Hiding From the Light (23 page)

As he had half expected on a Sunday, the shop was closed. Stepping out into the street, Mark looked up at the windows. There was no sign of life. Or anything else. He sighed. He could always go and beg a key off Stan Barker, but he wasn’t sure, now he was here, that he wanted to do that. The street was deserted. The brief few moments of sunshine had passed and soon it would begin to grow dark. Retracing his steps, he walked slowly up the High Street, crossed the road and walked back on the other side. Then, still on foot, he headed for Church Street and the rectory.

Mike was once again in front of the computer. He led Mark into the study. ‘The only room with a fire,’ he apologised, gesturing at one of the worn leather armchairs. ‘I hate it when the clocks change. Suddenly winter is on its way with a vengeance and the nights start to get colder.’

‘You haven’t got to go and take a service or anything?’ Mark sat down. ‘I forgot Sunday is probably your busiest day.’

Mike shook his head. ‘All the services are over. Have you been up to the shop?’

Mark nodded. ‘I didn’t go in. The place was locked up and somehow I didn’t feel I wanted to.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Have you got a video machine?’

Mike grimaced. ‘I’m not quite that out of touch. It’s in the sitting room. Through here.’

The room was ice cold. Somewhere in the bowels of the house, the central heating was starting to clank into life but it would be a while before the heat reached this room. Mike drew the curtains across the large darkening windows and switched on the TV.

‘It’s not long.’ Mark slid the video out of its cardboard sleeve. ‘Only a few seconds.’

They watched the relevant bit of film three times, then made their way back into the warmth of the study.

‘So.’ Mark threw himself down in his chair. ‘What do you make of it?’

Mike propped himself on the corner of the desk. ‘It does look like something, certainly,’ he said cautiously. ‘I went over there, you know, after we spoke on the phone.’

‘And?’

Mike didn’t answer for a moment. ‘I don’t know if there was anything there that I didn’t generate from my own imagination.’

‘You don’t sound very sure.’

‘No, well. It’s easy to get sucked into this kind of thing. Very easy,’ he said slowly. ‘There was a sense of evil there. Yes, there was. But it could have come, as I said, from my imagination. Then again, it could have come from Hopkins, or it could have come from the witches. Everyone assumes they were innocent. They might not have been.’

‘We’re coming back to do some more filming at the end of the week.’ Mark shook his head. ‘If that was a face on the film, it is potentially very exciting.’

‘If.’ Mike frowned uneasily. ‘It could just be a trick of the light, I suppose.’

‘It could be.’ Mark did not sound as though he believed it. ‘We’ll set up again. Same camera position. Same lighting angles. Same shadows, hopefully. See what happens. And I’m getting hold of some more sensitive equipment. We might even try EVP. Electronic voice phenomena. Ever heard of it? It captures ghostly voices outside the normal range of our hearing.’ He waited for a moment, watching his host.

Mike had begun to pace up and down the worn carpet. He stopped, frowning thoughtfully. ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t think you should go back, Mark. Not to try and film again.’

‘So, you do believe it.’

‘To be honest, I don’t know what I believe. But I feel uneasy. Afraid, if you like. If that is a face, it could be anyone. Hopkins. A good witch. An evil witch. I don’t believe Hopkins was an intentionally bad man. I think he was sincere in his own way. I think he honestly believed these women were in league with the Devil. But whatever residues are left in that shop are best left alone.’

Mark pulled a face. ‘I think Hopkins was a sadistic, vicious misogynist. I think he enjoyed torturing women.’

‘No.’ Mike shook his head. ‘No, he really thought they had congress with Satan. He thought that only repentance and death could save their souls. He did not enjoy hurting them.’ He was speaking more vehemently than he had intended. ‘He felt the evil that we’re feeling; he believed those old women were as guilty as hell.’ He wiped his forehead suddenly, astonished to find that he was sweating.

Mark did not appear to have noticed. He exhaled loudly. ‘I’m not convinced. And I can’t believe you are. Not really.’ He grinned. ‘But, whatever one believes about the old women or Hopkins’s motives, surely it’s quite possible he is not resting quietly in his grave?’

‘It’s possible.’ Mike sat down opposite him. ‘You’re not recording this, are you?’

Mark shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t do that to you.’

‘Good. Then I’ll be honest with you. I think it’s very possible. Too many people are thinking about him. All the time. The town doesn’t let him rest. He’s in the guide books. He’s in the pubs. He’s in the museum. You are making a film about him. The local witch is conjuring him in the old churchyard. This is not good news. The trouble is,’ he shook his head, ‘I’m guilty of it myself. I’ve picked up on the “vibes”,’ he waved his fingers in the air to denote inverted commas, ‘and I’m having nightmares about the man.’

Mark raised an eyebrow. ‘You, too? Then talk to us for the film. I think it’s important.’

‘Unfortunately I can’t. I’ve been warned that the bishop would take a dim view.’

‘Perhaps we could persuade him?’

‘I doubt it.’

‘Is there anyone else we could get to give the church’s side of the picture? I understand there are still exorcists around.’

Mike grinned. ‘It’s called the ministry of deliverance now. And it’s a specialist division of the church.’

‘So, let me speak to the specialist.’

‘I’ll ask. That’s all I can do, I’m afraid. No promises.’

‘That’s all I want.’ Mark stood up and turned to the door. ‘I only called in on my way home, actually. I’ve been up to Ipswich. We’re thinking of doing another programme for the series up there. There’s a lovely old house in the dock area, very sinister and run down, very photogenic.’ He grinned, hesitating. ‘Mike, I’ve got a strange feeling about Barker’s shop. It’s going to make a fantastic film, but I do want to keep the church involved if I can. Insurance.’ He gave a wry laugh. ‘None of the other ghosts we’ve followed up have scared me like this.’

‘Then give it up, Mark, please.’ Mike had followed him into the hall.

‘Sorry. There’s too much money invested in this programme already, and it’s too good a story. You mention a present day witch – it would be great if we could film her. I’m going to do a lot more research. I’ll let you know what I dig up. And if you find out any more about Hopkins I’d be very interested. You are quite knowledgeable about him, aren’t you?’

Mike gave a wry grin. ‘Oh yes, I’m learning all the time.’ He watched Mark stride off across the gravel. ‘Only too knowledgeable,’ he added grimly under his breath. He closed the door and went back into the study to stand gazing thoughtfully down into the fire.

While he was talking to Mark, his dream had come back to him in astonishing detail. The feelings, the smells, the sounds of the village and the details of the gown of the woman who had come to see him. The pink petticoat, the blue woollen dress, the silk cloak and the woman’s face, contorted with anger, the golden flecks in her hazel eyes. Sarah Paxman. But it wasn’t Sarah Paxman. It was Emma Dickson.

‘Bugger!’

The whisper in the dark woke Alex from a deep sleep with a start. He groaned. ‘What time is it?’

‘Half past five and I’ve just holed my tights.’ He heard Paula fumbling and the bedside light came on.

He screwed up his eyes crossly. ‘Bloody hell! Isn’t it a bit early?’

‘I’ve got an early meeting! It seemed a good idea, with the extra hour.’

Alex groaned again. ‘Why don’t you get dressed in the bathroom, then? So you can turn on the light and see what you’re doing!’

‘I do, normally.’ She threw the balled tights into the corner. ‘Sod it! Where are the new ones?’ She was rummaging in a drawer.

‘Calm down. There’s plenty of time for you to catch the train.’

‘That’s easy for you to say!’ She ripped open the new packaging. ‘Don’t forget James needs to take his new house shoes and Sophie must find her coloured pencils.’ She hauled up the tights and adjusted her narrow black skirt.

‘When do I ever forget what the kids need for school?’

‘Perhaps when your mind is totally taken up with the beautiful new lady at Liza’s,’ she said tartly.

He sighed audibly. ‘Paula.’ They had been quarrelling all the previous day, sniping at each other every time they were out of earshot of the children, mostly about Emma.

Alex had inadvertently started the ball rolling. ‘You know, I’ve been thinking,’ he had said as they sat over their coffee with the Sunday papers spread out on the kitchen table between them. The children were playing quietly for once although it hadn’t lasted. ‘I’m going to offer to help her get that nursery off the ground. It’s the perfect small business opportunity.’

‘You haven’t got time. You’re taking care of the children.’

‘The children go to school.’ He reached for the review section of the
Sunday Times
. ‘And this house does not exactly challenge.’

For some reason she had taken that as an insult. From then on they had batted petty irritations back and forth at each other all day and the atmosphere had not improved when Paula tried to reach Lyndsey on the phone. ‘Why doesn’t the girl have an answering machine! For God’s sake, where is she?’

‘I can’t help wondering if we don’t use Lyn too much,’ Alex had put in mildly. ‘Why don’t we try one of the babysitting circles as back-up?’

‘Because I have no intention of sitting other people’s kids,’ she had retorted, ‘and they won’t have you because you’re a man.’

‘OK.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Well, she is obviously out so we’re not going to get her this evening.’ They had wanted to go up to the Stour Bay Café for a meal but now they would have to eat at home. Alex offered to go and fetch an Indian, but she curtly refused. In the end they had eaten scampi and chips out of the freezer with the children. Alex watched Paula go upstairs when they had finished and he frowned. When she came back, he was conciliatory. ‘Paula, sweetheart. Are you sure you aren’t finding all this commuting too much of a strain? We could swap. I could work. I could have a go at getting back into the City …’

They both knew it would never happen. And Paula loved her job far too much to give it up.

‘Better idea: we could move back to London and I wouldn’t have to commute.’ She spoke sharply and unguardedly in front of Sophie, who stared at her in horror. ‘I don’t want to move to London.’ The child’s eyes filled with tears. ‘My best friends are here.’

‘And here we’ll stay.’ Alex reached out to pull her close. ‘Don’t cry, sweetie. Mummy didn’t mean it.’

‘Lyn says we’ll stay here forever and ever!’ Sophie announced defiantly. From the safety of her father’s knees, she glared at her mother. ‘Lyn says we don’t have to do what you say. She says she can make sure we stay here with her. By magic. She promised!’

The shock of her words rendered both parents silent for a moment. Then Paula’s tirade had started.

‘That girl is obviously turning into a menace! You’re right. We are using her too much. We shouldn’t have trusted her! How dare she interfere with family decisions. She has no business having a view at all. It is nothing to do with her.’

Sophie’s tears had turned to full-blown howls which Alex’s hug id nothing to stem, and were then reinforced by James, who on hearing his sister’s shrieks ran into the room, headed for his father’s knees and started to cry in sympathy. The effect on Paula, faced with the three other members of her family seemingly solidly against her was devastating. Her face crumpled and she had fled the room.

Alex, trying to comfort the children, barely had time to acknowledge the deep warning bell ringing somewhere inside his head.

‘I’ll try and find someone else to babysit from time to time,’ he said later when, with the children comfortably ensconced at the kitchen table painting, he discovered Paula in front of the TV.

‘And speak to Lyndsey. Tell her to watch what she says in front of the children. They believe anything at their age.’ She did not take her eyes off the screen.

His anxiety was still there. ‘I shall certainly do that,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘They’re getting too attached to her. It’s my fault. I use her too much to look after them.’

Paula finally tore her eyes away from the programme she was watching. ‘I can’t blame you for wanting to get out of the house. After all, I do.’ She paused. ‘But don’t go and get involved with Emma Dickson.’

‘Oh, Paula, not that again!’ He raised his fists heavenward. Couldn’t she see that Emma was not a problem? ‘What on earth did she say to upset you so much?’

‘She did not upset me!’

‘It’s because she’s turned her back on all you hold dear, isn’t it? You can’t bear to think she’s rejected the City.’

‘She has also rejected that nice man of hers, if you were paying any attention at all. And she will be looking for a replacement.’

There was a moment’s stunned silence, then Alex laughed. ‘You can’t be serious. Oh, Paula, my love, I’m flattered you should think she’d even look at me, but no – ’

‘Why?’ she interrupted coldly. ‘
I
looked at you! You think she’s too attractive? Too sophisticated? Too young? I doubt if she’s even five years younger than me! And I know you. You wouldn’t hesitate to look at her!’

‘No! No! No!’ Whatever he said would be wrong now. He couldn’t win. The trouble was, she had identified the wrong target. Attractive as she was, Emma would be no threat to their family. He valued his marriage far too much. The threat, if there was one, was from Lyndsey, and the fact that he would never dare tell his wife that the babysitter he had trusted with their children was a self-professed witch. Oh, she knew about the Wicca, but like him she had thought it totally harmless. Now he was not so sure. Not so sure at all.

Lying back in bed after the sound of Paula’s car, on her way to the station to catch the train to London, had died away, Alex relished the silence. In at most half an hour the kids would be waking up and the fraught getting-ready-for-school/breakfast routine would get under way. For an hour he wouldn’t even have one second to himself to think, then the rest of the day would stretch ahead of him. Housework. Shopping. But then, he smiled to himself half guiltily, maybe he would pay Emma a visit and test the water regarding a new job.