The Secret of Crickley Hall (34 page)

'I must… must sit down. They're draining me. So strong, so strong. But they don't have enough power yet. They're waiting…'

'Let me take you into the sitting room,' Eve urged. 'You can rest there.'

She began to lead the psychic across the stone floor, supporting her as much as she could, but as they neared the cellar door, Lili drew back, horror on her face.

Eve had gone out of her way to close and lock the cellar door, but now it was half open again. The darkness inside seemed almost solid, a physical thing. Lili backed away and Eve clung to her, moved with her.

'That's where the children were found,' the psychic murmured almost to herself. She began to take sharp, rapid breaths as though hyperventilating and Eve, concerned for her, led her in a semicircular route towards the sitting room. For such a petite person, Lili was surprisingly heavy; it was as if something more than her own body was weighing her down.

At last Eve got her to the couch in the sitting room and gently lowered her on to it.

'I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,' Lili said between short breaths. Eve sat next to her and watched the psychic's drawn features anxiously, not knowing quite what she could do to help. But gradually Lili's breathing calmed and a smidgeon of colour returned to her pale face. She closed her eyes and rested her head back against the couch.

Eve fretted. 'Can I get you anything? Tea, coffee, something stronger?'

The faintest, drained smile appeared on the psychic's face and she opened her eyes again. She turned her head to look at Eve. 'No, thank you,' she said. 'I think I'm okay now. It was just the… the oppression inside this house. It's overwhelming. I think I can deal with it now. I hope so.'

For want of anything better to say, Eve ventured: 'Before you spoke of a boy who was in a coma; you said you were able to communicate with him. Will you tell me what happened?'

Lili took in a long, deep breath, perhaps to chase away the smaller breaths, and it seemed to work. Her green eyes studied Eve's for a few moments, searching for some kind of empathy. Many people thought psychics were a little mad, but there was no suspicion, no challenge and no distrust in Eve's expression; only hope.

There was a fire blazing in the room's hearth, but Lili felt chilled; she often did when there was a strong sense of spirit. Incorporeal energies tended to sap warmth from the atmosphere. Nevertheless, she asked Eve if she could take off her coat.

When Eve nodded and said, 'Of course,' Lili stood and removed her brown suede jacket. Underneath, she wore a tight, beige, long-sleeved sweater that emphasized her small breasts, and a loose wine-coloured skirt that ended just below the top of her knee-length burgundy boots. A pretty pink coral necklace adorned her neck and Eve noticed she still wore the wide wristbands from yesterday.

Lili folded her arms but it seemed more like a defensive gesture than a 'don't mess with me' one, because her hands clutched her upper arms. Today she did not wear the thin leather headband; her hair fell over her forehead in a natural fringe. Her light green eyes checked Eve's before she began.

'The parents of the boy who was in a coma didn't know me personally—I was seventeen at the time—but they had heard of my ability through a neighbour of ours.'

Now she unfolded her arms and leaned forward on the couch, wrists resting on her knees, her hands clasped together.

'The boy—Howard was his name—was only eleven years old and he'd been knocked down by a car that failed to stop. It was found later, abandoned; police thought kids had stolen it for a joyride.'

She was gazing at the fire, tiny flames reflected in her eyes.

'Howard was on life-support and the doctors didn't think he'd pull through. They thought his brain might have been too severely damaged, although they detected some signs of activity through their machines. They advised his parents it would be more merciful to turn off the systems keeping him alive so that he could go without more suffering. That's when Howard's parents contacted me on the chance I could reach him telepathically. They weren't true believers, but they'd heard about my psychic gift and they were desperate. They came to my house and asked me—no, they begged me—to try and make contact with their son. They weren't convinced Howard was all but brain-dead.'

She paused and looked away from the fire as if the flames were burning her pupils.

'Please go on,' Eve urged quietly.

'I agreed willingly. I have this thing about children even though I've never been a parent myself.' Lili did not relate the story of the first ghost she had ever seen, Agnes, whom she'd befriended and helped to move on; how that early experience had encouraged Lili to develop her extrasensory powers.

'I went to the hospital with the parents and was allowed into the intensive care unit. As soon as I saw Howard I felt he was far from death. Our minds made contact almost immediately. Inside his body was a lively, mischievous little boy, who missed his mother and father and wondered where they were and why they hadn't come to take him home.

'The mother broke down when I told her I was talking to her son, but the father, quite naturally, wanted to test me. He asked me questions that only Howard and his parents could know the answer to, and I put the questions to Howard. He thought it was a brilliant game because he was bored lying in the same place day after day with no one to talk or play with. He gave me all the answers, which I passed on to the parents. They were shocked, amazed. And so happy that even the father broke down in tears. They wouldn't allow the hospital to stop the life-support and eventually they were proved to be right. I visited Howard every few days and talked with him telepathically. It took another two months for Howard to regain consciousness.'

'He recovered?' Eve asked in awe. If the psychic could do this, contact a boy who was nearly dead and in a coma, then surely she could reach Cam.

'Completely,' Lili replied. 'Within another six months Howard was running around like any other healthy boy of his age. Could I have a glass of water?'

'Yes, of course. Are you sure you don't want something stronger?' Eve rose to her feet.

'No thank you. I had too much wine last night. Besides, I never drink alcohol when I use my psychic sense. For some reason it interferes with the process.'

'Then you will help us find our son?'

'I'll try. I'm not always successful. I'm also out of practice.'

'Surely it's a gift that's with you all the time.'

Lili shook her head, a single movement. 'Like any other ability, you have to keep at it. You have to develop the skill. We'll see how it goes—just don't expect too much.'

Eve hurried out to the kitchen, excited, more hopeful then ever before, already convinced the psychic would succeed. She took a glass from the cupboard and filled it with tap water, eager to get back to her visitor.

When she returned to the sitting room, Lili Peel was standing next to the round occasional table by the armchair. In her hands she held the photograph of Cam.

41: CONTACT

'This is Cameron, your missing son,' Lili said as Eve proffered the glass of water.

'Yes. We always called him Cam. That picture was taken on his fifth birthday.'

Eve's eyes fell upon the small silver-framed photograph of her beloved son. A rush of unbound love swept over her and, of course, with it came unrelenting anguish.

'Does… does the picture tell you anything?' she asked tentatively, her hopes rising because Lili was staring at the photograph so intently. To Eve's regret the interruption seemed to break the psychic's concentration.

'Only that he was a beautiful-looking boy,' Lili replied, her attention now on Eve. 'D'you have anything that belonged to him, a favourite toy, an old jumper or shirt? Anything he was familiar with, or close to.'

'I kept everything of his, I didn't throw anything away. I felt it would have been wrong to, even if he's grown out of his old clothes by now. But we left his clothes and toys behind when we came here to Devon.'

'This photo will have to do, then.' Still holding onto the silver-framed picture, she took the glass of water from Eve.

The psychic sat down in the high-backed armchair next to the round table, keeping Cam's photograph with her. Eve sat on the edge of the couch opposite and leaned forward anxiously.

'Mrs Caleigh—' Lili began to say.

'Please call me Eve.'

'Eve, I don't want you to expect too much.'

'I won't,' Eve said unconvincingly. Lili seemed different today, so much softer than when they first met yesterday. The hardness was gone from those green eyes, which made her even prettier. Inwardly, Eve prayed that the woman really had telepathic powers and could reach Cam with her mind. She was glad Gabe wasn't there, because he wouldn't have approved of this—he was too grounded to believe in such things, and that was why Eve hadn't told him of her visit to the crafts shop in Pulvington. He might even be angry with her for going down such a path. But she had nothing to lose: she would use
anything
that might bring their son back.

Lili Peel placed the glass on the table, then, holding Cam's picture at almost arm's length away from her, she stared at it for a full minute. Eve saw that the psychic's forehead was furrowed with concentration and she held her breath, her own body tensing, thinking only of Cam as if that might help the psychic. Eve had to blink away the tears that threatened.

Lili slowly drew the photograph towards herself and pressed it between her small breasts. She closed her eyes and her wrinkled brow smoothed out as though she was no longer concentrating quite so intensely. Eve could not know this, but Lili was allowing her thoughts to roam free. She had filled her consciousness with images of the boy and was now attempting to 'tune in' to his psyche, even though she could not yet know whether he was alive or dead.

Her breathing became shallow, faster, and her eyelids flickered but did not open.

Eve was alarmed, worried that the psychic might hyperventilate, but Lili's breaths gradually became calm once more and one hand fell away to grip the arm of the chair she was sitting on. Her fingers clenched, then settled round the cushioned arm. Her breathing was deep now, the photograph against her chest rising and falling with the rhythm.

Eve wondered if the psychic was in a trance.

But Lili was only in a semi-trance. She was aware of the room around her, aware of Eve's presence on the couch opposite and aware of the house itself. Again aware of the deep oppression here.

Her head dropped forward, chin resting on her upper chest. She murmured something that Eve did not catch. Perhaps it was only a moan.

Lili's body became agitated, her shoulders giving little shrugs, the fingers resting on the chair's arm twitching. Her head rolled slightly, but remained dropped. Her eyelids flickered once more, then shut completely. The disturbing pallor returned to her face.

Eventually, her body relaxed and became very still. Her breathing was normal and, at first, Eve thought the psychic had fallen asleep; either that or she really was in a deep trance.

Then Lili's head slowly raised itself, her eyes remaining closed. Initially, her voice was but a whisper and Eve leaned even further forward to listen.

'I can… sense… some… someone,' Lili said quietly and Eve strained to hear. 'Yes, someone… very young… a boy, a very young boy…'

Eve's heart leapt. Could the psychic have reached Cam so soon, and so easily? Was it possible? Or was it a trick? Was Lili Peel a charlatan like many so-called mediums? But then, why should she try to deceive Eve? There had been no mention of a fee, so what would be the purpose? If Lili were genuine, Eve would gladly pay any charge she might demand; no price would be too high. Please, God, let this be real.

Lili's delicate lips moved again. The boy… he's so lost. He's calling… calling for help. He wants… he wants somebody to find him. He's in darkness… so alone…'

'Lili,' Eve tried, 'ask the boy who he is. Is it Cam? Please find out.'

'It… isn't clear. The connection between us is weak…'

'Ask him, Lili, please,' Eve implored. 'Is it my son?'

Lili opened her eyes and turned them towards Eve and her gaze seemed to come back from somewhere distant. 'I—I don't know,' she stammered. 'The voice is so faint. The… the contact between us isn't strong enough. Let me keep trying. But please, Eve, you've got to be quiet. Don't ask any questions, not yet'

'I'm sorry…' Eve pressed her lips together, determined not to distract the woman again. The psychic had reached her son, she was sure of that. But Lili's next words stunned her.

'I can't tell if I'm in touch with his spirit or his mind. It just isn't clear enough…'

Despite her resolution, Eve had to speak out. 'You said the boy was lost. Cam is lost to us, you know that. It has to be him.'

Lili raised her hand to stop Eve. 'The thoughts I'm receiving are fragile. He's afraid.'

'Of course he is! He doesn't like where he is, he wants to be back with me, with his family, don't you see?' Eve could no longer stem the flow of tears. Her hands were clasped together in her lap, their grip so fierce her knuckles were white.

'I can't tell why he's afraid,' said Lili helplessly. 'Nothing is right. He's too far away.'

Eve was desperate. 'Please,' she urged, 'please…'

Lili's eyes closed again and she leaned back in the armchair. Her face was tight, drawn, the mental struggle reflected in her pained features.

And then something changed.

Lili's eyes snapped open. She twisted in the chair, cowering, her arms up before her face. She groaned and her head turned from one side to the other. It was as if she were in agony.

Eve was startled by the transformation. Lili's mouth yawned open as if in horror and her eyes were wide, gaping up at the ceiling. Dropping the photograph of Cam, she clawed at her own neck with fevered hands.

And Eve shivered as she felt the dark oppression that had infiltrated the room; it weighed upon her like a dense but unseen mantle. Light seemed to be forced from the room, which was now filled with onerous gloom. Even the fire in the hearth seemed to wither under the presence, the flames dying, losing any warmth.