(2011) What Lies Beneath Read online

  ‘The lady in the wool shop told my mum she’d spent all those years dodging German bombs and now they’re going to drop one right on her own village,’ put in Ella.

  ‘It isn’t a real bomb, though, is it?’ said Veronica worriedly. ‘It’s only to spray chemical stuff into the village to see what happens to the plants and things. Then they’ll build the road. We had a letter through the door telling us about it.’

  ‘So did we,’ said Clem. ‘But my father says they aren’t telling us the truth. He reckons it’ll be ages before they get round to making the motorway, and he says they’re experimenting with nerve agents, like that place near Boscombe Down. They’ve got laboratories and whatnot there, and it’s all really secret.’

  ‘What’s a nerve agent?’

  ‘I think it’s stuff they might want to use if there’s a war. My father doesn’t think it’s a good idea at all; he says those things make people really ill or grow two heads. He’s pretty worried about the Russians, though. Well, he’s pretty worried about a lot of people in the world.’

  ‘I don’t want an atom bomb to be dropped on Bramley,’ said Veronica. ‘Atom bombs burn your bones. I heard my parents talk about it.’

  ‘They aren’t dropping an atom bomb,’ said Clem in exasperation.

  ‘Whatever they’re dropping, they aren’t doing it until midday, anyway,’ said Ella. ‘So we could walk through the village one last time, couldn’t we? I’d like to do that.’

  ‘I would too,’ said Clem eagerly. ‘I could write about it in my diary. Did I tell you I was given a diary for Christmas?’

  ‘Yes, about a million times.’

  ‘It’d be a pretty good thing to write. “The Last Day of a Doomed Village”, that’s what I’d call it. And it could be an adventure for Ella’s birthday.’

  Ella’s tenth birthday was the day before, which was important because of being double figures. Veronica’s mother had said it was a landmark, and added it was a pity Ella’s mother had not let her have a party.

  ‘She’s got too much to do to be having parties,’ Ella told her friends. ‘But she’ll make sandwiches and we can have a picnic on Mordwich Bank. After the dare, I mean.’

  Veronica was still not sure about the bomb, but they generally did what Ella said on account of her being the eldest, so she said it would be a good thing to walk down the village street on its last day.

  They set off at half-past ten, which Clem thought would give them masses of time for the dare.

  ‘I had to tell my mother a lie about where we’re going,’ said Veronica, as they went over the old railway bridge, which was called the Crinoline Bridge, and from there into Sparrowfeld Lane, which was fringed with big horse chestnut trees, and where they came to collect conkers every autumn. ‘And I had to promise we weren’t going anywhere near Priors Bramley, on account of the plane and the bomb.’

  ‘It isn’t a bomb—’

  ‘Well, whatever it is, how long will we be doing this dare?’

  ‘Not long. It’s twenty to eleven now,’ said Ella, who had been given a watch for her birthday. ‘We could do the walk in half an hour and we’d be in Mordwich Meadow for half-past eleven easily. We’ll see the plane go over while we eat our sandwiches.’

  They went down Mordwich Bank towards the village in its saucer-shaped piece of land. For several weeks the area around Priors Bramley had buzzed with all kinds of activity – people moving out of their shops and houses, like Clem’s great-aunt Rose, and men unwinding immense rolls of barbed wire to fence the village in and keep people out, and nailing up notices that said ‘Danger!’ and ‘Keep Out!’.

  ‘It’s very quiet,’ said Veronica nervously as they went round the curve in the lane.

  ‘That means we’ll hear the plane coming.’

  ‘Good, because I don’t want to be sprayed with poison or grow two heads.’

  ‘It’s just for the plants, I told you. And you’d better take that red hair ribbon off,’ said Ella suddenly. ‘It’ll show up on the hillside, and we don’t want to be seen.’

  Chapter 2

  Even without Veronica’s red hair ribbon to advertise their presence they had to be careful, but as they approached the lane that wound straight into Priors Bramley, the only two people they saw were a workman knocking nails into a big notice board, and a policeman talking to him.

  They pressed back into the hedge and Clem said, in a whisper, that they could squeeze through it. ‘Then we can scurry along until we find a break in the wire. I bet there’ll be a bit where we can wriggle through.’

  ‘I don’t want to wriggle on the grass. I’ve got my pink frock on,’ objected Veronica.

  ‘That’s your silly fault.’

  They squeezed through the hedge and ran along the sides of the spiky wire, keeping as low as they could. Ella’s heart was racing and she expected to hear the policeman shout to them at any minute. But nothing happened and everywhere was silent.

  It was Clem who found a place where they could edge through the sharp coils of wire. ‘But keep flat to the ground,’ he said. ‘I don’t think that policeman can see us from where he is, but you never know.’

  Tacked to the fence was another warning sign. This one was in scarlet lettering.

  Government Notice.

  DANGER – KEEP OUT!

  This village is the subject of important trials for the testing of the compound Geranos. Unauthorized persons must not enter beyond this point.

  Veronica faltered at the sight of this, but Ella grabbed her hand and hurried her along the road because if they were going to do this they didn’t have time to waste. From within the village came the chime of St Anselm’s church clock. Eleven chimes.

  ‘That might be the last time we ever hear that clock chime,’ said Veronica. ‘That’s sad, isn’t it?’

  ‘They aren’t going to poison the clock,’ said Ella. ‘It’ll go on for ages. Anyway, we’ll hear it chime the quarters. A single bong for the quarter and two bongs for the half-hour.’

  ‘It’s still sad, however many bongs it is.’

  ‘And anyway,’ said Clement, ‘St Anselm’s hasn’t been used for years and years. I’m surprised they’ve still got the clock going at all. The church has got deathwatch beetle or something. That’s why everyone goes to St Michael’s on Sundays.’

  But it is used, thought Ella. None of you knows it, but when no one is around somebody goes inside the church and fills it with music. I’ve heard it.

  ‘Where now?’ said Veronica, as they reached the village street.

  ‘Cadence Manor,’ said Ella. ‘That’s what we said. It isn’t far.’

  ‘We’d better keep as close to the buildings as we can so we won’t be seen.’ Veronica kept looking nervously over her shoulder.

  ‘That’s my great-aunt Rose’s house, just along there,’ said Clem, stopping to point down a winding little lane near the bakery. ‘I used to go there for Saturday tea every week. We had fresh currant bread from the bakery.’

  The village street was silent and still, and Veronica whispered that it was like a ghost town.

  ‘Maybe we’ll become the ghosts,’ said Clem.

  ‘Oh, no!’

  ‘It’d be good.’ Clem was well away on a new story. ‘We’d be the three children who haunt the deserted village. And when they build the motorway, sometimes drivers will see us, wandering down the road at midnight.’

  ‘It’s eleven o’clock in the morning,’ said Ella repressively.

  ‘I know, but you only get ghosts at midnight.’

  They all knew the village quite well, which Ella thought should have made their walk ordinary, but somehow it did not. Priors Bramley seemed to have changed: it felt as if eyes watched from the deserted shops, and invisible people peered out from behind the shuttered windows. It’s waiting to die, she thought. It knows what’s going to happen.

  Here was the little shop that sold bull’s-eyes and sherbet dab with liquorice sticks, and next to it was the wool shop where Ella�
��s mother bought knitting yarn and patterns.

  With a show of bravado Clem pushed open the door of the sweet shop, and the little bell over the door clanged tinnily. It made them all jump, and Clem, who had been going to make a joke about asking for a quarter of fudge, backed away.

  ‘What’ll happen to the sweets and wool and everything?’ asked Veronica, in a half-whisper as they walked along the street. ‘They won’t be poisoned, will they?’

  ‘My great-aunt Rose said all the shop people packed everything away in wooden boxes and some vans came and took the boxes away. Buck up, Veronica, think how brave you’ll feel when we’re up in Mordwich Meadow, scoffing our sandwiches.’

  ‘We’ll sing “Happy Birthday to Ella”,’ said Veronica, trying not to let her voice wobble.

  St Anselm’s was ahead of them, and Ella’s heart was starting to beat very fast. The lich-gate leading to the ancient, disused church was surrounded by trees – old cedars and English oaks. In the morning sunlight the leaves cast dappled shadows on the ground, and Clem paused to stare along the rutted driveway leading to the church itself.

  ‘My father says lich means corpse,’ he said. ‘Dead body. They used to carry the bodies up to the church and rest them on the lich-gate for the first bit of the funeral.’

  ‘That’s really creepy,’ said Veronica, shuddering. ‘Your father tells you horrid things.’

  ‘They used to ring a lich bell too, sometimes. Death bell,’ said Clem.

  ‘Well, whatever they used to ring, let’s get on,’ said Ella, who was hating being so near to the shadowy church.

  ‘It’s a nice old church, isn’t it?’ said Veronica, not moving.

  ‘My father says it’s tragic the way it’s been left to rot,’ said Clem. ‘Can you see the coloured windows? There look, through the trees.

  ‘One of the windows is broken,’ said Veronica. ‘And—’ She broke off, her eyes widening, and grabbed Clem’s arm. ‘Did you hear that?’

  ‘What? I can’t hear anything,’ said Ella, but her heart was starting to race.

  ‘Listen,’ said Veronica urgently. ‘Someone’s in there.’

  From within the abandoned church came the sound of footsteps.

  An icy hand closed round Ella’s heart, and her skin prickled with fear.

  ‘Veronica’s right,’ said Clem, still looking back at the church. ‘There is someone in there.’

  ‘Yes, but whoever it is, is only doing what we’re doing,’ said Veronica. ‘Saying goodbye to the church.’

  ‘Probably the vicar,’ said Ella, walking towards the manor, hoping the others would follow.

  ‘Shouldn’t we go in there and tell whoever it is to come out?’ said Veronica, starting back towards the lich-gate.

  Ella turned and ran after her, grabbing her arm. ‘Veronica, we can’t, we’re not supposed to be here.’ She risked a glance along the path. There was the low door, black with age, slightly open, and it was possible to see the shadows lying thickly across the stone floor just inside. Pulling Veronica away, she said, ‘We mustn’t go in there, we really mustn’t.’

  ‘Anyway, whoever it is, he’ll know about the plane coming over at twelve o’clock and the bomb. Everyone knows,’ said Clem.

  ‘It’s a bit creepy, though, isn’t it?’

  ‘No. Let’s keep walking to Cadence Manor, like we said. Just up to the gates. Whoever’s in there won’t see us – the road goes round to the left after those houses.’

  ‘I thought this would be an adventure, but it isn’t,’ said Veronica, as they went on, leaving the church behind. ‘I don’t like it,’ she said, but she walked between the other two, around the left-hand curve of the street and across the cobblestones that had once been part of an old coaching inn.

  ‘The church clock’s striking again – one chime. Is that for the quarter-hour?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes. Quarter-past eleven. We’ve got masses of time yet,’ said Ella.

  ‘How much further is it?’

  ‘Not far. There are the gates. They’re huge, aren’t they?’

  The gates to Cadence Manor were tall and tipped here and there with gold, but there were patches of rust on the black scrollwork. The manor itself was hidden by a high wall and trees.

  ‘My father said they used to be really rich, those Cadences, only they were moneylenders and you shouldn’t trust people like that,’ said Clem.

  ‘My mother says they were Italian bankers,’ said Veronica. ‘She said they used to have grand parties here, years and years ago, before the war. They went on for a whole weekend, sometimes, the parties. But they gave a lot of money to the children’s home at Bramley Gate.’

  ‘Well, my mother said the Cadences were a bunch of villains,’ said Ella. ‘She said you couldn’t trust a one of them, never mind they were rich and all the rest.’

  ‘That’s the old lodge house,’ said Clem, pointing to the square grey building on the left of the gates.

  ‘It’s a bit crumbly, isn’t it? And the gardens are all overgrown.’

  ‘If the Cadences really were a bunch of villains, like my mother says, I think it serves them right if their house crumbles.’

  ‘Let’s just go in through the gates, so we can say we’ve been to Cadence Manor before it was poisoned by the Geranos stuff and crunched up for the motorway,’ said Clem. ‘Then we’ll go home.’

  ‘We’d better go along Meadow Lane,’ said Ella. ‘We can climb the wall and get over the stile to Mordwich Bank. We can’t go near the house itself anyway.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘We haven’t got time.’

  ‘What if there’s another policeman there?’

  ‘There won’t be – they won’t think anyone would climb over the wall.’

  The gates were stiff and almost rusted into place, but when Clem pushed hard, one of them swung inwards, the hinges squealing like an animal. The sound tore across the quiet morning, and Ella jumped and glanced behind her in case anyone had heard and was coming to catch them.

  Stepping through the massive black and gilt gates felt like entering another world. They all looked nervously towards the windows of the lodge. Curtains still hung at several of the windows. Ella thought one of them moved, but before she could be sure they heard a shout from the street – outside the gates.

  ‘Someone’s coming,’ said Clem. ‘Let’s get out before we’re caught.’ He grabbed the girls’ hands.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Towards the house,’ said Clem. ‘Come on. We can climb over the wall and be back in the lane, like Ella said.’

  ‘It’ll be the policeman,’ gasped Veronica. ‘Or that workman banging up the notices.’

  ‘Or whoever was creeping around in the church.’

  ‘Oh, no . . .’

  ‘Never mind who it is, we mustn’t be caught!’ said Ella. ‘Come on!’

  They were halfway along the tree-lined drive, still holding hands and running as hard as they could towards the manor itself, when there was a movement within the trees, and the figure of a man stepped out and stood in front of them. The sunlight was behind him, silhouetting him against the brightness.

  They had been running at full pelt, but they skidded to a sudden stop, and stood uncertainly. The man did not speak, and Ella felt Veronica’s hand tighten around hers. She shuddered, staring at the man, trying to think of something to say.

  It was Clem who finally spoke. He said, quite politely, ‘I’m very sorry if we shouldn’t be here. We just wanted to – um – take one last walk through the village. But we’ll go now, we really will.’

  The worst part was that the man did not reply. He took a step or two nearer – he doesn’t walk, he sort of shambles, thought Ella, horror sweeping over her – and they could all see there was something wrong about his face. He did not come any closer, but he peered at them intently as if he was trying to decide what to do. Clem tightened his hold on both girls’ hands, and ran towards the trees, pulling them along with him.

  They ran a
s hard as they could, until they were deep in the undergrowth that had grown up around the deserted manor.

  ‘Oh, please stop,’ gasped Veronica. ‘I’ve got a stitch – I can’t run any more . . .’ She bent over to touch her toes.

  ‘Has he gone?’ said Clem, panting and looking back through the trees.

  ‘I think so. I can’t see him.’

  ‘Who was he? He wasn’t the policeman, was he? Was he the workman?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Ella.

  ‘There was something wrong with his face,’ said Veronica, straightening up. ‘And did you see the way he stared and stared at us, as if he wanted to do something very bad to us? My mother says you have to be careful of men in case they try to – you know – touch you.’

  ‘We’d better go round the side of the house,’ said Ella. ‘We’ll climb over the wall like Clem said.’

  They forced their way through the thick rank grass, sending thistle-heads flying, trampling down the rose-bay willowherb, no longer caring if the man heard them, intent only on getting to the wall that backed onto Meadow Lane. Once Veronica stumbled and half-turned her ankle on a stone, but Clem hauled her up again and they went on and came out onto a rutted and cracked terrace. There, before them, were the rearing stones of Cadence Manor. Ella stared at it in fear.

  Then two things happened almost at exactly the same time. The first was that they heard the man coming through the trees towards them.

  The second was the sound of St Anselm’s church clock, chiming the half-hour before midday.

  There was no time to think or plan. They ran straight towards the house and half fell through the main doors. Ella’s heart was racing and she thought she might be sick from fear, but they had to get away from the man, they absolutely had to . . . As they went into the great ruined hall, the smell of damp and dirt and loneliness reared up like a wall. Veronica flinched, but Clem dragged her inside.

  No sunlight came into the hall and there was a bad moment when none of them could see anything. But as their eyes adjusted they saw there were doors opening off and a wide stairway directly ahead. The banisters were sagging and some of the stairs were missing.