Sarah Rayne - What Lies Beneath

She explained about trying to find Amy, saying there had been a muddle about meeting up and she thought Amy might be here. ‘And her mobile’s switched off.’ This was untrue, but he would expect her to have tried phoning.

‘Nuisance for you,’ said the barman sympathetically. ‘She isn’t here, but as it happens I had to go out about half an hour ago and I saw Amy driving out of Bramley. That’ll be why her phone was off. If she was driving, I mean.’

‘Are you sure it was Amy?’

‘Oh, yes. In fact she waved to me. She’s been in a few times so we’re on waving terms, you might say.’

‘Which way was she going?’

‘Oh Lord, where was it? Sparrowfeld Lane, that’s it. Down Mordwich Bank,’ he said. ‘Does that help?’

It did not really, but Ella said, ‘Oh yes, thank you.’ She hesitated, then said, ‘Is Dr Malik in, by any chance?’

‘No, he went out first thing. Off on some of his research, I think. He said he wouldn’t be back until this evening.’

Then it could not be Malik Amy had gone to meet. Ella was relieved to know that at any rate. She thanked the barman, went out and got back in the car.

Sparrowfeld Lane and Mordwich Bank. Where on earth had Amy been going? Ella drove down Mordwich Bank, going rather slowly because she was not very used to Derek’s car, which was bigger and more powerful than her own, looking out for her own car as she went. She absolutely must find Amy before she could talk to anyone about the stuff buried in the garden. She would not phone, because she needed to see Amy’s expression and reactions. At least Amy had not gone to the police station, which was just off the High Street. Or had she? She might very well have some misguided idea of helping her grandfather by reporting her findings; she thought a lot of Derek, Ella had often noticed that. Supposing Amy had gone to the station first, asked for the CID inspector from last night and been told he was out at Cadence Manor, working on the unidentified body case? Mightn’t she go out there to find him?

Ella glanced to her right, to the shallow dip of Priors Bramley. Dare she go down there? Yes, why not? If she met anyone she would say she was curious to see the place now it was open again. If she met any police, who would know about Derek, she would say she had to get away for an hour or so to clear her head.

There was not much traffic and, as she turned off the main road and went down the last stretch of bank, Priors Bramley looked deserted. There were lengths of blue-printed tape saying ‘Police Incident’ lying on the ground, but that was all. But however deserted the place might be, one person was certainly here, because parked a bit untidily on a grass verge was Ella’s car.

Ella parked nearby, locked the car, and set off. If Amy did know about the sweater and the bag and diaries, Ella had to persuade her they were innocent. If she could not do that, then a way must be found to prevent Amy talking about them.

As she walked along, hoping to see Amy at any minute, her own childhood memories stirred. There was the little shop where her mother liked to buy knitting wool, and further along was the bakery that had sold Clem’s currant bread. A thin mist lay everywhere and droplets of moisture clung to the buildings – Ella did not know if this was from the rain earlier or from the decontamination spraying.

As she went round the sharp bend in the high street the past pressed in more insistently. The grey misty desolation heightened it: she had always remembered the past – her own past – in monochrome, like an old newsreel.

Just around the curve of the road was St Anselm’s; at the thought of it Ella’s apprehension ratcheted up several notches. But probably she would not need to go as far as the church – she was bound to see Amy at any minute. There was no sign of Amy, however, and, despite her resolve, as Ella reached the church she slowed down and then stopped, staring at what had been the path going up to the main entrance.

The trees that had screened St Anselm’s still stood, but they looked dry and diseased, the trunks pitted and the remaining branches grotesquely twisted. Had the Geranos done that? For a moment Ella saw her mother’s scarred face, and she shuddered. The lichgate had partly collapsed, but it was almost as she remembered it. ‘Sometimes they rang a lich bell,’ Clem had said. ‘The death bell, they called it.’ How long was it since the lich bell had rung? No one would ring it for the man who had poured out the music and sobbed so painfully that day. And that second body? Would anyone have mourned for that person? Who had it been, anyway? Because I only killed one person that day, thought Ella.

Whoever the dead people had been, their stories were in the past. Today Ella could go inside that church right at this minute if she wanted to and nothing would hurt her. She stepped through the lich-gate and went a little way along the path, thinking she would take a brief look. Amy might even be in there. She had talked about some holiday project or other involving the place, although Ella could not believe Amy would be thinking about work this morning.

The headstones of the graves jutted up like dark teeth against the damp air, and mist clung to the sick-looking trees. Ella glanced up at the clock tower. Would anyone wind the clock again?

The church seemed to have withstood its half-century of desolation well, despite the stories about it crumbling away from dry rot or deathwatch beetle. Ella stood in the porch, trying to see inside. There seemed to be only the grey shadows and the brooding silence, and she turned to go back. She was halfway down what remained of the path when, from inside the church, came a sound that caused an icy hand to clutch her stomach. She spun round in horrified disbelief.

Music. Harsh, difficult music – not quite melody, not even quite chords, but unformed embryo sounds, ugly but recognizable, as if a piece of music was struggling to be born… Or as if music smothered for half a century was trying to make itself heard again.

It was as if huge invisible hands had picked Ella up and flung her back into the dark fear of her childhood. Panic coursed through her. He was still in there. Even though she had killed him fifty years ago – even though she had been sure he was dead! – he was still here. Somehow he had survived and he was trying to play his music again.

The struggling, fragmented sounds came again – deformed, like he had been deformed – then died away. The silence closed down, but Ella was scarcely aware of it. She was nine years old again, terrified of the man who had come down the stairs from the organ loft and crept towards her with that shambling walk… The man who had stood in the dim room inside Cadence Manor and looked at her, while the dreadful dead figure of Serena Cadence sat in the shadows, staring at nothing…

From out of the church came a figure, the outline blurred in the leaden light and the face obscured by the shadows the old church cast, but recognizably the figure of a man. Ella’s reason spun wildly away from her, and she gasped and stepped back.

As the figure started to walk towards her, she gave a sob of fear and turned to run, not towards the main street and her car, but towards the left, towards Cadence Manor.

The past was still swooping and darting about Ella, but she was remembering the manor as somewhere she could hide, somewhere she had hidden in the past. Sobbing and gasping she went towards it. Here were the gates: the massive stone pillars on each side were cracked and eroded, and one gate lay on the ground while the other hung drunkenly from its hinges. But the lodge was still there, and beyond the ruined gardens she could see the outline of the manor.

Ella stopped, aware of a jabbing tightness in her chest. A stitch, that was all it was. Mum would be quite annoyed with her for running so fast and getting so upset. No – her mother was dead, she had been dead for years, and Ella was grown up. But everything around her seemed to be distorting. The entire landscape was somehow skewed and it was confusing her. But he was still here, she had not been confused about that. He had walked out of the church towards her, the reverberations of the distorted music still thrumming faintly on the air. She looked back down the street, then went up to the gates.