Shepherd's Cross (20 page)

‘Bloody hell,’ said Dougie, his smile
now completely vanished.

‘Aye, bloody hell indeed,’ Blackett
said. ‘Not so daft now, am I?’

Emily looked at him, her voice calm yet
serious. ‘This cross…can you remember which direction it was facing?’ It could
have been the light, but she seemed paler, as if the colour had drained from
her face.

‘Which direction?’ replied Blackett. ‘Aye,
I can tell you exactly where it was facing. Right at this village, that’s
where.’

‘Are you absolutely sure about that?’

‘One hundred percent sure. Feel free to
have a look up there yourself; as far as I know, the damn thing’s still stuck
in the ground. It was buried so deep that we couldn’t get it out. It’ll be
frozen in solid now, there’ll be no shifting it until the thaw comes. Anyway,
what does it matter which way it’s facing?’

‘Well,’ said Emily. ‘I suppose it
depends on who put it there. More to the point, it depends on whether or not
whoever put it there knew what they were doing. If they did know…well…in that
case it does mean something. Something not particularly pleasant, I’m afraid.’

‘Go on,’ urged Blackett, everyone in the
room now engrossed in what she had to say.

Emily scanned the room, making sure she
was familiar with everyone in it. She didn’t have a problem talking to
her
people
about such matters, but would perhaps have felt differently had there been any
of the Rowan Lane residents listening in to what she was about to say. ‘It’s
probably coincidence, but in the olden days, when witchcraft was commonplace
around these parts, if you wanted to curse somebody, or even a whole village,
you would do so by marking them with a sign of the Devil. There were several
ways of doing this: you could paint an inverted pentagram on your target’s house
in tar, or nail a black cloth soaked in goat’s blood to their door; indeed,
there were numerous means of skinning the proverbial cat. One of the rarer
choices, however, was to place the cross of Lucifer between the sun and the
object of your curse, ‘casting the shadow of the Devil upon it’. Now I’m not
saying that’s what’s behind the discovery you’ve made on your farm, Wilf, and
it’s probably just an unfortunate coincidence, but from what you’ve told me, it
sounds like it could be the work of someone who knows a thing or two about the
occult. Firstly, it’s up on your top field, way above us to the west, coming
between the sun and Shepherd’s Cross. Secondly, it’s facing towards us, which
means figuratively speaking its shadow will be falling directly on us; and
thirdly, from the size of it, it doesn’t sound like the work of a couple of
bored school children with too much time on their hands.’

Blackett took a heavy swig of his beer. ‘All
that may or may not be true,’ he said, wiping the froth from his mouth with his
shirt sleeve. ‘But it still doesn’t get us any closer to finding out who did
it.’

‘Or perhaps more importantly,
why
they
did it,’ replied Emily.

‘Come on Emily, don’t be ridiculous,’
Tina said. ‘Why would anyone want to curse a harmless village like Shepherd’s
Cross? The majority of folk around here wouldn’t hurt a fly.’

‘I don’t know,’ replied Emily. ‘And I
don’t want to force the matter any further than it needs to be. However, the
fact that there was a sheep sacrificed arguably makes it all the more serious –
a sacrifice to what, or to whom? That’s the question I’d be asking.’

‘Don’t talk daft!’ said Tina, her smile
tinged with nervousness. ‘This isn’t the seventeenth century.’

Emily smiled. ‘I know, and you’re
probably right. But I can’t think of any other motive for it, can you?’ She
looked at Blackett. ‘I’m reluctant to admit it, but from what you’ve told us,
there are clear similarities with that thing on your top field and the actions
of someone familiar with black magic and witchcraft. Why else would they have
done it?’

Blackett shrugged his shoulders, hiding
the fact that inside he was terrified at the thought of such people roaming
around his fields. ‘That’s not all,’ he said, staring at the floor like a
guilty schoolboy. ‘Standing between whatever that thing is and Shepherd’s Cross
is Fellside Hall. What’s more, I noticed this morning that the chimneys were
smoking. Someone’s inside.’

‘That I
can
help you with,’ said
Tina. ‘Frank was telling me last night about these two archaeologists from
London. They’re planning on studying the forts around Hadrian’s Wall and are
staying in Fellside Hall while they’re here. Ted Wilson brokered the deal,
apparently. He’s asked Frank to do some work tidying the place up. I’ve no idea
how long they’re planning to stay, but Frank reckons they’re full of money. If
that’s the case, I can’t for the life of me understand why they’d want to stay
there. The damn place is falling apart.’

‘Did Frank happen to mention what these
two archaeologists were like?’ Emily asked.

‘Not really. Just that they appear to
want to keep themselves to themselves. Very private, apparently; not keen to
attract attention. Frank said that everything’s got to go through Ted Wilson;
under no circumstances did they want to be disturbed by any unsolicited calls
up at the Hall. You know what these academic types are like; never happier than
when they’ve got their head in a book.’

‘You don’t think they’ve got anything to
do with my field, do you?’ asked Blackett. ‘I’ll burn that bloody Hall down if
they have – them in it n’all!’

‘I doubt it, Wilf,’ replied Tina. ‘Besides,
stop being so paranoid. They’ve only just got here and you’re talking about
burning their house down. Hardly the way we like to welcome guests, is it?’

‘Guests my arse! What with dickheads
like Bainbridge and that other jumped-up lot down Rowan Lane, the last thing I
want is more unwanted guests coming here. I’ve had my fill of them.’

‘I’m sure they’re perfectly decent
people,’ Emily said. ‘Don’t worry, Wilf, we’ll all keep our eyes and ears open
for you.’

‘Thanks, Emily. I appreciate it.’

‘All the same,’ said Tina. ‘As I said
earlier, there’s something funny going on around here; at least that’s how it
seems to me. Whatever it is, I hope it hasn’t got anything to do with that
cross on Wilf’s field.’ She looked across at Emily. ‘I never thought I’d say
this to you, but I sincerely hope you’re barking up the wrong tree with your
black magic theory. We could do without that part of our history coming back to
haunt us.’

Emily smiled at her. ‘Oh I’m sure it has
nothing to do with it,’ she said, her voice failing to convince herself, let
alone anyone else in the room. ‘Let’s hope so, anyway. For all our sakes.’

8.00pm:
Cara stood outside the door of number eight, Rowan Lane; her finger hovering
over the doorbell as she plucked up the courage to announce her arrival. No
matter how much she tried to convince herself that dinner with a man she’d only
just met did not officially constitute a date; she knew full well that the
chemistry between them pushed them way beyond the platonic category of ‘just
good friends.’ Besides, ‘just good friends’ didn’t usually spend upwards of two
hours getting themselves ready for a casual dinner date. She felt sick with
nerves as she pressed the doorbell, a flight of butterflies frantically beating
their wings against the inside of her stomach.
What if I’m overdressed?
What
if he answers the door wearing a baggy tracksuit and sees me all tarted up like
some
desperate housewife
?
Oh, God…what am I doing here?
As
she heard the sound of approaching footsteps, she quickly checked for a final
time that her hair was in place and took a deep breath to steady her nerves.

The door opened to reveal a
smartly-dressed Ben Price, holding a red and white gingham tea-towel in one
hand and gawping at her like she was some kind of alien life-form from the
planet Zorg. His reaction confused her, causing her to blush with
self-consciousness. ‘Err – hello?’ she asked. ‘Is everything alright? You look
like you’ve seen a ghost.’

Ben smiled at her. ‘Wow,’ he said,
trying his best to keep his eyes above her neckline. ‘I have to say, you look
absolutely stunning. For a moment there I thought you were someone else! No
offence, it’s just that you look very different out of uniform…not that there’s
anything wrong with you in it, of course, but…’

‘I’ll take that as a compliment,’ she said,
interpreting his waffling as a sign that her efforts had not completely been in
vain. ‘But if you don’t mind, it’s a little cold out here. Any chance we could
continue the pleasantries inside?’

‘Eh? Oh, of course. Please, come in,’ he
replied, gesturing for her to step inside.

‘I brought you these,’ she said, handing
him a box of chocolates she’d bought that afternoon from Turner’s general
store. ‘I thought you might like to share them with Chloe.’

‘Really, Cara, you shouldn’t have.
That’s very kind of you.’ He took her coat and umbrella and placed them next to
the hallway radiator to dry. ‘Why don’t you come into the kitchen; dinner’s
almost ready. I don’t know about you, but all that running around after Chloe
this afternoon has given me a heck of an appetite.’

‘Mmm…me too,’ she replied, casting her
eyes nosily around the hall as she followed him. ‘I forgot to mention yesterday
- this is a lovely house you have. The kitchen’s massive!’

‘It’s far too big for me, especially
when I haven’t got Chloe here. A lot of these cupboards are empty; most of the time
I probably only use half of it.’

‘Where is Chloe?’

‘She’s asleep. She’s still at that perfect
age where she’s ready for bed by seven-thirty. She desperately wanted to stay
up to see you, but what with all that fresh air and exercise, she was barely able
to keep her eyes open. She was fast asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.’
He looked at her and smiled. ‘I’m afraid it’s just the two of us. I hope you
don’t mind?’

‘Not at all,’ she said, secretly glad,
but trying not to appear particularly bothered either way. ‘What are you
cooking? It smells delicious.’

‘Good old spaghetti Bolognese. With some
garlic bread and a baby leaf salad on the side. It won’t win any awards, but it
is one of my more reliable concoctions.’ He reached into a cupboard and took
out a couple of wine glasses. ‘Red or white?’

‘I’m sorry, but I’ll have to be terribly
boring and stick with water. I’m afraid I’m not allowed anything stronger; just
in case my community needs me! You go ahead though – I promise not to be too
envious.’

‘No no,’ he replied, replacing the
bottle of red onto its rack. ‘I’m not that bothered either way. I don’t tend to
drink much when Chloe’s here in case she might need me for anything during the
night. Anyway, you’d only end up trying to take advantage of me…’

Cara raised her eyebrows. ‘Yeah right.
You’re not exactly my type.’

‘Ouch – you know how to knock a man’s
confidence!’ He smiled, handing her a glass of water. ‘And now that we’ve established
that you don’t fancy me, how about we sit down in silence and eat our dinner
before going our separate ways?’

‘Sounds perfect to me,’ she said,
playfully sticking her tongue out at him.

Cara sat at one end of the kitchen table
and watched Ben as he put the finishing touches to dinner, appreciating the
effort he had gone to. Since arriving at his house, she’d hardly spared her
friend Bronwyn a thought. When she’d called by the Hostel at lunchtime to check
up on her, there had been nobody at home, which was slightly odd given her fatigued
condition earlier that morning. Later, when she’d returned to the Hostel after
work, she had found a scribbled note that read ‘feeling better – gone to see
Kate – back later - maybe in the morning xx.’ On the one hand, Cara was pleased
that her friend had perked up and felt well enough to go out, but on the other
hand, she was surprised that Bronwyn had not wanted to spend the evening with
her. It seemed a little casual of her to simply up sticks and disappear like
that. Cara only hoped that Bronwyn wouldn’t be too upset that she’d helped
herself to her makeup and to one of her outfits from the wardrobe. The classic
little black number she’d chosen was certainly more appealing, and revealing,
than a standard issue Police Constable’s uniform.

When everything was ready, Ben carefully
served the food into two bowls and joined Cara at the table. ‘Bon appetite,’ he
said. ‘Or should I say ‘Buon appetito’?’

‘And to you too! Thanks Ben, it’s very
kind of you to have gone to all this effort. I have to say, I’m very
impressed…and a little surprised.’

‘You haven’t tasted it yet,’ he said,
placing his hands together and closing his eyes. ‘Do you want to say Grace or
shall I?’

Cara couldn’t tell whether or not he was
joking. ‘Errmm...it’s probably better if you do,’ she replied, not wanting to
offend him by laughing on the off-chance that he was being serious. She even
found herself automatically copying his pose, prepared to go along with the
ritual if it meant something to him.

‘OK then, allow me. Lord, thank you for
this lovely meal you’ve set before us. And thank you for giving me the
opportunity to share it with someone as beautiful and as captivating as the
lady sitting opposite me.’ Cara opened one eye slightly, a cynical smile
spreading across her face. ‘And finally, oh Lord,’ he continued, ‘give me the
strength to resist her advances, which will inevitably come later as a result
of the charm, humour and attention that I intend to shower upon her for the
rest of the evening. Amen.’

He opened his eyes just in time to see
the approaching napkin before it smacked him right in his face. ‘Ow! What was
that for?’

‘Here am I thinking that you’re an
honest, decent Christian man, while all along you’re nothing but a blaspheming
pervert! However, I suppose I’ve no option but to go along with your evil ways
for the time being: there’s no way I’m leaving before I’ve eaten my lovely
dinner.’

For the following hour or so, the
conversation flowed as freely as running water. Indeed, such was the
familiarity between them, that anyone looking in would have assumed that Cara
and Ben had known each other for years. The topics of conversation ranged from
favourite music to worst ever holidays: Ben was impressed by Cara’s almost
encyclopaedic knowledge of rock bands from the 1970s and 80s; whereas Cara was
left surprised by Ben’s penchant for watching period dramas and pleasantly
puzzled by his self-confessed addiction to romance novels. They both had their
reasons for keeping the tone of the conversation light-hearted and superficial;
enjoying the rare opportunity to relax and have fun with another like-minded
adult, free from the shackles of their everyday commitments.

When she had finished eating, Cara sat
back and patted her stomach. ‘I have to say, that was one of the nicest meals
I’ve had in a long time. It was absolutely delicious.’

‘There’s more in the pan if you’d care
for seconds?’

‘You’re joking aren’t you? I don’t think
I could manage another mouthful.’

‘Well, I hope you have room for dessert?
Chloe and I have made our world famous chocolate mousse. And if I do say so
myself, it’s pure, unadulterated indulgence in a glass.’

‘Now you’re talking! You certainly know how
to spoil a girl, Mr Price.’

‘Don’t thank me; it was Chloe’s
suggestion,’ he lied. ‘Look, why don’t we go through to the lounge? I could do
with a comfy seat.’

‘Okay. But first let me give you a hand
with the washing up.’

Ben seemed genuinely aggrieved. ‘No way
Jose. You are under strict orders to leave all of that to me. I’m not wasting
one moment of our evening scrubbing the burnt bottom of a pan when I could be
talking to you. To the lounge,’ he said, ushering her out of the kitchen. ‘Quick
march, on the double.’

‘Yes sir. It’s just that I’m not used to
being waited on hand and foot like this.’

‘Enjoy it while it lasts,’ he smiled. ‘It’s
all downhill from here on in.’

‘Well in that case,’ she said, nodding
towards the hallway, ‘lead the way.’

They walked into the lounge together,
Ben inviting Cara to take a seat while he turned on the stereo and selected
some music. As she sank back into the soft, comfortable leather sofa, Ben left
the room, returning shortly after with the desserts. He joined her on the sofa,
and for the following few minutes they sat together quietly, enjoying the soft,
rich taste of the chocolate and the opportunity to relax and unwind.

‘Do you like it here?’ asked Ben, taking
the empty glass from her and setting it down on the side-table next to his own.
‘Shepherd’s Cross, I mean.’

‘Part of me does, and part of me
doesn’t. It’s certainly been an experience. It’s an entirely different world to
the one I grew up in, but I couldn’t ever envisage myself settling here; I’m
far too young for that. My friend, Bronwyn - I don’t know if you’ve met her? -
she runs the Youth Hostel. She loves it here…it reminds her of her home in New
Zealand. And there are lots of people who have been born and bred here and
would never live anywhere else.
But it’s not for me, not yet anyway. I
want to experience the world, not hide away from it.’

‘I hate it here,’ Ben said
matter-of-factly, stretching back into the sofa. ‘The place is too cramped, too
claustrophobic. As soon as I step out of the door I feel like I’m being watched.
Like Neighbourhood Watch on steroids!’ he said, chuckling to himself. ‘I know
some people like the close knit feel of a small community, but not me. Give me
the anonymity of the big city any day of the week.’

‘If that’s the case, why don’t you move
back?’

‘I intend to. Just as soon as the
housing market picks up. Jane - my ex-wife - thought it would be good for Chloe
to be raised in the country, safe from all those nasty Geordie kids. She
convinced me to buy this place, so we did, and like everyone else in the street
we paid way over the top for it. It’s not worth anything near what we paid for
it back then, so I’m afraid I’m stuck here, at least until the economy picks
up. And as soon as it does, I’m out of here. Back to the big smoke for me.’

Cara sat up and looked at him. ‘Not that
it’s important,’ she said, ‘but I finish my posting here in a couple of months.
I’ll be transferring to Durham; at least I think I will.’ She smiled at him and
winked. ‘I thought it better that I let you know now before you fall head over
heels in love with me.’

Ben laughed. ‘I’ll try not to. Although
it feels like we’ve known each other for years!’

‘It does, doesn’t it? Anyway, the last
thing I want is a relationship. Mike - my ex-husband - he left me for another
woman. It’s taken me a long time to get over it, and I think part of me is
still struggling to come to terms with how he deceived me.’ She looked up at Ben
and smiled. ‘Why does life have to be so bloody complicated?’

‘I know what you mean; honestly I do.
I’ve been there with Jane. Okay, she didn’t leave me for anyone else, at least I
don’t think she did, but having someone reject you like that knocks the
stuffing out of you…turns your world upside down. I know it’s easier said than
done, but you have to try to move forward. Life’s too short.’ He smiled at her.
‘Listen to us; we sound like a right couple of losers.’

She laughed, placing her hand over her
eyes and shaking her head in embarrassment. ‘I know. Five minutes ago, I was
enjoying a light-hearted evening, and here I am now, pouring my heart out to
you like some tearful idiot.’

Ben smiled. ‘Come here,’ he said, taking
her hand in his and pulling her closer. They sat holding each other for several
minutes, enjoying the intimacy of the moment, not a word passing between them.

The silence was broken by a faint crying
noise coming from upstairs that caused them to jump swiftly to their feet,
neither of them wanting Chloe to see them like this. ‘Talk about bad timing,’
said Ben, walking to the hallway. ‘Sorry about this, but I better settle her
down. I’ll not be a minute.’