Midnight Is A Lonely Place Part 26

The report from the gun was colossal. It reverberated through the woods, echoing from the trees, temporarily deafening her. A pheasant rose shrieking into the sky, followed by a pair of pigeons, their wings smacking loudly. Patrick lowered the gun cautiously, feeling in his pocket for his cartridges. *Where is he now? Did I hit him?' To his chagrin he didn't know whether or not he had aimed at the shadowy figure. He had been too frightened to think.

*I can't see.' She stared into the trees, forcing her eyes to focus into the darkest corners. There was nothing there.

With shaking hands Patrick reloaded the gun. *If I've killed someone I'll go to prison.'

*Not if he murdered Bill, you won't.' She touched his shoulder rea.s.suringly. *I don't know if it was anyone. It could have been a shadow.'

*Should we check?'

She hesitated then she shook her head. *Let's get onto the road and fetch the police. They can look.'

Slowly, more nervously now, they began to make their way forward again. Minutes later Paddy stopped so suddenly Kate cannoned into him. *Look.' He pointed ahead.

She followed his finger and caught her breath. He was there again. On the rabbit track in front of them. Beside her Patrick raised his gun. She saw the barrel wavering as he felt for the safety catch and slid it back.

She stared at it. It was no more than a shadow; she could see no features a no face at all, just a silhouette. But it was a man.

He had disappeared before Patrick could move his finger to the trigger. *Where is he?' He was frozen, the gun to his shoulder.

*Gone.' Kate could feel herself trembling. *He vanished as I was watching. Paddy, keep the gun at the ready. Let's walk on slowly.'

She stepped forward, so close to Patrick he could feel her jacket brushing against his arm.

*One shouldn't walk with a loaded gun,' he whispered.

*This is an emergency. Just don't trip up.' They were there already; where it had been standing. She looked down. There were no footprints in the mud.

*Marcus?' She breathed the name out loud.

Patrick lowered the gun. *I don't like this, Kate. And we should have been at the road by now.' He glanced over his shoulder. *We're lost.'

*How big are these woods?' She was still scouring the ground for signs of footprints. She could see rabbit here and there, where it was soft, and the deep, sharply-cut slots of a deer, but none that had been made by a man.

*Hundreds of acres. The other side they're conifer plantations. They go for miles.' He shivered visibly.

*Can you find your way back to Redall?' She glanced at him. The boy was near to tears.

He shook his head. *I don't know where we are.'

*Right.' It sounded confident. *Let's think. Your original plan of following the rising ground sounds a sensible one. We can't stay out here all day; we've got to keep moving. Let's do that. Let's move only upwards, then, if as you say, we cross the road we'll be fine.' She was trying to picture the map in her head. The sea would be to the east; the estuary to the south. That left only two directions: north where the road ran east-west towards the coast, or due west where presumably the woods spread out until they reached the bleak, agricultural prairie lands east of Colchester and south of the soft wooded folds of the Stour valley.

*Come on. We can't get lost, Paddy. Not here. This is hardly uncharted country. We're just getting tired and cold.'

*And frightened,' he put in. She wished he hadn't.

*All right, and frightened.'

*You think it's Marcus, don't you.'

She shook her head. *I don't know. I don't know what to think. I don't want to think any more. Let's save our strength for walking.'

He hesitated, about to say something, then he changed his mind. Breaking the gun he lowered it to his side. *OK. Lay on Macduff. Which way would you say is up?'

She glanced round. *Straight on up this rabbit track. Shall I go first?' It was only wide enough for them to go in single file. She saw him hesitate, and knew he was longing to say yes, but chivalry or male pride, or the possession of the gun or a bit of all three won and he shook his head. *I'll go. You can protect my rear.' The giggle he gave was a little hysterical.

Two minutes later he stopped with a gasp of terror. The shadow on the track was barely ten feet in front of them. A swirl of icy wind swept round it, whipping leaves and soil off the ground, howling up through the branches of the trees, gaining in strength until it rose to a scream as the hatred and anger hit them like a tangible force. Kate heard Patrick cry out and she saw him reel to one side, the gun flying into the air. For a moment she couldn't breathe. She could feel a constriction round her throat. Her feet refused to move. She wanted to run, to run faster than she had ever run in her life before but she couldn't take even the first step. There was an enormous bang somewhere inside her head and suddenly everything went black.

LI.

Fat, confident, unsuspecting, the priests died like sheep, their throats cut like b.u.t.ter, their indignant, protesting whimpers still on their lips as they fell. So much for the power of their G.o.ds! He wiped his knife on a fold of his cloak and sheathed it with a triumphant smile. That was the end of the matter. The Britons, the wh.o.r.e, all dead, all gone to Hades and perdition. No one would know. The land would not tell. The men of the Trinovantes, who would give an arm each for a reason to fall on Rome, would never find reason for rebellion from him. This small drama would die as it had flourished on the edge of the mud. If men had disappeared, it would be a.s.sumed that the G.o.ds had called for more than one sacrifice; they were greedy these British G.o.ds; they lapped blood like dogs in the arena.

He folded his arms and stared out across the marsh, towards the eastern sky. It was clear now of cloud. The sun shone cold and hazy, clean like the blade of his knife, the light incising the wind. The heaviness of salt was in the air, overshadowing the flat, sallow smell of mud, cleansing it, purifying it with the incense of the northern seas. His eyes flicked down at the rushes which grew at the marsh's edge; they were green, the ends tipped with spiky, iridescent flowers. Nothing disturbed them. There was no sign that anyone had pa.s.sed that way at all. He flexed the muscles of his fingers slowly, staring down at his hand. Four lives, snuffed out like flames, as though they had never been. And no one would ever know.

It was the sound of a shot which awoke her. Loud, close, exploding in her brain. Then silence. A long long silence where she floundered painfully in nothingness. A shot. It couldn't have been a shot. Who would be shooting? The sound must have been in her head. A part of the nightmare. A part of the pain. Giving up the struggle to make sense of nonsense Cissy slept again.

*Mummy!'

A cry this time, floating into her head like a dream. *Mummy, I'm hurting. Help me.'

The sound spun round and round, and finally lodged in some part of her brain which was capable of a reaction. Cissy forced her eyes open with a groan. *Susie?' She tried to move. There was a tight band around her ribs, preventing her from breathing properly. *Susie?'

*Mummy.' The word was followed by a sob.

The sound cut through the last of Cissy's confusion. Christ! She'd crashed the car. She lifted her head with difficulty and stared round, trying to make sense of a world upside down. No, not upside down. On its side. The car was on its side and she was hanging from her seat belt. She looked down. Red. Blood. An awful lot of blood. Dear G.o.d, had Sue been wearing a seat belt at all? The child was below her, huddled in the well in front of the pa.s.senger seat.

*Are you all right?' Somehow she managed to make her voice work calmly in spite of the pain in her ribs which was, she realised, excruciating.

*We've crashed!' The reply was couched in the tone of a complaint.

*I can see that, darling.' Cissy bit her lip, trying to keep herself under control. *Darling, I don't see how I can move. Are you hurt? Try and move each one of your arms and legs in turn. See if they're all right.' Her eyes were heavy. She wanted to close them, to slide away from the pain.

*They're OK.'

*And your head. Does that hurt?'

Sue moved it from side to side experimentally and her eyes filled with tears. *Yes.'

*And your neck?'

*Yes.'

*But not so badly you can't move.'

*No.'

*Is there any way you can climb out?' The windscreen had gone, she realised hazily. That was why it was so cold. She was shaking now, her whole body shuddering in tight, agonised spasms. *If I undo my seat belt I'm going to fall on top of you.'

*Is the car going to explode?' Sue was crying so hard she had not heard anything.

*No, darling, of course it's not going to explode. Range Rovers can't explode.' If they could, presumably it would have done so by now. *Please, Susie, I want you to try and be brave. We have to get ourselves out of here. See if you can wriggle out of the windscreen. Then see if you can stand up.' She was finding it hard to breathe now. *This is an awfully big adventure.' Who had said that? Peter Pan, was it? But he was talking about death. *Please, darling. You must get out. If you can't help me, you have to go down to Redall and get help. If I ...' she swallowed and choked, * ... if I pa.s.s out, you musn't be frightened. I think I've broken some ribs. It's not serious a' please G.o.d *a but it's very painful. I think we've got to cut the strap.' Everything was spinning round her. She frowned, trying to focus. She couldn't see Susie at all now. Or hear. Why couldn't she hear? She tried to lift her head and look round, but her eyes were blurred with tears. Hands. Where were her hands? Why couldn't she use her hands?

*I'm out, Mummy.' Susie's voice was further away, but it seemed to be stronger. *I think I'm all right.' Suddenly her face was there, close to Cissy's. *Can you climb out?'

Cissy tried to think. Climb out. It seemed like a good idea, but how? She seemed to be suspended by her pain, swimming in s.p.a.ce.

*I ...' She tried again. *I'm all right. My ribs. I think my ribs are hurt.'

*It's the seat belt. You're hanging in the seat belt.' Susie's voice was extraordinarily strong. *I'll see if I can cut it with something.'

*No.' Shaking her head hurt. Perhaps her neck was broken too. Her thoughts were scattered, like a flock of pigeons after a bird scarer has gone off. Regroup them. Bring them in. Make sense. *Can't cut it. You've got to undo it.'

*Mum, I can't. Look, you're pushing down on the slot.' Susie's hair was sweeping her face. *We've got to lift you up somehow. *Can you pull yourself this way?'

The girl's hands were cool, competent. She would make a good nurse. Cissy pondered her hands for a few seconds. *Mummy!' The voice was cross now; impatient. *Concentrate. You can't hang there. We've got to get you out. Put your hand up here. Where mine is. That's it. Now hold on. There. Tightly.'

She's make a good commander too; firm. Positive. Calm. Lost in her endless pop music, it was easy to forget what the child was like as a person. She had become a shadow, walking round the house jerking to an unheard rhythm a *Mummy!'

Silly girl. Giving orders. Silly orders.

*Mummy! Put your hand here.'

Impatient too. Stroppy little cow her father called her. Joe. Joe! Where was Joe?

She must have called out loud. Susie's face was there, in front of her again. Concerned, swimming in brightness. *Dad will come soon, but we have to get you out.'

Susie had seen the slight dribble of blood at the corner of her mother's mouth. It terrified her. It should be Cissy comforting her, not the other way round. She glanced yet again over her shoulder into the dark trees. There had been no sign of him, the kook who had stood in the middle of the track in front of them and caused her mother to skid, but he must still be out there. He must have seen them crash.

Marcus The name floated into her mind. Allie's Marcus. The dead Roman from the grave on the beach.

*Mummy!' Her terror gave her strength and she turned back to the smashed windscreen, leaning against the bonnet, trying to get a purchase on her mother's shoulder. *When I say, try and take as much of your weight as you can here, on the doorframe. I'll see if I can free your belt.' She took a deep breath and reached into the car through the shattered gla.s.s. There was blood on the seat belt; the catch was slippery, hard to press, the belt strained beneath her mother's weight. She curled her fingers round the release and braced herself. *Now. Now, go on, lift yourself as much as you can. NOW!' Frantically she pressed, wrenching the catch. Nothing happened. *Don't let go. Pull up harder!' It must open. It must.

Pull. Cissy closed her fingers around the windowframe where Susie had positioned them. Pull. Good idea. Take her weight. Take the strain off her ribs. She pulled again and the pressure had gone.

*Done it!' The shriek in her ear was ecstatic. Then she was falling. Frantically she clung on again. Susie's arm around her took her full weight and she felt the girl stagger; the arm closed around her and the pain was renewed in force but somehow she was half out of the windscreen. Flailing with her hands she felt gra.s.s and brambles; her weight was sliding her out of the car across the bonnet to the ground and suddenly she was lying on the mud, huddled, hips high, hugging her pain.

*Well done!' Susie was triumphant. *Now sit up comfortably. Lean against the bank here.'

The girl glanced up into the trees again. There was something there. It moved slightly in the darkness of the shadows. She stood up, letting her mother slump back to the ground, her eyes straining to see what it was.

*Who's there?' Her voice was shaking. *Greg? Paddy?' Please let it be one of them. They must be near the farmhouse. She glanced round, confused. How far had they come before they crashed? She couldn't remember.

It was there again. The movement in the trees. She could feel her mouth, dry as sandpaper; she couldn't breathe properly. Her knees were beginning to shake. *Mummy.' It was a reflex action, this desperate whisper for help. She knew her mother couldn't hear her. *Mummy, can you see him?'

The figure was tall; the face, dark, aquiline, cruel. Strange, she had always thought ghosts would be transparent, insubstantial, traversable should they cross one's path. Without fully realising she had done it, she sank to the ground beside her mother and reached for Cissy's hand. *Mummy. Help me. He's coming.'

Cissy heard her. She tried to move her fingers but they didn't seem to work; her words of rea.s.surance were lost as blood seeped into her throat.

LII.

Joe frowned and glanced once again at his wrist.w.a.tch. Strange that they weren't back.

He could smell the beef. The whole house was full of appetising scents which made his juices flow. Perhaps she didn't realise the time; she always got carried away, did Cissy, when she went down to Redall; something about that house that made one forget the time a he had felt it too. But if she was bringing them back, surely they should be here by now? He glanced at his watch once again; it was after three. The meat would be ruined. He glanced at the oven and shook his head. Tempted though he was to start without them perhaps he'd better get down there and see what was wrong. Grabbing an oven cloth off the rail he pulled open the door and pulled out the meat pan. The meat was dry, shrunk on the bone, the potatoes almost black. He shook his head sadly and pushed the trays of food onto the counter. Spoiled anyway.

Outside he glanced up at the sky. The light was nearly gone already, the cloud black and threatening, the wind a he sniffed knowledgeably a coming a degree or so round to the north. That would bring real snow; the kind they hadn't seen for four years on this coast. Thoughtfully he hauled himself up into the old Land Rover which stood by the barn and leaned forward to turn the key.

At first he didn't recognise what he saw; his eyes refused to make sense of the axles, the wheels, the exhaust which were all he could see of his Range Rover, on its side in the ditch. In the headlights, through the driving sleet, all he could see was a pattern of shiny mud and steel. Then he realised and his stomach turned over. He skidded to a halt, and leaving the headlights trained on the wreck, he levered himself out of the driving seat and jumped down into the slush. *Cissy?' Dear sweet lord, where were they? *Susie my love?' He jumped into the ditch and clambered round to the far side of the vehicle, his boots sliding and squelching, catching in the brambles.

The black silhouette of the wreck cut out the powerful beam of his headlights and it was a moment before his eyes adjusted enough to the dim light to see Cissy, sitting, leaning against the bonnet, her eyes closed. Susie was curled up close to her, her arms wrapped around her knees, rocking slowly from side to side.

*Susie?' Joe called.

The girl tightened her grip on her knees. *She's dead.' She did not look up. *She's dead.' Tears were streaming down her face.

Joe scrambled closer and knelt down beside her, his craggy face white. He could hardly see for tears himself. *No. No, baby, no.' Tearing off his gloves, he reached past her and gently he took Cissy's wrist in his own. It was cold. *Ciss? Ciss, my love? Come on.' His fingers were rough and split, no good for this sort of thing. Persistently he felt all over her wrist, pressing the soft cold skin until suddenly he felt a faint flutter.

*She's not dead, Sue.' He was trembling as much as his daughter. *Nearly, but not quite. Help me lift her. We'll get her into the back of the Land Rover.'

He scooped her up into his arms as though she were no weight at all, and slipping and sliding, carried her back to the track. The open back was full of old tools and sacks and bits of twine. *Hop in, Susie. Take your Mum's head in your lap. Keep her comfy.' His calmness now that there was something to do was infectious. Susie obeyed him, sitting on the floor, pulling sacks over her mother's inert body.

Joe walked back to the driving seat and pulled himself into it. One look at the steep, icy track down which he had slithered only minutes before told him they were unlikely to make it back that way. *I reckon we'll take her down to Redall. Diana will know what to do to keep her comfy. She used to be a nurse. Then if their phone is still not working I'll get back on the back lane to phone for an ambulance. Hold her now, Susie my love. You'd almost got there, you know. We're only a few hundred yards from Redall.'

He refused to consider the possibility that she might be dead. He had felt a pulse. He was sure of it. Letting in the clutch with infinite care he dragged the Land Rover back onto the track and headed on down towards the farmhouse.

Diana had seen them coming, but not until Joe emerged from behind the wheel did she open the front door. *Joe? Thank G.o.d! Where are the police? Are they coming?'

*The police?' Joe shook his head, preoccupied with his own sorrow. *I haven't called them yet, nor the ambulance. I reckoned I'd leave her here with you and try and get back up through a side track. It's all too slippery up there even for this old girl.' He slapped the vehicle with a gnarled hand as he walked round the back and tenderly lifted Cissy out.

*Cissy!' Diana cried. *What's wrong with her?' Behind her Roger rose wearily to his feet. He peered over her shoulder.

*We crashed the Range Rover.' Susie scrambled out after her mother. *She's dead. I know she's dead!' She burst into tears again.

*Bring her in. Quickly.' Diana glanced out into the darkness of the woods. Dusk was coming early. The snow was feathering down out of a bruised, blackened sky. The woods were silent.