Midnight Is A Lonely Place Part 15

He stared at her but he wasn't seeing her. He was seeing a short, grey-haired woman in a pale blue puffa jacket which went ill with her high heels. *I saw you staggering about ... I wondered if you were epileptic or something ...' the voice echoed in his head.

Under the thick layers of Viyella s.h.i.+rt, lambswool sweater and ancient tweed jacket he could feel the tiptoe of goose flesh up his arms. His mouth had gone dry.

*What is it?' Her eyes were huge and round, the pupils dilated. *What's wrong?'

*Nothing. Nothing's wrong, sweetheart.' He never called her that. The endearment frightened her even more than the strange preoccupation on his face had done.

He stood up. *Listen, Allie. You must get some sleep. OK? Lie down again and I'll tuck you in.' He leaned over as she slid down on the pillows, pulling the duvet up to her chin and patting it with awkward, unaccustomed tenderness. *Shall I turn out the lights?'

*No!'

He glanced at her sharply. The m.u.f.fled word, filtered through the threadbare fur of the teddy bear, held a note of real terror.

*OK. No sweat.' He tried to smile. *Sleep well, prat.' That was more like it. More normal. Sort of.

Downstairs the others were sitting around the fire with mugs of steaming tea. Greg took up position with his back to the inglenook a a speaker addressing a meeting. *We have to fill in that excavation. Alison must not go up there again, and I think, personally, that Kate ought to move out of the cottage.'

*So that you can move back in.' Kate's words were mild enough, but he saw a hardness in her face which spoke a great deal about her determination to stay, and did he but know it, of her increasing unease in his company.

He sighed. *No. As a matter of fact I have no desire to move back in at the moment. But do you really want to stay there? After everything that has happened? I can't believe you are getting much work done if you keep being interrupted.'

*As a matter of fact, I am working very well at the moment, thank you,' Kate retorted. *And it would be very small-minded of me to resent the time I've spent with Alison. She's a nice, intelligent girl. I'm getting fond of her. I don't know why she stayed out at the dig like that a I'm sure she will explain when she feels better a but it has not put me off staying at Redall Cottage in any way. Those locks you have put on for me make me feel as though I were living in Fort Knox.'

*I agree about filling in the excavation,' Roger put in. He leaned back on the sofa comfortably. *There has been nothing but trouble since Allie found that place. I suggest we get Joe up there with a bulldozer to flatten it.'

*No!'

Kate hadn't realised the word came from her own mouth until she saw everyone staring at her. *No,' she repeated more softly. *I don't think we should do that. It's an important site. Much better we get in touch with the local archaeological society or the museum or someone quickly and get them out here to see what is really there.'

*I don't think we want to know what is really there,' Greg said abruptly. *Don't you agree, Dad? Allie is upset enough as it is.'

*She's not upset at the idea of it being a grave,' Kate retorted.

*Excuse me, but I think she is. She may be a brash, tiresome kid on the outside, and she certainly has loads of guts, but inside she is hurting. This whole thing is upsetting her a lot. You've seen yourself how it's stimulated her imagination. It's bad for her. Ma,' he appealed to his mother, *you must back me up.'

Diana frowned. She had been listening to the whole exchange in silence. *You're both right in a way. She is obsessed by that place and I don't think that is good for her, but I don't think the right answer is to try and bury it. It would still be there and she would know it.'

Kate nodded. *Better to get it excavated properly a a rescue dig can be arranged very quickly, you know. Then we'll all know the truth.'

*The truth about what?' Greg's voice was very quiet. *What is it that's so important we know? I don't think there is anything there that we need to know about. Nothing at all.'

x.x.xI.

The light was strangely cold. In the cool dawn before the sunrise the marsh was laved with a pale veiling of mist which lapped across the gra.s.ses and reeds in a silent, m.u.f.fling shroud.

Nion stood at the edge of the pool. Bathed, dressed in his finest array, he was ready. Behind him the two priests stood, the tools of their trade openly displayed before them on a wooden altar a a rope, a knife. They waited now, in prayer, respectfully watching his preparations. When the moment came he would tell them.

He frowned. Why only two priests? He had expected them all, a circle of attendants, not this quiet, almost shabby affair unwitnessed and unsung. Slowly he began the business of preparation. Around his neck he wore two torcs. The great twisted golden torc, the symbol of his royal blood and priesthood, and below it one of carved silver which Claudia herself had given him. He took off the first, pulling the heavy gold over his warm skin, feeling the constriction, swallowing, closing his mind to what was to come. He took the torc in his hands, gently running his fingers across the intricate design on the metal, admiring it for the last time. It was truly a worthy gift to the G.o.ds. He held it up above his head, half expecting an early stray beam from the still-hidden sun to catch the gleaming metal. None came. He murmured the words of offering and then hurled it with all his might into the mist-covered water. It was gone before him to the world beyond. Next came the silver. Pulling it from his neck he touched it to his lips, then he hurled it after the first. He turned and gathered up his weapons. Sword, spear, dagger. One by one he raised them in offering, balanced across his palms, and threw them. Beneath the curling white of the mist they sank into the cold brown water and began to settle inexorably into the mud.

His clothes next. He unfastened his cloak, folding it carefully into as small a bundle as possible, doing it slowly, meticulously, perhaps stretching out the last few moments before the rim of the sun showed above the sea. Pinning the bundle with his cloak pin he hurled it after his weapons. Next came the bag of coins, his leather belt, his armlets, his tunic. Finally he was naked, save for the strip of woven ash bark around his arm, his birthright and his name sign. The cold air played across his skin. He frowned. He would not want the priests to think that his s.h.i.+ver was one of fear. Imperceptibly he straightened his shoulders, his eyes, like theirs, upon the eastern horizon which with every second grew brighter. Behind him he was conscious suddenly that one of the priests had reached to the altar and taken up the garotte. He was winding it onto his hands.

Nion clenched his fists. The sun had still not appeared but out there, beyond the cold waters, hidden by the mists, the G.o.ds were waiting.

The phone at Redall Cottage was working again by late afternoon. Roger drove Kate back there in the Land Rover through the heavy sleet and slush and toured the cottage with her room by room. *It all looks all right,' he said at last. He had insisted on lighting the stove and carrying in a new supply of logs. *Are you really quite sure you feel happy about staying here?' On the kitchen table stood a cardboard box full of tins of food, a jar of coffee, a bottle of Scotch, some matches and several other things that Diana had extricated from her own larder. *Just in case you get trapped by this awful weather they're forecasting,' she had said to Kate. Taking her aside she too had asked her yet again if she wanted to stay with them, but Kate was adamant. *I must work. Really.'

Roger looked round, seemingly reluctant to leave. *Are you sure you're happy about this?' he asked again.

*Perfectly happy.' She grinned at him. *Really. I want to get back to work.'

*Good.' He gave a gentle smile. *Well, you know where we are if you want anything.'

She stood at the door to watch him drive away into the woods, then she turned back to the house. Nothing had been decided about the excavation. Greg had wanted it buried deep beneath the sand; Roger and she had wanted to call the Colchester archaeological people and Alison, when at last she had woken up had become totally hysterical at the thought of anyone touching it at all. In deference to her tears Diana had vetoed any action at least for a day or two and reluctantly, Kate had had to acquiesce. It was after all their land; their dune.

She glanced at her watch. It was nearly four. She put on the kettle and then hauling herself onto the stool, she reached for the phone. Anne was in.

*Hi, stranger. I was wondering how you'd been getting on.' Her sister's voice was cheerful.

*I'm fine. How's Edinburgh?'

*Wonderful. Better than I had hoped even. The job is quite fascinating and I love the city and C.J. loves the flat. It's huge compared with our old one, and there's a walled garden at the back. He's in seventh heaven. At least he was until the snow started.' She laughed. *So tell me about the wilder sh.o.r.es of East Anglia.'

*A bit strange, actually.' Kate paused, watching the steam begin to rise from the kettle spout. *Anne. Are there such things as poltergeists?'

There was a moment's silence the other end of the line. *Now there's a fascinating question. Why do you ask?'

*Various reasons.' Kate smiled wryly. There would be no turning back now until Anne had wormed the last tiny detail out of her. She took a deep breath. *Let me tell you the story then you give me your opinion ...'

It took a surprisingly long time to tell. Anne listened in silence, clicking her fingers once at Carl Gustav as he flexed his claws provocatively against the back of an armchair. He beamed at her and leapt onto her lap, cuddling down for a long stay.

*From what you say and your initial question you suspect the activity is centred around Alison, am I right?' she said at last.

*That's how it works, doesn't it? Teenage angst and all that. Frustrated energy.'

*That's how it works.' Kate could hear the smile in Anne's voice. *If it works. The bangs you have described sound to me as though they could just be wood splitting. You've probably heated up the cottage more than anyone in ages and it's falling apart. Had you thought of that? I suppose it could be explosions of psychic energy if one believes in such things. I've certainly read about them. But the rest. The soil. The maggots. Ugh. That doesn't sound like poltergeist activity either, to be honest. More like a horror novel.'

Kate pursed her lips. *Anne, this is not a novel! Come on. I want your help.'

*Well, then, perhaps the sudden heat has woken them up. Wasn't that what someone suggested to you? That sounds more realistic. But even more likely it sounds to me like some kind of practical joke, Katie, love, and if the brother a Greg, did you say his name was? a is anything like as angry as you say, I should look no further than him. He sounds a very unhappy and frustrated man.'

*You don't think any of this could be supernatural then?'

*I think it's unlikely. Even the ghost you think you saw. You were tired; you could have imagined it. The smells are easily explained. They hang around for months, even years in houses sometimes. And maggots for G.o.d's sake! What are you supposed to think? That they are coming from a two-thousand-year-old grave? How long do you think the flesh lasts on bones? How long do you think any organic matter survives at all? Besides, how would they have got into your cottage?' Anne fondled Carl Gustav's ears. Kate could hear his purr down the telephone. It made her feel suddenly terribly lonely.

*How do I handle it, big sister? I don't want to leave this cottage. It's wonderful. I love it and I'm working well.'

*Has anything happened since you had the locks changed?'

*Yes.'

*And you don't believe the maggots are breeding on something terribly dead beneath the floorboards?'

*No.' Kate looked down at her feet. The cottage floors, she had established, were uncompromisingly concrete.

*And you don't think Alison could have slipped a matchboxfull onto the windowsill while you were out of the room?'

*No. I don't.'

*I think I'm going to need notice of this one. It's tricky.' Anne laughed out loud. *Intriguing but tricky. You're not scared?'

*I don't think so.'

*You don't sound very certain.'

*Well, would you? In the middle of nowhere? It's beginning to get dark. There's a bluebottle in here now.' It hadn't been there a few minutes ago, she was sure, and yet there it was, circling the light.

*Well, take comfort that there is nothing supernatural about bluebottles. You may not find out where they are coming from, but as sure as eggs is eggs, they are coming from the maggots who in turn are coming from some source of putrid flesh a '

*What did you say?' Kate interrupted her, her voice tight with fear.

*I said putrid flesh.'

*"Your putrid body and your rotten soul,"' Kate quoted slowly. *Those are the words which keep going round and round in my head.' She was suddenly very scared.

*It's a coincidence. Have you never heard of synchronicity?' Hearing the fear in her sister's voice, Anne was immediately rea.s.suring. *Besides, it's hardly a coincidence when one is talking of maggots. Listen, love, I have got someone coming to supper. I really ought to get on or they will be having sardines on toast. Can we talk again tomorrow? I'll look up something about poltergeists and teenage werewolves to give you some ammunition to throw at young Alison, but if I were you I should have a stiff drink, bolt every door, check for matchboxes of maggots under the sideboard and lose yourself in the book. And if you're really, really scared I want you to ring me at once. Any time. Understand? Must go.'

She had hung up before Kate had a chance to say goodbye.

*Anne. Anne?' She shook the receiver. Anne had gone but the line still sounded as though it were open. She listened for a moment longer. *Oh no. Not again.' She felt a moment of quite irrational panic as she jiggled the phone, hung up and lifted the receiver again. The line had not disconnected. It was live. There was no dialling tone. She put it down again and lifted it a second time. The same thing happened.

In Edinburgh Anne stared at the phone on the table in front of her and bit her lip. It was unlike Kate to be afraid of anything; very unlike her. To h.e.l.l with the guests. Kate was more important than a perfect souffle. She reached for the receiver again and dialled Kate's number.

The line was dead.

Bleakly Kate stared round the kitchen. d.a.m.n and blast it. It didn't matter, of course. Tomorrow she would walk up through the woods to the farmhouse and report the phone once again. There was no reason she should want to phone anyone again tonight. As Anne had said she should have a drink, check for maggots, and then go back to work.

It was a quarter to midnight when at last she turned off her computer, stretched and stood up. Her eyes were weary and her brain felt scrambled. She stared down at the pile of printed pages on the desk then she picked up her gla.s.ses and put them on again, reading through the last section one more time. It was good. It was exciting, alive, tremendous. Exhilarated, she stood up and wandered through to the kitchen and reached for the new bottle of whisky. The Lindseys, it appeared, drank Johnnie Walker. She poured herself half an inch and went back into the living room. d.a.m.n it, with the phone cut off no one could ring her either and she had, she realised suddenly, been hoping for another call from Jon. She sighed. She missed him so much.

The sharp bang above her head hardly made her jump at all. She stared up at the ceiling again and slowly she leaned forward to the table and reached for the bottle. *Sod off, Marcus,' she murmured. *You're either psychic energy or you're a splitting beam. Either way you are not my problem.'

x.x.xII.

Greg found Allie in the kitchen next morning. She was sitting at the table, still wearing her dressing gown. Her face was pale and strained. He sat down opposite her and reached for the coffee pot. *How are you feeling, prat?' he asked.

She glared at him. *Awful.'

*Did Ma say you ought to see the doctor?'

*No. She thinks I'm all right. Just tired.'

*Didn't you sleep?'

*What do you think.' She put her arms on the table and rested her head on them.

*We are going to ring Joe today and ask him to bring a tractor up to flatten the dune,' he said gently. *Dad agrees that that would be best. It's only a matter of days anyway before the sea takes the whole lot away.'

*You can't.' She stared up at him aghast, her fair hair flopping across her eyes. *You can't do that. It's an archaeological site. You won't be allowed to.'

*No one is going to know. I'm sorry, Allie, but my mind is made up. There are things there which are best left untouched. If you think about it you'll agree.'

*No!' She jumped up, sc.r.a.ping the chair legs across the stone slabs. *No. I won't let you! You can't. You mustn't!'

*Allie a '

*No.' Her voice had risen to a shriek. *Don't you see. People have got to know. They must know the truth!'

*The truth about what?' He frowned.

*The truth about a' She shrugged, subsiding once more. *The truth about what is in the grave. The truth about what happened there. The truth about a' She stopped dead. It was as though the name on her lips had been s.n.a.t.c.hed from her. *The truth about whose grave it is,' she improvised. *You must not touch it. No way. If you even think about ringing Joe I shall phone the museum and tell them. They will put a preservation order or something on it.'

*What on earth do you know about preservation orders?' Greg asked. He could feel his anger rising. He had been a fool to tell her. He should have rung Joe and they could have gone ahead with it without telling her. After the event it would be too late to stop it.

*I don't know anything about them, but I know you can get them. You can get them to stop farmers ploughing up their fields when there are special things on them.'

*Well, there is nothing special about this. A few old bits of pottery and stuff in a dune on the edge of the sea. Big deal. It's better forgotten.'

*No.' Her eyes narrowed. She looked like Serendipity when he had a mouse or a bird and he thought someone was going to try to take it from him. *No. You are not to touch it. The truth has to come out.'

Greg stood up, picked up his cup of coffee and found the cup was rattling on its saucer. *Please yourself.' He wandered through towards the sofa and sat down next to the cats who were ensconced firmly in a manner which denoted profound rejection of an outside world where the sleet slanted out of a slate sky and the wind knifed round corners and through unresisting flesh. He felt extraordinarily upset. Adrenalin flooded through his body; he felt a dry sickness in his throat. His hands, clenched around the cup were shaking slightly and he was angrier than he had ever been. He took a deep breath trying to steady his breathing. What on earth was the matter with him? He didn't care one way or the other about the d.a.m.n grave and being tactically defeated by Alison was no big deal. She did it all the time and mostly he tolerated it. He took a swig of the coffee and leaned back, closing his eyes.

Behind him she was still sitting at the table. She sniffed, surrept.i.tiously wiping the back of her hand across her eyes. Her head was throbbing and her face felt puffy from lack of sleep. There was still something she had to do but she could not remember what it was. She stared at the window wearily as a gust of wind threw more hail at the gla.s.s. The kitchen was cold. She glanced at the Aga. It was lit. The kettle on the hot plate was steaming gently, so why was it she could not stop s.h.i.+vering? Standing up shakily she went to where her brother was sitting and perched on the arm of the sofa. *I'm going to ring the archaeological people.'

He glanced up at her. *You're a fool. They won't want to know. Anyway, what the h.e.l.l could they do in this weather?' As if to reinforce his remark another gust of wind shook the house. The fire flared up. Several sparks shot out onto the hearthrug. Automatically Alison got up and stood on them one by one. *They will want to know.'