The Secret of Crickley Hall

the eleven child victims that had been taken by the flood more than half a century ago.

Why were their ghosts still here?

What could be here for them at Crickley Hall?

It was as though the questions had broken the vision.

For everything changed.

•

The sunlight disappeared, the sun obscured by an immense roiling raincloud, and the great hall was once more thrown into gloom and shadow. Rain pattered on the tall window and Cally's figure on the landing was suddenly shaded.

Eve felt her heart lurch, as if fear itself had entered the hall. Before her, the swirling specks of dust that had glittered so brilliantly but a moment ago dispersed, then disappeared. Eve either heard, or imagined she heard, a faraway wail that swiftly faded to a barren silence broken only by the rain on the windowpanes.

'No, wait—' Eve began to plead but almost instantly there was nothing left of the dancing wraiths or the dust that had constructed them.

Eve's body sagged as if a peculiar despair had hit her, and she almost sank to her knees. But she soon stiffened when she heard a new sound. Cally had heard it too and she was looking wide-eyed up at the landing above her. Eve slowly turned her head, following her daughter's gaze, her eyes lifting.

Swish-thwack! The sound came. Again: swish-thwack! A pause, again: swish-thwack. It seemed to be moving along the landing, although there was no one there to be seen.

Swish-thwack! Swish-thwack! Moving towards the stairway.

To Eve it sounded like something smacking leather… no, like something smacking against flesh. The swish of its fall, the thwack when it hit.

Swish-thwack!

The loudest of all, at the top of the stairs.

Then, nothing more.

Only the rain continuing to beat against the window.

22: THE CARD

They trudged down the lane, Eve and Cally with their hoods pulled over their heads against the soft rain, Chester trotting alongside them, restrained by his leash which was gripped by Cally. The tufty-haired dog was mindless of the wet, only happy to be free of that cold old house that wasn't his proper home. Occasionally, he would peer up at his mistresses as if to ask where they were going, but they both just made encouraging noises at him.

The river beside the lane rushed by, journeying in the same direction, towards the sea, its flow much swifter than their pace; white spume washed against the leafy banks and broke over embedded boulders; debris of leaves, small branches and stones were carried in the flux and water spray cast a thin mist over the river's rough bubbling surface. Trees that edged the lane and the opposite river-bank glistened with silvery raindrops, while the steep verdant cliffs behind them were darkly lush, which somehow made the gorge seem narrower, more enclosed, than it really was.

As they passed the small Norman church of St Mark's on their left, Eve made a surreptitious sign of the cross over her left breast, offering up a short silent prayer as she did so. Cally barely gave the church a glance; she was too busy trying to keep Chester from running ahead of them.

'Is it far now, Mummy?' she asked after bringing the dog to heel with a sharp tug on the leash.

'You know it isn't, silly,' Eve told her, smiling down at Cally and taking pleasure in the rosiness that had appeared in her daughter's cheeks. 'You can see the village from here. Look, there's the big bridge and the shops are just beyond it.'

'I like walking downhill,' Cally announced, 'but I don't like walking up. It makes my legs sleepy.'

Eve chuckled. God, it was good to be out in the fresh air, rain or not. Good for both of them. And good exercise for Chester, too. He'd almost gone into hysteria when she attached the leash to his collar and he realized they were going for a walk. He couldn't get away from Crickley Hall fast enough. Before the vision, she had felt the same way.

She wondered at what she and Cally had really witnessed in the sunny, dust-filled hall.

For a brief time, the sunshine pouring through the big window over the stairs had altered the whole atmosphere of Crickley Hall, changing this one room at least from a sombre, dispiriting chamber into an imposing open space, whose panelled walls and flagstone floor embraced the light, became warm, radiated their own glow. (Had this been the original architect's intention? Had he specifically designed the great hall with its high, south- facing window to catch the sunlight and reveal the room's true grandeur? If so, it was the only redeeming feature in a house that had all the charm of a large neglected tomb.) It was the sun's rays that had made the dust visible, draughts and heated air causing the particles to rise and float. And it was the dust that had made the dancing spectres visible; and it was when the sun had been obscured by rain clouds and Crickley Hall was once again cast in shadow and gloom that they had disappeared.

Eve knew in her heart that those visions were the ghosts—if not ghosts, then remembered or recorded images—of the boys and girls who had once lived in Crickley Hall. The poor orphans who had drowned. Eve also knew in her heart, though reason told her otherwise, that there was a link between these spirits, these images, and her son, Cam, whose presence she had felt only yesterday.

It was a mystery—that frightening smacking sound alone was a mystery—and Eve needed help. But not from Gabe, whose pragmatism—and yes, his cynicism—would make him dismiss the whole idea. Certainly, he would be sympathetic, but he would tell her that her grief was 'messing with her head'. He wouldn't accept the notion of ghosts.

Eve shivered and it was not because of the rain.

She ushered Cally and Chester onto the grass verge at the side of the lane as a white van approached from the village. The van's wheels sent up a spray of water that spattered Eve's ankle boots and Cally's colourful Wellingtons as it passed by. Chester dodged behind Eve to avoid further drenching. A red Almera followed close behind the van and its two passengers stared at them rudely.

Once the traffic was safely by, Eve, Cally and Chester continued their walk down to the village. The wide bay, filled with the gunmetal-grey waters of the Bristol Channel, spread out below them, the rocky cliffs on either side filled with dampened vegetation. On a bright day, Eve thought, it would have been a magnificent sight, but today the constant chilly rain had muted the scenery to lacklustre hues.

Twice more Eve and Cally had to step onto the lane's verge for safety as more vehicles going in either direction passed them by, but soon they were at the long iron and concrete bridge which joined the lane to a wider and busier road that also led away from the village but in a different direction. They reached the row of shops lining one side of the harbour road, which ended abruptly at the cliff face.

It was one of the first shops that interested Eve. She stepped into the small porch of Hollow Bay's general store, gently pulling Cally in behind her. Chester hopped onto the step and busied himself sniffing at a corner by the entrance door.

'Are we going in the sweetshop?' Cally asked expectantly, her eyes beneath the hood lighting up. 'Can I have some Smarties? Please, Mummy?'

Eve had pushed her hood back onto her shoulders and was scanning the cards in the display cabinet fixed to the porch wall.

'We'll see,' she answered distractedly.

She caught her breath, her heart beginning to sink. She recognized some of the business cards and personal ads that had been pinned inside on Saturday, but most of the older-looking faded ones were missing. The particular card she was searching for had gone. Eve gave a little inward groan of disappointment.

Cally was already reaching up and tugging at the shop's door handle, eager to get inside where the goodies were, and Chester was trying to push by her, just as eager. The bell tinkled as the door opened a few inches and, with a rush, girl and dog had entered. Eve took another quick scrutiny of the cabinet's contents, then followed her daughter and the dog into the shop.