Sarah Rayne - What Lies Beneath

But the music started again, slower and somehow sadder now, and Ella managed to get to the door, which had swung shut when she came in. She reached for the handle, but it was old and stiff, and when she tugged it, it screeched loudly. The music stopped at once and there was the sound of someone moving across the upper floor.

Ella gave a sob and pulled on the handle, wanting to get outside before the unseen musician found her, but he was already coming down the narrow stair. He moved slowly and he sounded as if he was fumbling his way out, like someone creeping out of a very dark place, dazzled by the sudden light outside. As he reached the foot of the stair, the crimson-tinged shadows fell across his face, and Ella felt as if a fist had thumped into her throat. There was something dreadfully wrong about the face, only she could not make out what it was because the shadows were slithering all around him and it was difficult to see properly. She gasped, and this time managed to drag the door open and tumble outside. She ran down the path to the lich-gate, but as she reached it a compulsion to see if he was still there gripped her, and she turned back.

He was there. He was coming after her. He moved slowly and it was as if the shadows clung to him and moved along with him. Ella sobbed, and ran out through the lich-gate and back to the wool shop. She paused before going inside, because she could not let Mum see her like this, all teary and out of breath. If she told Mum what had happened, Mum might say Ella should not have gone into the church, specially not when someone was already in there. But it was all right now. The street was empty and whoever he had been, that man, he had not followed her. So Ella took several deep breaths, tidied her hair with her hands, smoothed down the skirt of her frock, and went inside the shop.

She and her mother walked home, her mother talking about the wool she had bought. It was all ordinary and safe, and Ella felt better. But she was glad when they reached Upper Bramley and the lane where they lived. Their cottage was not very big but Ella’s mother always said they were lucky to have it, what with property still so difficult to find. There were four cottages all huddled together and theirs was the end one, looking out over Bramley Fields.

I’m safe now, thought Ella, as they went inside. He won’t know where I live. As long as I don’t go inside St Anselm’s church I’ll never see him again. I haven’t got anything to worry about.

The Present

‘You do understand what I’m worrying about,’ said Ella, refilling the glasses of her two guests.

‘The opening of the village,’ said Clem, holding out his glass for the top-up.

‘Yes,’ said Ella, and for a moment, the shared memory of that fear-filled morning shivered between them.

Then Veronica said dismissively, ‘But that was years ago. It can’t possibly matter now.’ She thought Ella always had to make a fuss about things.

‘But surely you realize that when they go in they’ll find the body?’ said Ella.

‘People have been in since then, though, haven’t they? Wasn’t that the point? They drenched the village with that stuff – Geranos – and then government scientists were going in after a few months to check the results.’

‘They did go in,’ said Clem. ‘I think it was about six months later – don’t you remember? That was when they realized the Geranos was far more harmful than they had thought, so they closed the village and shelved the motorway scheme until everything had dispersed or dried out. If they’d found a body we’d have heard about it.’

‘It won’t matter if they do find it,’ said Veronica. ‘They won’t connect it to us.’

‘She’s right’ said Clem, looking back at Ella. ‘No one even knew we were there that day. It really was empty – everyone had been moved out weeks earlier. People who owned property were given compulsory purchase orders. Most of them went out to the new town.’

‘Of course no one knew we were there,’ said Veronica. She drank her wine and wished Ella would not buy cheap supermarket plonk, because it was not as if she couldn’t afford better. ‘He was just some nasty old tramp and he liked the idea of two little girls. He wanted to – well, do what my mother used to call “interfere” with us. Don’t snigger, Clem, it is what it was called then.’

‘Ah, the euphemistic days of our youth,’ said Clem.

‘I wish you’d take this seriously,’ said Ella.

‘There’s nothing to worry about,’ said Veronica. ‘We pushed him away and he fell down the chimney. I don’t see why you need laugh about that, Clem. It’s what happened.’

‘It’s the falling down the chimney part,’ said Clem apologetically. ‘Like a nursery rhyme or Father Christmas being sozzled.’

‘It was an accident,’ said Veronica. ‘It wasn’t anybody’s fault.’ She sneaked a surreptitious glance at her watch because all this was getting in the way of the rather exciting date she had later tonight; a new man, about whom she was not yet telling anyone. She wanted to get home and set the scene for his arrival – scented candles and mood music, and wine chilling in the ice bucket. Some people would say that was a bit cheesy, but Veronica did not think it cheesy in the least. What she did think was that it was annoying to put up with this stupid boring meeting.

Clem said slowly, ‘Do you know what I’ve sometimes thought, since that day?’

‘What?’ Ella was handing round the defrosted canapés again.

‘Supposing the man wasn’t dead when we left him? And don’t say you never thought about that,’ said Clem, ‘because I bet we all did.’

‘I didn’t,’ said Veronica at once.

‘Of course he was dead,’ said Ella. ‘We knew he was.’

‘Did we? You were ten – Vron and I were nine.’

‘Excuse me, I was only eight,’ said Veronica, who was not having anybody add even one year to her age.

‘Well, none of us was old enough to tell if somebody was dead,’ said Clem, ignoring the interruption. ‘We didn’t even go up to him to check his heart or anything.’

‘We didn’t have time! The church clock was chiming twelve and the plane was coming!’ said Ella.

‘You don’t really think he was alive, do you?’ said Veronica nervously, because this really was the grisliest idea to put in a person’s mind. It was to be hoped it was not going to spoil her anticipation of the evening planned for later. She had bought new silk underwear and everything.

‘But what if he was alive?’ said Clem. ‘I used to have nightmares about that, you know. About how he might have come round just as the bomb went off. How he might have lain there, with all that poisonous stuff choking him.’

They looked at each other, then Ella said very firmly, ‘That’s nonsense. His neck was broken.’

There was a rather awkward silence, then Clem gave another of the nervous giggles. ‘This is starting to be like a film about three middle-aged people meeting in a teashop to discuss covering up a murder they committed.’

‘It’s not a matter for silly jokes,’ said Ella sharply.

‘I know, but on the other hand there’s no need to get it out of proportion,’ said Clem. ‘Or to lose our sense of humour. Or have you mislaid yours?’

‘I think that’s very unkind of you, Clem. I have a very good sense of humour,’ said Ella. ‘Derek and I often have a good laugh over all kinds of things.’

‘I’m sorry. I was only thinking if anyone filmed this, my part could be played by Anthony Hopkins,’ said Clem.

‘And I’ll be Meryl Streep or Helen Mirren,’ put in Veronica eagerly, because this was a much more interesting turn of the conversation, and anything that would push away the really horrid memories was welcome. ‘Somebody with cheekbones.’ In case anyone was still adding anything to her age, she finished by saying that, of course, she was a good deal younger than Helen Mirren.