The Secret of Crickley Hall (31 page)

Read The Secret of Crickley Hall Online

Authors: James Herbert

Tags: #Thrillers, #Suspense, #Horror, #Fiction, #Ghost, #Haunted houses, #Orphanages

BOOK: The Secret of Crickley Hall
8.47Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Although the torchlight was feeble, Seraphina and Quentin could make out a small area of the cellar. Something was coming into view.

'Seph!'
Quentin screeched when he saw what that something was. Most of it was in shadow, but the sight was enough to loosen his bladder so that pee ran down his leg and joined the stream of water that was now flowing like a brook over stones.

Seraphina also screeched at the umbrageous form that stood near the foot of the steps. The shadows emphasized its undefined horror rather than concealed it.

Almost hysterical, Seraphina pushed open the door so hard that it swung wide, the handle smashing into the wall behind. Despite her terror, she halted in the doorway and Quentin, scrambling to get out behind her, gawped over her shoulder.

The hall was flooded as if all the small puddles had expanded into one great lake. The water was shallow, but it completely covered the flagstones. The bigger shock, though, was the figure standing at the turn of the stairs, blinding light shining through the window at its back so that the front was in shade. But not so shaded that Seraphina and Quentin could not see it was a naked man.

The man was skinny and sunlight behind created a halo effect with his white hair. But the image kept fluctuating, fading in and out so that it had no substance. One moment it looked solid, the next it was transparent and they could see the stairs and circular torchère through it. He held something in his right hand—a stick, a long stick of some kind—and as the sister and brother watched, the man raised it high over his head, then brought it down so swiftly it became a blur. The cane smacked against his own thigh, its end splaying over the flesh.

Swish-thwack!

Again, almost one sound.

Now Seraphina and Quentin shrieked in terror.

Hand in hand they ran, splashing through the water as they went, their shrieks filling the great hall and echoing off its thick walls.

 

 

 

37: GHOST

 

The plan had been to get Loren to a doctor first thing, have her checked out and, if there was nothing physically wrong with her (she seemed fine this morning, if a little tired—but then with four in a bed again, none of them got a good night's sleep) and her pain last night was not a portent or symptom of serious illness (growing pains couldn't be that violent), they would drop her off in time for school; he would return to Crickley Hall with Eve and Cally, then take himself off to Ilfracombe and get on with the job for which he was being paid. That was the plan. It didn't work out that way, though.

At the health centre, despite the Caleighs' early arrival, all three doctors had eight o'clock appointments. In fact, they had scheduled surgeries running right through the morning to midday. As Loren appeared to be perfectly fine, the clinic's receptionist said she would try to fit their daughter in between legitimate appointments. As it happened, there was a ten-thirty cancellation and Eve and Loren were ushered in to see a doctor while Gabe kept an eye on Cally in the waiting room.

According to Eve later, the congenial doctor, a handsome, short-bearded, middle-aged man who treated Loren with easygoing respect, had carried out a thorough examination of their daughter, prodding her tummy and other places with gentle fingers, pressing hard, though, into the muscles of her legs because she had told him that was where it hurt last night. He listened to her heartbeat and lungs and enquired about her health in general; he also asked if she suffered from depression or if she was hyperactive at all. Did she have mood swings (what girl approaching her 'teens' didn't?) and was she menstruating yet? He asked a score of other questions at the end of which he announced that he could find nothing wrong with Loren, although from the slight pouches under her eyes she looked as if she could do with a good night's sleep. But if Eve wanted, he could send Loren to hospital for further and more extensive tests. Seeing her daughter's negative expression, Eve had declined.

Sometimes, the doctor had gone on to explain, and contradictory to what Gabe had said the previous night, troubled sleepers could have such vivid dreams of punishment that they honestly felt they were experiencing the pain. There certainly were no marks on Loren's legs, no weals, no bruises, not even any redness, so it could only have been a severely traumatic dream experience. Should such dreams continue, then he knew an excellent child psychiatrist to whom he could refer Loren.

Eve told him they would keep it in mind if it happened again.

They left the centre just before 11 a.m. and Gabe rang Seapower's Ilfracombe office on his cell phone (which worked fine in Merrybridge) to let his colleagues know he would be in later. Loren was left at school after Eve had had a word with Horkins, the headteacher. From there the three of them returned to Crickley Hall, where Gabe intended to drop off Eve and Cally before going on to work.

But when they got back to the house, they found a police patrol car in the parking area close to the bridge.


The uniformed policeman was waiting on Crickley Hall's doorsteps, the front door open wide behind him.

'Mr and Mrs Caleigh?' the officer said as they approached.

'What's going on?' Gabe asked, a worried frown creasing his forehead.

'You are Mr Caleigh?'

Gabe nodded. 'This is my wife, Eve.'

The policeman took out a small notebook from his breast pocket and flipped it open. 'Your full name, sir.'

'Gabriel Caleigh.'

'Gabriel?'

'Gabriel.'

The policeman scribbled in his book.

'D'you mind telling us why you're here?' Gabe asked.

'There were more of us earlier,' the policeman responded, stepping off the doorsteps. 'I'm PC Kenrick. I was left to wait for you, sir. Can you tell me what time you left the house this morning?'

'What's this about?'

Eve glanced at Gabe, concern drawing her features.

'If you would just answer the question.' The policeman was eye to eye with Gabe.

'About seven thirty, perhaps a bit later,' Eve said quickly. 'We took our daughter to the health centre in Merrybridge.'

'This little girl?' PC Kenrick indicated Cally, who sidled up behind her mother's legs at the attention. She peeked out at the policeman.

'No, our other daughter, Loren,' replied Eve. 'We dropped her off at school on the way back.'

'And this is the first time you've returned?' He directed the question at Gabe again.

'Uh-huh. We left the centre about eleven. Took Loren to Merrybridge Middle School and came straight back here.'

'Who else occupies the house apart from yourselves?'

Gabe was perplexed. 'No one else, just us. Look, can you tell us what this is all about? And how did you open the front door?'

The officer had decided to consult his notebook at that moment. 'Uh, yes, sir. Sorry. The outer kitchen door was already open when we arrived, although we also had its key. We unlocked the front door from the inside.'

'Who's we and how did you get the key to the kitchen?'

'My sergeant and two other officers. We obtained the key from someone who'd already been inside the house. That was the, uh, complainant.'

'The complainant? Who the hell is that?'

'If you'll let me ask the questions, sir.'

'Well, what's the complaint?'

'Better that you let me ask the questions for now, sir.' There was no West Country in the PC's voice. 'I will inform you as to what this concerns in due course.'

Gabe looked at Eve, then shrugged resignedly. 'Go ahead,' he said to the policeman.

Although PC Kenrick was watching him closely, it was an indifferent stare.
He must be all of twelve years old,
thought Gabe.
Okay, maybe in his early twenties. Young and keen, polite but breakable. Stay cool,
Gabe advised himself; Kenrick was only doing his job, but his guardedness was a little irritating.

'Were you alone in your house some time this morning, Mr Caleigh?' the policeman asked.

'It isn't my house. We're only renting the place for a while.'

'Yes, we were informed of that.'

'Informed by who?' questioned Eve.

'The victims' mother. The mother is actually the complainant.'

'Victims' mother?' Gabe was becoming more intrigued by the minute.

'She and another lady are Crickley Hall's regular cleaners. Now, if we can continue with the questions?'

'The answer is no, I haven't been on my own in the house this morning. I told you—we took our other daughter to see a doctor.' He couldn't tell if the policeman was satisfied or not.

'You're saying the place was empty after you left at around seven thirty? No one else has been staying with you, a relative, or a friend?'

Gabe shook his head. 'No one.'

Kenrick considered this for a moment. He said: 'Does anyone else have a key to the property, anyone other than yourselves?'

'The realtor—' Gabe caught the policeman's frown. 'Sorry, the estate agent would obviously have a set. I guess the cleaners must have a set too.'

'They only have the kitchen-door key. Which is how the victims gained entry. The girl stole her mother's key, the mother being one of the cleaners.'

'I don't get this "victims" thing.'

Eve butted in. 'Officer, it's time you told us what this is all about. If there have been trespassers in the house, then it would seem we're the victims.'

'I was coming to that, Mrs Caleigh.' PC Kenrick slipped his notebook into the breast pocket of his uniform jacket. 'Earlier this morning while, it appears, you were out, two children—well, the boy is a youth, thirteen or fourteen years of age—say that a man exposed himself to them inside Crickley Hall.'

Eyebrows raised in astonishment, Gabe and Eve looked at one another again. Gabe turned back to Kenrick.

'Say what?' he said incredulously.

'A naked man came down the hall stairs and frightened them. They said he was carrying a thin stick that he beat himself with.'

The same thought whirled around inside both Gabe and Eve's head. The punishment cane. It couldn't be: Gabe had stashed it away in a kitchen cupboard along with the book and the photograph. But what man could have got into Crickley Hall? Eve's face paled.

'Hey, wait a sec,' Gabe suddenly said. There is another person who I'm sure will have a key, maybe the whole set.'

'Who might that be, Mr Caleigh?' The policeman was interested.

'Percy Judd. He's Crickley Hall's gardener and handyman.'

'Gabe!' Eve was shocked.

'Yeah, I know. It's unlikely.' Gabe addressed the constable: 'Look, he's in his eighties and I don't think he's the kinda guy who'd wander around without any clothes on.'

'Do you have an address for this Mr Judd?'

'No. He lives further up the hill, I think, somewhere off the road. I'm sure anyone down in the village would know—it's a pretty tight community. Or try the local vicar; Percy works around the church.'

'I'll follow it up.'

'You'd be wasting your time,' commented Eve. 'I'm certain he'd never do anything like that.'

'You know him well, Mrs Caleigh?'

'No, not well. But he's a harmless old man. A nice man. It's just not possible.'

'As I said, I'll follow it up. Can you think of anyone else who might have got inside the house in your absence?'

Gabe and Eve shook their heads.

'Nobody,' affirmed Gabe. 'Have you searched the place?'

'Yes, we've done that, sir. We found the house empty.'

'You looked everywhere?' Gabe was worrying about the safety of his own family.

'Top to bottom. Basement too. By the way, have you had any flooding in the house recently?'

Gabe immediately thought of the pools of water he'd found around the hall and stairs on their first night at Crickley Hall. But he wouldn't call that flooding.

'We've had some leaks,' he replied, 'but nothing serious.'

The policeman looked puzzled. 'Well, we found no evidence of flooding actually, but the boy and girl told us the whole ground floor was covered in water.'

'That's crazy.' Gabe rubbed the back of his neck. This is all crazy. Is the house flooded now?' He peered past the policeman into the hall and his own question was answered.

Nevertheless, PC Kenrick replied, 'No, sir. Like I said, we didn't find a drop of water anywhere it shouldn't be, not even in the basement where the well is located.'

'Did you find anything when you searched?' asked Eve.

'No. All we did discover that was peculiar was a dead rat inside a plastic bag in the middle of the hall. But the kids owned up to that. Some kind of practical joke, apparently.'

Gabe remembered the dead wood pigeon on the doorstep; he'd mentioned it to Eve.

Eve spoke: 'One of these children wasn't called Seraphina, was she?' Loren had told her mother the unusual name of the bully she'd punched.

PC Kenrick thought before he answered. They had to be informed sooner or later. 'Er, yes, Mrs Caleigh. Seraphina Blaney. The youth is her older brother, Quentin. Their mother is Patricia Blaney; she was the one who called us after her kids came home in a terrible state. They told her they'd seen a naked man in Crickley Hall. They also said the place was flooded. And oh yes, there was something nasty in the cellar.'

'I'm losing this,' said Gabe.

'What did they mean by something nasty?' Eve had gripped her husband's arm. Cally was no longer hiding but had squeezed between her mother and father to gaze up at the blue-uniformed stranger.

'Well… they couldn't describe it, actually. They said that something—a figure, an animal, we don't know yet—came out of the dark; the kids were too upset to get much sense from them. Anyway, it scared them enough to make them leave the cellar.'

'They were in the cellar?' asked Gabe, still trying to take it all in.

'Not down in the cellar; they were hiding behind the cellar door, they told us. Whatever it was—and my sergeant thinks it's only their imagination running wild—it scared them so much it drove them from their hiding place.'

'But what were they hiding from?' Eve was as mystified as her husband.

Other books

She's No Angel by Kira Sinclair
Dead Center by David Rosenfelt
Naked Once More by Elizabeth Peters
Pilgrims Don't Wear Pink by Stephanie Kate Strohm
FMR by SL
With the Might of Angels by Andrea Davis Pinkney
Snobbery with Violence by Beaton, M.C.