Стивен Бут - Blind to the Bones

Fry wanted to bolt for it, but she couldn’t. Sarah seized on her hesitation eagerly.

‘Yes, you must both come. We need all the support you can give us, so we know you’ll come.’

‘That would be wonderful,’ said her husband. ‘We’re so grateful. So grateful for everything you’re doing for us.’

Fry began to shake her head, but Sarah Renshaw had fastened her intense gaze on her.

‘Bring Constable Cooper with you,’ she said. ‘He’ll appreciate Emma’s work.’

‘There’ll be a little display in the garden, if the weather’s fine,’ said Howard. ‘Down in Emma’s Corner.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Well, we decided to plant a tree on Emma’s eighteenth birthday, and we wanted something significant. She always loved the buddleia, because of its scent and the way its flowers attract the butterflies in summer. They call it the Butterfly Bush, don’t they?’

‘I wouldn’t know,’ said Fry, her gardening experience having been limited to dandelions growing in a window box.

‘We planted another one on the anniversary of the day she disappeared, as well as on her birthday. And the same again the following year. Now there’s a little grove of bushes at the bottom of the garden that holds another bit of Emma.’

‘Marking the days is important. The day she was due felt a bit like Easter.’

‘Easter? Not — resurrection?’

‘In a way. If we think about Emma hard enough on that day, it seems as though she will actually walk in through the door and say she’s sorry for taking so long to come home. It hasn’t happened yet, of course. But perhaps that’s because we haven’t wished hard enough. What do you think?’

‘I really don’t know.’

Then the Renshaws looked at each other, and flushed a bit pink. Both of them now had the beginnings of tears in their eyes.

‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’ said Sarah to her husband.

‘It would be the ideal time to make contact,’ he said.

Fry thought they were still talking about support. It was a strange way of putting it, but lots of things were strange about the Renshaws.

‘Yes, that would help you a lot, wouldn’t it?’ said Sarah.

‘Sorry, what would?’

‘Making contact.’

‘I don’t really follow you. Contact with who?’

‘With the Other Side, of course.’

‘We thought that while you’re here,’ said Howard, ‘it would be the ideal opportunity to have a séance.’

‘We’ve been consulting a psychic, and using a pendulum to try to locate Emma,’ said Sarah. ‘It seemed very appropriate, because they’re things that Emma is interested in herself, anything mystical or supernatural. If we held a séance, you could ask all the things you want to.’

An uncomfortable silence followed. Fry wished that Cooper would say something. Why had she bothered going to the trouble of arranging for him to come with her, if he was just going to sit there and take it all in, saying nothing?

But then he did decide to speak. And Fry blessed him for changing the subject.

‘Mr and Mrs Renshaw, I wonder if you have any more photos of Emma? From around the time she went to university, I mean.’

‘Once she’d gone to university, we didn’t manage to take as many,’ said Sarah. ‘But there are a few.’

Howard fetched an album. ‘If we let you have this,’ he said, ‘we need it back for Monday.’

‘That’s all right.’

Cooper opened the album and turned over the pages rapidly. Towards the back, he seemed to find something that interested him. Fry leaned over his shoulder.

‘What on earth is that?’ she said. ‘Was your daughter going to a fancy-dress party or something?’

Fry began to laugh, but she met Cooper’s eye, and the laughter died in her throat.

‘Oh, that,’ said Sarah. ‘It was something Neil Granger got Emma into. I really don’t know what she saw in it.’

‘In what?’

‘It’s a group they have here in Withens. I don’t really understand it, but it seems to be a local tradition.’

Emma was dressed all in black, which wasn’t unusual for a girl of her age. In fact, Fry had a fondness for black, too. But the outfit Emma was wearing consisted of a black tail coat, black leggings, a black top hat, and Doc Martens boots. She looked tall and very slim — just not the right shape for the outfit. She was also wearing reflective sunglasses, and carrying a recorder.

‘This was something to do with Neil Granger?’

‘He’s one of the group. Or he was,’ said Sarah. ‘As you can see, Emma’s a musician. She’s a very talented girl in a lot of ways.’

‘I’m sure.’ Cooper held the page open, and Fry turned it slightly towards herself, trying to puzzle out the meaning of the photo.

‘But what I’m wondering, Mrs Renshaw,’ she said, ‘is why Emma has her face blacked up.’

Derek Alton laughed to himself, and sat down in one of the front pews of his church. There was a strange smell in the aisle this morning. It was a musty odour, as if the windows and doors hadn’t been opened for months. He wondered if there was damp rising through the stone flags and rotting the oak of the pews, or soaking into the fabric of the kneelers.

Perhaps he would come back into the church tomorrow and find green shoots bursting through the floor, as they had broken through the paths in the churchyard. He knew he would be powerless to fight back the invasion, and would have to watch helplessly as nature pulled apart his aisle, ripped up the pews, clambered into the pulpit and clawed at the altar rail.

Three of the Oxleys had come to see Derek Alton at his bungalow the previous evening. There had been Lucas, smiling and in his suit. There had been the old man, Eric, nodding and winking knowingly. And young Scott, too. Scott Oxley had sat behind the two older men. Yet his stare was the one that Derek Alton had felt the most.

‘Vicar, you know that we lost Neil...’

‘Yes, I’m so sorry.’

‘We wanted to ask you a bit of a favour.’

‘Oh, of course. You want me to conduct the funeral? That’s no problem.’

The two older men looked at each other, but said nothing.

‘When do you want to have it? Do you have a date in mind?’

‘No, no,’ said Lucas. ‘Neil’s going to be cremated. The service will be at the crematorium in Edendale.’

‘I see. But you’ll need someone to lead the service.’

To his surprise, the three men began to shift uneasily in their chairs.

‘We’ve got someone from the Humanist Society,’ said Eric. ‘We reckon it’s what he would have wanted.’

‘Oh.’

‘You’re welcome to come along, of course.’

‘Thank you.’

‘It was something different we wanted to ask you.’

‘What then?’

‘Vicar, we want you to take his place.’

‘What?’

‘We want you to join the Rats for May Day. Well, you know all the stuff we do. There’s no time for anyone else to learn it in time, you see.’

‘Well, I don’t know what to say.’

‘You’ll do it, though, won’t you?’

‘Well, I’m not sure it would be appropriate, Eric.’

Despite his words, Alton found a surge of excitement building up inside him. It was a warm churning, which started in his abdomen, almost like a sexual excitement. He tried to be calm, and hoped the Oxleys wouldn’t see his reaction. But then he glanced at Scott, and saw the smirk on the young man’s face.

‘I’m a Church of England clergyman,’ said Alton.

‘And we’re your parishioners,’ said Eric. ‘You’re not going to reject us, are you? This is important to the community. You’re always talking about the importance of community.’

‘Yes.’

With a smile, Lucas produced a thick blackthorn stick that he had been holding inside his coat, and held it out towards the vicar.