Hiding From the Light (36 page)

Emma was climbing back into her car when Mike turned in at the rectory gate. She waited for him by the front door. ‘I had just given up. I’m sorry, this is probably a bad time to come and see you.’

‘Not at all.’ He was reaching into his pocket for the keys. ‘Come in.’

She glanced at him as he unlocked the door. He looked very tired and he did not seem all that pleased to see her. Puzzled and not a little subdued but not surprised by his reaction to the sight of her, she followed him inside. ‘I needed to talk to you.’ Just in case he thought it was a social call.

‘Fine.’ He led the way into his study. Flooded by the morning sunlight, it was warm and bright.

She felt suddenly nervous. ‘You said you’d be there if I needed you.’

‘And I meant it.’

The whore is trying to talk her way into your heart, my friend
.

The sudden voice in his head made Mike jump. ‘Shit!’

Emma stared at him, shocked and surprised. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes, I’m sorry!’ There at last was the boyish grin which she liked so much, the anguished Puritan side to him gone. ‘A touch of migraine.’ He paused, closing his eyes to apologise silently for the lie. ‘I took your advice. I’ve just been up to get some pills from the doc.’

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you weren’t well. Listen, you don’t need me here.’ She backed towards the door. ‘We can always talk another time – ’

‘No, Emma, don’t go.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Sit down.’

She sat.

‘Now, please. Tell me.’

‘Partly it’s Lyndsey.’

‘Ah!’ He sighed. ‘So much these days seems to come back to Lyndsey. Whom I have not yet met!’

Emma gave a wry smile. ‘Nor will you if she sees you first! The thing is, there is more to it all than Lyndsey.’ She took another breath, as though she were finding it difficult to breathe. ‘I got my sleeping pills the other day because, as I said, I couldn’t sleep. That’s not quite the whole truth. The thing is, when I do sleep, as I think I told you, I have terrible nightmares. I thought the pills might help, make me sleep more deeply or something, but they don’t. The dreams, the horrors, are still there. Now I don’t dare take the pills. I don’t want to sleep. Not ever again.’ She looked down at her hands and he suspected it was so that he would not see that her eyes were full of tears.

He didn’t say anything immediately. When she glanced up she saw he was frowning. ‘The nightmares are horrible – frightening,’ she went on hesitantly, forcing herself to continue. ‘It’s the house. Lyndsey. All of it. I keep dreaming about the old lady who lived there.’

‘Liza.’ Mike said the word almost to himself and she was astonished to see a spasm of something like pain cross his face.

‘Yes, poor Liza.’

He looked up at her. ‘I know you don’t come to church, Emma, but do you pray?’

She was taken aback by the question. ‘I suppose we all pray sometimes, even if we don’t believe there’s anyone there.’

‘It’s a step in the right direction if you can pretend.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘It’s worth keeping your options open. Words are powerful, Emma. Prayer, even if you think it’s superstitious nonsense, works.’

The woman is a witch. Ask her, rather, if she believes in the Devil!

Mike put his hand to his head. He went on, with an effort: ‘There is a prayer one can use, if you like. I’ll write it out for you. St Patrick’s breastplate. Recite it before you go to bed, like a mantra. Picture the love of Christ around you. You may not believe in him, but luckily he does believe in you.’ A ghost of the boyish grin crossed his face.

‘And you think it will work?’ She eyed him quizzically.

‘It’ll work.’

‘Does it work for you?’

He looked up to find her shrewd gaze fixed on his face.

‘It works, Emma.’

‘It just seems too easy. Say a prayer and everything will be all right. A bit simplistic. Sorry.’

‘It’s a start.’

‘And do I keep taking the tablets as well?’

Again the smile. ‘Ah, now that is not my department!’

‘But dreams are?’

‘Bad dreams are.’ He glanced away from her. ‘Can you tell me about them?’

She hesitated. ‘I’ve told you. Witches. What happened to them.’ She bit her lip.

Mike closed his eyes. Suddenly he couldn’t look at her any longer.

‘It’s terrible, Mike. And they won’t go away. It’s as if –’ She paused. ‘It’s as if they are trying to tell me something. Make me do something. And I don’t know what it is …’ Her voice trailed into silence.

He walked over to the window. Were those wisps of mist drifting through the trees near the gate, or had someone lit a bonfire? He pushed the window open and the autumnal smell of burning leaves reached his nostrils.

Beware, my friend. The whore is hoping to seduce you
.

Rubbing his face hard with the palms of his hands, he pulled the window shut with a bang.

‘I’m sorry, Mike. I expect there are things you need to do.’ She was looking uncomfortable. ‘I’ve taken up enough of your time.’

‘I wish I could help more.’ He risked a glance. ‘We are the best interpreters of our own dreams because we understand the language of our own souls. Perhaps you should try and translate the dream in terms of problems in your life at the moment.’

‘No, Mike!’ She headed for the door. ‘Thank you, but I don’t need Freud or Jung or any psycho-babble to interpret these dreams. They are real.’

Lyndsey was waiting for her at Liza’s, sitting on the wall of the terrace with Max looking smug on her knee.

‘You’ve been to see the rector. After all I said!’

Emma was astonished. ‘How on earth did you know?’

‘I know things.’ Lyndsey stood up after carefully decanting a reluctant Max onto the wall next to her. ‘You must not go near him.’

‘Now, look – ’

‘Listen.’ Lyndsey grabbed her wrist. ‘He is in league with Hopkins.’

Emma gaped at her for a few seconds. ‘Lyndsey, you are out of your mind!’

‘No, I’m not. He’s being overshadowed.’ Letting go of her, Lyndsey turned away and thumped her hands together in frustration. ‘Oh, why will no one believe me! I can see him.
See
him, Emma! Hopkins! He has got inside the rector’s head. He is trying to make the rector do things for him. Listen.’ She spun round to face Emma again. ‘You didn’t tell him anything?’

‘I don’t know what this great secret is that you are afraid I am going to tell him! I told him I was having bad dreams. About Liza.’ Emma’s hand closed around the small card in her pocket on which Mike had copied his prayer. It was one she vaguely remembered from her childhood. They must have used it at school.

She met Lyndsey’s gaze and then turned away, wondering suddenly if Alex had told her yet that she would no longer be allowed near his children. She suspected not.

Changing her mind about going into the house, she stepped away from the door. ‘Do you fancy a walk? I’ve got a bit of a headache and I’d love some fresh air.’

Lyndsey shrugged. ‘OK, if you want.’

They set off up the lane and then cut through the hedge following a footpath along the edge of the field. Beside them the hawthorn and wild rose bushes were heavy with scarlet berries interspersed with the juicy black fruits of bramble and dogwood. Every few steps they took disturbed the birds feeding greedily in amongst branches still green with leaves, only slowly now crisping and turning to autumn colour. Already the wind had begun to strip them from the trees to lie flabby and dying on the path at their feet. Torn cloud raced across the sky, trailing shadows across the newly ploughed furrows.

‘Promise you will be careful, Emma.’ Lyndsey was strolling beside her. ‘The rector will do you harm if you let him. He may not want to, but he may not be able to stop himself. Please believe me.’

‘How can you possibly say that?’ Emma stopped, suddenly angry. ‘He’s a good man. And you have never even met him. He told me so.’

‘I’ve seen him. I’ve watched him. I’ve seen Hopkins hovering near him, overshadowing him!’ Lyndsey stopped suddenly in her tracks with an exclamation of distress. ‘Oh, no. Look!’

Emma, almost too shocked and angry at her words about Mike to register the other woman’s sudden change of mood, followed her gaze automatically, for a moment not recognising what it was they were looking at. Lying in the nettles at the edge of the path was a small dead kitten. The two women stood gazing down at it. Lyndsey squatted down and stroked it gently. ‘Some bastard has shot it. Look.’ She pointed at the pellet holes in the side of its head. ‘Who could do that? Who could shoot a kitten?’ Her voice shook.

Emma was speechless with horror. ‘That’s awful.’ She knelt down on one knee and touched the small ginger face with her fingertip. The kitten was stiff and cold. ‘It must have been a mistake. No one would do it on purpose, surely.’

‘What sort of mistake?’ There were tears running down Lyndsey’s cheeks. ‘You mean they thought it was a fox? A fox cub? No. They must have been able to see what it was. It’s all part of this awful dark hatred that is taking us over.’ She bit back a sob. ‘We have to bury it.’

They found a couple of sticks and scraped a hole in the soft mud of the bank below the hedge. Gently Lyndsey lifted the kitten. She dropped a kiss on its head and laid it gently in the shallow grave.

‘Wait, I’ll get some flowers.’ Emma too was weeping now. Wiping her eyes, she wandered away on her own a few paces and picked some of the forget-me-nots and little scarlet pimpernel she had noticed growing amongst the stubble at the edge of the field. Returning, she saw Lyndsey was whispering a prayer and she waited quietly, her eyes closed, for her to finish.

‘Ready.’ Lyndsey looked up.

Emma stepped forward and gently laid the flowers on and around the kitten, then they scraped the soil back over the soft ginger fur. Lyndsey scattered some hips and haws over the place and finally a layer of leaves. ‘It’s a sign,’ she said sadly. ‘The balance is going so fast now, even the innocent are being drawn in.’

Emma was biting back her tears again. The small pretty animal had got to her. What it had been doing out in the fields she didn’t know. Perhaps it was part of a feral litter out on its first exciting hunt by itself. Perhaps it was a treasured pet, lost all by itself in the dark, seeing a human coming and recognising him as a friend, running towards him squeaking with excitement, because all the humans it had met before had loved it and petted it. They stood for a moment in silence, staring down, then of one accord they turned and began to retrace their steps.

When they reached the gate at Liza’s, Lyndsey stopped. ‘I think I’ll go on home.’ She shrugged. ‘We’re obviously both softies when it comes to cats.’

Emma nodded.

‘Remember what I said about Mike Sinclair, Emma. For your own sake.’ Lyndsey put her hand on Emma’s arm. ‘Please.’

Emma said nothing. She watched as Lyndsey walked off down the lane, then she turned and went indoors.

She had dialled Piers’s office number before she realised what she was doing. He listened to the story about the kitten and she almost felt the shrug as he replied, ‘You wanted to live in the country, Em. They shoot things in the country.’

‘But not cats!’

‘Hopefully not often.’ There was a pause. They were both thinking about Max and Min.

‘Please, Piers, can you come down this weekend?’

There was another longer pause. ‘I’m not sure, Em. I can’t promise, I’m afraid. You’ve got friends there, haven’t you, if you need someone to talk to?’

‘You know I have.’ She frowned. ‘But Piers – ’

‘Look, I’ll try, Em, OK? I’ll let you know.’ He had hung up before she could even reply.

Miserably, she picked up Max and hugged him tightly. ‘Please, Max, take care,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t go out in the fields.’

‘Mike?’ It was the bishop. ‘What is all this I hear? Judith tells me you’ve been in touch with John Downing.’

Mike found his hand clutching his phone receiver unnecessarily hard. ‘I did have a word with him a little while ago, yes.’

‘She said you’d been working too hard, and not getting enough rest. That’s not going to help anyone, old chap. You’ve got to take care of yourself, you know.’

‘I’m fine, Bishop.’ Mike tried to keep his exasperation out of his voice.

‘Of course you are. Mike, Judith has suggested you take a few days away and I agree with her. You obviously need a break. She’s willing to cover for you and take over anything that needs to be done, so there won’t be a problem.’

‘How thoughtful,’ Mike said dryly. He took a deep breath.

‘I want you to go today, Mike. Drop everything and go somewhere away from the parish where you can relax completely. Get some sleep. Some fresh air.’

‘I get plenty of fresh air in Manningtree, Bishop,’ Mike retorted. ‘It’s by the river.’

‘Of course it is.’ The bishop hastily rephrased his suggestion. ‘What I meant was, a change of air. It’s all arranged. I want you out of that rectory by teatime!’

‘I can’t go, Bishop.’ Mike frowned. ‘Not just like that. Next week, perhaps.’

‘Today, Mike.’ The benign voice held a hint of steel.

‘Bishop, Halloween is coming up.’ Mike knew he sounded desperate. ‘There are things I have to do. Things I’ve promised to do.’

There was a pause. ‘Of course. Witches. Judith said you were worried about witches. Mike, you’ve been told to leave all that to John Downing. All the more reason to be out of that parish until it is all over. Now, no arguments. I shall expect to hear from Judith that you have gone by tonight.’

Judith arrived half an hour later. Mike led her into his study and they sat down.

‘Mike –!’ She leaned forward earnestly, ready to speak, but he raised his hand.

‘Before you say anything, Judith, may I ask why you went behind my back and rang the bishop?’

‘Because I think you’re working too hard, Mike. You need a rest.’ She smiled benignly.

‘I may need sleep, Judith. I do not need to be packed out of the parish without any notice!’

‘Oh, come on, Mike, it’s not like that.’ She sat forward again. ‘Before you say anything else, I should tell you that I have dealt with Lyndsey Clark. So, that’s one thing less for you to worry about. It won’t be long before she gets the message.’

‘What message is that, Judith?’ He leaned back in his chair.

‘That we don’t want her kind round here. That if she knows what is good for her she will leave.’

‘I thought you said that your prayer circle could contain her? What changed your mind, Judith?’

‘I was wrong, Mike. Very wrong.’ She pursed her lips. ‘I have evidence that she is far, far more dangerous than even I expected.’

Mike frowned. ‘Evidence?’ he asked mildly.

She nodded vigorously.

‘And are you going to share it with me?’

‘Better not, Mike.’ She gave a sly smile. ‘This is women’s stuff.’

Looking up, he caught her expression as she gazed down at him. For a brief second it appeared to hold nothing but contempt. He took a deep breath. ‘And because of this “women’s stuff ” you have seen to it that she loses any jobs she might have so that she can’t stay here?’

‘I’ve had a word with the Wests, yes. And Ollie Dent.’ Judith looked smug.

Mike clenched his fists. She had certainly been busy. Sometimes Christian forgiveness was hard. More than anything he wanted to wipe that self-satisfied look off her face.

‘Judge not and ye shall not be judged, Judith,’ he said softly. ‘Did you not think that prayer was enough? That Our Lord would be able to deal with this situation without your help?’

‘You’re not telling me you condone what she has been doing?’ Her large brown eyes were suddenly a picture of innocence.

‘I am telling you that it is not our place to be judge and jury. That we should not behold the mote in our brother or sister’s eye because we might possibly have a great big plank in our own. And I am saying that to suggest that she has taken part in satanic rituals and that the Wests’ children are in danger is unforgivable. You do not have a shred of proof.’ His voice had risen angrily.

‘How do you know?’ She stood up and walked up to his desk. ‘It is only unforgivable if it is untrue.’ Leaning on the desk, she brought her face close to his. ‘Why are you so sure she is innocent?’ she hissed suddenly. ‘Why? Perhaps she has been weaving spells around you as she has around the woman living up at Liza’s.’

‘Emma?’ Mike was looking at her. Her face was very close. Too close. For a moment he didn’t recognise the Judith he knew.

‘I saw them just now walking in the fields. Talking. Whispering secrets. Close as that.’ She thrust her crossed fingers into his face.

Mike could not disguise his feeling of distaste. ‘Emma is well aware of Lyndsey’s beliefs. And we are both quite capable of taking care of ourselves, Judith. Thank you.’

‘Are you?’ She held his gaze with eyes that were as hard as stone. ‘When the bishop phoned me back last night he was very shocked that you hadn’t told him everything yourself.’ There was triumph in her voice. ‘He wondered if you were really settling in properly, if you felt you couldn’t go to him straight away if anything was worrying you. I told him I thought everything was all right, we were coping, but you had had to have a word with his deliverance team.’

‘Judith, it was not your place to speak to him!’ He stood up, unable suddenly to contain his anger.

‘Someone had to, Mike.’ She put her hand on his as he leaned forward, his braced fingers splayed on the cluttered desk in front of him.

He shuddered, and straightening, he pulled his hand away sharply. She did not appear to notice.

‘I told the bishop how hard you had been working. How wonderfully you have been coping with such a large scattered parish. How I felt you deserved a short break to recharge your batteries.’ She smiled. ‘I told him there was nothing happening that I couldn’t deal with. If there is anyone you need to see over the next couple of days or so, you can postpone your visit to them or I will do it for you. I will take the service on Sunday. It’s evensong, so that’s no problem. You needn’t do anything or tell anyone. I will do it all.’

‘But, Judith – ’

‘No buts, Mike.’ She smiled. ‘It’s all arranged. Bishop’s orders. All you have to do is pack a bag and head for the hills.’

She walked over to the window and gazed out into the garden. ‘I’ll even stay here, if it will help. I know you wouldn’t want to leave the rectory empty.’

This woman will help us, Michael. Much like Mary Phillips, to whose
soul she has given refuge, she is one of the army of the Lord
.

The voice was soft and insidious inside his head.

She will uncover the ungodly and see that they are punished. But it is
better that you stay. Yours is the hand that holds the sword of the righteous
.

‘No!’ Mike smacked the desk in front of him. ‘Get out! Do you hear me, get out!’

Judith stepped back, alarmed. ‘Mike – ’

‘Not you!’ Mike was staring at her, but he did not see her. Just for a second he thought he had seen another face, a man’s face, a wispy figure so close to him it was like his own shadow. He wiped his face on his forearm and took a deep breath. ‘You’re right, Judith. I need to get away. Go somewhere he can’t find me.’

‘Who?’ Judith had lost her confident demeanour. Suddenly she seemed unsure of herself.

Mike was breathing quickly, clenching and unclenching his fists. He had forgotten Judith was there. He had forgotten everything in the struggle to regain control of his mind. He could beat this. He was strong. He would not panic, would not give Hopkins the chance to get anywhere near him.

‘Mike? Is it your head? Shall I call a doctor?’

He heard her voice in the distance seconds before it was drowned by the roaring in his ears and then the explosion.

For a moment he didn’t know what had happened. He stood stunned, aware only that he was standing amidst a shower of glass, then he looked at Judith. She was chalk-white. ‘What is it? What’s happened?’ he asked. ‘Are you OK?’

‘It’s the monitor, Mike. The monitor on your computer.’

They stared at the smoking wreck of what had once been a fourteen-inch screen on the corner of his desk. A curl of smoke drifted across the room, accompanied by the acrid smell of burning plastic.

Mike shook his head. The voice had gone. The room was very quiet.

He looked back at her and somehow he managed to smile. ‘It is definitely time I took a holiday!’