‘Don’t talk to me about God, John. He’s not exactly my favourite person at the moment – not that He ever was. But you reckon Matthew Carver could have been the one who caught this presence and bricked him up in the cellar?’
‘Everything points to it, doesn’t it? Although I may be wildly off beam.’
‘But if this presence is so powerful – even more powerful than Satan – how did Matthew Carver catch him? That’s what I need to know. Father Salter said something about every demon having an Achilles heel.’
‘He mentioned that to me, too. He said that some demons couldn’t stand the sound of bells, and some other demons you could chase off with smoke from particular herbs, or incense. There’s one demon who’s terrified of two-pronged forks, because he believes you’re going to stick them into his eyes.’
‘But this one?’
‘He wasn’t sure, and neither am I, to be honest, although I did look him up in Catesby’s Compendium of Pre-Druidic Demons. It says in there that he was possessed with “the madness of dogs”, and that he was never seen out when it was raining. That may suggest that he’s infected with rabies, and because of that he suffers from hydrophobia. On the other hand, it may simply mean that he’s a psychopath who doesn’t like getting wet.’
Rob looked out of the window. The knobbly stalks of Brussels sprouts were glittering like pale green sceptres, and the overgrown rhubarb leaves were repeatedly nodding and nodding as the raindrops fell on them.
‘It’s raining now. Maybe this is the right time for me to chance it.’
‘I don’t know what to say, Rob. I know how desperate you are to rescue Timmy and your brother and Ada, but maybe we need to find out more about this Fluter before you try anything.’
‘If I hold off any longer, it may be too late. And in any case, how can we find out more? This thing is a myth. It’s a legend. It’s a supernatural demon. How do we know if the stories that people have been telling about it are true? Just because nobody’s ever seen it in the rain, that doesn’t mean that it’s never been out in the rain, or that it has some kind of aversion to water.’
‘Why don’t I come over and help you?’
‘Because Francis and Father Salter have both been killed and I don’t want to risk any more people dying because of me.’
John was silent for a few seconds. Then he said, ‘All right, Rob. I can’t stop you. But don’t do anything rash, okay? You might have lost your Timmy, but as far as you know he’s still alive. Ada and your brother too. Even if you never get them back, they’ll still be there. Maybe they’re not living a happy life, but it’s better than no life at all.’
Rob ended the call and put down his phone. Vicky said, ‘Well?’
‘John says it may not like rain.’
‘Is that all?’
‘He’s not even sure about that. But there’s only one way to find out.’
*
Rob and Vicky went back into the drawing room, where Grace and Portia and Katharine were sitting around the fire.
Rob said, ‘I’m going to have a crack at getting rid of this demon. I won’t be trying any prayers or ritual chants or appeals to the Lord because I don’t know any. I’m hoping that if I don’t say anything religious to it then it won’t get riled up the way it did with Francis and Father Salter. But if it does get angry—’
‘What then?’ asked Grace. ‘What if it kills you, too? What are we supposed to do?’
‘You’ll have to decide that for yourselves. But if Francis and Father Salter couldn’t get rid of it, and I can’t, either, then I’d say that your only option would be to leave this bloody house and lock it up and never think of coming back. John Kipling said that Timmy and Martin and Ada Grey are probably still alive, and if Francis was right they’ll probably live for ever.’
They sat looking at each other in silence. A draught whistled softly down the chimney, sending up a flurry of sparks and blowing a ghostly wraith of smoke between them.
‘It’s like Father Salter said to me, when I was driving him here from Tavistock. Sometimes you can be faced with something that frightens the living shit out of you, but life doesn’t give you any other choice except to confront it head-on. Timmy’s our son. I’m his father and I have to save him or die trying.’
‘Rob—’
‘No. Stay in here. Keep the door closed and no matter what you hear, don’t come out until I call you, or until it goes totally quiet.’
He hugged Grace and gave her a kiss, and then he gave Portia and Katharine a quick hug too. He held Vicky tightly and kissed her and then he gently stroked her cheek and said, ‘Listen. I love you.’
Vicky nodded, unable to speak, with tears running down her cheeks. Rob kissed her again and then he walked out of the drawing room and closed the door behind him.
He passed the sealed-up cellar. The silhouette that Francis had left behind had almost completely faded now. He felt strangely buoyant and unafraid, as if he had always been destined to do this. It occurred to him that he had felt more fearful on the day he had given in his notice at the design studio where he had been working for four and a half years and started working as a freelance animator. He had been deeply in debt, with all his credit cards maxed out, and Vicky had been seven months pregnant with Timmy.
There was a narrow oak cupboard beside the front door, in which Herbert Russell always hung his house keys. He also used to keep a rubber-covered flashlight in there, in case he heard what
