The Secret of Crickley Hall

hand curling into the muddy soil. She tried to lift her head, but it took too much effort.

Lili passed out.

70: EPICENTRE

Eve reached into the darkness for Loren, but could barely see her own hand in front of her.

'Loren!' she hissed, but there was no response.

The lights of the black iron chandelier high overhead suddenly came on, dimly at first, then seeming to catch, growing brighter. They dimmed again, as did all the other lights around Crickley Hall that were switched on. Brighter once more, then waning to a lacklustre but steady glow that threw shadows and created gloomy recesses around the hall and landing.

Eve realized what had happened. Somewhere in the Hollow Bay area power lines had been struck by lightning or blown down by the gale—either way, electricity to homes in the locale, and probably the whole of the harbour village too, was out. Crickley Hall's generator, the generator that Gabe had fixed and serviced only last Sunday, had kicked in and was now the power source for the house. The light was weak, barely adequate in fact, but it was better than total blackout.

She saw the tall man—Pyke, Stafford, whatever his real name was!—standing by the front door which he had just slammed shut.

He looked at Loren, who was standing frightened and disorientated a few feet away from her mother, then at Eve.

'Your friend won't get far,' Pyke said in an unexcited, almost friendly, way. 'Not on a night like this. And even if she does manage to find help—which I doubt very much; those people who've chosen to stay in the area will be locked inside their homes with barricades round their doors and windows—well, by then it will be too late.'

Too late for what? Eve asked herself. She had stepped towards Loren and held out her hand again for her daughter to take. Loren's hand was cold and shaking in her own.

'Do you feel it, Eve?' Pyke asked, his glittering eyes seeking out every corner of the vast room and even searching the high beamed ceiling. 'The hall is the epicentre of the psychic activity. The spirits are gathering here, their vigour is almost palpable.'

Pyke was blocking the front door. His coat and hat, which he had discarded earlier, were hanging on the rack by the door, but it was obvious he was not going to put them on and leave. Eve began to back away and Loren kept in step with her, regardless of the puddles they trod through. If they made a break for the kitchen to escape by its outer door, Pyke would cut them off in a few strides. He held his walking stick like a weapon.

Eve had never been so afraid. Oh, she had suffered more than just fear since Cam had gone missing, but this was different. She knew that this was a dangerous situation and her fear was for herself and Loren—and Cally upstairs, of course—for the man at the door exuded menace. She had thought him so kindly, so mannerly, and now his eyes seemed to gleam with malice.

Loren was squeezing her hand so tightly that it hurt. Eve fought to keep the nervousness from her voice.

'What do you want from us, Mr Pyke?' She had put the question mildly, her tone even, as if she might be enquiring of a grocer the price of tomatoes. Somehow she had to humour this man, get him to respond in a non- hostile way.

'Dear woman, it's what the house wants from me that's the problem.'

He moved away from the door, taking two steps towards them. Eve and Loren backed off even more, matching him step for step, their direction taking them towards the stairway.

'I don't understand, Mr Pyke.' Humour him, humour him, Eve told herself. Why had he hurt Lili Peel? Just because she'd recognized who he was? But now they, she and Loren, knew his true identity, so what would he do to them? And why did their knowing he was Maurice Stafford matter? What had Stafford done and, my God, why wasn't he dead, drowned like the other evacuees?

Her heel kicked the first step and she and Loren came to a halt.

She prompted Pyke, who had not stopped advancing. 'How can a house want something from you?'

'By now, you're fully aware that Crickley Hall is possessed, Eve.'

Oh so friendly; his voice was so matter-of-fact and soothing. It was his eyes, those once so engaging eyes, that were deranged.

'You told us there were no such things as ghosts,' Eve said as she took the step with Loren, both of them moving backwards, their eyes never leaving Pyke's.

'No, I said in many cases there are perfectly natural explanations for what might be considered supernatural episodes or so-called manifestations. But—and I freely admit, they are in the minority—there sometimes are genuine hauntings that cannot be rationalized.'

'The children—their spirits—they really are here?' Moving as steadily as possible, Eve took the second step. Loren rose with her.

'Of course they are!'

Eve flinched at Pyke's anger.

'Can't you feel their presence, woman? Can't you see they're all around us? My God, they're almost visible.'

And as Pyke said the words, Eve thought she saw something flit among the shadows of the room. Small, insubstantial shapes. Lighter shades of darkness.

'But they aren't alone.' Pyke sounded perfectly reasonable once more as he limped towards Eve and Loren, now leaning heavily on his cane. 'Their guardian is with them. Augustus Cribben. You might say he was Maurice Stafford's lord and master.'

Mother and daughter had discreetly risen another step.

'Wasn't Augustus Cribben in charge here during the last world war?' Eve ventured warily. She wanted to keep Pyke distracted for the moment, afraid of the harm she was sure he meant to do them. She could see the insanity dancing in his eyes. 'He was the children's custodian and teacher, wasn't he?'

Her mouth was dry and she fought the urge to turn and run with Loren, to get to the bedroom where Cally slept and lock the door. Was there a key in the lock? Eve couldn't remember.

Pyke limped to a halt, his brown brogues in a puddle. His cane took some of his weight. 'Augustus Cribben was more than that: he was a god to his sister and me; we revered him. But the other evacuees? Well, they were just afraid of him.'

They were on the third step now; a few more and they would be on the little square landing at the turn of the stairs. That was when they'd make a break for it, Eve decided. She kept her voice steady, even though she wanted to scream and flee.

'The children were afraid because he was cruel to them. Wasn't that it?'

'Who told you that?' Anger shared the insanity of his gaze and it made him even more frightening. 'I suppose it was that old busybody, Percy Judd. Oh yes, I know he still keeps his job here as gardener and maintenance man. But he was always an outsider who liked to poke his nose into other people's affairs. He was a rather stupid individual then and I'm sure the passing years have added nothing to his intellectual powers. Hah! He probably still wonders whatever became of his sweetheart Miss High-and-mighty Nancy Linnet. Well, Magda and I attended to her.'

Eve dared to ask. 'You—you got rid of her?'

'No need to be coy, Eve.' The comity was back in his manner. 'She was a busybody too. We had to kill her, had no other choice really. We disposed of her body down the well.'

They could no longer wait until they reached the turn in the stairs: Eve jerked her daughter's hand and they both spun round as one and climbed as fast as they could.

But Gordon Pyke was surprisingly swift for a man of his size and age—the thought occurred to Eve as she ran that he must be in his seventies!—and he sprang forward and adroitly caught Eve's ankle with the hook of his walking stick. He yanked hard and she fell heavily against the next set of stairs, bringing Loren down with her. Eve grabbed at a rail as they slithered back down.

'Mummy!' Loren screeched, and Eve quickly put an arm round her as they sprawled there.

'It's all right, baby, it's all right.' Eve looked at Pyke, who had calmly sat down on the small landing, his right