CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
A few minutes after they left the clearing, a few minutes more walking through the trees in the dark, the contours of the ground changed and rough scree replaced the spare grass and coarse thistle. The land dipped away before lifting in an embankment that rose up like the gentle swell of a wave at sea.
Here lay the ruined walls of the old church. Dull green ivy crawled over the damaged walls, righteousness reclaiming its devotion. Pale blue heather dotted the doorway as if it were confetti after a wedding, although it had been a long time since this place had witnessed happiness. An air of sadness hung over the whole area, a desolation that might be annotated on a Victorian mezzotint of the scene with the inscription: Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here.
‘Can you hear it?’ McKinley said.
Kirby shook her head. ‘I can’t hear a thing.’
‘Exactly. For the past half hour or so we’ve heard an owl, loads of shuffling about in the undergrowth that Carter here told us was foxes, and badgers, and God knows what British wildlife. We heard our own footsteps on the brush, snapping twigs, pushing back branches. Now we can’t even hear our own breathing.’ Bayliss stamped his foot on a thistle. It slumped beneath his boot but there was no sound. They all listened and realized McKinley was right; the night sounds had stopped outside the perimeter of the church. It was as if the night was holding its breath, paying its fearful respects.
Carter walked across to the door of the church. It leaned drunkenly against the remains of the side wall, the heavy oak weathered but solid. He paced around the outside wall, peering in as best he could through the stained-glass window. Back at the door he moved a few paces inside.
‘Careful, Robert,’ McKinley warned.
The inside of the church was damp and dreary. The few remaining pews were upended, a couple of mildewed hymnbooks strewn across the flagstoned floor. Mould crept up one wall, while what seemed to be a colony of bats made a black smudge in one corner of the half-collapsed roof. The altar was smashed; pieces of stone laid about like broken teeth. A large bronze cross was upside-down in the center of the altar, embedded in the stone as if it was Arthur’s sword.
At the far end of the nave was what seemed to be a faint light.
Carter pointed. ‘That’s where we go in.’
Bayliss stood shoulder to shoulder with him in the doorway. ‘Surely it’ll just lead to a vestry? A room where the minister would have put on his sacraments, and kept his records.’
‘That was the original purpose, but since the church was abandoned it’s become the entrance.’
Bayliss took a step backwards. ‘Entrance to what?’
Carter called the others forwards. ‘That’s what we’re going to find out.’