The Secret of Crickley Hall

Without giving himself time for further reflection, the engineer began to descend, one hand brushing the wall as he went. He was soon on the last stair and the pitchy blackness spread out before him. Breathing in stale air, he reached round the wall on his right, fingers searching for the light switch. Found it, flicked it on.

Just in time to see the nebulous white shadow flow over the well's low circular wall and drop out of sight.

The cellar was by no means well-lit, for the naked hanging lightbulb, like the one over the steps, was dimmed by years of dust; there were corners and niches that were impenetrable. The opening to the boiler and generator room next door was a black void.

Gabe returned his attention to the well, anxious not to lose sight of the thing he'd followed. Wary of debris scattered around the cellar's floor, he went to the well's low stone wall and peered into its depths. Although he heard the endless roar of the river below—its noise was amplified by the acoustics of the circular shaft—it was like looking into a bottomless pit. Of the white shadow he had followed there was no trace: it seemed to have been absorbed into the umbra. Unconsciously, he leaned further over the lip, his shins pressing against the wall, and stared into the dense blackness below. Gabe had never before suffered from vertigo, but a sudden dizziness came upon him; it was as if the blackness was sucking him in. An iciness seemed to reach up for him, freezing his very bones, and his breath was released in vaporous clouds. He almost toppled, but caught himself just in time, and staggered backwards, away from the opening.

Gabe stood there, a foot or two away from the wall, and he inhaled a deep breath of musty air in an effort to calm himself.

He heard a noise that had nothing to do with the pounding of the river beneath the house. It was a scuffling noise and it had come from somewhere in the spacious underground chamber. Something dragging.

Gabe squinted his eyes, trying to discern anything that might be concealed by the shadows there. It was too dark, though. Someone was using the shadows as a cloak. Just as he had been certain he was being watched upstairs, he was sure that somebody lurked just out of sight.

'Someone there?' he barked with a gruffness he hardly felt.

Only the sound of rushing water came back to him.

Moving slowly, Gabe edged round the wall of the well, a path that took him closer to the source of the scuffling. There it was again! He hadn't been mistaken. Someone—an intruder—was hiding from him. Maybe they'd seen him come out onto the landing earlier and ducked through the open cellar door before he came downstairs. But then Gabe had gone straight to the cellar, so the intruder must have escaped down the steps, any noise they might have made covered by the sound of the river rising from the well.

Again! Feet scraping on concrete. From right there, inside the opening to the boiler room where the weak overhead light couldn't reach. His eyes might have been playing tricks on him, but he was sure something had moved in the darkness. Dark upon dark.

Gabe wasn't sure what to do. His instinct was to get the hell out of there, lock and barricade the cellar door and call the police. But he couldn't be sure there was someone there. Maybe the quiet scuffling he heard was nothing more than dirt falling from the cellar wall or ceiling, the house itself settling. Maybe the intruder was no more than a mouse or a rat. Yet, just as he'd felt eyes on him minutes before, he could feel a presence lurking there, hidden in the darkness. And it wasn't a mouse or a rat. This was something bigger. He was certain of that too.

His mouth felt dry and adrenaline pounded through his body. 'Okay,' he muttered to himself, talking up his courage, 'let's see what you got to offer.'

He half crouched, his muscles tensed, fists clenched, and prepared to rush the shadows and drag out whoever was there. He felt the energy surge.

'Right!' he yelled, but just as he lunged forward a fierce light came on from behind him.

'Gabe!' It was Eve's voice. 'What are you doing?'

Almost thrown off balance, he wheeled round. He raised a hand to shield his eyes against the bright glare and waited for his heart to stop pounding.

'Gabe, why are you down here?' Her voice was full of concern, bewilderment too.

'Eve,' he managed to utter, 'shine the light through the doorway.' Gabe pointed as he half turned away from her.

'What?' She was even more bewildered.

'Quick, shine it through the doorway!'

She did as she was told, even though mystified. 'What's the matter with you, Gabe? There's nothing there.'

Gabe snatched the torch from her and crossed to the opening. The beam lit up the next-door room, revealing the boiler and generator, the old mangle and blade sharpener, the pile of logs and the coal heap, odd pieces of junk that littered the dusty floor; but no one hid here, it was plain to see.

He finally let go of his breath.

45: THURSDAY

It was morning and Gabe sat at the kitchen table, on his second cup of coffee after breakfast and wishing he hadn't given up smoking. Loren had left for school and Cally was at the table with him, enthusiastically crayoning in a horse he had sketched for her (being an engineer, his version of the animal was more mechanical than it was graceful), telling her it was the horse he used to ride in his cowboy days. Cally was colouring it a bright shade of purple.

Eve tapped on the window to get the attention of Percy, who was working outside on one of the garden's flowerbeds, hood pulled up over his cap against the steady downbeat of rain. The gardener straightened and looked her way. She mimed drinking a cup of tea and he gave her a thumbs-up before making his way to the kitchen door.

Gabe was hunched over his coffee, both hands wrapped round the mug as if for warmth, and he appraised Percy silently as the old man stamped his wet boots on the doormat. Shrugging back his hood and removing the flat cap, the gardener nodded respectfully at him.

'Hey, Percy,' Gabe greeted in a low but friendly growl.

'Yup,' Percy replied.

He immediately seemed to sense the frosty atmosphere between Gabe and Eve, taking them both in as he stood awkwardly on the rough mat.

'Sit down, Percy, and I'll bring your tea over,' Eve told him and the old man mumbled something incoherent as he pulled out a chair from the table. 'Would you like some toast?' she pressed him.

'No, missus, I'm all right.' Orlroit. He smiled at Cally and touched the top of her head gently, but she was more interested in giving her purple horse a yellow mane. Eve put the cup and saucer before him on the table.

'Nasty weather, huh?' said Gabe by way of making conversation. He and Eve had barely spoken a word to each other that morning and had not even mentioned his excursion into the cellar last night. Down there, he had explained that he had followed a 'white shadow' and she had seemed to take some satisfaction in the fact that at last he was treating the strange phenomena in Crickley Hall seriously. As for something hiding in the boiler room, he himself had eventually surmised it had probably been a small animal, a rodent, whose scuffling was made louder and more sinister by the bare brick walls and concrete floor and ceiling. Eve had told him something had disturbed her sleep—a noise, instinct, she didn't know what—and when she had gone out onto the landing she had seen the light from the open cellar door below. She had gone next door to rouse Gabe and, on seeing the bed was empty, had assumed it was he who was downstairs. She had grabbed the flashlight from their bedroom and followed.

They had both returned to their separate beds, too weary—the comedown after the high adrenaline flow—to discuss whether Crickley Hall was truly haunted, should they stay or leave, and what did it all mean. Neither of them slept much that night.

'Folks is gettin' fretful,' said Percy in response to Gabe's remark on the weather.

'Oh?' The engineer's thoughts had already drifted.

'Worried 'bout what the rain's doin' to the moors.'