Charley’s own knowledge told her that within a year, the remains of a body are only the skeleton and teeth, unless the body is frozen. She could see flesh on these bones, and that smell – of course, it was that of a rotting corpse. A smell that stayed with you. The head or partial bloodied skull was positioned nearest to her.
‘Can I?’ asked Charley as she put her hand up to reach the torch Joe held above her shoulder. Taking hold of the torch she directed the beam up and down the remains that were covered with possible ash, or rubble. She could be wrong, but her first impression was that this body had been put there quite recently.
‘What do the plans tell us about the tunnel?’ she asked.
‘There is no depiction of a tunnel on the drawings, but then you wouldn’t mention it, would you, if it was something you wanted to keep a secret?’
‘Mmm… point taken.’
‘Obviously, when we came across the tunnel, we were eager to investigate its final destination, but once we saw the dead body, we decided not to go any further. We didn’t want to disturb anything.’
Charley swung the torch round and her eyes found Joe’s face close behind her. ‘You did the right thing.’
Moving the beam of light here and there, Charley sought clues in silence.
‘I think you could be right, Annie. St Anne’s Church opposite is definitely a line of enquiry we should pursue.’
As she walked out of this incredible tunnel, that someone had taken time to excavate, and back into the spacious fireplace, her mind was exploring all sorts of possibilities.
‘I read that the Alderman family had links to the church, but how much of what I read is fact or fiction is yet to be seen.’
Charley passed the torch back to Joe.
‘Okay, where’s body number two?’ Charley asked, impatient to move on before she called the experts out.
‘It’s in the cellar,’ Joe said.
‘Lead on. We’re right behind you.’
Chapter 5
Joe gave the cellar door a hearty kick and it swiftly fell away from the woodworm-infested frame with a satisfying ripping sound. He switched on his torch again and peered down the steps. It was completely silent and dark as a grave.
‘Do be careful, let your eyes adjust to the darkness,’ he called over his shoulder. The sound of his jacket scuffing against the walls of the staircase indicated just how narrow it was.
Suddenly he halted, and there was a catch in his breath.
‘It’s slippery in parts,’ he warned, inching himself forward with a great deal of caution. Dust billowed around, making him cough; he stopped again for a moment, but the crunch of the debris beneath his foot on the next step told Charley he had pressed on regardless.
Charley prepared to follow. She gripped the handrail tightly in anticipation of her steep descent, the paint crusty, cold and damp to the touch, but no matter how abhorrent it was to her, she wouldn’t be letting go for man nor beast – not until she reached the bottom.
‘Can you imagine having to carry yer washing up ’ere, through the kitchen and out into the yard just to dry yer clothes?’ said Annie, mocking the Yorkshire accent in her typically Southern drawl.
‘Or worse, coming down into this pit for a bath?’ said Joe, whose voice echoed beneath the low granite roof. At the same moment as they reached the bottom of the stairs, a black cat scrambled hastily up the low cellar wall towards the coal chute situated on an external way. When it reached its destination, it turned round, showing its gleaming green eyes briefly before making its escape.
Charley heard Joe anxiously draw in his breath.
A little nervous chuckle escaped Annie’s lips. ‘For fuck’s sake!’ she squealed. ‘I did not expect that!’
Heart beating wildly in her chest, Charley felt the temperature plummet, and goosebumps rose on her arms. The darkness played tricks with her mind. With each tentative step she found the musty smell all-consuming; it took her back to her six-year-old self, dodging cobwebs that licked her bare skin and stuck like candy floss to her hair in her granny’s cellar. Now, she jumped instinctively as a spider fell onto her face, and she raised a hand and silently screamed as she batted it away in haste.
Now, in her mind’s eye, Charley pictured this cellar as a mirror to her granny’s. The floor, made of flagstones, had held a coal bucket always filled with wood and coal taken from the coal ’ole, ready for the fire to heat the water in the ‘Copper’ for wash days and bath water. The tin bath situated farthest away from the coal ’ole, had a flowery, plastic curtain drawn across the front for privacy. As Charley now stood in Crownest’s cellar, her grandpa’s words rang in her ears, ‘See behind there, that’s where the bones are kept.’ He was jesting, of course, he was always joking, but there were some seriously bad vibes in Granny’s cellar that gave her nightmares as a youngster and it put her
