up to the gates. Whoever’s in there won’t see us – the road goes round to the left after those houses.’

‘I thought this would be an adventure, but it isn’t,’ said Veronica, as they went on, leaving the church behind. ‘I don’t like it,’ she said, but she walked between the other two, around the left-hand curve of the street and across the cobblestones that had once been part of an old coaching inn.

‘The church clock’s striking again – one chime. Is that for the quarter-hour?’ she asked.

‘Yes. Quarter-past eleven. We’ve got masses of time yet,’ said Ella.

‘How much further is it?’

‘Not far. There are the gates. They’re huge, aren’t they?’

The gates to Cadence Manor were tall and tipped here and there with gold, but there were patches of rust on the black scrollwork. The manor itself was hidden by a high wall and trees.

‘My father said they used to be really rich, those Cadences, only they were moneylenders and you shouldn’t trust people like that,’ said Clem.

‘My mother says they were Italian bankers,’ said Veronica. ‘She said they used to have grand parties here, years and years ago, before the war. They went on for a whole weekend, sometimes, the parties. But they gave a lot of money to the children’s home at Bramley Gate.’

‘Well, my mother said the Cadences were a bunch of villains,’ said Ella. ‘She said you couldn’t trust a one of them, never mind they were rich and all the rest.’

‘That’s the old lodge house,’ said Clem, pointing to the square grey building on the left of the gates.

‘It’s a bit crumbly, isn’t it? And the gardens are all overgrown.’

‘If the Cadences really were a bunch of villains, like my mother says, I think it serves them right if their house crumbles.’

‘Let’s just go in through the gates, so we can say we’ve been to Cadence Manor before it was poisoned by the Geranos stuff and crunched up for the motorway,’ said Clem. ‘Then we’ll go home.’

‘We’d better go along Meadow Lane,’ said Ella. ‘We can climb the wall and get over the stile to Mordwich Bank. We can’t go near the house itself anyway.’

‘Why not?’

‘We haven’t got time.’

‘What if there’s another policeman there?’

‘There won’t be – they won’t think anyone would climb over the wall.’

The gates were stiff and almost rusted into place, but when Clem pushed hard, one of them swung inwards, the hinges squealing like an animal. The sound tore across the quiet morning, and Ella jumped and glanced behind her in case anyone had heard and was coming to catch them.

Stepping through the massive black and gilt gates felt like entering another world. They all looked nervously towards the windows of the lodge. Curtains still hung at several of the windows. Ella thought one of them moved, but before she could be sure they heard a shout from the street – outside the gates.

‘Someone’s coming,’ said Clem. ‘Let’s get out before we’re caught.’ He grabbed the girls’ hands.