White Crow (14 page)
Ferelith smiles.
‘Good. That’s good. We could go and do it now, if you want. We’re close to the . . . to where we need to be.’
‘Why? Where does it have to happen?’
‘The Hall,’ Ferelith says. ‘At Winterfold Hall. It’s not far from here, we could go and have a look now.’
Rebecca stops walking.
‘And are you going to tell me the forfeit now?’
‘When we get there. But look. It’s a beautiful summer’s day. The sun in shining. “No evil can happen by daylight.” Don’t you know that? So you’re safe. Whatever happens.’
She smiles and Rebecca tells how she’d felt as if she was in a vampire film when she first came to visit Ferelith at the Rectory. They link arms, and lean into each other, their heads touching.
Ferelith laughs, at least at first, but when Rebecca mentions the pub and the landlord, she frowns. But Rebecca doesn’t notice.
‘Is this going to mean more trespassing then?’ she asks.
Ferelith nods.
‘Good. Because I liked that.’
‘You know, there’s an odd thing, though. Trespassing at night feels more dangerous because it’s dark, and that makes it more exciting. But it’s actually more dangerous to do it in the daytime.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you’re more likely to be seen, of course.’
‘Oh yeah. So where are we trespassing then?’
‘Right here.’
They’ve come to another point that needs repairing in the old boundary wall, and with a quick glance up and down the lane they hop over and into the overgrown wilderness of the woods.
‘Are we going to the bridge again?’
‘No, the Hall this time.’
They wind their way through the cool green of the trees and come into the glare on the overgrown, weed carpeted gravel that surrounds the Hall.
Rebecca inspects it, quite excited now by what she sees in front of her.
It’s true, the Hall is a grand building; it rears out of the encroaching wilderness with some hint of its former majesty. The architecture is pretty wild, but not ugly, combining pale stone and red brick which somehow works together. But that’s not what she notices most of all.
What she notices most of all is something she finds very hard to put into words. The Hall is old, that’s obvious, but it’s dead now. There’s a penetrating sense that time has gone by. That everything is over. That the lives lived here have gone, never to return. Gone to the place where people go when they die. Wherever that is.
All that’s left, after the people have gone, is a shell, a lifeless husk, standing like a time capsule, or maybe, more like a timeship, a place that will sail forwards through time at the rate of twenty-four hours a day, voyaging into the future, just as it has voyaged to the present day from two hundred years ago, and more.
The Hall is boarded up. Every door, every window, has thick industrial ply nailed across it, shutting the place down, sealing it like a box, blinding it as if it’s sightless, stopping up its mouth so it can’t tell its tales.
‘It’s . . .’ begins Ferelith, then stops, because for once even she doesn’t have the words though she’s seen the Hall many times.
‘Isn’t it,’ whispers Rebecca. ‘So what happens now?’
‘Follow me,’ Ferelith says, leading the way.
‘Are they allowed to treat an old place like this?’ Rebecca asks.
‘The board thing? I suppose so, or they wouldn’t have done it. But it seems a shame for such an amazing old building.’
‘Who owns it? Why don’t they do something with it? You could turn it into a dozen luxury apartments. Be worth a fortune.’
‘It’s not worth a thing,’ Ferelith says.
‘Why not?’
They’ve reached the side of the house and pass a rusting and mossy old water pump, which Ferelith points out to Rebecca.
‘Isn’t that cool? No, it’s not worth a thing.The building is unsafe, and there’s no sense in spending anything on it, never mind trying to get people to pay squillions for it.’
When Rebecca still doesn’t understand, Ferelith points through the woods in the direction of the cliffs.
‘The sea is coming. The sea is coming. And there’s absolutely nothing anyone can do about that. So this place just has to wait its turn, wait for the end. Like the rest of us.’
‘But how long will that take? It could be years.’
‘Maybe. Maybe more, maybe less. None of us know when our time is coming, do we? St Mary’s was looking fine and then a whole chunk of cliff went. Overnight. Just like that. Three days later the east end collapsed. And that’s only through the trees, over there.’
‘So, what now?’ Rebecca says, again, not scared, but intrigued.
Ferelith’s eyes glimmer.
‘Now we’re going in. That’s what now.’
Rebecca follows as Ferelith wanders round the Hall to the back, where she stops.
Everything is quiet and Ferelith seems to be taking time to check no one is around, walking in the woods, or on the cliff path.
‘Here,’ she says, and approaches one of the boarded up windows, a small one on the ground floor that’s tucked away in a small courtyard. She fishes in a pocket, pulls out a penknife, and opens the blade on it, using it to pry up one corner of the boards. The nail there pops out easily and Rebecca can see it’s something Ferelith has done before. She wonders when. And more importantly, why.
Ferelith puts the knife away and with both hands pulls the board from the window, just enough to squeeze through. There is no glass in the window frame. She turns to Rebecca.
‘In you go.’
‘But . . .’
‘Quick! I can’t hold this forever. And then you have to push it from inside so I can get in too.’
‘But . . .’
‘Quick, I said.’
And with that, and ignoring the red-stencilled lettering on the shutters saying ‘DANGER: KEEP OUT!’ Rebecca puts a foot on the low stone sill, and slides into Winterfold Hall.
1798, 10m, 31d.
I am a devil.
Cast me on the ground and stamp on my face with your boot, for I am a worm, a demon, a dwarf, a monster.
Yestere’en I was trialled by the Lord of Flies himself, who took me unto his bosom and made me drink of the blood, and so in this way did I come to a great bestial gluttony of both the flesh of the animal, and the flesh of woman, and having drunk my weight in wine I repaired to the house of the Widow Somers and paid her my courtesy again, and again.
Destroy me. Destroy my soul, flog it, whip it, beat it, break it and burn it and never let it see the light again, for I am an evil dog.
And in my stupor yesterday, in my orgy, I dimly perceived that the doctor came to me and whispered in my ear, close yet true.
We have another volunteer and the doctor came to tell me of this news.
The man arrives tomorrow, and so for the second time we will attempt to voyage into the other place, the unknown darkness of the afterlife.
1798, 11m, 1d.
It is All Saints’ Day, but of Saints I have seen nothing.
All I have seen is bloody horror.
He came last night, the second man.
He was older than the first, of middle years, and whereas our first visitor was taciturn, this newcomer spoke freely.
He came early in the dead morning to us.
He was greatly vexed and displayed a deal and a measure of agitation.
The doctor made efforts to calm him, and offered him wine and something more in the wine perhaps, but though he tried, the man would not listen to the doctor’s ministrations.
He wanted mine. He wanted the man of God to offer solace and explanation.
He turned to me and he was shaking.
- Will I see an angel, Father? said he. Will I see an angel to take me to heaven?
I oped my mouth but I spake not.
The doctor stood behind him, and nodded at me, with great ferocity, urging me to answer.
So I answered him.
- Have you been a God-fearing man? I asked, and he told me that he had.
- Then, I said. You will see an angel, and he will take you to Heaven when the time comes. When the time comes.
And with that the man was calmed, and we led him like a docile creature of the field, a lamb, into the Candle Room.
We bound him to the chair, now with shackles at wrist and ankle. We placed the candles on the floor, and we locked the door behind him, and we walked along the corridor to the unseen room.
Again, there came that awful elapse of time in which we waited, and waited, and though I saw not its purpose, the doctor explained to me carefully again its necessity in ensuring the physiology of our subject was at an optimum.
I understood not.
- The realm of the soul is yours, he said. But the realm of the body is mine. So leave that to my care.
Pattern recognition
None of it was that hard. Not when you have the resources I have, by which I mean to say, when you’re as smart as I am.
You can have
anything
, but you won’t be as strong as me if you’re not as smart as me. That’s the way I see it. All those dumb kids at school, all the dumb teachers. All the dumb people I’ve had to put up with at the Rectory. They could be stronger than me, or have more money than me, or be better looking than me, but they don’t win in the end, because I have one thing above all else that makes me better.
anything
, but you won’t be as strong as me if you’re not as smart as me. That’s the way I see it. All those dumb kids at school, all the dumb teachers. All the dumb people I’ve had to put up with at the Rectory. They could be stronger than me, or have more money than me, or be better looking than me, but they don’t win in the end, because I have one thing above all else that makes me better.
My mind.
I see everything. I see the patterns in life that make us who we are. One day I will know everything, and when I do, I will be utterly powerful. Because when you know everything about people, and why they are the way they are, you know the way they will react in any given situation, and you know how to lead them, this way or that, to do the things you want them to do.
And that’s more powerful than looks, or money, or physical strength.
I know that, but Rebecca didn’t.
Friday 13th AugustR
ebecca waits as Ferelith climbs in after her, then can’t hold back the plywood boards any more, and they snap back, shutting them in, shutting out the light.
ebecca waits as Ferelith climbs in after her, then can’t hold back the plywood boards any more, and they snap back, shutting them in, shutting out the light.
‘Don’t you have that torch?’ Rebecca asks, her voice edgy.
‘Nope,’ Ferelith says. ‘Didn’t think we’d be coming here today.’
Not for the first time, Rebecca wonders whether Ferelith is telling her the truth.
‘But how are we going to see? Perhaps this isn’t a good idea. Let’s come back later when . . .’
‘No!’ Ferelith insists. ‘You’re not going to back out again.’
‘I’m not backing out, I just think it’s crazy when we can’t see. I promise I’ll do whatever it is you want. Later. When we have a torch.’
‘Do you have your mobile?’
‘Yes, but . . .’
‘Good. We can use the light from the screen.’
Rebecca is beaten and she knows it. She rummages in her pocket and pulls her mobile out, hitting a button on the keypad as she does, lighting up the little screen, and the small space they’re standing in.
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