Joss and Natalie were standing near the hole in the wall where they had found the wax figures when the lights went out.
Clinging together they stared round in the darkness their eyes and ears straining against a thick impenetrable blackness which seemed to wrap itself around them.
‘The torch,’ Natalie whispered. ‘Where’s the torch?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Matches?’
‘No.’
‘Shit!’ She put an experimental hand out in front of her, half expecting to meet something or someone, but the darkness was empty.
‘Has she done it on purpose?’ Joss moved closer to her companion.
‘I don’t know. What we need to do is get out of here, mend the fuse, or get a torch and candles or a floodlight or something and then come back.’ She took a cautious step backwards, one hand linked to Joss’s, one held out in front as she slowly turned back to where she thought the arch through to the first cellar was.
Joss followed her. ‘It’s this way. It must be. We left the door open at the top of the stairs. There’ll be some sort of light.’
The movement of air behind them was so slight Joss thought she had imagined it. She stopped, her fingers digging into Natalie’s arm, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling.
Natalie stopped too. Neither of them said anything; they were both listening hard.
Slowly Joss turned round. In the far corner of the cellar she could see something moving against the blackness. Her throat tightened; she could hardly breathe.
‘Be strong,’ Natalie murmured. ‘We have to win.’
Joss was very conscious of the huge old house above them empty, listening as they were to the silence. Panic swept over her, drenching her in cold sweat. For a moment she was sure that her legs were going to collapse under her, then she felt the steady pressure of Natalie’s hand on her arm. ‘Deep breaths. Arm yourself with the light – visualise it all round you, fill the cellar with it,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t let her see you’re afraid.’
Her?
She could see it too now: the faintest outline of a woman’s shape glowing like dim phosphorescence against the wall …
It was my Lady Kather- ine
The words echoed faintly in the back of her skull, a child’s song, the song of a little boy, lost in the shadows of time.
‘Katherine?’ She found her voice suddenly. ‘Katherine, you have to leave this house. You have done enough here. Enough people have paid for your pain. Don’t let it go on.’
She waited, half hoping for an answer in the silence.
‘You need to move on into the light, into happiness,’ she went on. Her voice had begun to shake.
‘We can help you, Katherine,’ Natalie put in. Her words were clear and strong. ‘We’re not here to banish you to hell. We can help give you strength to move on. Please, let us help you.’ Her eyes were closed; inside her head she could see her clearly, not a mad witch but a girl, scarcely more than a child, crazed with pain and grief, cheated of life by the greed and ambition of the mother she hated, killed by the child she never wanted.
‘Don’t hurt any more children, Katherine. They are not to blame,’ she went on softly. ‘Their fear and agony can’t help you – it adds to your own. Please let us give you our blessings. Let our love and strength help you.’
She took a cautious step nearer the corner of the cellar, her eyes still closed. It was Joss who was watching. The glowing outline of the figure had grown stronger. It had a shape now, clearly a slim, not very tall girl.
‘Are you buried down here, Katherine? Is this where you lie?’ Natalie had dropped Joss’s hand and held her own out towards the spot where she sensed the girl was standing. ‘Shall we move you? Would you like to be buried outside in the garden somewhere? Or in the churchyard?’
They both felt the frisson, the cold shiver in the air.
‘In the garden here, then. Under the sun and in the moonlight,’ Natalie went on. ‘We can do that for you, Katherine. Just show us where they buried you.’
There was a long breathless silence. It is not going to work, thought Joss. She is not going to tell us. The atmosphere was stifling. There seemed to be no air in the cellar. It had been growing steadily colder but now she felt a wave of heat roll over her. She put her hand to the collar of her sweater and ran her finger round under it, feeling her perspiration like ice.
‘Where is it, Katherine?’ Natalie went on. ‘You must give us a sign. You must show us what you want.’
It was my Lady Kather- ine
Georgie’s voice reached Joss’s ears very faintly.
It was my Lady Kather- ine
Something dropped in the silence. It rattled on the ground like a pebble. The noise came again, then nothing more.
In the corner of the cellar the light slowly faded; in seconds it was gone.
Neither of them moved. Joss put her hand out to Natalie. ‘Has she gone?’ she whispered at last.
‘She’s gone.’
Natalie spun round; behind them they could suddenly hear the sound of voices. The squeak of the cellar door opening was followed by a flash of torch light.
‘Joss? Natalie?’ It was Luke’s voice.
With the help of a torch they found Katherine’s sign, unmistakable on the cellar floor. A scattering of small bricks and stones lay in the shape of an equal-armed cross on one of the old flagstones in the corner. They stood in a ring looking down at it.
‘What do we do?’ Luke was holding the big torch, focusing the beam steadily on it. His scepticism had dissolved.
‘We have to keep our promise. We have to dig her up and rebury her in the garden.’ Joss was very firm.
‘What about coroners and things?’
‘What about them?’ She put her hands on his shoulders. ‘Luke, this is Belheddon’s business. No one else’s. Katherine belongs here. She doesn’t want to be buried in the church or in the churchyard. She wants to be buried in the garden. Quietly. With our blessing and love.’