The Lost Child (30 page)
Consciousness came gradually, in slow waves of realisation, which lapped at her like the rising of the tide, carrying with it the debris and grit of reality. There had been no dream, only dissociation born out of pain and distress. It had made her mad and weak. Now she was facing the demon she had come in search of, but he had rendered her useless with his usual tricks. Her hands were tied, her feet were bound and he had filled her mouth with a stinking cloth which made her want to retch and choke. Just like he had the last time.
They were in near darkness, only a flickering candle with its dancing flame illuminated the space. It sent Grand Guignol-like shadows flickering across the walls and shaded Alex’s face into something even more grotesque. Elaine sensed damp stone behind her, and over the stench of the cloth that gagged her mouth she could smell mould and mildew. They had to be in the tunnel. She struggled against her bonds, realising even before she started that the effort would be futile. Alex laughed at her.
‘I’m afraid I’ve got a bit better at securing my captives these days Mandy,’ he chuckled. ‘It’s a shame there was no barbed wire to hand this time, it would have been a nice touch don’t you think?’ He reached across the narrow space between them and traced the scar with his finger, making her squeeze her eyes shut and squirm in revulsion at his touch. ‘I like this, it suits you. Think of me as an artist who likes to sign his work,’ he said, the words dripping from his tongue like old oil. ‘I suppose you could say that we ought to be even by now, I took your future from you and now you’ve taken mine from me. In a fair world that would make us equal, but it’s not a fair world is it Mandy? You should be dead, yet you’re alive. I should be out there, living my life to the full, lauded and successful – but because of you I’m here, in this shit-hole, mouldering with those walking corpses upstairs. Do you know how many people have crawled out of the woodwork because of you? I have no life now, I have no future and that’s your fault Mandy. I should have done a better job, but practice makes perfect.’ He reached down into the darkness for something that she was unable to see from her place on the bench. ‘What I did to you back then was no childish prank, no accident. I wanted to hurt you, I wanted to see how far I could go, how much I could get away with. Childhood is a rehearsal for life, Mandy, and you were just a prop.’ He raised the object that he had picked up from the floor, and in the flickering light Elaine saw that it was an axe, its blade slick with menace. ‘Let’s see if we can’t do better this time eh?’
She closed her eyes and curled her body up as tight as she could against her bonds, waiting for the first blow to land. But he carried on talking.
‘Don’t cringe yet dear girl, I want to enjoy this. I’m taking you with me you see. I knew the moment I saw you in dear old Esther’s lounge that you had come back from the dead, and that sooner or later what I did to you would come back to haunt me too. I didn’t know if you would remember, and at first I thought you wouldn’t and that maybe we could be friends. For a moment or two I even fancied we could be more. That would have been a delicious irony, wouldn’t it? I’m sure the public would have loved such a cosy story with a nice, neat happy ever after. But you don’t come from good stock do you? No, you come from the gutter just like that white trash sister of yours. You can blame her for this if you want to blame anyone. You might have been safe if it wasn’t for her.’ He was sitting now, on the end of the bench, just out of reach from her feet. ‘Do you know that she offered to sell you? She must have hated you a great deal. Of course she had no leverage over me until you popped up again, no body, no proof. But with you back in the picture, well, the sky was her limit, she thought she was set for life.’ He laughed. ‘I don’t think this family has had that kind of money for two hundred years, do you think we’ve been selling off the family jewels for fun? Not that we’ve had any of those for a while, but you get the picture. So here we are Mandy, your big sister took her pound of flesh from the papers instead and now I am ruined. Labelled as a child molester, called a psychopath and my reputation in shreds. All because your sister hates you and loves money. What a sorry pair we are dear girl, isn’t it good that neither of us will be here to “read all about it” in tomorrow’s papers? If we’re going to be famous, let’s really give them something to write about.’ He stood, and raised the axe while Elaine descended into blind, tied-and-bound panic.
*
Brodie was frantic, she had tried everywhere and she couldn’t find a trace of Elaine. She stood on the edge of the knot garden, breathless to the point of puking and trying to convince herself that there was no way Elaine would have gone back into the house. Not in a million years.
She could see the old man on the terrace, lolling in his chair. It was no good, she’d have to go up there and ask him – much as the prospect freaked her out. Gathering herself together she moved forward on legs that were shaking with the effort of too much running.
‘S’cuse me,’ she said to the old man as she climbed the terrace steps. He didn’t respond, perhaps the old boy was deaf. ‘S’cuse me,’ she said it louder as she approached. There was something off about the way he was sitting, like he had collapsed and folded in on himself. With reluctant fingers she reached out and touched his blue-grey hand, which dangled like a limp rag, skimming the flagstones by a fraction of an inch. It was stone cold and inanimate, a realisation that made her jump back and gasp as the possibility that he was dead penetrated her racing mind. Steeling herself she touched him again, feeling for a pulse where none remained.
‘Shit’ she said, dropping the rigid hand. ‘Shit.’ Now she would have to go into the house and get help.
Gingerly she stepped through the French windows and into the room beyond. It was the room with the entrance to the tunnel, but she didn’t have time to worry about that. Moving forward she called out ‘Hello, is anyone home?’ She received no answer so she headed deeper into the house, hoping she would stumble across the pragmatic Pavla. Instead her journey was interrupted by the sound of weeping, a low keening that emanated from a room across the hall and echoed around the stairwell like a distant siren song. Drawn towards it she discovered Ada, on her knees, a handful of tiny beads in her cupped hands.
‘My pearls,’ she cried, holding them out to Brodie as if the action would demonstrate the depth of her despair. ‘My pearls,’ she repeated in a breathless grizzle.
Brodie found herself quite repulsed by the spectacle of this once grand woman on her knees, grovelling on the floor for something that would cost a couple of quid in Argos. She pulled a face, as if Ada were emitting some noxious smell instead of raw emotion. ‘Where’s Pavla?’ she asked, vaguely hopeful that the woman on the floor would pull herself together enough to answer.
Ada was still gazing at the depleted treasure in her hands. ‘Gone, she left. She couldn’t cope with poor Alex and his temper,’ she whispered.
Great, wonderful, Brodie thought. ‘Well, if she’s not here, you’re going to have to pull yourself together lady because I think your brother’s croaked it. Best you call an ambulance.’ Her sympathy for the woman was beyond non-existence, her priority was finding Elaine.
Ada seemed stunned by the words, remaining on the floor like a supplicant, ‘It’s that girl, she brings nothing but trouble with her,’ she said finally, with a great deal of venom.
‘What girl?’ Brodie demanded.
‘That child, that devil,’ Ada spat.
‘Look lady I don’t know what you’re on about, but I need to go and find my sister.’ She turned to leave but was stopped in her tracks by Ada’s next words.
‘We should have bricked the damned thing up when we had the chance. At least the child would have stayed dead.’
Realisation dawned and Brodie, ignoring Ada completely, ran back into the library and towards the tunnel entrance. The door hadn’t been closed properly, though it looked that way at a quick glance. As she approached she could feel a draught lifting the ends of her hair as ice cold air squeezed its way through the gap. She cast around the room for something that would provide some light, but found nothing that didn’t need electricity in order to work. It was no good, she’d have to brave the dark and find her way by touch.
If what she suspected was true, Elaine would have made her way back to the marble bench where they had found her before. Swallowing down her fear and revulsion she pulled the door open and wedged it with one of Albert’s books. There was nothing like a bad horror film cliché and she wasn’t going to take the chance of justifying one by making it real.
Cautiously she made her way in, using the residual light from the room behind to help her find the steps. The light ran thin and soon disappeared, forcing her to feel her way along the wall and watch her footing just as she had done before. Her biggest fear was of spiders, or the chance of walking face first into a cobweb, which might cling to her face and choke her. That fear was soon replaced with something more as she crept forward and saw the flickering light. She heard an echoing voice booming with menace. Terrified she clung to the wall and tried to stay in shadow as she inched along towards the speaker. A few feet from the ranting man she glimpsed the axe in the dancing light and realised that it was intended for Elaine. Who, Brodie could see, lay on the marble slab trussed and tied like a specimen of game.
She had nothing, no weapon, no light, no chance. If she ran back now it would be too late, Elaine would be dead and would be coming out in a body bag for sure this time. The only tool Brodie possessed was herself, and if that’s what it took to save Elaine, then that’s what she would use. There was no way Mandy was dying twice, not here, and not now – too damned much had been sacrificed in saving her.
Doing the only thing that Brodie knew how to do best, she stepped forward into the light and shot her mouth off.
‘Fucking hell mate, you sound like some cliché psychopath from a bad movie. If you’re going to kill her, cut the bloody bullshit and get on with it will you? There’ll be a vanload of coppers down here before you’ve finished waffling! So either piss, or get off the pot.’ Her words ricocheted off the tunnel walls like gunshot.
Alex wheeled round, his face a picture of shock and surprise as he faced the hooded, black clad nemesis who had just ruined his finest moment. In a roar of anger and indignation he rushed forward, with no time to raise the axe he rammed it into her. As she dropped he stood over her sagging form, axe raised and eyes flaring, ready to make the killing blow.
From her corner on the marble bench Elaine saw the shadow of a gigantic figure move forward and raise its arms, a deadly weapon held aloft. Brodie’s voice still echoed round the walls as the creature roared and brought its weapon down upon his prey. A scream of horror, which she couldn’t emit because of the filthy rag in her mouth, hurtled through her, bouncing off every cell in her body and settling like a malevolent stone in her head. The weight of it called back the velvet blackness and it curled around her consciousness in dark ribbons, like fronds of smoke from a toxic fire. Brodie’s scream rang in her ears, feeling like a second, echoing heartbeat as it pulsed through her. She couldn’t fight the looming darkness and sank down into it, hoping that there wouldn’t be time to wake before the final blow fell.
Dan picked up Brodie’s message when he stopped for coffee at Taunton Deane Services; he was already one step ahead of her having received a call from Jack telling him the location of Elaine’s last financial transaction and what it was for. He had kicked himself for not guessing that she would go back to the beginning.
Jack’s call had come just as Dan and Bob were removing the last of their kit from Elaine’s house. The fact that some of that kit had pulled plaster from the walls unnecessarily, and had stripped out fixtures that didn’t strictly need replacing was neither here nor there. If Graham Ellis did get his mitts on the property, what he didn’t pay in legal fees would be more than taken up by the repairs which would be needed to make it habitable again.
If Elaine could keep the property, he and Bob would put it back bigger and better than before.
Along with the tools, Dan had picked up anything he thought Elaine would want to keep – mostly personal things, clothes and ornaments and the few photographs that were in the house. God knows what Ellis was planning but if it involved any kind of injunction it might be the last chance Elaine would have of getting into the house and retrieving the things she valued. It felt strange to try and choose the things another person would want to keep. However he’d done his best and now all her worldly goods were rattling about in the back of his van on their way to Devon.
*
Hallow’s End looked like a film set that had been mothballed. Not a soul was about as Dan drove through the village. The absence of any signs of life gave the place an eerie feel, as if everyone had just walked away leaving their kettles boiling, their dinners on the table and their TVs blaring. Not even a dog was barking, and the trees were still – not so much as a leaf daring to flutter or fall in case it broke the spell.
Dan knew from Jack that Elaine was staying in a house near the church, so that was where he headed. Unless she had rented the rectory there was only one other option, a small squat house which sat next to the churchyard. The fact that her car was parked outside offered him the relief of knowing that he’d got the right place.
The relief was replaced with trepidation as he walked towards the door. Much as he wanted to believe Jack when he had argued that Elaine had only left because of concerns that he would find her and Brodie a burden, he was fearful that the truth was something different. He wondered if he’d pushed Elaine too quickly, taken advantage of her vulnerability and put her under pressure. If that was the case, he needed to apologise and ask her if they could start again. If Jack was right Dan needed to convince her that it was rubbish and that she and Brodie weren’t a burden, they were a purpose, his reason for being.