The Lamp of the Wicked

clerk and a good lad, generally.

‘If they wanted to keep people out, why didn’t they just lock it?’ Mrs Franklin demanded. She’d told them that Zoe’s dad and Zoe’s brother, Curtis, had gone on the Roddy Lodge demo. Pub, more likely, Mrs Franklin said.

Ingrid had said that Zoe’s mother wouldn’t have minded much if Zoe had stuck with Martin Brinkley, got herself pregnant and forgot about all this university rubbish, because that was likely to cost them, wasn’t it? Ingrid said Zoe’s parents were what you would have regarded as typical Underhowle parents. Typical, at least, of the pre-Fergus era.

‘What had you heard about the place, Zoe?’ Huw asked.

‘I thought it was all stupid.’ Zoe wore jeans and a T-shirt and an anxious expression. ‘It’s just one of those stories that goes around the school. It was supposed to be haunted and they said that when the ghost was there the door would be open. So if you tried the door – that’s the old oak door inside the porch – and opened for you, you could go in and… something would be waiting there.’

‘And what had people seen?’

‘Nothing, really. They just said you could feel it watching you.’

‘What did you feel?’

‘Martin, I’ll bet!’ Mrs Franklin said and rocked with laughter.

‘You wanner make us a cup of tea, Mam?’ Zoe said patiently.

‘I’m here as your responsible adult!’

‘Jesus,’ Zoe said, ‘that was when the police had Curtis in. This is the Church, for Christ’s sake! Please?’

Mrs Franklin stalked out and Zoe grabbed the remote and switched off the TV.

‘They wanted to sue the Development Committee because I had bruises. They thought they could make some money out of it. That’s why I didn’t say anything, except to Mrs Sollars. They didn’t believe the other stuff, anyway. Thought I was making it up. My parents can’t believe anybody actually tells the truth. Like, I was going to come and see you tonight, but I didn’t want any of them to know.’

‘The protesters?’ Merrily could stand the heat no longer and shrugged off her coat.

‘It’s all stupid,’ Zoe said. ‘It’s Mr and Mrs Lodge who are going to suffer. What’ve they ever done to anybody?’

It had been raining, and Zoe didn’t fancy going on the back of Martin’s motorbike in that kind of weather, thanks very much, and while they were thinking about what to do they’d gone into the chapel porch to shelter for a bit, and Martin had grinned and said, ‘I wonder if it’s open tonight.’

It was one of those myths that took hold: modern folklore, almost always passed on by children. Martin Brinkley had heard it from his younger brother, who said he’d heard it from a boy who’d gone in with his girlfriend and she’d been so frightened she’d let him do it.

Zoe had said ‘Don’t be stupid’ and ‘Let’s go’ and things like it that, but Martin had already had a pint in the pub with his mates and he was, you know, a bit skittish. He’d tried the door and… would you believe it? Hey!

Martin had gone in.

‘Don’t be stupid,’ Zoe had shouted from the porch.

Silence. Martin hadn’t come out.

‘Don’t be so bloody stupid!’ Zoe had cried.

And had taken a step inside – and, bang, the door had slammed behind her, and Zoe had screamed and Martin’s arms had come around her: Don’t be scared, I’m here. And she’d had to laugh, and then they’d started kissing and, you know…

Well, the door was open, look, and it wasn’t as if there was anything they could damage in there; the place was already gutted. But it was dry and cleaner than Zoe would have expected, and it wasn’t that cold and where else was there to go on a rainy night in Underhowle? So they’d fetched a rug from the box on Martin’s bike. Though, actually, the truth was that Zoe hadn’t liked it in there from the first, but what could she say without looking like a wimp?

‘Why exactly didn’t you like it, lass?’

‘It was… as if the walls had eyes, you know? As if they were bulging inwards to make sure they didn’t miss anything. You could, like, feel it, even though you couldn’t see much, just the light in the windows. Now I know that sounds stupid, but at one point, because I was so convinced someone was watching us, I made Martin put all the lights on, even though people might see them from outside.’

‘If it was me, I’d’ve been hoping people would see,’ Merrily said.

‘Yeah.’ Zoe smiled gratefully. ‘Actually, it was worse, somehow, with the lights on, because of all the shadows which made it seem like the walls really were swelling.’ She moved her hands in and out, like an accordionist. ‘You felt there was something there – inside there, with us – that wanted the lights on. So it could see us. So we put them out again.’

You didn’t actually see anything, though?’ Merrily asked.

‘No.’

‘What about the temperature? Did you feel it was especially cold? Colder in some areas than others, say?’

‘Maybe. I don’t know, really, it was all cold. I didn’t want to stop there at all, but Martin’s putting his arms round me, and he’d rolled up these dust sheets, which were fairly clean, and… Oh, I don’t have to talk about this stuff, do I?’

‘Of course not. We’d just like to know when anything happened that you… weren’t expecting.’

‘Yeah, well, I wouldn’t let him go any further, anyway. I said no, that’s it, I’ve had enough, this is stupid, and I got up to go. I remember getting up, and then…’ Zoe closed her eyes for a moment and, in the botanical-garden heat, Merrily actually saw goose bumps appear on the girl’s arms. ‘I was just thrown back, really roughly. Back on to the dust sheets – that’s when I got the bruises, yeah? And I wasn’t afraid then, so much as – you know – startled and angry. I’m like, Geddoff, you dull bugger!’

Merrily said, ‘Did you – when you were thrown back – feel anybody actually touch you?’

‘Yeah, I… I think so. But I didn’t really have time to, because I couldn’t breathe, you know? I was choking. There was suddenly this awful pressure on my throat.’

‘What kind of pressure, Zoe?’ Huw said. ‘What did you actually feel?’

Zoe rubbed her arms. ‘I couldn’t exactly say it was hands. I couldn’t say it felt like hands. But I thought of hands. I thought of these rough – what’s the word? – callused, kind of hands. And dirty. And what I heard – this was the very worst moment, I can tell you – I actually heard Martin’s voice. He was going, like, “What’s up with you? What you doing?” And his voice was like a long way away. I mean, what – five, six metres? And I’m trying to shout, scream… and all I could make were these little rattly noises, like snorting. And I was… absolutely… bloody terrified.’

‘I bet,’ Merrily said.

‘I thought I was gonner die. I thought I was gonner die there and then. You believe me?’

‘Yes.’

‘You’re, like, a vicar, too, yeah?’

‘Mmm.’

‘And I’ll tell you something else. Martin, he en’t got hands like that. He works in a bank.’ Zoe nodded towards the door, lowered her voice. ‘They still don’t believe me. Not really. Sometimes I think I dreamed it. You know, that we fell asleep in there or something. But I can’t have. I wasn’t comfortable in there, you know, not from the start.’

‘What happened in the end, Zoe?’ Merrily asked.

‘Martin put the lights on and there was nothing there.’

‘How far were you from the lights?’

‘’Bout four metres.’

‘Could you still feel the pressure as he was putting the lights on?’

‘When the lights went on, I could breathe. It wasn’t Martin. It definitely wasn’t Martin. And there was nobody else in there, I swear to God.’