The Whitby Witches 3: The Whitby Child (23 page)

"You cannot touch me," she lamented. "I am only a vapour and if you try then I shall vanish like smoke."

Ben understood and sniffed forlornly. "We've both missed you, Mum," he said. "Jennet's always looking at the photo album."

"Ah, Jennet," the phantom echoed plaintively. "If only my pretty daughter were blessed with the same gift as you. How I long to speak with her and share the things a mother ought to. I know she is unhappy—I see this from beyond the solemn eternity of my mouldering dust. How it grieves me to witness her tears. What sins were mine that I am compelled to suffer this misery in death?"

Ben thrust his hands into the pockets of his coat as the bitter cold that blew from the surrounding sea pinched and chilled him.

"Why have you brought me here?" he asked.

A patient smile spread over his dead mother's face. "The lights of the town confound and dazzle me," she answered, whirling around in a slow circle and staring into the fathomless night. "There are fewer disturbances here, out in the still darkness. When the vibrations are strong they hinder the passage from one world to the next and weaker souls cannot break through."

"But you did."

"I did, yes."

"Oh Mum, I wish you hadn't left us, I wish you and Dad were still alive..." The tears rolled down Ben's cheeks and the phantom knelt upon the ground, wringing her hands that she could not hug and comfort him.

"Oh Benjamin," she uttered, "listen to me. Do you wish to see your father?"

Ben looked at her hopefully. "Dad?" he cried. "Is Dad here too?"

"Not yet," she said, "but this is where he shall pass through. Here the ether trembles and the veil is but a thin and meagre membrane. If we call to him he will follow our voices."

"Dad!" Ben shouted. "We're here!"

His mother floated forward, over to where the pier railing was buckled and the stone around the steel posts was cracked and hazardous. Orange warning tapes had been strung across the perilous spot like the web of a huge bright spider, but the phantom pointed past them and out into the pitch dark.

"Over here, Benjamin," she said. "That is where he will come through. Call to him now, summon his shade from the insensible grave. Let him know you still love him."

The boy darted to her side and yelled into the blank sky.

Below them the sea churned against the pier wall, sluicing and roaring above the din that Ben was making as he howled for his dead father.

"I can't see anything!" he cried. "Nothing's happening—where is he?"

"Trust me," his mother smiled, "he will come. He has waited so long for this moment—we are both so alone. Where are you, darling? Can you hear me? Our son is here—he desperately wants to see you. Please, for Ben's sake."

The cold wind rushed around her and the ghost reacted as though she had heard an answering voice.

"Yes, my love!" she cried. "I can hear you."

Frantically Ben stared hard at the empty sky but could neither see nor hear anything.

"Was it him?" he wept. "Is he there?"

"Oh yes," she replied, "your father will soon be with us. Look out there. Can you not see the faint mist? He is very close now."

"Where?" Ben cried, pushing against the orange tapes till they stretched and he leaned precariously forward.

"There!" she shrieked. "I see him!"

The tapes snapped and boy held on to the mangled rail to keep from falling, yet still his eyes hunted anxiously for a glimpse of his dead father, oblivious to the awful danger.

Mrs Laurenson stepped aside to let her son have full command of the pier edge and silently she glided behind him.

"Where are you, Dad?" he yelled. "Where are you?"

Beneath his feet the loose stones moved and tiny fragments rattled into the boiling waves below.

A cruel and ruthless smile twisted the phantom's face as she raised her hands.

"Dad!" he screamed. "Dad!"

Suddenly Mrs Laurenson seized Ben by the shoulders and gripped him fiercely.

The boy teetered on the edge, his remaining slipper spun through the night and was snatched into the deep thrashing waters.

"Mum!" he cried, startled and bewildered. "You can touch me... !"

Her savage fingernails bit through the material of his coat and pierced deep into his skin.

Ben shrieked and struggled to free himself; losing his balance on the terrible brink he almost fell and pulled her with him.

"Mum!" Ben shouted. "What's happening? I don't... I don't..."

"Keep still!" the ghost bawled and she slapped him savagely across the face.

Ben yelled in terror as the evil vision of his mother laughed like a demented demon and forced him to look down at the dreadful waters below.

"You're not my mum!" he screamed. "Let go! Let go!"

"That's enough!" she snapped, hitting him brutally over the head. "Be quiet, you little runt," and she hauled him off his feet.

"No!" he cried, lashing out with his hands. "Get off!"

The boy tore at the imposter's clothes and at once the illusion was shattered as the spectre wilted and crumpled.

An expanse of velvety fur slithered to the floor and the towering frame of Miriam Gower was revealed in all her Goliathan and heavy-boned malevolence.

Ben stared in disbelief at the enchanted seal skin that he had wrenched from her. Silvery sparks still glittered over the sleek hide and two blank eyes appeared to stare sadly up at him.

"Into the waters you go!" Miriam snarled, dangling him over the edge with her ogre-like hands.

Ben clung to the rail and kicked out at her.

"You're the cow in the bookshop!" he spluttered. "You're mad!"

"Oh, I am," she agreed, "but it is an insanity borne of love and devotion. Soon my beloved will return to me and I shall feel his warm embrace and writhe beneath his supple weight."

With her masculine strength, she ripped the boy's hands from the rail and spat in his face.

"They say drowning is an extremely horrific and painful way to die," she gloated, her bright lips gaping in a foul, gratified smile. "How lucky for you that your head will probably be dashed against the wall before your lungs are filled."

Ben glanced at the black water swirling and crashing beneath him. Vainly he clawed at her, but the woman was too strong and with a last snigger, she let him fall.

Ben screamed.

Miriam was thrust aside and a slender hand flashed out.

A sudden pain bit into Ben's neck as the coat tightened and choked him.

A straining shriek bellowed behind and at once the darkness flew over his head and the next the boy knew he was rolling over the stone floor. In a tangled ball, he smashed into the solid bulk of the lighthouse and fell on to his face.

Miriam staggered against the rail and whirled around, incensed at the interference.

"Who's there?" she screeched, the lights of the town sparkling in her eyes and blinding her to the one who had saved her intended victim.

Ben groaned and rubbed the back of his head where it had bumped against the stones. Then he heard laughter.

Miriam was hooting raucously.

"You!" she shrieked, her bosom quivering with scornful mirth. "Get out of my way! How dare you interrupt this! How..."

Her derision dwindled and was replaced with a terrified squeal. As she rocked with murderous glee, beneath the heels of her feminine yet oversized shoes more of the crumbling brink collapsed and the broken railing was torn from the pier then plunged into the sea.

The woman's petrified scream boomed over the harbour. Too late, the one who had rescued Ben rushed forward to save her. Miriam Gower lost her footing and her imposing frame plummeted backwards.

Down she toppled, her massive arms flailing the night, and a shrill screech blistered from her chest only to be quenched when she hit the waves.

Into the foaming sea the owner of the bookshop crashed and it seized her with vicious greed.

Ben hid his face, and even though his fingers were thrust into his ears he could still hear her frenzied voice howling amid the churning, drowning water. And then there was only the sound of the sea and Miriam Gower had been silenced forever.

Timidly, he opened his eyes and ran over to the brink. But there was no sign of her. Spinning around he searched for the one who had saved him and there, running back towards the town and blurred against the golden lights, he saw a tall figure swathed in black robes. Then the mysterious stranger vanished into the distance, and drained of any further emotion, Ben began to walk back the way he had come.

In the bookshop the fishmonkey let out a frustrated whine and slapped the wooden box angrily.

"Failure!" it raged. "The boy still lives—he lives!"

Hillian looked across at Meta. "Then Miriam..?" she ventured.

"Dragged into the deeps!" the creature snapped. "Swallowed by the sea! Your coven is useless! You are defeated at every turn! My master did choose unwisely!"

Hillian stared at the empty space where her coven sister had been sitting earlier and touched the necklace about her neck.

"What are we to do now?" she whispered hoarsely.

The fishmonkey lashed out at her. "Only one further time can I aid you!" it snarled. "The boy will be doubly on guard henceforth. The next attempt must not fail—the hand that strikes must be one that he trusts implicitly!"

Ferociously it turned to Meta and pointed an accusing webbed claw at her. "Now the fate of us all lies with thee!" it warned. "You must make certain the girl joins the sisters—she is now the only key to all our goals."

Meta bristled. "At the close of tomorrow," she stated firmly, "the irritating child will be with us."

"May that not be too late!" the creature growled. "For the morrow may bring its own nightmares for us all."

Jennet awoke early but discovered that Miss Wethers had already been up for quite some time and was scuttling from room to room in her panic to be ready for the great occasion later that afternoon.

Her incessant squeaks of indecision brought Miss Boston from her room and she scowled at her old friend. "Do sit down, Edith," she cried as the woman blundered into her a third time.

"I can't!" she whined. "There's so much to do still! Oh Alice, am I doing the right thing? It's such a huge step to take at my time of life."

Miss Boston groaned and settled down to eat her kippers. "Personally I think the man's a complete dunderhead," she muttered, savouring the smoky scent of her breakfast, "but then so are you—you'll make a magnificent couple I'm sure."

When Jennet entered the kitchen Edith pounced on her.

"Have you tried the dress on today?" she simpered. "I think you'd better just to be sure it fits properly."

The girl pouted. "I've only just got up!" she protested. "And I refuse to put that hideous frock on until the last minute."

Aunt Alice waved a fork at her whilst chewing a morsel of kipper. "Now, now," she said, "don't be uncharitable—it is Edith's special day. We must humour her, no matter how aggravating she becomes."

"The cake!" Miss Wethers squawked. "I must nip round to Cicily Drinkwater's to see if it's ready to be taken to the hall."

Miss Boston glanced at the clock. "Isn't it rather early for that, dear?" she asked.

"I've got to do something!" Edith babbled. "Oh, my tummy's all upset—I feel quite quite dreadful."

Jennet buttered a piece of toast and fled the kitchen quickly.

"Where are you going?" Aunt Alice called after her.

"For a walk," she shouted on her way out. "I won't be long."

Hearing the front door close, Miss Boston lay down her knife and fork and clucked wearily. "Really, Edith," she chided, "if you're like this now how will you survive till the afternoon?"

Miss Wethers gave a pathetic whimper then hurried upstairs to make sure her hat was still in the box.

***

Upon the clifftop, Jennet hurried through the car park and made for the camper van.

"Hello!" she called. "Pear—it's me!"

There was no reply and as she drew up to the cream and orange vehicle she realised that no one was inside.

"They've started early," she mumbled. "They can't be playing already—I'd have heard them."

The girl waited several minutes more then decided to go and find her new friends.

Down the abbey steps she clambered, always listening for the cheerful melodies of the folk group, but that morning only the seagulls were singing.

Through the lanes and narrow streets she searched, yet there was no sign of the women and Jennet barged through the ranks of early shoppers crossly.

At Market Place she halted and wondered if she ought to wait there—even though it might be hours before the band were scheduled to appear.

Dejected and downcast, she moped around and leaned against the same pillar as the previous day. Staring into Church Street she saw that a queue of disgruntled-looking people were standing outside the bookshop and peering through the window, impatient that it was still not open.

"That fat woman's probably had enough at last," she grumbled to herself.

Turning her head she scanned the other shop fronts; the baker's was busy as always, small children were staring hopefully into the toy shop, the health food store had attracted its usual mix of serious corduroy-covered cranks and intrepid gastronomes. Jennet drew herself up—inside that shop a timorous, purple outline was hovering uncertainly.

"Liz!" she exclaimed, running across the street and darting inside.

Within the dimly-lit premises an aromatic and treacly fragrance rose from the many barrels containing dried and sugared fruits and a warm, nutty smell was drifting from the restaurant at the back. Standing awkwardly by a row of baskets containing dates, sultanas and raisins, the modest figure of the flautist checked the list in her hand and inspected the sweet-scented wares.

Abruptly, the shy woman whisked around when Jennet called her name and a scoop full of raisins fell from her hand in surprise.

"Mornin'," she greeted the girl, casting her eyes down to the floor.

"Do you know where Pear is?" Jennet asked.

The woman fidgeted with one of the strings of beads around her neck and shifted uneasily. "No," she burbled under her breath, "she left early."