New Title 1 (21 page)

Somewhere in the night, someone screamed and Chase flinched.

A twig snapped. Someone was following her. She surveyed the trees that lined the path, but darkness held dominion.

She quickened her pace, but that created more noise as she disturbed the undergrowth, which made her heart beat faster, made the fear swell, caused her to let out a little whimper of fright, making her feel more vulnerable.

Something flew past her face, black as pitch and she thought of the witches in Adam’s story searching for their heads.

She wanted to scream, but she couldn’t. If she started, she wouldn’t be able to stop. Something shimmied up a tree, disturbing leaves as it danced along a branch. Something called out with a feral shriek; something replied with a death cry as it was attacked.

Up ahead was a house, its windows in darkness. But it was civilisation, and it came as a welcome relief after the primordial backwoods. She felt herself relax slightly, her heart beginning to slow its frenetic beat. Then another house appeared, then another, these ones illuminated behind curtains that hid whatever macabre play was being enacted within. Shadowy figures were visible, silhouettes behind the curtains. Some of the figures were animated like marionettes in a shadow play; others were motionless. She heard conversations emanating from some of the houses, voices raised in argument.

Hurrying up the lane to High Top Cottage, she saw lights burning in Belinda’s house, heard muffled conversation, and heard the crash of breaking pottery, a shout, a squeal, and a laugh. Chase shivered and hurried to her house. She unlocked the door, slipped inside and locked it behind her. She didn’t turn on the light, feeling that it would advertise she was home (for some reason she couldn’t explain, she didn’t want people to know she was here). Once in the lounge, she slumped onto the settee, exhausted. Thoughts and ideas drifted through her mind like clouds, forming into recognisable shapes and possible answers before dissipating as she dismissed them.

She heard someone laughing outside, the sound carried on the breeze so she couldn’t tell where it originated. It wasn’t a comical laugh, more like a demented chuckle that made the hairs on her arms stand on end. Was that a gunshot? She bit her lip and crept to the window to look out over the village, her arms folded protectively across her chest. After five minutes of seeing nothing, she returned to the settee and sat back down.
  

As she sat thinking, it seemed as though the walls were closing in, the giant who had originally buckled the walls having returned to compress them more. She felt the weight of the house pressing down on her, making her feel claustrophobic. But it was preferable to going outside.

A knock at the door woke Chase from her slumber. Daylight flooded through the window, and she wiped sleep from her eyes. How long had she slept? Rising, she yawned and walked through the hall to the front door. Her hand hovered over the lock as she hesitated.

“Chase, are you in there?”

It was Adam. She unlocked the door, pulled it open and stared at him, momentarily embarrassed by her shabby appearance as she was still wearing the same clothes from the day before.

“I was worried about you,” Adam said. “Yesterday, I waited by the pond for you, but you never turned up.”

“Sorry about that. Did you find Ratty, I mean, Peter?”

Adam shook his head. “Not a trace. I’m sorry. I take it that you didn’t either?”

“No. Please, come in.” She stepped aside to let him enter before leading him through to the kitchen, absently noticing her reflection in a mirror in the hall and realising she looked a state. Running her hands through her hair, she accidentally touched the bump that had resulted from her fall and she winced.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. Would you like a drink?”

Adam frowned before nodding his head. “Tea would be nice.”

She filled the kettle, but remembering the vicar’s brown, dirty water she didn’t make herself a drink:
Drink no longer water, but use a little wine for thy stomach’s sake and
thine
often infirmities
.

In his drunken preaching, was the vicar telling her not to drink the water? But why? What was wrong with it? An apple. The tree of life. Knowledge. Snow White ate a poisoned apple. Connections suddenly clicked into place. Were the vicar and the Raggedy man telling her not to eat or drink anything in
Paradise
?

She watched Adam as he drank the tea. He noticed her and said, “Is there something wrong? You haven’t poisoned it have you?” He grinned.

Chase smiled. “Of course not. Is it all right?”

“Lovely. Best drink of the day.”

Chase nodded and sat down. “I don’t know how to ask you this, but is everything all right, you know, with the people around here?”

“All right! What do you mean?” He frowned and set the cup down on the table.

“Well, it’s just that some people are, I don’t know, acting a little ... strange.”

“Strange?”

“Yes, you know, quirky.”

“Quirky? I don’t know what you mean.” He shrugged his shoulders and picked his cup up again.

“Well, take your receptionist. For no reason at all, she threw some flowers at me. Then there’s Belinda who lives down the lane. She threw cakes at me. Then the people waiting in your surgery were a little ... peculiar. Then there’s the lady in the general store ...”

Adam shook his head, laughing. “You must have imagined it.”

“No, it happened.”

“Really. Well, in your condition, you are, how shall I put it, going through hormonal changes. For no reason at all, things may anger you or upset you, but if you think about them rationally, you will see there was nothing to get upset about.”

“Wouldn’t you call someone throwing things at me something to get upset about?”

Adam smiled. “Now are you sure that’s what really happened?”

She felt like punching him. “Of course I’m bloody sure.”

“Okay, calm down.” He raised his hands in a placating manner.
 
“Just take deep breaths. Perhaps you should have a drink.” He went to the sink and filled a glass with water, then returned and handed it to her.

Accepting the glass, she licked her lips. She
was
thirsty; beads of liquid rolled down the frosted glass.

“Go on, take a sip.”

Lifting the drink to her mouth, she felt the cold glass on her lips.

“That’s it. Drink.”

Tilting the glass, she saw the liquid pouring toward her mouth.

“Drink.”

Felt the cold water on her lips.

“Drink.”

Felt the water in her mouth, cold and satisfying. All it would take was one swallow.

“Drink.”

One swallow and she would be sated.
Drink no longer water, but use a little wine for thy stomach’s sake and
thine
often infirmities
. Hearing the vicar’s voice in her head, she spit the water out of her mouth and threw the glass toward the sink where it smashed, sending shards of glass across the room.

Adam’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “Chase, what’s wrong?”

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong. I don’t want a drink and I don’t want you humouring me.”

“Humouring?”

“And I don’t want you repeating every damn thing I say.”

Adam sipped his tea. “Repeating?”

Chase shook her head. “I want to go home. I want to get out of here. Where can I find Moon?”

Adam shook his head. “I’m not sure.”

“Well if you can’t help me, then just go. Leave me alone.”

Adam stood up, placed a hand on Chase’s shoulder. “I can see you’re upset. If you need to talk, you know where I am. I’ll see myself out, but please, come and see me. I’m worried about you.”

She watched him go, feeling momentarily guilty about shouting at him. It wasn’t Adam’s fault, and he was the only friend she had around here. She decided she would apologise the next time she saw him.
 

Hearing the front door shut, she walked through to lock it behind him. She had never felt so insecure, so unsure of what was going on around her, causing her to confuse what was real with what she imagined. Had those people really thrown things at her? She needed to talk to someone other than Adam, and the only people she had were the vicar and the Raggedy man. Neither option was very appealing. Both of them spoke in riddles to avoid a direct answer, as though the truth was too dreadful to voice.

The vicar had hinted that some things were better left unknown, but she needed to know. She needed to find out why she was here. Had there really been a competition, or was Ratty right when he called her stupid? Had she really fallen for a ploy, drawn to the house like a moth to the flame, unable to resist such a prize when everything else around her was going wrong? Jane had been more cautious; Chase now knew she was right to have been.

Oh, Jane, where are you?

She couldn’t face Adam again at the moment, but she needed answers.

Walking out of the house, Chase headed for the church.

CHAPTER 15

When Chase arrived at the church, the doors were locked. She walked around the side, trying not to look at the bank of fog as she was sure there was someone in there, watching her. Peering through the dirty windows, she thought she glimpsed movement between the pews. She tried to clean a small circle in the glass to see more clearly, but the grime was old and defied her attempts to move it.

“Hello, is anyone there?” She knocked on the glass.

A figure dashed across the church.

“Vicar, is that you?” No one answered, and she wondered if he was drunk again. Shaking her head and frowning, she walked further around the church and along the side of the adjoining hall until the fog encroached. Despite her trepidation, she stepped into the fog and felt her way around the hall, the brickwork wet with condensation. The fog was denser than she expected, and she was unable to see anything more than a few feet away. At the back of the hall she came to an unlocked door. Even before she entered, she could smell rotting food, and she stepped inside to find the remnants of the buffet still lying discarded on the tables and floor. The word,
hell
that the man had gouged into the wall at the reception caught her eye and she shivered. Why hadn’t anyone tidied up?

She walked past the tables, approached a side door. Cautiously opening it a fraction, she peered into the church. Shadows danced around the walls, cast by the candles on the altar. Opening the door enough to pass through, Chase slipped into the church and pressed herself against the wall. Something didn’t feel right.

Wooden columns held aloft the high, vaulted ceiling, obscuring her view of the front of the church. As she crept along the wall at the side of the pews, she caught glimpses of a figure, crouched before the altar. The figure didn’t move, as though deep in prayer. Almost level with the altar, Chase still couldn’t see the figures face so she didn’t know who it was. Realising how stupid she would look to someone, creeping along the wall, she stepped out, unsure whether to disturb the person if they were praying.

She coughed, trying to attract their attention without being too forward. The figure didn’t respond. Didn’t even move. She coughed again, louder, the sound echoing from the eaves. Still nothing. The candle flames flickered, casting the figures shadow like a dark net across the floor. Taking a step toward the figure, Chase coughed again, realising she was being overly zealous in her attempt at getting their attention. Still no response. Praying or not, she thought it was rather rude of the person to ignore her.