The Secret of Crickley Hall

interested, fine; but more often than not, they're only too anxious to get to the bottom of the problem. I also place small ads in the local papers. You'd be surprised how many people believe their houses are haunted.'

'Eight times out of ten,' said Eve. 'Earlier you said two out of ten hauntings are unaccountable.'

'Yes, yes, I take your point, Mrs Caleigh, and you're absolutely right to make it. But in certain cases all the factors cannot be known and sometimes the psychological state of the person or persons involved is not immediately evident. So yes, of course, not all the mysteries can be solved. But that doesn't necessarily mean unnatural elements are at play.'

'But you can't be sure.'

'No, I can't be sure every time. Some mysteries will always remain so, despite our best efforts to understand them. Sometimes, perhaps, a glimmer is all we're allowed.'

There was a silence between them for a moment or two, then abruptly Eve said: 'Mr Pyke, thank you for your kindness to Loren, but I'm afraid we aren't in need of your services.'

'Wait a minute, hon,' blurted Gabe. 'Having Mr Pyke look into things can't do any harm.' Truthfully, Gabe hoped Pyke would bring a little sanity into the house.

'I can assure you, my investigation will not be disruptive. My equipment would be minimal to begin with—a couple of cameras, one with infrared capability, a tape recorder, thermometers, talcum powder and synthetic thread. We can move on to other appliances—sound scanners, magnetometers, thermal heat scanners, and other pieces—only if necessary for a more sophisticated type of investigation. From what you've already told me, I'm fairly sure that won't be the case.'

Eve was shaking her head, but Gabe pressed on.

'And you're certain you can come up with answers?'

'I'll do my best for you, that's all I can promise. I could make a start tomorrow evening.'

'Gabe—' Eve started to say, but Gabe cut her off.

'How much is your fee, Mr Pyke?'

'Oh, I don't charge anything. Any expenses, obviously, but they won't amount to much. You see, I don't do this for financial gain. With my pension and what's left from a modest property inheritance when I was much younger, I'm moderately comfortable financially and have never had the need to charge for my services. The only thing I'd require from you is permission to write a paper on my findings, which I might submit to the London Society for Psychical Research at some later date. They're always interested in the fieldwork of independent investigators like myself. And I would ask you to stay in one part of the house once I've set up my equipment. As that will be at night-time, you'll probably be in your bedrooms anyway.'

'You want to do this at night?'

'Fewer natural disturbances then. People walking about, children playing, visitors—all the usual daytime matters. Besides, that's when most of the incidents have occurred, haven't they?'

'Gabe, I don't want this,' Eve said earnestly.

But Gabe was undaunted. 'Eve, either we let Mr Pyke do his stuff, or we move out of this place at the weekend. Maybe if we find the causes of these things happening here we can fix 'em.'

Eve was about to object again, but she saw the resolution on her husband's face. Once Gabe was set on something, there was no changing his mind. Besides, the investigator might find that Crickley Hall was haunted.

And in her heart, that was what she hoped.

48: ICE

The bath was long enough for Eve to stretch full length, her legs straight, only her head and neck above the waterline. It was almost relaxing lying there cocooned and snug in the warm water, her face wet with light perspiration; only her troubled thoughts kept her from dozing.

Tomorrow evening Gordon Pyke would come to the house and set up his equipment, then would keep a lonely vigil through the night while she and her family slept. She wondered if anything more would happen when the place was under observation, something mystical that would prove his investigation pointless. Would the hours pass by peacefully, the spirits choosing not to reveal themselves, not by sound, nor by apparition? Would Pyke's apparatus show that the disturbances had perfectly natural causes? Perhaps the man was right—she had imagined the dancing children because her mind was susceptible to images prompted by a simple kiddies' toy, the colourful spinning top. She was aware of how emotionally vulnerable she'd become, worn down by grief and fading hope, but surely she had truly seen them, and surely she had not imagined that dark, evil presence last Sunday, and again yesterday when Lili Peel had also sensed it?

She closed her eyes against the starkness of the bathroom with its black and white tiles and plain bowled light overhead. Rain pittered on the frosted window and curls of steam rose from the water in which she tried to relax. The warmth felt good against her skin and her thoughts wandered.

Eve was tired—she always felt tired nowadays, but this week had been particularly stressful. Good idea, Gabe, getting us all away from London so that we wouldn't be at home with its memories on the anniversary of Cam's disappearance. She gave a bitter smile. As if it would make any difference, as if it would hurt any less. But Gabe meant well.

She wiped the flannel across her face, water mixing with the perspiration. It was good not to be cold for a change, the house was always so chilly. Full of draughts, Pyke had said—or air currents, as he would have it. He was a tall, big-boned man, but he seemed trustworthy. A gentle not-quite giant, with a good-natured countenance and a comforting smile. Eve hoped she hadn't been too rude to him, but she knew Lili Peel would be of more help to her. Eve was sure the psychic would reach Cam eventually; it would just take a little time and the right conditions. Hadn't she herself felt him close by?

Keeping her eyes closed, she sank lower into the bath, water covering her chin, almost reaching her bottom lip. So warm, so comfortable. Eve began to drift…

Mustn't fall asleep. So tired, though, so wearied by events. And by sorrow. Briefly, she wondered if they would ever find Chester again. Lost dog, lost son. The girls were still upset. Over Cam. Over Chester. One loss too many. Sleepy. Very sleepy…

Because her eyes were closed and she was half asleep, Eve didn't at first notice the light above flicker, then dim, then burn out.

But she felt the change in temperature that followed almost instantly. It roused her with a start.

The water she bathed in was suddenly chilled—no, it was cold and fast becoming freezing. It was as if it were congealing into ice.

Then, there in the absolute darkness, she heard its sound—ice crackling as it merged on the water's surface.

She lifted her leaden arms and her numbed hands came in contact with the thin icy layer. She pushed against it, but already it was firm and wouldn't break.

Her face, just above the waterline, felt the frigidity of the room itself. Her hair stiffened and crackled with ice particles and the cold beneath seemed to press on her lungs, making it difficult to breathe. She tried to call out, but drew in frosted air that constricted her throat. This could not be happening, it was beyond all reason! How could a bath full of heated water freeze over within seconds? It was insane!

The coldness about her body seemed heavy, hardened, and it clamped her limbs, making it almost impossible to move them. And each time she tried to suck in air so that she could scream for help, it was as though a rod of ice had rushed into her throat to stifle any sound. Instead of raising her hands, she pushed them against the bottom of the bath, using her heels too, hoping to break through the glacial surface with her shoulders, but she kept slipping on the porcelain, kept slithering on its slickness.

Desperately, she sharply brought up one knee, the foot of the other leg pressed hard against the end of the bath. She heard the ice crack, sensed it give a little, felt the impact on her knee. But the effort caused her head to sink further down into the water, which rushed up her nose and surged into her open mouth. She panicked even more and threw her body around, writhing in the icy thickness, kicking up with both knees now, one after the other, cracking, then breaking the frozen sheet. Her head and shoulders were completely underwater and her back pressed against the bath's solid bottom.

She was frantic, she was terrified. She did not want to drown.