The Secret of Crickley Hall (50 page)

She spoke slowly and firmly, brooking no dispute. 'You saw what happened, Maurice. It was an awful accident. Miss Linnet missed her footing on the stairs.' Her voice hardly wavered at all when she said, 'Go down and see if she's badly hurt.'

His eyes returned to the pit. All he heard was the urgent susurration of rushing water from the well. He didn't want to go down there. Not alone.

'Maurice, did you hear what I said? I want you to go down to the cellar and see how Miss Linnet is.' She reached forward and gripped his shoulder. Her hand felt like an iron claw through his flannel shirt.

'But… but what if she's dead, miss?'

'Don't be silly, boy. It was only a fall due to her own carelessness.'

'Miss…?'

'Did any of the children see the accident?' There was a noticeable quiver in her voice and a restlessness about her eyes.

'No, miss, they were all at the tables.'

'So only you witnessed her accidentally fall.'

He took in a long breath. 'Yes, miss.'

'Good boy. Well, now you must go and see how Miss Linnet is. Here, I'll turn on the light for you.' She reached past him and stabbed at the light switch.

It was still dingy, but he could just make out a curled bundle lying at the foot of the stairs, a bundle he knew was a human body. He was startled when he thought he saw the shape twitch. He turned back to Magda. He was almost as tall as her and their eyes were level.

'Will you come with me?' he asked her nervously.

'Is that necessary, Maurice? Can't you go alone? The other children are unsupervised.'

'I'd prefer it if you come with me.' It was almost a whine.

She gave it a moment's thought and he could see the panic was still there at the back of her eyes. 'Very well,' she said stiffly, 'we'll go together. You can lead the way.'

As he hesitated on the top step, he was sure he saw movement below again.

'I don't think she's dead, Miss Cribben,' he whispered and Magda froze. It was then that he realized that Magda Cribben did not want the teacher to be alive.

•

Maurice momentarily closed his eyes as he remembered the frightening descent to the well cellar. Had it really been all those years ago? It was still vivid in his mind.

The brandy glass before him on the small table was nearly empty. Mustn't have another, though, had to keep a clear head. Yet he couldn't go up to the house too early. Make this one last then, drink the remains very slowly, appreciate its flavour.

•

Nancy Linnet was moving. She was pushing and pulling her battered body further into the dark cellar. She was desperate to get out of the light from the stairway, dim though it was, for she could hear footsteps approaching, heavy on the creaky wooden steps, and something—call it primal instinct—told her Magda Cribben was not coming down to help her. So Nancy dragged herself across the hard dusty floor, biting into her lower lip with the pain the effort caused her.

She knew that one of her legs was broken, because it was useless to her and hurt terribly, especially so each time she drew it along after her. Something was wrong with her back too, for her spine was numbed and her shoulders barely working. Tears of pain dropped from her eyes into the dirt beneath her and, although it was difficult to see, she continued to shuffle herself forward. She had to hide before Magda could hurt her again and at least the dingy light from behind helped her make out a deeper shadow ahead. When she blinked the tears away, she was able to see the black haven more clearly for a moment or two.

It was the entrance to the boiler room and if she could reach it, she would be able to hide there. She would have to be very quiet and very still, though, once she got inside. If only she could use both arms the effort would be so much easier, but her right arm had always been ineffective, just a withered limb that marred her life with its ugliness. So she managed with her left arm and her left leg to haul herself across the floor. She suddenly realized it was not only tears that were blurring her vision, but it was the blood streaming down her forehead also.

The boy, the sneak, the bully, watched from the bottom of the stairs. Magda had switched on the chamber's inadequate ceiling light and he could make out the figure on the floor as it crawled through the entrance to the boiler room. One of the teacher's legs dragged uselessly behind her and it seemed to be bent the wrong way. As if mesmerized, they both watched the teacher's progress. Gradually, her body slithering awkwardly, she disappeared inside the boiler room and the darkness devoured her.

Without further hesitation, Magda made her way to the boiler room and Maurice went with her. A churning mix of emotions caused his heart to beat even faster. There was anger at the teacher for threatening to betray his guardians and there was dread of the outcome now. Reigning over both was a feeling of excitement that made his limbs tremble and his brain tingle.

Although in shadow, they saw the shape of Nancy Linnet's prostrate body lying near the centre of the rough-bricked room. The light switch was just inside the entrance and Magda quickly pressed it on. As in the well cellar, the overhead light was dull and covered in dust, so that a dirty greyness prevailed with dark shadows at its edges.

Miss Linnet was still trying to drag herself on her belly but, too weakened, she was making no more progress. The fingers of her good hand scrabbled uselessly against the litter-strewn floor and one foot scuffed away at the dirt behind her without catching. Her once glorious hair was matted with silky blood, and because she lay with her cheek against the ground they could see that her lips were moving, although no sounds, no moans, no murmurs, came from them.

Magda raised a hand to her throat and her mouth dropped open. Maurice saw there was alarm rather than compassion in those black eyes of hers.

'What shall we do?' she said tonelessly, the question inwards, not meant for Maurice who stood by her side. 'She'll tell. She'll destroy us.'

It was the first time Maurice had seen weakness in the woman who had bizarrely become his mentor and mistress, and it distressed him.

'It was an accident, miss, like you said.' Anger began to override any fear that he felt. But it was excitement that continued to make him tremble.

'She'll say otherwise.'

'No, she can't! I'll tell everyone it was her own fault. I saw it happen.'

'She'll say I deliberately pushed her because I didn't want her going to the authorities. She'll tell lies and half-truths about Augustus and me. She'll make terrible trouble for us. They won't understand our methods, she'll tell them we're unkind to the children, and if they believe her they'll close the home. Our reputations…' Magda's mouth clamped shut: what would happen to their reputations seemed too horrible to contemplate.

'No!' shouted Maurice. He didn't want to leave Crickley Hall. He liked the things he did with Augustus and Magda. He liked lording it over the other orphans. 'I won't let her!' His words came out as a screech. He rushed forward and kicked the broken bundle on the floor. 'I won't let her!'

Taken aback by the suddenness of his anger, Magda could only watch as he ran to the pile of logs heaped against the back wall next to a hill of coke. Maurice picked up a short but stout log with both hands and a faint smile touched her thin mouth as she realized his intention. A cruel gleam of satisfaction shone from her narrowed eyes.

Lifting the heavy log high over his head, Maurice tottered back to the recumbent body, which was now twitching rather than moving. Magda made no attempt to stop him—she didn't want to stop him—as he stretched his arms, then brought the bludgeon down with all his might on Nancy Linnet's blood-soaked skull.

The sound of wood smashing against thin bone was hideous, a kind of popping-crunching that made Magda flinch despite herself. The teacher's injured leg jerked, the fingers of her outstretched left hand quivered.

Maurice raised and brought down the thick log again, perhaps even harder this time, and the teacher's exposed temple caved inwards. Maurice fell to his knees, but still he raised the log again and smashed it against the head that had already become a mess of pulpy gore. Nancy Linnet lay perfectly still beneath him, yet still he struggled to lift the deadly weapon. Only when Magda stepped forward and gripped his wrist did he stop.

'Enough,' she said quietly but firmly. 'She's dead, Maurice, the girl is quite dead.'

He froze and looked down at the blood that had spattered his knees and the front of his sleeveless jumper. He threw the log to the side as if afraid to be caught with it. His lower lip trembled and his eyes were wide in shock. But although fearful, he was glad, glad that the teacher was gone, glad that she couldn't interfere any more. His excitement had not abated. He even felt mildly proud of what he'd done—until he began to think of the consequences.

Would the police come and take him away? Would they lock him up in jail for the rest of his life? He looked pleadingly at Magda and saw she wore the faintest of smiles.

'She deserved it, Maurice,' she soothed him. 'She would have betrayed us, she would have undone all the good work Augustus and I have achieved. Now quickly, we must dispose of the body.'

'Miss…?'

'Have trust in me, Maurice.'

To him, it was the kindest she'd ever sounded.

'Come now, help me lift her.' Magda reached down for the teacher's legs. 'You're a strong boy—take her beneath the shoulders.'

First, they rolled the body over so that Nancy Linnet's half-open glazed eyes looked up at the ceiling.

'What are we going to do with her?' He felt no remorse and his fear was rapidly diminishing. Even the prospect of going to prison did not worry him. Magda had said to trust her, and he did, implicitly. He had no doubts at all that she would make things all right.

'We're taking her next door,' replied Magda, grunting softly with the effort of lifting the corpse's lower body.

Maurice's hands slid under the teacher's shoulders and he heaved her up. When alive, Nancy Linnet had looked as light as a feather but, although he certainly was a strong boy, he discovered a dead body was a dead weight. He and Magda struggled to carry it through the opening into the well room.

'Where will we hide her, miss?' Maurice managed to ask between gasps for breath.

'Where she'll never be seen again,' came the calm response.

'But what if the police find out?'

'They won't.'

Magda had not only thought of a place to put the corpse, but had already worked out a reason for Nancy Linnet's absence. Without prior notice, the young teacher had announced she was returning to London that very day. Magda would go down to the village in the afternoon and tell Miss Linnet's landlady that the teacher wanted her clothes and few small possessions sent on to her. A sudden crisis in the family, Magda would explain to the landlady and anybody else who might be interested (it was just as well that Nancy's sweetheart, young Percy Judd, had recently been called up for military service and had left to help fight the nonsensical war or he might have caused a fuss).

She brought Maurice and the body to a stop by the well's low wall, but did not lay down her burden. The rushing of the river below seemed to satisfy her.

Maurice realized the intention immediately. His eyes widened, both excitement and trepidation still burning in them.

'You know what we're going to do?' Magda regarded him levelly.

The boy nodded twice.

'The currents are strong in the Channel,' she continued, Miss Linnet's ankles tucked beneath Magda's arms, her hands holding the teacher under the knees. 'Her body will be swept out to the ocean and, with luck, it will never be found. Now, over the wall with her.'

They rested the body on top of the stone wall for a moment, then tipped it over the side. It was a deep drop, but the turbulent sound of water below almost covered the resulting splash.

Magda leaned over the circular wall and peered into the black pit as if to check that the corpse had been flushed away. Maurice copied her, but could see nothing, not even the bottom of the well. Finally, she straightened and regarded him with a cold—colder than usual—countenance.

'If you ever tell anyone of this,' she warned Maurice grimly, 'then you will follow suit. Remember, it was you who bludgeoned her with the log. It was you who killed her.'

He replied earnestly, 'I won't tell anyone, miss, honest'

'Good boy.' She gave him a wintry smile. 'Come to my room tonight. You deserve a reward.'

The reward would be as much hers as his, he was already cynical enough to know. Suddenly, Magda no longer looked old to him—she looked ancient.

61: STORM

After skidding for the second time, Gabe decided to slow down. Fortunately, the Range Rover's stability control and four-wheel drive had helped him avert anything serious, but he knew he had to take greater care: he had no desire to make Eve a widow and his children fatherless.

Forcing himself to ease up on the accelerator, he wondered how his daughters had taken the news of Cam's death. Loren would have been distraught, while Cally… Well, maybe Cally would cry without fully comprehending the whole implication of losing a brother, what loss of life truly meant. He felt his own eyes moistening again and he shook his head as though that would stem the tears. He had to get a grip, couldn't afford to cry, needed clear vision to see the road ahead. Driving was dangerous enough on a night like this.

By now he had left the second motorway behind and was on a smaller, country road. The windscreen wipers were on double speed, but still the glass kept filling up. The rain was not just falling on the car but was pounding it, and the wind buffeted it whenever there were gaps in the hedgerows. He passed through lonely villages that looked battened down for the night, and other vehicles that were travelling more cautiously than he. Several times he had to wait for a clear stretch of road to overtake cars and lorries in front; the headlights of oncoming traffic were intensified by the rain on the windscreen, blinding him so that he was forced to bring the Range Rover down to a crawl until they had gone by.