Sarah Rayne - What Lies Beneath

‘Where?’

‘Towards the house,’ said Clem. ‘Come on. We can climb over the wall and be back in the lane, like Ella said.’

‘It’ll be the policeman,’ gasped Veronica. ‘Or that workman banging up the notices.’

‘Or whoever was creeping around in the church.’

‘Oh, no …’

‘Never mind who it is, we mustn’t be caught!’ said Ella. ‘Come on !’

They were halfway along the tree-lined drive, still holding hands and running as hard as they could towards the manor itself, when there was a movement within the trees, and the figure of a man stepped out and stood in front of them. The sunlight was behind him, silhouetting him against the brightness.

They had been running at full pelt, but they skidded to a sudden stop, and stood uncertainly. The man did not speak, and Ella felt Veronica’s hand tighten around hers. She shuddered, staring at the man, trying to think of something to say.

It was Clem who finally spoke. He said, quite politely, ‘I’m very sorry if we shouldn’t be here. We just wanted to – um – take one last walk through the village. But we’ll go now, we really will.’

The worst part was that the man did not reply. He took a step or two nearer – he doesn’t walk, he sort of shambles, thought Ella, horror sweeping over her – and they could all see there was something wrong about his face. He did not come any closer, but he peered at them intently as if he was trying to decide what to do. Clem tightened his hold on both girls’ hands, and ran towards the trees, pulling them along with him.

They ran as hard as they could, until they were deep in the undergrowth that had grown up around the deserted manor.

‘Oh, please stop,’ gasped Veronica. ‘I’ve got a stitch – I can’t run any more…’ She bent over to touch her toes.

‘Has he gone?’ said Clem, panting and looking back through the trees.

‘I think so. I can’t see him.’

‘Who was he? He wasn’t the policeman, was he? Was he the workman?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Ella.

‘There was something wrong with his face,’ said Veronica, straightening up. ‘And did you see the way he stared and stared at us, as if he wanted to do something very bad to us? My mother says you have to be careful of men in case they try to – you know – touch you.’

‘We’d better go round the side of the house,’ said Ella. ‘We’ll climb over the wall like Clem said.’

They forced their way through the thick rank grass, sending thistle-heads flying, trampling down the rose-bay willowherb, no longer caring if the man heard them, intent only on getting to the wall that backed onto Meadow Lane. Once Veronica stumbled and half-turned her ankle on a stone, but Clem hauled her up again and they went on and came out onto a rutted and cracked terrace. There, before them, were the rearing stones of Cadence Manor. Ella stared at it in fear.

Then two things happened almost at exactly the same time. The first was that they heard the man coming through the trees towards them.

The second was the sound of St Anselm’s church clock, chiming the half-hour before midday.

There was no time to think or plan. They ran straight towards the house and half fell through the main doors. Ella’s heart was racing and she thought she might be sick from fear, but they had to get away from the man, they absolutely had to… As they went into the great ruined hall, the smell of damp and dirt and loneliness reared up like a wall. Veronica flinched, but Clem dragged her inside.

No sunlight came into the hall and there was a bad moment when none of them could see anything. But as their eyes adjusted they saw there were doors opening off and a wide stairway directly ahead. The banisters were sagging and some of the stairs were missing.

‘In there?’ gasped Clem, pointing to a room with a half-open door.

‘No!’ said Ella at once.

‘Why not?’

Ella stared at him. Because that’s where the ghosts are, she thought. Terrible ghosts. It’s the place where I mustn’t go, not ever. But she managed to say, ‘Because we’d be trapped. Let’s go up the stairs. We can hide on the landing and if he comes in to look for us, we’ll wait until he goes into one of the rooms—’

‘But the plane,’ said Veronica in a frightened voice. ‘How long is it until the plane comes?’

‘Half an hour,’ said Clem. ‘We’ve got plenty of time. Once he’s gone we’ll run back downstairs and outside. We’ll be on Mordwich Bank ages before the plane comes.’

They went cautiously up the stairs; they were rickety and the wood had rotted completely away in places so it was necessary to tread carefully. Veronica was crying, a snuffly whining cry, that made Ella say sharply, ‘Do shut up or he’ll hear you.’

They reached the landing, which had tall narrow windows with seats set into them, and crouched down behind the banisters.

‘He’s coming,’ whispered Ella suddenly. ‘I can hear his footsteps.’

The footsteps came nearer and a figure stood in the doorway below. It was too dim to see him very clearly, but Ella knew they were all remembering his face – it had been somehow misshapen as if a hand had wiped over it before it had quite set and smeared some of the features. She shuddered and pressed back into the shadows, her heart thudding. Clem was gripping the banisters, staring down at the man, and Veronica’s face was tear-stained. If Veronica did not start crying again they would probably be all right – the man would think they had run off into the grounds and he would go away.

But he did not. He stood very still for a moment – as if he’s sniffing the air like an animal, thought Ella in horror – and then, very deliberately, as if he knew exactly where they were, he crossed the hall towards the stairs.

For a dreadful moment none of them knew what to do, but as the man stepped on the first stair a shaft of sunlight from one of the narrow windows fell across him and they saw again the frightening stare in his eyes and the dreadful wrongness of his face. Ella could not bear it. She looked back at the wide passage behind them. There were five or six doors, some half-open, others hanging crookedly on their hinges, but one near the far end was firmly closed. She touched Veronica’s hand, then Clem’s, and pointed to it.

They tiptoed towards the closed door. The man was coming quite slowly up the stairs. Sunshine poured in through the windows so it was just possible he could not see them through its glare. Praying the door would not squeak, Ella opened it. It did squeak, but only faintly, and they tumbled inside, closing it. The room was empty. There was a deep bay window and a massive chimney breast, which had half fallen away from the wall; there were piles of bricks and bits of timber, and a gaping blackness where the hearth would have been.

‘Will he come in after us?’ whispered Veronica, cramming her fist into her mouth.

‘He might, but we’ll hide behind that crumbly brickwork by the chimney,’ said Clem. ‘Have you still got that red hair ribbon, Vron? Put it in that far corner so he’ll think we’re over there. Then we’ll dodge out while he’s looking, and run for our lives. All right?’

‘But will we get out before the plane comes?’ whispered Veronica, doing as Clem said.

‘Yes, there’s masses of time.’ Ella said this confidently, but she had glanced at her watch and seen with horror it was already twenty to twelve. Her heart thumped with panic. What would happen to them if they did not get out before the plane sent its dreadful bomb onto the village?

Grabbing Veronica’s hand, she pulled her into the small space behind the chimney breast. They had to squeeze to get in. A sooty stench came up from the hole in the floor and Veronica shuddered. Clem tried to squash in with them, but there was no room, and he looked frantically about him, then ran across to a tall bookcase and crammed in behind it.