The Secret of Crickley Hall

Enough of memories, he mentally snapped at himself. Time to deal with the present. It was as if all the years since leaving Crickley Hall as a twelve-year-old boy had been leading up to this point, as if he had been directed— driven—back to this ugly old house. Tonight was perfect. It wasn't quite the same date, the day and the week were different, but that was okay, it didn't matter because everything else was right. Tonight he would free himself.

Fierce rain assaulted his face and shoulders when he pushed open the Mondeo's door. He climbed out awkwardly, gritting his teeth as he cricked his knee. The wind nearly tore the hat from his head, but he clamped a big hand down on it in time to save it. With both hands he gripped the narrow brim and secured the hat firmly. Reaching back into the car he drew out his sturdy hardwood walking stick, then pulled open the rear door and dragged out a huge worn leather suitcase. It was heavy, but he was a large man and still strong.

He straightened, paused for a moment to look across the foaming river at Crickley Hall, then made his way to the bridge.

65: THE DRIVE BACK

Wind-driven rain lashed at the Range Rover's windows and bodywork, and Gabe took the bend in the road cautiously. The roadway was so narrow that another skid might take him into a ditch on one side, or into the trees on the other, despite the vehicle's stability control. Nothing was foreseeable on such a vile night.

It was just as well he had slowed down because the road dipped just beyond the curve and rainwater had created a mini-lake across its surface. Even the ditch on the left was not enough to carry the water away. Normally, he would have changed down to a low gear and driven steadily through the flood, confident that the 4x4 had the height and power to pass through it, but his headlights lit up another vehicle ahead which had become immobilized in the middle of the road.

Two heads turned round to look at him through the other car's rear window, their anxious faces lit up by the Range Rover's strong lights, and he saw it was a young man and girl trapped in their Ford Fiesta. They looked too young to be married, nothing more than teenagers. Maybe this was their first date, Gabe thought, and the guy had made a jerk of himself trying to take the flood too fast or too slow, the Fiesta in the wrong gear.

Gabe thumped the steering wheel with the heel of his hand. All he wanted to do was to get back to Eve and the girls, to be there with them in their mutual grief. He didn't need this.

The driver's door of the Fiesta opened and the young man stepped out into the water, which came almost up to his knees. He splashed towards Gabe, desperation on his face. Gabe pressed a button and his side window slid down. Ignoring the rain that battered his face, he stuck his head out, an elbow resting on the sill. Despite the weather, the kid approaching him wore only a Kaiser Chiefs T-shirt over baggy trousers. Tree branches were waving with the force of the wind and ripples coursed across the newly made lake that concealed the roadway; the Range Rover shuddered with each fresh gust.

We got stuck!' the other driver, who was, as he had thought, no more than a teenager, shouted out pointlessly when he got as far as the Range Rover's bonnet.

'Yeah, looks like you did,' Gabe called back. He was impatient to get on his way.

The drenched kid came up to the side window and Gabe couldn't help but feel sorry for him. The teenager's long hair was now plastered to his scalp and the soggy T-shirt stuck to his skinny chest.

'The car just stopped halfway through,' he bellowed mournfully into Gabe's ear. 'We didn't realize the puddle was so deep.'

Puddle? The way ahead was concealed by a mini-lake.

'Can you help us?' the kid pleaded hopefully.

'I can get you out of it,' Gabe shouted back, 'but I don't know how well your engine's taken it. You may not get it started till it's dried out again. You've probably sucked up water through the exhaust.'

The drenched kid looked forlorn, rainwater dripping off his nose. 'We need to get to the next village. My girlfriend lives there.'

'How far?'

''Bout five miles.'

Good, Gabe thought. He wouldn't have to go out of his way if he gave the couple a lift. 'Look, I haven't got a tow rope, but if you put your car in neutral, I can push it out from behind. When we're out of the flood, steer towards the side of the road. You can leave it there and I'll take you to your friend's place, then you can get a garage to collect your car. Doubt you'll get anyone out tonight, though, not in this weather.'

They both jumped when they heard a sharp crack from across the road. A stout branch of a nearby tree snapped off and dangled by sinews over the road.

'Let's get to it,' shouted Gabe.

'Thanks, man. I owe you.'

The young guy splashed back to his own car and through its rear window Gabe could see him explaining the situation to his girlfriend. Still lit up by the Range Rover's headlights, the girl turned and waved back a thank- you.

Gabe engaged first gear. 'Okay, let's see what we can do,' he murmured to himself and set the 4x4 in motion.

66: GHOST-HUNTER

The wind blew the front door wide open and rain flew in with it when Eve answered the croaky doorbell.

The tall figure of a man stood on the doorstep, a walking stick in one hand, a very big suitcase set on the ground by his right leg. Lightning flared behind him so that his face and body were momentarily in silhouette. The boom of thunder quickly followed and Eve almost recoiled from the sound.

She was still in an emotional daze from news of her son's death, although outwardly, and for the sake of her daughters, she appeared calm and collected. She waited for the other person to speak.

'Mrs Caleigh?' the big man queried even though he knew full well who she was. 'Gordon Pyke. We met yesterday.' He was puzzled by the lack of expression on her face, but nevertheless he smiled warmly.

'Mr Pyke,' she said at last.

A cold draught wrapped itself round her body and rain spat at her through the doorway.

'Yes,' he confirmed again. 'You and your husband agreed that I should come back tonight to make tests.'

'Tests? I'm sorry…'

'May I come in? I'm afraid the storm is rather fierce.'

Eve stepped aside as he hoisted the suitcase and came into the house. She was too confused—and her senses were too blunted—to object.

'You do remember, Mrs Caleigh?' Pyke took off his little hat and smacked rain from it against his thigh. He rested the brown leather suitcase on the stone-flagged floor.

Eve shut the front door, exerting pressure as the wind fought to keep it open. Although they could hear the gale outside and the rain lashing the high window, it became comparatively quiet inside the grand hall.

'Yes, of course,' she said distractedly in answer to his question. 'But I didn't expect you…' Her words trailed off.

'Oh yes, that was the arrangement. Your husband was rather keen that I help you with your problem.'

'Problem?'

'The suspected haunting. I'm here to look into the matter. There are no ghosts here, I can assure you of that.' Pyke was sticking to the line he'd used on Gabe Caleigh, that of a pragmatic sceptic. 'Even better,' he added, 'I'll prove it to you.'

His natural smile was disarming. He indicated the dripping suitcase. 'If I could just set up my equipment? I promise I won't get in anybody's way.' He beamed his kind eyes on her and the smile beneath his small, grey- streaked beard was warm, charming. Somehow, understanding. She caught the whiff of alcohol on his breath. 'We