a door slam shut. He scratched impatiently at the draperies that hindered him and concealed his view ahead, tearing some of them from their fixtures on the rafters. They fell behind him slowly and clumsily, with anguished sounds like heavy sighs, filling the air as they descended with a deeper, choking mustiness that entered Daniel’s nose and mouth and eyes. Brought to a halt by this polluting filth, he hawked and spat to clear his throat and wiped his eyes, in bewilderment as much as irritation. He was no longer quite sure which direction he was facing. He seemed to have walked a long way, at least the length of the church, as far as he could estimate from his memories of the size of the exterior of the building, and he wondered if he had turned back on himself. The sound of splashing, now sounding behind his left shoulder, seemed to confirm this suspicion, and he swivelled round and set off in that direction.
Seconds later he jerked one of the draperies aside and found no more ahead of him. He had reached an open, empty space at the end of the church. He’d expected to find some kind of altar there, but there was nothing of the kind apparent in the gloom. A splashing sound from somewhere near by drew his attention down to ground level and he saw he had come close to the edge of a large, rectangular pool of murky water. Ripples were spreading out from a point near the middle and lapping against the crudely cut stone sides of the pool, disturbing a crust of tiny grey-leaved plants that floated over the greater part of its surface.
After gazing at the steadily expanding ripples for some moments, Daniel dropped to his knees and dipped his cupped hands into the tepid water. He stooped forward and flung some of it over his face to clear away the dust and muck that had gathered there as he had made his way through the maze of curtains. The water, though refreshing, tasted foul on his lips, and had the same slightly offensive smell as the patches of dampness left by the old people who had been waiting for Marc outside the church.
Daniel was about to call out his son’s name again when he heard the boy’s voice shouting. It sounded muffled, from a long way off. The cry seemed to come from the sky. It took Daniel a few seconds to understand that the boy must somehow have found his way up into the tower. He shouted, ‘It’s all right, Marc. I’m here. Stay where you are. I’ll come and get you.’
An answering call, that sounded even further away, was incomprehensible, but it proved his voice had been heard. Marc would at least be reassured to know he was there.
Daniel looked around for some way into the tower. A single door, hard against the right hand side of the pool, was the only possible way into other parts of the building. It was accessible by a narrow path, about a foot wide, that surrounded the pool on three sides. Daniel ventured along it sideways, finding he had to slide his back along the wall because otherwise his wide shoulders threw him off balance. In spite of his feeling of urgency, he moved cautiously. He was very sure he did not want to tumble into the water and find himself in the company of whatever else it contained.
His disappointment at finding the door was locked and totally unresponsive to the small amount of leverage he was able to exert against it, from his precarious position, almost overwhelmed him. In frustration, he kicked it with his heels and thumped it with his fist, but didn’t even get the satisfaction of hearing it rattle on its hinges. At last, he squirmed back along the ledge and slumped to the floor by the side of the pool and stared down into its depths. He noticed something he had missed before: at one point a set of steep stone steps descended below the surface. The water was clearer than he had thought, and he was able to count down to as far as the seventh step before the rest became a blur.
Then he heard Marc’s voice calling again, sounding more demanding now. He decided to get out of the church to try to find some other way of getting to the boy. There may be some way up to him from outside. At least he should be able to see and talk to Marc through one of the tiny windows at the top of the tower.
Instead of pressing back through the ancient drapery, Daniel edged his way back along the wall of the church, much as he had along part of the perimeter of the pool. This sideways method of locomotion enabled him to locate the main door of the church without difficulty and he burst through it with some aggression, determined to deal with the vicar and whoever else might be waiting for him outside in whatever way he had to. He was ready for violence now.
It was perhaps fortunate, then, that he found nobody there to oppose him. All the people who had been gathered around the church, including the shabby clergyman, had withdrawn, vanished. He could hear the sound of the band some distance away, the piping and droning of their music becoming fainter as he listened.
He paced some yards away from the tower, turned, looked up, and shouted for Marc. Almost at once, the boy’s face appeared, framed in the highest of the narrow windows. ‘I’m all right, Dad,’ he called. ‘Don’t worry.’
‘Can you get down, Marc? Can you see any way out?’
‘I don’t want to get out. I like it here. They’re going to look after me. They want me to stay.’
‘What are you talking about, Marc? I don’t understand. Who wants you to stay?’
Marc stepped back a little from the window. ‘You know. You saw them — the people who live here.’
Daniel found he was almost inarticulate with anger. He spluttered as he spoke. ‘I don’t care what
Marc shook his head. As far as Daniel could see, the boy looked happy. That, in itself, was annoying.
‘I’m never going to leave this place, Dad,’ Marc said patiently, as though Daniel was the child and he the father. ‘And there’s no way you can make me. Get out yourself, while you can. They’ll let you go
Daniel remembered the tiny, round, stone-cold eyes of the people he’d come close to, and shuddered. He became afraid. The calm tone of his son’s voice scared him, too.
‘I can see a long way from up here,’ Marc said, in a nonchalant, dreamy voice. ‘It’s true about the river running all around. It’s a very wide river. The village is surrounded by water in all directions, as far as I can see.’
Daniel concluded that either he or Marc was mad. In an effort to cling to his own sanity, he shouted, ‘Never mind all that. Can you see the car?’
‘Of course I can. Very clearly.’
‘Where is it?’
Marc held his hand in front of his face and pointed. ‘There. Where we left it.’
‘How do I get to it?’
‘Just follow the path beyond the gate. Takes you straight to it, Dad.’
Daniel found he believed the boy unquestioningly. The car would be where he said, at the end of the path. The thing to do now was to get out, and come back later with reinforcements to set Marc free. There was nothing that he, Daniel, could do alone, in the face of his son’s stubborn rejection of his offers of assistance.
‘I’m going, then, Marc, but don’t worry — I’ll be back soon. I’ll bring help.’
He thought he heard Marc laugh in an easy, light, and totally uncharacteristic way, but the boy made no further comment. He waved his hand, and stepped back into the tower. Daniel didn’t wait to see if his son would reappear. He ran off down the path as quickly as he could, as though he feared he might be pursued by.
He knew not what.
He found the car easily, as Marc had said he would, and drove out of the village without trouble.
Heading back towards the town from which he had collected his son earlier that day, Daniel’s heart and mind were full of slow-burning anger, outrage and confusion. He felt some mean but astonishingly skilful trick had been played on him. And he felt tormented. Somewhere, at that moment, he was being laughed at, he was sure: his defeat and consequent retreat were being mocked by the inhabitants of the village whose sleight-of-hand vanishing trick had deprived him of his son and, at the same time, his dignity and self-respect. What promises had they made to Marc? What had they offered him that had captivated the boy? What had they got to give that
He was determined to get his revenge. Even though, as far as he knew, no actual crime had been committed, he would report Marc missing to the police and force them to investigate every building in the village, drive out the inhabitants from wherever they were hiding, and compel them to return Marc to him.
And, if any harm had been done to the boy.? Daniel’s mind winced away from the thought. He would try to deal with that eventuality, if and when he had to.
For a while he couldn’t decide if he ought to go to his wife first, before he involved the police. Then he realized that he was late in returning the boy: Emma would have become concerned about Marc’s whereabouts a
