sat down in a church – she knew that, because she had watched other people do it. It was how she had found Nathaniel earlier this evening, sitting quietly in the pew with his face hidden. Now, she waited for what she thought was the right length of time, thinking how old and peculiar the church smelt, then lifted her head. As her eyes got used to the darkness, she could just make out the familiar figure on the cross. He looked so sad, she always thought. She remembered how Nathaniel had explained it all to her one day – the man was sad because people in the world did bad things and because of that he’d had to die. That didn’t seem fair, but Nathaniel had said it was all right because he came back, stronger and better than before. Thanks to the man on the cross, he said, it was the same for everyone. People never died if there was someone left to care for them. Love brought them back.
She liked Nathaniel. He was kind and gentle, and talked to her about things which didn’t seem to interest other people. And he never seemed to mind how many questions she had, or tried to shut her up with silly answers. He had asked her that same day what made her sad, and she told him about the night her parents died in the fire.
As she got up from the pew, she heard a noise from the door at the back of the church. Not wanting to be caught, she hurried to the side wall where some tiny steps led up to a rood loft, barely big enough for her to squeeze into. It was just like the hide-and-seek games she played with Harry. Excited, she tried not to laugh or do anything to give herself away. She peeked out through the gap in the stone, putting her face close enough to the opening to make out a large figure coming down the aisle. It must be the vicar – no one else she knew was that round and stout – and she was horrified to see that he was heading straight for her. If he found her here at night, she’d be in terrible trouble. She held her breath, but at the last minute the vicar turned right into the small room at the side which he and Nathaniel sometimes used to get changed in, and where she knew they kept the valuable things. He stayed in there for several minutes, and she heard the chink of coins against metal. Then he muttered something – something which sounded like a word Morwenna often used and always scolded Loveday for repeating – and left the church as quickly as he had entered it.
All was silent again. Loveday waited a few seconds, then left her hiding place and went over to the north chapel to set about her task. In the darkness, she didn’t see the bucket by the altar and walked straight into it. Water spilt on to the floor, and she did her best to mop it up with the sleeve of her jumper, but it was the noise that worried her. She paused again to make sure that the vicar wasn’t on his way back in, then took one of the candles from the altar and lit it with the matches she’d brought. Just in case it let her down, she lit a second candle and left it burning in its pillar to guide her back to safety. Now that she could see properly, it was easy to find what she was looking for – a wooden trapdoor, just to the right of the altar table, with a metal hook in one corner. The door covered some steps down to a passage under the church. Harry had shown it to her, but warned her not to come here without him because it might be dangerous: it led to a sort of cellar under the bell tower, and then down again to the sea. Sometimes – at high tide – the water filled the lower part of the passage completely. The first time he brought her here, they had stood in the cellar and listened as the sea crept gradually towards them. She had said it sounded like the hiss of snakes and Harry had laughed, but not unkindly – Harry was never unkind.
After that, she had pestered him to bring her here as often as possible and he had agreed – on the condition that she promised never to come alone, and that they never went further down. No one else seemed to know that you could get right to the sea – Harry said that people used the passage regularly in the olden days, had even lived in the cave which it led to – but nobody bothered with it now. She loved the idea of sharing something so exciting with her brother. One day, she announced proudly to Morwenna that she and Harry had a secret, but Morwenna had been furious; she had tried everything to make Loveday tell her what it was, had even started following her for a while to see what she and Harry were doing, but Loveday knew every hiding place there was on the estate and her sister could never keep up with her. After that, though, she hadn’t boasted to anyone else, not even Christopher – and anyway, she and Christopher had a secret of their own.
As she set out down the passage, she felt a little guilty about breaking her promise to Harry. Still, she would only go as far as the room under the bell tower and she wouldn’t stay long – just long enough to leave the parcel of food that Mrs Snipe had let her take from the pantry. After her conversation with Nathaniel, Loveday had thought long and hard about where Harry would go first when he came back, and this seemed to her to be the obvious place. The tunnel widened out into a small room, about ten feet wide in each direction; she held up her candle, hardly daring to look, but was disappointed to see that the space was empty. In her heart, she had hoped that Harry might be here already, smiling at her and holding up his hands the way he always did when she found him out in a game of hide and seek. The candle sputtered for a second and some wax dripped down on to her hand, burning her fingers and forcing her to let go of the precious light. The flame went out and, as she stood there in the darkness, peeling the hardened wax from her skin, she had a sudden moment of doubt. What if Nathaniel was wrong? When she’d told Christopher that love brought people back, he’d told her not to be silly – that wasn’t how it happened and Harry would never come back. She’d stood her ground and Christopher had apologised for calling her silly, but now, all alone, she was less sure. After all, Christopher worked with the dead and surely knew more about them than Nathaniel – perhaps he was right after all? The idea of Harry being gone for ever was too much to bear, and she shook it off obstinately. All she had to do, she thought, remembering Nathaniel’s words, was to have faith and she would be sure to see her brother again one day. She must be brave, and keep looking.
The candle had not rolled far and she didn’t have to grope around on the floor for long to find it. She picked it up gratefully, then felt her way back along the passage and climbed the stone steps to the church, where the second flame was still burning brightly on its pillar. As soon as the trapdoor was closed, she relit the candle she had dropped, blew the other one carefully out, and made her way down the aisle and back to the entrance. She left the church, shutting the door softly behind her, and followed the path round to the graveyard. The path was sunk quite low into the ground, and the gravestones stood up tall on either side like soldiers. When she got to the place where Harry had gone, she looked sadly down at the mound of earth. All her work had been covered up, and the flowers that lay on top of the soil were nowhere near as pretty as the ones she had picked for her brother. She wished he could have seen how nice the bluebells looked, but she would make sure to tell him. For now, she would leave him her candle. She placed it, still alight, next to the flowers and was pleased to see that the grave looked instantly more cheerful.
It was time to go home. She’d been out too long, and Morwenna would be looking for her. She turned and headed towards the cliff path, noticing suddenly how cold it was and deciding to take the shortest route through the woods to the cottage. When she reached the edge of the trees, she turned back for one last look at Harry’s grave, and was astonished to see Christopher standing on the spot she had just left, staring down at the candle which the breeze had already blown out. He had his back to her, but there was no mistaking his silhouette, clearly outlined in the moonlight. What was he doing, she wondered? As she watched, he turned and walked back behind the church, following the path which would bring him round to the lych gate. She retraced her steps to meet him, pleased that they could walk back together but, when she got to the gate, there was no sign of him. She waited a couple of minutes, then went further into the churchyard to look for him, peering behind the gravestones, even trying the church itself, but Christopher was nowhere to be seen. Puzzled, and annoyed with him for giving her the slip, Loveday set off for home.
It was already long after midnight when Morwenna began to clear away the mess left behind in her cottage after the wake. She had refused all offers of help: the women meant well, but she just wanted everybody out of her house and out of her head, no matter how many hours it took her to wash the endless dirty cups and get rid of the smell of stale drink which hung around the downstairs rooms. Sighing heavily, she began to gather together the empty bottles and leftover food; her weariness made things look worse than they were, she was sure, but it felt as though the rituals associated with Harry’s death – even down to the chaos left behind by his friends – would never end.
Certainly, there was plenty here for her to do while she waited up for Loveday. In the end, she had given up trying to find her sister: she might be anywhere on the estate, and she would no doubt come home when she was ready. Taking responsibility for raising a young child had not come easily to Morwenna and even now, after eight years, the protectiveness and sense of duty which she thought she ought to feel still eluded her. It was hard to be a
