The Secret of Crickley Hall (15 page)

•

Loren and Cally were standing outside the bathroom door, also looking upwards, Loren with her hands on the balustrade, Cally peeking through the rails. They were open-mouthed, their upturned faces pale.

Below, in the hall, Eve hissed into Gabe's ear, 'What is it?'

His gaze did not leave the ceiling. After a moment, he whispered back, 'Sounds like footsteps. Lots of 'em.'

•

They crowded round the door on the landing that led to the attic room—or rooms—the one place that neither Gabe nor Eve had yet visited.

'Is it locked?' Eve asked, for some reason speaking in a half-whisper.

'Don't know,' Gabe replied, his own voice quiet. 'Key's in the lock anyway.' He transferred the unlit flashlight (they couldn't know if the lights beyond the door would work) to his left hand and gripped the doorknob with his right. There was a slight resistance, as if the lock might be rusting inside, but it turned. He pulled, then pushed at the door and it opened inwardly easily enough, although there was an initial squeak of its hinges. Now he clicked on his flashlight.

The sound of numerous soft footsteps from above had faded away (faded as if turned down by a volume control) minutes before and now the family was curious but understandably cautious.

'There's a light switch just inside the door.' Gabe pointed towards it with his beam.

Eve reached past him and flicked the switch. Nothing happened.

She aimed her own small torch up the narrow staircase leading to the attic.

'Look, there's a light connection hanging down, but there's no lightbulb.'

'I'm going up,' Gabe announced.

'We're coming with you,' Eve informed him.

'Not a good idea. There could be, well, you know…' He didn't want to say it in front of his daughters.

'Rats,' Loren filled in for him.

'Might be squirrels.' Squirrels sounded more appealing.

'Gabe, we heard
foot
steps,' said Eve. 'They weren't made by animals of
any
kind.'

'Oh yeah? And what's the alternative?'

'Who knows with this house?'

Cally tugged at her waist. 'What is it, Mummy?'

Eve looked down at her, aware that any mention of ghosts would frighten both her daughters.

'Let's go and look,' she said finally.

'All of us.' Cally clutched at her even more tightly.

'All right. All of us.' Eve knew the girls would refuse to stay downstairs by themselves, so she didn't argue.

'You first, Daddy,' Cally insisted anxiously.

'Yep, me first.' Gabe grinned his wide tight-lipped grin, one that was wryly resolute rather than happy.

The wooden steps creaked as he made his way up, his family following close behind, Cally tightly gripping her mother's hand, Loren coming up last and taking each step carefully as if one might break beneath her.

The staircase smelt of rotting wood and dust, and it turned a corner beyond which Gabe found an open hatch. No proper door, just an open hatch.

He poked his head through and paused, shining the light around what was more than just a roof space. The room was long, even though a partition wall appeared to section it off at the far end, but the ceiling was low. Dormer windows were built into its slanting walls and two rough brick chimney stacks disappeared into the roof (there must have been similar stacks out of sight on the other side of the partition, for the house had more than two chimneys on its roof). Bare floorboards ran its length and there was no furniture other than what looked like iron-framed cotbeds piled against one corner.

Dust motes danced crazily in the beams of light as if disturbed by fierce draughts. Yet no windows were open or broken and he felt no breeze on his face. Only faint moonlight shone through the grimed glass, casting dark shadows around the room. He pointed his light at the skeletal cotbeds again and realized that this place must have been the dormitory for the evacuees who had come to Crickley Hall all those years ago.

Eve's voice came from the stairs below. 'What's the holdup, Gabe?' She still spoke in a half-whisper as if afraid of being heard by someone other than her husband.

'Just checking—' He caught himself whispering his reply and continued in a normal voice. 'Just checking it out. Doesn't appear to be anything much up here 'cept a bunch of old bedsteads.'

He climbed through the hatchway and stood looking around. What had stirred up the dust?

Eve helped Cally through and Loren scrambled up behind them. Eve swung her torch beam from wall to wall, from floor to ceiling.

'Gabe. The dust…'

'Yeah, I know. Can't feel or see anything that could've caused it.'

He ran the light the length of the room. Two bare lightbulbs hung from the ceiling.

'Can you see a switch anywhere?'

Eve turned the torch towards the wall nearest to the open hatch. 'Over here,' she said, going to the single light switch that was fixed into the angled wall. She pressed it down, but only one overhead light came on and its power was insufficient, as, it seemed, were most of the lights in Crickley Hall. It was positioned at the far end of the long room and it did manage to reveal a door in the wood partitioning. She shivered. It was very cold in the attic.

Eve spotted the iron cotbeds piled together and taking up most of one corner. There must be a dozen, she thought to herself, or at least eleven. 'Is this where the children slept, d'you think?' she asked Gabe. 'Was this their dormitory when they stayed here during the war?'

'Yeah, it figures.' Gabe ran his lightbeam over the jumbled frames. 'If they'd stayed up here when the flood hit they would've survived. Makes no sense.'

'But it's so bare. Surely they'd have had their toys and other things with them.'

'It was a long time ago, hon. The place would've been cleared out.' He pointed his flashlight towards the partition door at the other end of the room. 'Unless a lot of stuff was stored away.'

He started forward, his footsteps sounding hollow in the room's emptiness.

Eve caught his arm as he went by. 'Have you forgotten why we came up here?'

'Uh?'

'The noises, the footsteps,' she reminded him. The footsteps sounded light, like children running around in bare feet.'

He hesitated. Thought for a moment. Then: 'Coulda been anything.'

'No, you know I'm right. It was children we heard. I think this house holds on to its memories.'

'Not that again. Crickley Hall isn't haunted.'

He regretted the words as soon as he'd uttered them.

'Dad?' Loren looked up at him, fear in her wide eyes.

Eve went to her. 'It's all right, Loren. We didn't mean to frighten you.' She put her arm around her daughter's shoulders.

'But you said it was haunted.' Loren was frozen; she did not move into her mother's embrace.

Eve tried to reassure her. 'No, I didn't mean that. I said the house has memories. That doesn't necessarily mean there are ghosts here.'

'I don't like ghosts, Mummy,' Cally piped up.

There was no anger in Gabe's voice, only despair. 'You're spooking 'em,' he said to Eve.

'Then you tell me what made the noise.'

And that was the problem: Gabe had no idea.

'Maybe there's something behind that wall.' He waved the flashlight at the partition and started to walk towards it through the floating dust.

'No, Daddy,' Loren pleaded.

Cally looked at her older sister and her mouth was downturned. She quickly joined Eve and Loren. The three of them stared at the far door as if something horrible might be on the other side.

'I'm just taking a look,' Gabe reassured them as he went.

'Gabe, I don't think…' Eve began to say, but stopped. What was there to be afraid of? If it was only memories that haunted the house, then there'd be nothing to fear. Yet she still felt a strong sense of foreboding.

'You stay there with the girls,' Gabe suggested over his shoulder.

Eve recognized his determination. He was cautious, she knew that, but it would take more than unaccountable noises to intimidate him. She ignored his suggestion and, gathering up her daughters, Eve reluctantly followed him through the unexplainable dust storm. The dim overhead light barely lit his head and shoulders.

Gabe halted before the plain hardwood door and examined the doorknob. There was no lock below, only a swivel latch. He pushed the latch with his finger so that it was vertical and he felt the door jolt slightly as it released from pressure. Eve and the girls silently watched as he pulled the door forward.

The utter darkness inside slunk back from the torchlight as if caught unawares.

Gabe poked his head into the opening.

'Junk,' he announced after a moment. 'Nothing but stored-away junk in here.'

He disappeared inside and Eve and the girls filled the open doorway. Eve waved her torch around, more curious than scared now, and although the lights chased shadows away, it caused others that were dense. She saw odd pieces of furniture—chairs with straight backs, boxes piled high on a table with thick rounded legs, more boxes on the littered floor; an old-fashioned two-bar electric fire; rolls of what looked like curtain material; lampshades; a figurine whose head was broken off at the neck; a small statue of Christ with a burning heart, one of its supplicating arms missing; two tall matching vases, both chipped and cracked. There was more: a round hanging clock lying flat on its back and minus a minute hand; a framed landscape painting leaning against a box, its glass cracked; a dented iron bucket; several battered cardboard suitcases with broken handles; other items covered by dirty wrinkled sheets. The partitioned room was filled with Crickley Hall's detritus, oddments of no value or use any more.

Eve moved further in, the girls, clutching each other's hand, following, afraid to be left alone outside. She could see Gabe moving things around in the gloom. The atmosphere was thick with dust and stagnation.

She heard Gabe whistle through his teeth. 'Will you look at this,' he said.

She caught up with him to see what he'd found. 'Toys,' she said almost breathlessly.

'
Old
toys,' he corrected her. 'Look at 'em. Some are still in their boxes. You can make out what they are under the dirt.'

It was true: the images of their contents were partially visible beneath the thick layers of dust. A train set. Snakes and ladders. A farmyard with painted wooden animals. Eve picked up a flattish box and wiped her hand across it. The box apparently contained a jigsaw; the picture was of a park, with illustrated children playing, some of them on swings, others on slides… a cartoon boy on a roundabout, yellow hair… like Cam's.

Gabe interrupted her melancholy thoughts. 'And check this out.'

His light revealed an archaic blackboard, its corners rounded, chalk markings just visible underneath the dust. It rested against the angled wall, its easel leaning against it. Crammed close to the blackboard were stacked rectangular trestle-tables, their metal legs housed beneath the flat surfaces.

Gabe went over to a large open cardboard box and dug his hand into it. He brought out a strange rubber contraption with large glass eyeholes and a stubby round nose.

'I'll be damned,' he murmured.

'A gas mask,' Eve said.

'Yeah, from the Second World War. But it's small, meant for kids. There's more in there.'

'Do you think all these things have been stored away since then?'

'Seems likely. Look at those toys. They don't make simple stuff like this these days.' He reached down for something lying at his feet and showed it to her, blowing some of the dust that dulled its brightness. 'Made of tin. Look, it's even got a key to wind up the engine.'

Slipping the flashlight under his armpit, Gabe used thumb and forefinger to wind up the old motorcar but the key stuck on the first turn. 'Must've rusted up inside,' he remarked, gazing at the machine in wonder.

Eve picked up a limp ragdoll lying on top of a carton. 'You won't find many of these around any more,' she said, turning the soft doll over in her hand, the reason for searching the attic lost to her for the moment. 'It's a golliwog. It's just not PC for children to play with anything like this these days. I had one myself when I was very young.'

'You know what's strange?' Gabe, having discarded the tin car, was crouching by a cardboard box and wiping away the covering dust with the palm of his hand. 'Look, this one's never been opened and, from what I can tell, nor have any of the others. These toys have never been played with.'

'But why? It doesn't make sense.'

'Maybe they were being kept hidden in here for Christmas. The flood took the poor kids before they got the chance to be given 'em.'

'You think that was it?'

'Only guessing. But they were out of sight behind other boxes and stuff. I moved that blackboard and easel to get to the toys. Could be that they were forgotten after the disaster and more junk was stashed in here in front of 'em so they couldn't be seen. S'way I figure it, anyhow.'

'Daddy, what's this?'

Gabe and Eve turned and searched out Cally among the shadows. She was squatting on her haunches, a podgy little hand resting on a round object standing on the floor.

'Don't touch it, Cally, it's filthy,' Eve warned her. 'Let Daddy have a look at it first.'

Gabe climbed over boxes and other neglected toys to reach his daughter.

'I think it's a top, Dad,' said Loren, who had become interested in her sister's find. 'You know, one of those spinning tops. I used to have one like it when I was little.'

'Let's see.' He knelt on the floorboards and picked up the toy with his free hand. He wiped it on his sweater sleeve and bright colours sprang into life.

Cally gave out a small squeal of delight.

'Don't get too hopeful, Cally. Doubt it's gonna work after all this time.'

He steadied the spinning top on the floor, then pushed down its spiral plunger. It gave out a rusty growl as it spun one and half revolutions before stopping with an ominous
clonk
.

'Yep, probably rusted inside.'

'Can you mend it, Daddy?' Cally asked hopefully.