Suddenly she was running, the torch light flailing in front of her as she slid and stumbled, turning onto the footpath across the grass.
She was panting violently when she reached the edge of the cliff. Standing still she stood staring down at the sea. The tide was high. In the patchy moonlight she could see the water, a slate-coloured heaving mass, silently shifting immediately below her. There was no beach to be seen. The tide was as high as she had ever seen it. Raising her eyes she looked out towards the horizon. She could see the lights, a long way off, of a huge North Sea ferry moving purposefully and at surprising speed towards Harwich. For a moment she was comforted at the thought of the huge vessel, with its crowds of passengers and steadily beating engine, then she became aware once more of the immense expanse of the sea around it and she found herself shivering violently again.
The path was so easy to see on the cliff top that she switched off the torch, walking quickly on the short grass. She could see a long way and there was no sign of another human being. Or anything else. She was conscious of a sudden soreness on her lips and she realised she had been biting them in the cold wind. She could taste the sharp salt of blood on her tongue. ‘Luke!’ The call was fruitless. Stupid. A waste of her voice, but the sound of it comforted her as she trudged on.
She switched the torch on again when she came to the mid field path, following the frozen mud track over the newly sprouted winter wheat, on up the hedgerow and towards the old orchard at the back of the farm. She was miles from Belheddon Hall here. Surely there could be no danger. No danger other than the normal hazards of the track. The torch wasn’t so bright now. She flashed it ahead into the grey tangle of old apple boughs.
‘Luke!’ Hoarse with exhaustion she felt hot tears well up suddenly in her eyes and splash down onto her cheeks. ‘Luke? Are you here?’
There was no reply. Behind her, on the field a flock of pewits called to each other, gossiping in the starlight which was suddenly as bright as day as the clouds rolled back.
29
With Tom settled in his chair with a plate of Marmite sand wiches, Lyn sat down at the kitchen table opposite Janet.
‘Lyn, don’t underestimate Joss’s worries about the children.’ Janet hesitated. ‘Not all her concerns are imaginary, you know.’
‘The ghosts, you mean.’
Janet nodded. ‘This house has a reputation for strange happenings – a reputation which goes back hundreds of years. I don’t think they should be completely written off.’ She smiled, half apologetically. ‘There are more things in heaven and earth and all that.’
Lyn raised an eyebrow. ‘I think it’s all rubbish. I don’t believe in ghosts and I never have. What you see is what you get in this world. And this world is it. Nothing else afterwards.’ She got up and going to the tap drew herself a glass of cold water.
‘And you can see no possibility that you might be wrong?’ Janet spoke mildly, hoping her rising antagonism didn’t show.
Lyn shrugged. ‘I may not be as well educated as Joss, but I know enough to realise that religion is no more than glorified crowd control. It’s brainwashing on a vast scale. Wishful thinking. Man is so arrogant he can’t believe he can just stop being.’ She sat down and put her glass down in front of her. ‘You will have gathered that I’m a bit of a cynic.’
Janet gave a wry smile. ‘Just a bit.’
‘Joss, besides being over educated in my view, is also a bit hysterical.’ Lyn sighed. ‘Something which is obviously hereditary judging by all this stuff her family have put in their letters and diaries. And of course the village believed them. Everyone loves a good ghost story. So do I, as long as one remembers that that is all it is. A story.’
‘So, you’re not worried about Luke.’
Lyn shrugged. ‘I’m a little worried I suppose in that he has been gone a hell of a long time. But I don’t think he’s been attacked by ghosts and demons. And I don’t think Joss will be either. I would hardly have let her go off on her own if I thought there would be any danger out there.’
‘No, I don’t suppose you would.’ Janet’s voice was a little bleak. ‘Obviously a few days’ change of scene will benefit Joss and the boys, though, don’t you agree?’
Lyn shrugged. ‘I suppose so. Anyway, I’d be glad of a break, to be honest. It all gets a bit incestuous round here – the atmosphere is dreadful sometimes.’
‘The atmosphere between Luke and Joss?’
Lyn shook her head. ‘Not exactly. Just Joss and her theories, I suppose. She believes it all so passionately I sometimes think she could make it happen by sheer will power.’ She glanced up suddenly, her head to one side. ‘Is that someone at the door?’
Janet felt a small shiver of apprehension. She glanced over her shoulder. An icy draught swept through the kitchen and then stopped as suddenly as it had come as the outer door was banged shut.
‘Lyn, has she appeared yet?’ Luke stood in the doorway, still in his jacket. His gaze took in Janet and then Tom, earnestly stuffing bread and Marmite into his mouth and his expression softened. ‘I see she has. Was she with you, Janet?’
Janet nodded. ‘I’m sorry. It all seems to have been a misunderstanding.’
‘And where is she now.’ He stripped off his jacket.
‘She’s gone to look for you.’ Lyn stood up, automatically reaching for the kettle. ‘She thinks the ghost has got you.’
‘Oh my God, not that again.’ Sitting down he gave a deep sigh.