A Room Full Of Bones

CHAPTER 27

Nelson fights like a madman when he sees the tunnel approaching. He knows what this means and he’s not going to take it lying down, in bed or not. The long journey, the bright light, the departed loved ones – not this time, thank you very much. Sorry and all that, Dad. He struggles, desperately trying to stop the inexorable progress towards the light. I’m not ready, he says, fingers sliding on a surface that seems at hard yet, at the same time, liquid, like black water. I don’t want to… He makes one last effort, flailing at nothingness. He is in the tunnel.

Michelle watches in horror as Nelson writhes on the bed, fighting for breath. ‘Nurse!’ she cries, her voice croaky with fear. ‘Nurse!’

Very quietly, Ruth opens the door to the spare room. Cathbad lies on the bed, on his back, very still. The blinds are up and moonlight shines on the floor. Ruth tiptoes closer and touches Cathbad’s hand. His skin is cold but she can feel a pulse. Cathbad’s eyes are closed and his long hair lies over his shoulders, like an effigy. He is smiling. If he survives this, thinks Ruth, I’ll kill him.

She goes back into her own bedroom and lies on the bed. In her cot, Kate is sleeping peacefully. It is only half-past ten. What on earth is she going to do with all the hours until morning? She thinks that she’d even welcome Kate waking up screaming. But Kate sleeps on. Ruth goes downstairs and tries to watch television but Newsnight has a feature on drugs in schools and the film on Channel 4 is Picnic at Hanging Rock. Ruth feels that she has had enough of drugs and mysterious happenings in Australia to last her a lifetime. She wants a drink but supposes she should stay sober in case she has to rush Cathbad to hospital. Oh God, what if he dies, there in the single bed where only two nights ago she and Max… She goes upstairs again. Cathbad and Kate are still sleeping, though both seem restless. The wind is getting up. A sudden squall of rain batters the windows. Her letterbox bangs as if some ghostly postman is outside. Eleven o’clock.

She has a bath and gets into bed, listening to Radio 4 on her headphones. Against the soothing murmur of Book at Bedtime she sees other, less cosy, images. Another night, another storm, a child’s hand reaching up to her. A madman with a knife. A child’s body. Then Nelson, turning towards her with troubled eyes. I don’t want to go home. You don’t have to.

Ruth sighs and pulls the covers over her head. If this night ever ends, tomorrow she is going to see Nelson. She will even take Kate with her.

It’s karaoke night again at the Newmarket Arms. Caroline sits alone at the back of the saloon bar, wondering where the hell she’s got to. Eleven o’clock, she’d said. It’s not like her to be late, just as it’s not like Caroline to be on time. It’s a horrible night as well. She can hear the rain outside even above the noise of the stable hands singing Don’t Stop Me Now. Her glass is almost empty but she’s embarrassed to go to the bar through the knots of people laughing and talking. Funny, she has backpacked alone through the Outback but she’s scared to order a drink in a country pub. She fiddles with her phone to avoid making eye contact with anyone. She wishes she’d arranged to meet Cathbad later but he seems to have vanished. She must have left two or three messages on his phone today. She hopes he won’t think she’s stalking him. But it would be a comfort to have him here now, wearing his cloak and talking about ley lines. And at least if he were here she’d have someone to have a bloody drink with.

Sod it. Caroline puts her phone away. She might as well go to the bar.

Judy, driving past the brightly lit pub with her wind-screen wipers on double time, thinks it looks like an ocean-going liner sailing through a midnight sea, the ship’s band playing on, the captain blissfully oblivious of impending icebergs. The car park is full; with any luck, all the stable hands will be in the pub belting out Take That numbers and she’ll be able to talk to Randolph in peace. She can’t help a slight shiver, though, as she leaves the light and noise behind and enters the woods. She remembers her father telling her about the stagecoach accident. ‘On dark nights you can hear the screams of the passengers and see the ghost horses running through the trees.’ She remembers Danforth Smith and the great snake ‘as green as poison’. What is it about Irish people and scary stories? Well, she’s not afraid of ghosts. Even so she grips the wheel tighter, the last thing she wants is to go off the road and it’s so dark amongst the trees, her headlights show only a few hazy feet in front of her. The wind moans and branches lash to and fro. Where’s the entrance to the stables? Surely she should be there now.

The high wall appears almost out of nowhere. The old gates, Randolph had said. She drives around the park, following the wall. Why did Randolph choose such an inconvenient meeting place? He must be trying to avoid someone. His mother? His sister? Judy wonders just how much Randolph knows about what’s going on at the stables. She’s only just worked it out herself. But if Randolph had been involved, surely he wouldn’t have asked for a meeting with Judy and Clough? Surely he wouldn’t have told them about the dead snake and the men in the woods? Unless it was a clever diversionary tactic. But she doesn’t have Randolph down as clever exactly. There are lots of other words that spring to mind, but not clever.

Here are the gates at last, looming up out of the darkness. And they do look old, in fact they look as if they haven’t been opened for a hundred years. But didn’t Randolph say that he came this way the other night, when he saw the sinister figures dancing round the fire? Judy parks her jeep and turns off the lights. It’s still pouring with rain. She’d better get her cagoule out of the boot. A torch too. She struggles into the cagoule; it’s bright yellow, which means she should present a nice target for any possible assassins. But there aren’t going to be any assassins. This is Norfolk, not Sicily, whatever Clough might say. She has, however, taken the precaution of texting Clough and telling him what’s she’s doing. She’s pretty sure that he won’t check his messages tonight though; she knows he’s out with Trace.

Head bowed against the rain, Judy makes her way towards the wall, torch in hand. The wind is really strong now, forcing her to bend almost double. The gates are padlocked together, with a heavy stone pushed in front of them. How is she ever going to get in? But as she gets nearer she sees that the padlock is unlocked, the chain hanging free. When she pushes at the great iron gates they move easily. Clearly this entrance has been used recently. She shines her torch in a wide arc. All she can see are bare trees, blowing wildly in the wind. Beyond the trees there seem to be some low walls. Didn’t Randolph say this was where the old house used to be? Great, now she’s stuck with the ruined mansion and probably the Smith family ghost as well. Where the hell is Randolph?

She is just wondering if she should go back to the car when, through the trees, she sees a figure approaching. A man, she thinks. Despite herself, she’s relieved. The whole haunted castle scenario is starting to get to her. ‘Randolph?’ she calls.

‘Not exactly,’ says a voice. Judy turns towards the sound, not really scared. She is not even really frightened when she sees that the figure is Len Harris, with a gun in his hand.