'You won't be cross with him, will you?' she said plaintively.
'Bed.' He used his no-nonsense tone and she disappeared.
He remembered there was a light switch somewhere on the landing and his hand scrabbled against the wall beside the bedroom door. There, found it. He clicked on the landing light, which was dim, hardly strong enough to spill into the hall below. The switch to the iron chandelier was inconveniently somewhere by the front door.
Gabe usually slept in T-shirt and boxers, but because the house was cold, tonight he wore dark pyjama leggings below the T-shirt. The landing's bare floorboards, which had been varnished some time ago, were cool under his bare feet and for once he wished he was the kind of guy who wore slippers. Hand using the wide rail for guidance, he went down the stairs into the hall's shadowy darkness, old boards creaking beneath his tread. Pausing on the small square landing at the turn of the stairs, even the tall window behind him affording scant light, rain pitter-pattering against the glass, he looked across the grand hall towards the closed kitchen door. But it was another door that caught his attention, a deeper blackness among the shadows. The cellar door was open and he swore he'd closed and locked it earlier in the evening, ever fearful of Cally wandering down to look at the well and its dangerously low wall. Now it was open, unlocked. Had Eve gone down there to see the well for herself—they had been too busy for the full tour earlier—and forgotten to close and lock the door after her? Yet he was sure, being the last one to turn in that night, that the cellar door was at least closed if not locked. He mentally shrugged. Okay, if that was the case, maybe a draught from the well below had forced it open. Had to be, there was no other explanation. A river running beneath the house could cause all sorts of air disturbances, a breeze—a wind even— travelling up the shaft, then funnelled up the cellar stairs.
He descended the rest of the stairway and crossed the umbrageous hall, its flagstones even colder than the wood under his feet. He was an idiot not to have taken the flashlight up to the bedroom with him: he could just make out its black barrel standing erect on the chiffonier where he'd left it next to the old-style phone earlier. Padding over to the narrow sideboard, he picked up the heavy flashlight and switched it on. No need to turn on the hall's light when he had his own source.
Just for the sake of it, he swept the beam around the room, chasing shadows away, lighting up the deeper corners. Everything seemed in order apart from the open cellar door, which he swiftly moved towards. He shut it and heard the lock
From the kitchen came Chester's desperate howl and Gabe realized the dog must have quietened when he heard the creaking of the stairs, although for some reason Gabe hadn't noticed. Now the cry was more urgent than before.
The flashlight's beam providing a path for him, Gabe went to the kitchen door and opened it. The howl broke off midway and Chester's short tail began to thump the floor in nervous agitation. Lit by the strong beam, Gabe saw that Chester's neck was stretched to its limit as he perked up.
'Okay, fellah,' Gabe said soothingly as he approached the tough-haired mongrel. 'No one's gonna harm you. Just tell me what all the fuss is about.'
Without switching on the overhead light, Gabe knelt down in front of the quivering dog and began to stroke his head, then pat his side. In return, Chester endeavoured to lick Gabe's face and, when Gabe pulled back, was content to lick his master's outstretched hand.
'There you go.' Gabe kept his voice soft. 'No spooks around to scare you. Only me. Now settle down so we can all get some sleep.'
But Chester would not lie down. He stood on all fours, his favourite blanket rumpled beneath him, and tried to nuzzle his master's face again. Gabe pulled the dog to him and cradled the trembling body in his arms.
'Hush now, you crazy mutt,' he whispered. 'Nothing to bother you in this place. Momma and the girls are in bed where I oughta be, so just you snuggle down and go to sleep.'
Chester only pushed against him all the more.
A flurry of rain suddenly lashed at the kitchen windows causing Gabe to swing round and almost overbalance.
'Wild out tonight, Chester,' he said to the pet. 'You don't wanna be out there in this weather, do you? Is that what all the fuss is about? You busting to go AWOL again, or maybe you just wanna get busy?' 'Busy' was their code for Chester relieving himself. 'You need go find a nice tree?'
Gabe stood and reached for the key in the kitchen's outer door, twisted it, then pulled back the top and bottom bolts. He swung the door open just enough for Chester to slip through the gap, but the dog merely shrunk away from the opening as rain gusted through.
'No? Don't want out? Don't blame you, Chester, don't blame you at all. But come on, you gotta stop this wailing. You're keeping us all awake.' Gabe closed the door and locked it again, then squatted down beside the trembling dog.
'What is it? You wanna come upstairs with me, is that it?'
The dog pressed against his knees.
'Can't do it, boy. You gotta get a handle on the place. Toughen up, okay?'
Gabe stood and went to the inner door. 'Now not another peep outa you. Be a pal and go to sleep.'
As soon as Gabe shut the door behind him, the wailing began again, only this time it was even more agitated. He heard Chester scratching at the kitchen's inner door. Gabe went back, threw open the door and scooped the dog up in his arms.
'Just for tonight, Chester,' he told the dog as he headed for the stairs, flashlight shining ahead. 'Tomorrow you're on your own, understand? No more howling, no more looking moon-eyed at me. Tomorrow night you stay down here no matter what ruckus you kick up. I'm serious, mutt, you can caterwaul as much as you like, but you're staying in the kitchen. If I leave you in the hall you'll be up the stairs, so that's just not gonna happen. You hear me, Chester?' He lifted one of the dog's ears when he made the last remark, but Chester only snuggled further against him.
Gabe had kept his voice low as he chastised the mongrel, but firm enough to let him know he meant business. Halfway across the flagstone floor with Chester's head nestling in the crook of one arm, the other supporting the dog's hindquarters as well as directing the flashlight, Gabe suddenly hopped onto one foot.
'What the hell…?'
His foot had splashed into a puddle on the floor. He manoeuvred the flashlight so that he could look down at his feet and, sure enough, there was a small puddle of water there. He must have missed it earlier on his way to the kitchen because he'd been diverted towards the cellar. He also became aware of that now-familiar musty, damp odour that was so prevalent in the cellar: it had invaded the hall itself.
Swinging the light beam up towards the high ceiling, he searched for any damp patches, reasoning that the fierce rain outside had found a way into the attic area (which had not yet been inspected) and was dripping through the floor. The great iron chandelier threw eerie shadows onto the ceiling, like a giant spider's legs; but there were no wet patches or stains up there.
Still wondering at its cause, Gabe skirted the small pool of water on the floor and made for the stairs, Chester still shivering in his arms. And when he reached the stairs, he came to a halt again.
There was another tiny puddle in the middle of the third step. Another on the small square landing turn.
Avoiding the first stair puddle, he made his way up, stopping once more at the turn. He shone the flashlight up the second, longer flight of stairs.
There seemed to be small puddles on every second or third step. He wondered how he'd missed them on his way down.
8: HOLLOW BAY
They left the dog behind in Crickley Hall because they intended to have lunch in Hollow Bay's pub/restaurant (the previous week, when Gabe and Vern had taken a break from moving furniture and other essential items into Crickley Hall, they had sampled Barnaby Inn's fare and Gabe highly recommended it; he also favoured the local brew) and they didn't know the management's policy regarding customers bringing pets into the establishment.
The inn was certainly quaint, with its white walls, thatched roof, leaded windows and outside hanging lamps that were lit due to the day's dusk-like gloom. It would certainly have been a tourist magnet had the indigenous
