Joss picked the figures up and stood, her back to the altar, her hand out in front of her. The image was stronger now. They could make out the shape of the woman clearly, her long dress standing out stiffly from the hips, some kind of a head-dress over her hair.
‘Stop!’ Natalie’s voice was surprisingly strong suddenly. ‘You are in the house of God! Stop now, while you have time.’
The figure didn’t hesitate. It was coming closer, seeming to drift towards them without quite touching the ground.
‘Margaret de Vere, in the name of Jesus Christ, I command you to stop!’ Natalie raised her hand.
‘She can’t hear you,’ Joss whispered. The woman’s face was slowly becoming visible. It registered no expression at all. ‘What do we do?’ Her voice slid up into a cry of fear.
‘She must be able to hear us – or at least she can sense us. Why else is she here?’ Natalie jabbed at the brass frantically. ‘Stick, damn it. Stick in, will you!’
The figure was drifting closer, with every moment becoming clearer to the eye. They could see the heavy embroidery on her gown now – the jewelled girdle, the detail of her head-dress with its floating veil, and above all her face. It was a strong face with heavy features, the mouth a hard narrow line, the skin almost colourless, the eyes open, the colour of the winter sea, unseeing and expressionless.
‘We’ve summoned her presence by interfering,’ Natalie murmured. ‘Somehow we have to stop her!’ She pushed the wire frantically, bending it almost double with the force of her gesture and with a slight click the hook caught under a rough edge of the ornate head-dress of the figure on the ground.
‘Done it!’ She scrambled to her feet, the snips in her hand.
‘Margaret de Vere, you have been guilty of sorcery in this holy place. You have made images of your king and of your daughter and because of your evil spells they cannot rest in peace. This wire which holds you all together I am now going to cut. Your influence will be over. Your time on this earth is finished. Go from this place and find peace and light away from Belheddon. Go!’
She put the snips to the wire and pressed the handles together as hard as she could.
No! No! Nooo!
The scream which filled the church came from neither woman, nor from the shadowy figure standing before them. It came from the air, from the echoes, from the ground beneath their feet.
Natalie hesitated, the wire slipping out of the blades.
‘Go on! Cut it!’ Joss called. ‘Quickly. Now!’
Using both hands Natalie managed to jam the wire back between the stumpy steel blades and chopped as hard as she could. This time the ends parted. The longer piece sprang free and coiled itself down onto the brass, whilst the shorter end snapped back round Joss’s hand and the wax figures in it. Her eyes hadn’t left the figure before them. It was barely ten feet from them now, still moving. ‘It hasn’t worked,’ she gasped. ‘Natalie, it hasn’t worked.’
She was getting closer. Joss could feel the cold so intense now, that the air seemed scarcely breathable.
‘Natalie,’ her voice had risen to a scream. Pressing herself back against the pew out of the way she felt and saw the woman pass within three feet of her, drift on over the top of the brass, up the chancel steps, through the altar itself and out through the east wall of the church.
‘Dear God,’ Joss looked down at the figures in her hands. She had clutched them so tightly they had grown soft in her fingers. ‘Has she gone?’
‘She’s gone.’ Natalie sat down in a pew. She was white with shock.
‘Did you do it?’ Joss was staring at the wax puppets.
‘I don’t know.’ Natalie bent over and put her head on her hands as if she were praying. ‘I don’t know.’
For a moment they both sat there too shocked to move, then Joss straightened. ‘Let’s go back to the house.’
Natalie looked up. ‘What do you want to do with the dolls?’
‘I think we should bury them. Together. Come on, let’s go.’ Joss kicked the rug back across the brass. ‘I’ll turn out the lights. I don’t want to stay here.’
Both still very afraid they left the church, closing the door behind them. The dolls once more wrapped in the silk scarf were clutched in Joss’s hand. ‘Let’s get back in the house. I’m too cold to think. We’ll need to find a spade.’
Hurrying to avoid the heavy rain, they threaded their way down the path and into the back door of the house. Joss put the scarf down on the kitchen table. They could both smell the heavy honey of the wax. ‘What about the boys? Georgie and Sammy. Have they gone?’
Natalie threw herself down in a chair. She was exhausted. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Suddenly you don’t know much.’
‘I’m sorry, Joss.’
Joss was rubbing her hands hard on the front of her coat. ‘No, it’s me who should be sorry. You’re helping me and I’m not being grateful.’ She looked at the bundle of blue silk. ‘Poor things. I hope they’re free.’ Biting her lip she was silent for a moment. ‘There’s only one way to find out. I’ll go upstairs.’
‘I’ll come with you.’
‘No.’ Joss hesitated. ‘No. This is something I have to do on my own, Natalie. Just be here, if I shout, OK?’ She shook her head. ‘I’ve never called him – summoned him, I mean. But I think if he were still there he might come.’ The blue eyes had been gentle; full of love.
‘And so would Georgie and Sam, Joss. They always come when they’re called.’
The two women looked at each other grimly. Joss put the dolls gently into the dresser drawer. ‘Just for a while. Until we can bury them.’ She took a deep breath, visibly steadying herself, then she smiled at Natalie. ‘Wish me luck.’
43
At the bottom of the stairs she stopped, her hand on the newel post and she looked up. The landing was always in deep shadow. On even the sunniest day the light never penetrated there. Listening carefully she put her foot on the bottom step.