I wandered into the kitchen and smiled sleepily at my mother. “Good morning,” I said.
“You dreamt about him last night, didn’t you?” Mother asked.
I nodded as I pulled out a bowl. “He was in the background. Would you like any tea?”
“There’s some in the pot,” Mother said. She sat at the kitchen table, clasping her mug of tea in tightly folded hands. “You know, Leanne, you can’t carry on like this.”
“Hmm?” I said as pulled out a bowl and poured cereal.
“I mean, you need a proper boyfriend, not just someone in a dream,” she said. “You come down here some mornings with that smile on your face and I know what you’ve been dreaming of. It’s not right, though. You need someone real. You need someone you can touch when you’re awake.”
“It’s not that sort of dream,” I said helplessly.
Mother gave me an old-fashioned look. “I don’t want to ask what sort of dream puts that sort of smile on your face. Why don’t I invite Liam over for dinner? Well, I’ll ask his mother and she’ll bring him and you can be nice to him. I’m just saying, be friendly. He’s an assistant manager at the supermarket now, and that’s something these days.”
“Please don’t,” I said wearily. “And don’t tell his mum, but I think he has a girlfriend.”
“Really?” Mother’s eyes lit up at the hint of gossip.
“I’ll tell you all about it tonight,” I said as I poured milk into my mug and over my cereal. I added tea to the mug and sat down. “If I remember. We have a new boss coming in.”
“It should have been you, you know,” Mother said. “You should have applied. Anyway, I want to hear all about them. They may be worth a date.”
“I haven’t got the qualifications to apply for that sort of job yet,” I reminded my mother. “That’s why I’m studying in the evening. Besides, it’s probably someone married or really old.”
“You may get lucky,” Mother said. “You have to find a boyfriend at some point.”
“I’ll tell you all about it tonight,” I repeated. I stuffed the last spoonful of cereal into my mouth and followed it with the last mouthful of tea. “I’ll see you later!” I grabbed my coat and bag and ran out.
I sat on the bus and smiled as I remembered the dream. He had been there. The man in my dreams. Every now and then, I’d see him. Last night I dreamt I was trying to revise for a test but the words kept blurring together and I couldn’t remember the topic. He had been in the background and then handed me the answers just as I woke up. He was usually in the background, perhaps next to me in a crowd or on a ship or a train or in a theatre or wherever my dreams took me. He had short, dark hair. It wasn’t clipped short, but it was above his collar and it was thick and straight apart from a tuft in his fringe that stuck up just a little. He had kind, deep brown eyes and a gentle smile. In my dreams he had been a haven every time. He wasn’t heroic looking, I suppose. He was taller than me, but then, I’m not exactly tall myself, and I never saw him flexing muscles. But when I saw him I always felt safe and warm and I knew that everything would be alright. Every time we touched or talked or interacted in any way, he was helping me. He wasn’t fighting dragons or zombie hordes. He was just there with what I needed. If he wasn’t helping me, then I was helping him. A few weeks ago I dreamt that we were at the beach. Mother was insisting that the sandwiches should be made here but in the background I could see him in the water and I took a towel to him as he got out of the water. It was always those little things, those little kindnesses and I always woke up feeling loved.
I pulled myself together as I got off the bus and dragged myself into the building, wondering if the new boss was there yet. I could hear murmurs as I trudged across the lobby and into the main office, so I guessed that he had got here early. Mr Givens, the big man from the main office, would be showing the new manager around as if he knew what we did, which he didn’t. I didn’t know anything about the new manager, but I hoped that they wouldn’t be too bad. The last manager, Mr Roland, had been a darling and had bought cakes all round on the last Friday of every month. His retirement had left a gap.
I hung up my coat and looked across. It was someone taller than me, but not particularly tall. He had kind brown eyes and though his short, dark hair was smoothed down, a tuft stuck up in front.
“This is Leanne, who is the data analyst here,” Mr Givens said. “She knows how this office works, so feel free to ask her anything. Leanne, this is Tom Rivers, the new manager.”
My eyes met his. It was my dream man. It was him, the one who was there for me in my dreams. And as he reached out to shake my hands I saw recognition in his eyes, a connection as if he remembered those dreams as well. We murmured conventional pleasantries, but there was no doubt that we both knew.
“Perhaps Leanne can come to lunch with me,” Tom said. His voice was as I remembered, deep and soothing. “She can bring me up to speed on all the details.”
“That’s a great idea,” I said. “We usually break here at one.”
“Excellent,” Mr Givens said. “Well, I’ll let you find your way around now, Tom. Don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything.”
As Tom saw Mr Givens to the door, I switched on the kettle. Tea for me, coffee for him with milk and one sugar, just like the dreams. And I was absolutely not going to tell Mother about this.
It was the longest night of the year and she always found it tough. She loved the sunlight and long days, and the dark, dreary nights pressed down on her like a weight. She sat next to the new woodburning stove and watched the flames flickering. He’d forbidden her to get a stove, of course. “Central heating is good enough for the church in the village, so it’s good enough for us.” The church was always freezing, though, and the central heating had never quite given the warmth of a fire in this draughty room. She added a small fragment of crumbling wood to the stove and watched it crackle into fiery life.
Traditionally it was a time to look back at the last year and on to the next. Last year had been a long, grinding slog with little respite. Her husband had fallen ill, and they had found it was terminal with very little time left.
“I told you to see a doctor about that cough,” she had said.
He had glared at her, his eyes sunk in his greying face but the glint of malice still bright. “I was never going to let you tell me what to do. You were always trying to get one over on me. You never knew your place.”
She shrugged. “Can I fetch you some water?”
“That fool Jeffries has been on the phone,” he had snarled. “They won’t let me change the payee on the life insurance. Did you sleep with him? You should have made me go to the doctor – I bet you worked it so that I wouldn’t.”
She had stared at him for a long moment. She had begged him for months to get a medical appointment but his refusal was still her fault. “It won’t be much,” she said. “I’ll have to go back to work.”
“No you won’t!” he had growled before a coughing fit took him. He sipped some water and gathered his strength. “I’ve made arrangements. There’ll be enough for you to live quietly, but you’re not to go gallivanting around and meeting people, and you’re not to change anything in the house.” His smile under the oxygen mask took on a vicious slant. “When I said I’ve made arrangements, I mean I’ve made proper arrangements. I’ve been speaking to Doctor Adodo and I’ll be haunting you. I’ll be watching every move you make and I’ll be waiting for you at the other side instead of crossing straight over.” The vicious angle of his smile grew stronger. “And you won’t like what happens if you disobey.”
He had not lasted long after that, and the funeral had been particularly grim. Hardly anyone attended apart from the unnerving Dr Adodo with his assistant and a scattering of neighbours who had nothing better to do. Unexpected fog had risen from the grave as he had been lowered down and Dr Adodo had given her a meaningful look. If she hadn’t seen Dr Adodo’s assistant tip dry ice into the grave as the minister said the last prayers, she would have been seriously upset.
The clock in the hall struck ten. She had spent enough time thinking of the past. There was a good film on and a bottle of wine in the fridge. He had been wrong about so many things. She had never stopped him going to see a doctor. She had never slept with Mr Jeffries at his old firm. And he was not haunting her. There had been a few unpleasant incidents at first, when she had started to redecorate, but she had dealt with that. She tossed the last piece of coffin wood onto the fire before standing up and fetching the wine. YouTube really did have a tutorial for everything.
The wanderer couldn’t believe how long he had been walking in the woods. It felt like days. The mist between the silver trees softened the edges of the world and blurred any sounds into a faint hiss. Everything looked the same, and the faint echoes of song that tantalised him on the edge of his hearing were impossible to place. He paused and put a tentative hand on the ice-cold trunk of a tree. Perhaps he had passed it before. He couldn’t tell. He had tried arranging stones on the paths to see if he was going in circles, but when he found the stones again, they were not quite the same as he remembered. They had been a little jumbled and he couldn’t be sure if they were the stones he had left there or not.
He regretted taking the dare. Everyone said that the lane led to Fairyland if you went on a full moon on May Day Eve. He hadn’t wanted to go, but Harry had dared him, and he hadn’t wanted to look scared. He stopped again and leant against a tree. It was funny. He didn’t feel hungry or thirsty, but he was sure he had been here most of the night. He shivered.
He looked around. It felt like days but there was no sign of dawn. Perhaps the mist was hiding it. He peered through the mist. He didn’t remember this fork in the path. Perhaps that was the way out. He frowned. He could hear voices! He finally could hear voices!
“I don’t know, father,” The voice of a young man said. “The signs are mounting up. There is something coming to Leeds and I’m not sure what.”
“I do not wish to believe it, Steve,” An older voice said. “But I fear it is true.”
The wanderer ran towards them. “Hey, hey there! Can you help me? I’m lost.” He ran into the clearing and then stumbled to a halt. A tall, dark man with devilish green eyes was dressed in what looked like Medieval armour and was facing a slim man in a sharp suit.
“I am Lord Marius,” the man in armour said. “This is my son, Steve Adderson. Why are you here?”
“Harry dared me.” The wanderer looked between the two men. “This is Fairyland, right?”
“Yes, it is.” Steve looked at him. “Have you been here long?”
The wanderer smiled ruefully. “It seems like days. Do you know the way out? It’s just that if I’m out too late my mam won’t let me listen to the coronation on the radio.”
“Coronation?” Lord Marius asked, amused.
“Yes, King George VI. He’ll do a better job and at least he’s married to a proper lady.” The wanderer looked between the two men and their suddenly set expressions. “What’s the matter?”
“I’ll explain it.” Steve said. “I’ll meet up later, father.” He turned to the wanderer. “We need to get out of this domain and have a long talk. What’s your name?”
The wanderer stared at him for a long moment. He had come into Fairyland, some time ago. He had come because of a dare from Harry. He wanted to get back to listen to the coronation on the radio, and he couldn’t if his mam was cross, and he seemed to have been wandering for a long time. Those thoughts had run a track around his mind for longer than it seemed, with nothing else on his mind. “I can’t remember.”
He looked carefully at his outfit. He had to get the look exactly right. It could make all the difference between success and failure. There was an all night screening of the Twilight films and he could not miss this opportunity.
He was naturally pale but his blond hair was a problem. The old fashioned top hat that he had picked up on the internet should cover it and give the right feel. He had considered a cane but he hoped there would be times in the evening when he wanted both hands free. There were likely to be a lot of young ladies at the screening.
The suit had been another problem. He had found one eventually in a second hand shop. The black suit jacket had velvet lapels and the waistcoat was nicely cut. He had been meticulous to get rid of any faint trace of the iridescent dusting powder. With the slightly flared trousers it said very clearly that this was a man who had not quite got the decade right.
He had wondered about the shirt. He may have wanted to look as if he couldn't keep up with fashion after all this time, but there was no way he was wearing 1970s drip dry polyester with a frill. He had settled for a deep crimson silk shirt. It was brand new, but silk was an old fashioned material and he could always say that he had ripped his favourite brushed nylon shirt in a fight with a werewolf. With well polished shoes and a heavy, plain signet ring he should look the part.
He checked he had his ticket and plenty of cash. He didn't want to break the look with a credit card and if he got lucky with a persuadable lady he didn't want to give too much information about himself, just in case. The taxi outside sounded the horn.
"Going to the screening? You look just like a vampire, mate. It makes a better night if you put a bit of effort in to look the part." The taxi driver sighed. "I used to have a suit like that forty years ago. Of course, I was a lot thinner then. Well, you won't be lonely tonight, I bet you've got a hotel room booked."
He smiled enigmatically and gave the driver a generous tip. Looking at the crowd there were others who had aimed for his intended look but he prided himself that he had hit closest to the mark. He was already getting interested glances and he thought it would not take much to entice the pretty brunette near the popcorn stand to a secluded corner to 'talk'.
Carefully keeping his expression immobile, inside he was laughing wildly. He may be seven hundred and thirty two years old and a vampire but looking at all those pliable, gullible necks made him feel like a child in a sweet shop.
The pub was quiet, even for a Wednesday. Evan leaned back in his seat and looked around. Apart from him, Kyle and Adam, there was an old man in a corner nursing his half-pint of stout and an elderly barman with a sudoku. It wasn’t helping Kyle’s mood.
“She wasn’t worth it,” Adam said. “You were always too good for her, mate.”
Kyle slumped lower. “Yeah,” he muttered.
“You need to forget about her,” Evan said. “There’s plenty more fish in the sea.”
“Yeah,” Kyle mumbled and took a mouthful of his beer.
“Perhaps we should go out next Saturday night,” Adam persisted. “We could go into Leeds. There’s bound to be someone better for you there.”
Kyle set down his pint and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yeah, bound to be someone better,” he said defiantly.
Evan frowned at him. “I thought you were busy on Saturday,” he said.
The defiance slipped out of Kyle. “I was supposed to be going to her brother’s wedding.” He looked down at his half-drunk pint, too dispirited to take another mouthful.
“She dumped you just before her brother’s wedding?” Adam exclaimed. “What was she thinking?”
Evan kicked Adam under the table. “She was thinking that Kyle forgot her birthday, called her mother a stupid bitch and that her dad threatened to beat him to a paste,” he hissed.
Adam blinked for a moment and tried a different tack. “We could go and watch Leeds United,” he said. “They’re playing Sheffield Wednesday in the Cup so it should be a good game.” Kyle didn’t bother to reply.
“Maybe we could go hiking,” Evan said. “You know, up on the moors. A bit of exercise and some fresh air will do you the world of good.”
“We could take some beers,” Adam added.
“We don’t want to take too many,” Evan said. “Not at this time of year. But it won’t harm to have a hike. And if you come back to my place, we could get pizza.” He met Adam’s eyes. “And I’ve got more games since last time.”
“That sounds like a plan,” Adam said. He glanced at Kyle. “What do you think, mate?”
“Yeah, it’ll be fun,” Kyle said, forcing a faint smile. “It’s better than sitting around and moping.”
“And maybe we’ll see one of those big cats,” Adam said.
Evan shook his head. It was an old argument. “They’re not real,” he said. “You couldn’t have a tiger in the English countryside. What would they eat?”
“Well, maybe not tigers,” Adam conceded. “But there’s loads on the internet about the Beast of Bodmin. Even coppers have seen it.”
“Yeah, well my nan’s old tom cat was big enough to chase a Doberman and that was just a normal cat,” Evan said. “All the stuff out there is probably just pictures of tom cats taken by drunk people. If there were big cats then they’d have to hunt things like antelope. You don’t get many antelope on the Yorkshire Moors.”
“There’s sheep,” Adam argued. “There must be thousands of them up on the moors and I bet the farmers don’t know each one by name. One or two could go missing and no-one would know.”
“How much would they eat?” Evan asked. “Don’t they have to have, like, a sheep a night?”
“I suppose it depends on the size of the cat,” Adam said. “I mean, a normal cat just wants a mouse or two.”
“My nan’s cat used to have two big tins of food every day and crunchies,” Evan said.
“And big cats don’t mean just lions and tigers,” Adam said. “It could be lynx or ocelot crosses, you know, that escaped from zoos and went wild. I bet they wouldn’t need a sheep a night.”
“I want to know why there aren’t any big dogs out there,” Kyle said suddenly. “A Great Dane or Irish Wolfhound would be bigger than a big cat.”
“Yeah, but they don’t hunt, do they?” Adam said reasonably. “They get fed or scrounge out of rubbish.”
“Next door’s terrier is always catching rats,” Kyle said. “They must be able to hunt something.”
“But I bet he doesn’t eat the rats,” Adam said. “I bet he has a tin of dog food or something. Maybe half a tin because it’s a small dog.”
Evan shook his head. “How do you know that there aren’t any big dogs out there?” he said. “I’m not saying that there are, just that there could be. There was that thing in North Leeds, near Horsforth.”
Adam nodded. “Yeah, I remember that. A big, black dog. It appeared out of nowhere and scared a van driver to pieces.”
“One of my dad’s mates knew him,” Kyle said. “Dad said that the driver was in a right state for ages afterwards. He wouldn’t get into the van for months.”
“I don’t think it was anything special,” Evan said. “It was probably an overgrown Rottweiler, but that’s how the stories start.”
Kyle frowned. “You don’t get big dog stories because there aren’t real big dogs. You have normal cats like your nan’s cat and then you have tigers which are way bigger.” He took a mouthful of beer. “But there aren’t any big dogs, not like tigers. I mean, a wolf isn’t going to be much bigger than a German Shepherd, is it?”
“Wolves are big bastards,” Adam said, digging out his phone. “Let me find a picture.”
“That dog in Horsforth was supposed to be like a ghost,” Evan said. “It’s not supposed to be a real creature.”
Adam changed the search on his phone. “Yeah, they’re supposed to be omens of death,” he said. “No wonder that van driver was in a bad way.”
“There’s no such thing as ghosts either,” Evan said.
Adam ignored him. “It says here that they guard graveyards and are omens of death,” he said, scrolling rapidly. “There’s all sorts of names, but they say that in Leeds they’re called Padfoot.”
“We won’t see any up on the moors,” Evan said. “There are no graveyards up there. It’s just grass, heather and sheep.”
“And us with some beers,” Adam added.
“But not too many,” Evan said.
“Yeah, it’ll be good to get out,” Kyle said quietly.
***
Evan knocked on Kyle’s front door. “Come on, mate. We’re waiting.”
Kyle pushed the sash of his window up and stuck his head out. “What?”
“We’re going to the moors, remember?” Evan shouted up. “Adam’s in the car and he’s got the beers.”
Kyle scowled, then groaned. “I’ll be down in two minutes.”
“I’ll be in the car,” Evan said, knowing that the two minutes would be nearer fifteen and the wind was whipping down the narrow side street and he’d left his coat in the car. “We’re leaving in ten minutes whether you’re there or not.”
It was warmer back in the car. “I told him that we’d leave in ten minutes,” Evan said.
Adam chuckled. “He knows you mean twenty minutes at least,” he said. “I hope he’s alright.”
“I thought she was like that about him,” Adam said. “I never thought that she’d dump him.”
“He swore at her mother, embarrassed her at her work, forgot her birthday and got so drunk on his birthday that the taxi driver had to help her carry him indoors – again.” Evan said. “Still, a hike on the moors won’t hurt and he’ll find someone else.”
Adam looked thoughtfully down the street at Kyle’s house. “Yeah,” he muttered without much conviction. “I’ve got my good camera with me,” he said in a sudden change of subject. “Just in case we see any of those big cats.”
Evan shook his head. “You’re more likely to get pictures of sheep,” he grumbled. He watched Kyle stumble out of his house. “But it won’t hurt Kyle if he’s busy looking for them.”
***
November pressed hard on the moors. The sky was a uniform gray, and the wind whistled as it sliced across the rolling landscape. Evan took a deep breath of the clean air as he shrugged into his coat. “I’ve got the sandwiches and the compass,” he said.
“I’ve got the beers,” Adam said with a grin. “And don’t forget my camera.”
Kyle held up a bag from their brief stop on the way. “I’ve got some water and snacks,” he said. “Which way?”
Evan checked his phone. “According to Google Maps, we could head towards Lippersley Pike over that way.” He waved generally over to the west. “Or there’s the Tree of Life Stone over that way, towards Stainburn.” He nodded over to the east.
“What do you want to do?” Adam asked, looking at Kyle.
Kyle shrugged. “It looks like a better walk over that way,” he said pointing west.
“Lippersley Pike it is,” Evan said and set off down the track.
***
The track was hard, beaten earth with the short grass slick with the damp. The tufts of grass and brown heather that spread around them was lifeless, but the quiet was welcome. It wasn’t cheerful, but it was peaceful, with only the sound of their breathing, distant sheep and the ever present wind as they hiked. As always, Evan wondered why he didn’t come out here more often. There was a freedom in the wide horizon and a tang in the air. He felt his worries sliding away as he strode out. They made good time, pressing on through the dank air and up a rise.
“Hang on,” Adam called. “Wait for us.”
Evan looked back. “Sorry,” he called. He looked around at the stones scattered on the ridge. “Do you want to stop here?”
Adam puffed up next to him, followed closely by Kyle. “Yeah, that would be a good idea,” he grumbled. “How come you’re so fit, office boy?”
Evan grinned as he sank onto the stones. “I may spend my days in an office chair, but I go to the gym,” he said. “And that’s more than you two bother with.”
“I’m knackered after my shift,” Kyle said.
“You’re stocking shelves in a supermarket,” Adam said. “How hard can it be?” He sat next to Evan and opened his rucksack. “Beer?”
“Don’t mind if I do,” Kyle said, sinking onto the stone next to him. “You’re not much better. I thought mechanics were all about the fitness.”
“Like I have time,” Adam scoffed. “You said there were sandwiches.”
Evan pulled the sandwiches out of his own rucksack. “You could make time,” he said as he handed the sandwiches around. “But you’re too busy gaming.” He took a beer from Adam and cracked it open. “It’s all about priorities.”
“I’m going to prove the big cats are out here,” Adam said. “There must have been sightings here.”
“Why?” Kyle asked thickly around a mouthful of sandwich. “Why must there have been sightings?”
“Because it’s prime big cat country,” Adam said. “There are sheep, no people and no cameras. There’s got to be loads of them.”
“Not if there aren’t any big cats,” Kyle said. “It’s not like America. We have normal cats and those tiny wild cats in the UK and that’s it.” He took another mouthful of sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. “There could be wildcats.”
“They’re smaller than my nana’s cat,” Evan said. He put down his unopened beer and picked up a bottle of water. The walk had made him thirsty and he was driving them home. He took a long drink of water and tuned out the bickering next to him.
There was something haunting about the moors. No wonder people told ghost stories about it. The bleak landscape seemed pitiless in the gray weather with no hint of warmth or shelter. It felt old in a way that the old houses and streets couldn’t match, with a weight of time that settled around his shoulders and allowed unease to trickle down his back. He shivered and it was nothing to do with the temperature. As he ate his sandwich, his mind wandered away, wondering how a place that was merely nature had such an ancient feeling to it. As the wind dropped and the air grew hazy, it felt like a place of myths and legends and not entirely safe to have a few beers and a sandwich.
***
“Is that mist?”
Kyle’s question broke into Evan’s thoughts. He looked down towards Ilkley and groaned. Soft, white tendrils were already creeping towards them up the slope of the ridge. How had he missed them? “Did anyone see the weather forecast?”
“Didn’t you?” Adam asked. “And that looks like mist.”
“We’d better get moving,” Evan said. He pushed himself stiffly to his feet. “Besides, it’s getting dark.”
“How can it be getting dark already?” Adam grumbled.
“Because it’s November, it’s nearly winter and it gets dark early at this time of year,” Evan said, stuffing the sandwich wrappings and empty water bottles into his rucksack.
“Did anyone see the weather forecast?” Kyle repeated. “Because it looks like it’s going to be bad.”
“We’ll know better next time,” Evan said, checking his compass. “Come on.”
“Hang on, I’m going to see if I can check on my phone,” Adam said, stumbling after him, his rucksack full of empty beer cans.
“You won’t get a signal up here,” Evan said, setting a brisk pace.
“You never know,” Adam said. “There are masts all over the moor nowadays.” He swore. “I can’t get nothing. Kyle, have you got anything?” He turned around. “Kyle?”
Kyle was silhouetted against the dim gray sky, fumbling with his phone. “Hang on, hang on…”
“Come on, mate,” Evan yelled. “I don’t want to be driving in this.”
“Bloody hell!” Kyle screamed, stumbling backwards and falling, rolling down the slope towards them and landing in a heap.
Adam and Evan ran back. “What the hell happened, man?” Adam asked as he hauled Kyle to his feet.
“Are you okay?” Evan ran his eyes over his friend. “Anything broken?”
Kyle stared at them, his face pale and drawn. “It was a big dog.” A shiver wracked his body. “A fucking great black dog.”
Adam scrabbled for his camera. “I’ve got to get a picture of this,” he said.
Evan grabbed his arm. “Not if you want a lift back to town,” he said. “We need to get Kyle home.”
Adam hesitated for a second, then put an arm around Kyle. “Come on, mate. Let’s get back to the car.”
***
Evan walked ahead, his compass in hand as they followed the track back to the road. The mist had come down hard and, as the light faded, he slowed to a careful, slow pace. Adam was using his phone as a torch, but it was pitifully inadequate. The biggest worry, however, was Kyle.
“Can you hear that?” Kyle said.
“Hear what?” Adam said as he guided his trembling friend behind Evan.
“You know, that?” Kyle said, his head swiveling to the sides of the track. “It’s like it’s walking next to us.”
Adam hesitated. “You can hear the dog?” he asked.
“Don’t even think about it,” Evan ordered. “If you get off the path now, you’ll be stranded until morning. Keep moving.”
“You don’t want to look at it, mate,” Kyle muttered. “It’s huge, like a beast, but a dog, and it’s eyes…”
“It’s just a stray,” Evan said. “A dog that got lost from its owner. Keep moving. We can’t be far from the car now.”
“No, it’s not like that.” Kyle hunched over, shivering. “It was huge, but like a dog, with hair all over like a goat or something, and it was weird.”
“So it was a goat,” Evan said, fighting back his worry. “They could live on the moors no problem.”
“And they could be the food of the big cats,” Adam added. His heart wasn’t in it, though, and he kept looking back.
“You do not need a picture of a bloody goat,” Evan said. “Keep moving, Kyle. We’ll get you home and a nice cup of tea and an early night will see you alright.”
“Its eyes were…” Kyle searched for words. “They were too big and bright, and they seemed to look at me, like they saw my soul. Like they could see inside my head.” Another violent shudder rattled through him. “It was like a ghost, but solid.”
Evan squinted through the mist. “You’re letting the weather get to you,” he said. “We’re nearly there. I think I can see the road.”
“I could hang back and see if I could get just one picture,” Adam said.
“I’m not hanging around in this weather,” Evan said. “And Kyle needs to get into the warm. He must have got shaken up when he fell.”
“You don’t get it,” Kyle said. “You don’t want to see it. I wish I’d never seen it. It’s like a hell dog, like a horror story.”
The mist was getting thicker but, to Evan’s huge relief, he could see the road a few yards ahead. Kyle’s words were digging into his imagination and he almost believed that he, too, could hear the padding of great paws to his left, just out of sight. “You’ll have your own story to tell your dad,” Evan said. “Maybe you could sell it to the papers. There’s bound to be some place that would print it.”
“If only I’d got a picture,” Adam grumbled as they reached the road.
“It’s there!” Kyle yelled suddenly. “Can you see it?”
For a moment, Evan thought he saw a trace of a dark shape in the shadows, then it was nothing but the mist and the feeble light from Adam’s phone. “Just get in the car.”
Adam settled Kyle on the back seat as Evan warmed up his battered Ford’s engine. “Do you want a bottle of water?” Adam asked as he settled the bags next to Kyle.
Kyle shook his head. “Let’s just get out of here,” he murmured.
Evan turned around and got a clear look at Kyle in the light in the car. He was dirty and smeared from his fall, though he seemed unhurt. His face, however, was pale and drawn and his eyes were wide. He didn’t seem able to stop shivering. “I’ll crank the heating up,” he said as Adam climbed into the passenger seat. “We’ll be back in Leeds before you know it.”
***
The drive back was tortuous and stressful. The road was narrow and twisted through the moors and then down through farmland and Evan found himself slowing down further and further as the settling mist hid all but the nearest few yards. It was a little better when they reached Otley and got the benefit of the streetlights, though it was still slow going. It was only when they reached the edge of Leeds that the mist started to thin and Evan could relax a little as he drove.
“How are you feeling, Kyle?” he asked, glancing in the rear view mirror. “Do you want us to drop you off at a doctor or something? We could come in with you.”
“I’m okay,” Kyle said. “But I’m not kidding. It wasn’t just some stray. It was like a ghost you could touch, like a demon.” He hunched down in the back seat. “Just take me home.”
They dropped Kyle off at his house, then Adam looked at Evan. “Do you think it was some sort of big cat?”
“It was probably just a big sheep, or a stray, or even a goat,” Evan said. “And it startled Kyle, he fell, and the shock of it all made into something weird. You know, made him think that he’d seen something that he hadn’t.”
“That makes sense,” Adam said with a grimace. “I suppose it could have been a big cat, but a cat would have pounced. I wish I could have stayed to get a picture.” He looked thoughtful and turned to Evan.
“No, I am not taking you back to the moor,” Evan said, easily guessing Adam’s intention. “It’s a bitch of a night and I want to be around in case Kyle calls. He wasn’t looking well.”
“Maybe next weekend,” Adam said.
“Yeah, maybe,” Evan said. “And this time we’ll check the weather forecast.
***
Evan called in to see Kyle on Monday evening on the way back from work, knocking sharply on the door and looking up at the darkened windows. He’d been feeling uneasy all through Sunday and while Adam had visited, his report hadn’t helped. That sense of unease grew as Evan waited at Kyle’s door. He knocked again. Straining his ears above the background noise of cars and people, he could hear a slow shuffle towards the door.
“Who is it?” Kyle’s voice sounded strained through the door.
“It’s me.” Evan stared at the shabby door. “Are you okay? I brought some dinner.”
“Evan?” Kyle opened the door cautiously as he checked before stepping aside. “Come in. You brought food?”
“Best Chinese takeout in Leeds,” Evan said, holding up the bag. “Enough for both of us. Get the plates out.”
“I’m not really hungry,” Kyle mumbled and then swayed, slumping against the passage wall. “I’m not feeling well at all.”
Evan dropped the food and grabbed his friend. Kyle was pale and sweating, trembling and twitching and barely holding himself up. “What the hell? We need to get you to hospital.
Kyle shook his head and pulled his dressing gown around him. “It’s no good, Evan,” he said. “It’s Padfoot. That’s what I saw on the moors.” A violent shudder ran through him. “There’s nothing you can do.”
“Fuck that!” Evan said, guiding his friend into the sitting room. “Sit there. I’m calling an ambulance.”
“I can hear him,” Kyle said. “I can hear him walking outside the window. I can hear him panting.”
“There’s no such thing,” Evan said desperately as he dragged out his phone. “You hit your head when you feel. They’ll be able to sort it out in hospital. Just hang on.”
“You don’t understand,” Kyle whispered. “It’s like all the stories. It’s as big as a pony, with shaggy hair and eyes like saucers. I never thought about how big a saucer was, but they’re the size of Padfoot’s eyes. They’re huge, Evan, and they shine, like a moon, but not a normal moon.” Kyle coughed, helplessly convulsing as he hunched on his couch. “It’s like a scary, spooky moon from a video or a horror movie. It’s not natural.”
Evan ignored him but concentrated on the emergency operator. “He’s pale, trembling, coughing, and I think he’s hallucinating,” he told them. “He hit his head on Saturday and he’s been poorly since.” He listened, his phone wedged between shoulder and chin as he grabbed some basics.
Kyle rocked slowly back and forth. “I know it’s coming for me,” he mumbled. “I know it. I haven’t got much time.” He looked up at Evan. “What am I going to do?”
Evan leaned into Kyle’s kitchenette. “I don’t think he’s eaten,” he told the operator. “He was ready to collapse when I found him.”
“I’ve said my prayers,” Kyle whispered. His head whipped around. “He’s outside. I can hear him.”
Evan rushed over to the window. There was no sign of life outside on the damp street. It was already dark and not even a cat disturbed the gloom. “There’s nothing there,” he told Kyle before returning his attention to the operator. “I think he’s hearing things… I suppose that’s auditory hallucinations… I’m not sure about bringing him in as I think he might pass out while I’m driving.”
“You need to call my dad,” Kyle said. “You need to tell him everything. You know his number.”
“Don’t worry,” Evan said. “I’ll let him know once we’ve got you settled. The ambulance is on its way and we’ll soon get you sorted out.”
“I’m really cold,” Kyle murmured, his eyes dropping shut.
***
“They’ve taken him to St James Hospital?” Adam asked. He was perched uncomfortably on his bed. Privacy in his shared house was hard to come by so they’d retreated to his room.
Evan nodded. “I’ve been in touch with his family, but you know what they’re like.”
Adam nodded. “They’ll turn up to every wedding and funeral for a drink and a fight, but they’ll never visit a hospital. I’ll be able to call in tomorrow lunchtime.” He shivered. “I’ve been looking online.”
Evan tried to get comfortable on the ancient office chair. “You can’t believe everything you read on the internet.”
Adam shook his head. “It’s all documented,” he said.
“It’s all documented according to the internet,” Evan replied. “What’s documented?”
“The rest of the country, they’re called barghests and they guard graveyards.” Adam opened his phone and scrolled quickly around. “But in Leeds they call them Padfoot, and they’re an omen of death.”
“Kyle saw something, then he had a fall and it got messed up in his mind.” Evan looked over Adam’s shoulder. “See, they’re talking about that driver who saw the dog near Horsforth. Horsforth is miles from the moors.” Evan leaned back and the chair creaked ominously. “And there aren’t any graveyards on the moors. It’s just sheep.”
Adam shook his head, his face set. “They’re not modern graveyards,” he said. “But look at this.” He passed his phone over.
Evan scrolled through the article. “That’s just a coincidence,” he said.
“We sat and drank our beers on an ancient cairn,” Adam said. “All the landmarks are there. We were messing around on a Bronze Age grave.”
“It’s not like we meant to,” Evan said. “And it’s coincidence. Kyle had that fall. You can’t argue with it. That’s what’s making him ill.”
There was a tense pause. “What do the doctors think?” Adam asked.
Evan shrugged. “They’re doing tests. At least they allowed him to make some decisions. He was pretty out of it in the ambulance, but he let them put me in as a contact and decision maker. They’ll tell me what they find.” He shivered as a draft slid through the room. I’m worried that it’s some weird sheep disease that he caught when he got scraped up in that fall.”
“I’m worried that it’s a demon,” Adam said.
***
Evan got the call as he was leaving for his lunch break. He ducked into an empty meeting room and took the call. “Hi, Adam, is everything okay?”
“I just called in to see him,” Adam said. “I’m on an early break and it’s not far from work.”
Evan struggled to hear him over the traffic. “Where are you? There’s a lot of background noise.”
“You know I can’t stand hospitals, and it’s bedlam on the street.” There was some rustling and the sound of jogging feet. “Hang on.”
Evan waited patiently as the background noise subsided a little. “So you saw Kyle. How was he?”
“Just a sec,” Adam said. “I’m in the old graveyard opposite the hospital. There are some benches here.” There were more rustles as the noise of the traffic ebbed away. “That’s better. Yeah, I saw Kyle.”
“Was he still talking about the Padfoot?” Evan asked.
“He wasn’t talking about anything,” Adam said soberly. “He was out of it. The doctors said it was a coma. They couldn’t give me too many details, but it looks like he’s just shutting down and they don’t know why.”
“I’ll call them this afternoon,” Evan said. “I don’t understand. He was fine on Saturday, right up to when he fell. Even then it was just a few bumps and scrapes. How could he get so sick so fast?”
“I swear it’s Padfoot,” Adam said. “Check it out. I’m not talking about the usual weird stuff on Facebook. If you look at the old newspapers and books online, there’s loads.”
“I am sick of this bullshit,” Evan said, trying to keep his voice low as the receptionist walked past the door. “We don’t even know if there was an actual animal. Kyle was the only one who saw it. He yelled and fell down. It could be something like a weird brain thing.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Adam said, his voice eerily calm.
Evan felt a chill at his tone. “What do you mean?”
“I’m in a graveyard, right?” Adam said. “And Padfoot goes around graveyards. And I just saw…”
“Don’t say it,” Evan whispered.
“It’s huge, like a donkey, but it’s a dog.” Adam swallowed audibly. “And its eyes are not normal. They’re too big and shiny.” There was a pause. “It’s looking at me.”
The lack of emotion in Adam’s voice chilled Evan to the bone. “You’re in the middle of fucking Leeds,” he said. “You can’t see a big dog. That graveyard’s surrounded by traffic. It never bloody stops.”
“It’s gone behind the gravestones,” Adam said. “There are some weird tombs here so maybe it’s gone into one of them.”
“Is there anyone else around?” Evan asked. “Anyone who could have seen it?”
“It’s a cold November lunchtime and it’s about to start raining,” Adam had an edge to his voice. “I’m the only one stupid enough to be sitting here.”
“It may be an optical illusion,” Evan said finally. “It may be just a big dog, and the light is never the best at this time of year. Come round to my place this evening and have a few drinks. Perhaps we’ll have some good news about Kyle.”
“I can hear it padding,” Adam said. “It sounds like great paws passing behind me.”
“You’re surrounded by traffic and the graveyard’s probably full of rats,” Evan tried to stay pragmatic. “Get out of there, keep busy at work and I’ll see you tonight.” He forced himself to take a breath. “I’d better tell Vicky. I know that she dumped him, but they dated for years and she’ll want to know.”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Adam said quietly. “I’ll see you tonight.
***
Evan answered the door and ushered Adam in. “You got the news?”
Adam nodded. “I can’t believe that Kyle’s dead.” He held up a large bottle of vodka. “This time last week he was fine and now…”
“Take a seat,” Evan ushered Adam into the tiny living room. “I called Vicky. She’s a bit of a mess.”
“I suppose she is.” Adam took his seat on the sofa and tipped his head back. “He’s doing fine, she dumps him, now he’s dead. It could affect a girl.”
“It could affect anyone.” Evan poured a generous measure of vodka into the waiting glasses and added a splash of cola. “His family are going crazy.”
“They always do,” Adam said. He shivered and hunched down. “Is it cold in here?”
“I suppose so,” Evan said, flicking on the electric fire. “I hadn’t noticed, but it is November.”
Adam forced a smile. “Yeah, it’s the wrong time of year for a heatwave.” He took a long drink. “Perhaps this will warm me up.”
“You’ll get cold sitting around in graveyards,” Evan said. He took a sip of his own drink. “His family can’t agree on who’s supposed to organize a funeral and who’s supposed to pay for that funeral, and who’s supposed to get the drink in for the wake.”
“You should warn the cops,” Adam said. “They had four arrested at the last family funeral.”
“Wasn’t that his cousin’s wedding?” Evan asked.
Adam shrugged. “It’s hard to keep up.” He took a deep breath. “I swear I saw it, Evan, I swear!”
“You can’t let it prey on your mind,” Evan said. “Don’t let it get inside your head. You could go crazy.”
“Like Kyle went crazy?” Adam asked. “He saw Padfoot.” He shuddered. “It’s a good name for it. All I can hear outside is the padding of feet. Just step after step of paws hitting the ground right behind me.”
“Maybe you should see someone,” Evan said slowly. “Whatever it is – and I’m not saying that it’s a dog, or a Padfoot or anything – but whatever it is, perhaps a doctor could do something before it gets out of hand.”
“Like it got out of hand for Kyle,” Adam said. He drained his glass and poured another large measure.
Evan didn’t know how to break the heavy silence that followed. He sipped at his drink and watched Adam getting paler and more haunted. “Vicky wants to organize a memorial,” he said eventually. “She knows what his family’s like and that the funeral probably won’t be for months, but she thinks a prayer service might be nice. I said that I’d go.”
“That’s good of her,” Adam said. “With all things considered. When is it?”
“She said that the minister had a gap on Thursday night at the church near her.” Evan stared down at his drink and wished it had answers. “I’ll give you a call and let you know the time.”
“I wish I’d got a picture,” Adam said. He tossed back the last of his drink. “You know, on the moor. I wish I’d got a picture then. I didn’t think in the graveyard, but if I’d got a picture on the moor then at least we could show what killed Kyle.”
“Nobody knows what killed Kyle.” Evan forced his voice to stay even. “The doctors have no idea. They’re having an autopsy.”
Adam stood and a shudder ran through him. “I’m too tired for this shit,” he said, waving away his bottle of vodka. “Save that for later. I’m going to get an early night.” He laid a brief hand on Evan’s shoulder. “Give me a call about the service when you know something.”
Evan waited until the door shut and then drained his own glass. What the hell was going on?
***
Evan didn’t know if he was doing the right thing but driving over to Adam’s work was better than moping around at home. His boss had taken one look at Evan and ordered him to get out, so now he was at a loose end with nothing to do but avoid internet searches for Padfoot. The drive was a nightmare, with an ambulance and fire truck racing past and police all over the road. As he crawled another three yards, he could feel a chill running through him and he clutched the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. This slow traffic was giving him too much time to think. He could see Adam’s garage from where he was stuck in traffic, but it could take him an hour to reach it. On an impulse, he turned into the nearby side street, parked and started walking.
Evan’s pace slowed as he neared the garage. It was normally busy, but today it was swarming with people and the fire truck and ambulance were on the forecourt. He swallowed and fought his instinct to flee with everything in him. It could be anything. The garage dealt with all sorts of crashes and rebuilds as well as the usual oil changes and tune ups, and ambulances could be called as a precaution. It took true willpower for him to keep putting one foot in front of the other, to take another step and then another. Evan fought the cold feeling in his chest and the icy certainty sitting on the back of his neck. Maybe Adam had been hurt after rolling into work with a hangover, but it wouldn’t be serious. Adam was bloody good at his job and wouldn’t take risks.
He was at the entrance to the forecourt now. Police were directing traffic around the site as another fire truck pulled in, sirens blaring. Mechanics were standing outside the office, quiet and oddly still. Evan strained his eyes, searching among the people as he crossed the wide forecourt, but he couldn’t see Adam anywhere. As he got closer to the mechanics, Adam’s manager noticed him and the last of the color drained from his face. Evan didn’t want to know, but he had to ask.
“Is Adam okay?”
The manager put a trembling hand on Evan’s shoulder. “Nobody knows what happened.” The manager looked back at the rest of the stunned workers. “We had that piece of machinery serviced last week. There was no hint that there was anything wrong. Everyone’s used it over the last few days…”
“Adam got hurt?” Evan asked.
The manager briefly closed his eyes and took a breath. “A car lift holding a SUV collapsed on top of him. We called it in straight away, and the fire crew are trying to get him free…”
Evan looked over at the ambulance crew at the entrance to the workshop. They stood looking sadly resigned without any urgency. The second fire crew weren’t rushing in. “Adam’s gone, isn’t he?”
The manager grimaced. “I wish I could say differently, but I don’t think he could have survived. I’m sorry.”
Evan clasped the manager’s hand. “Thank you.” He looked at the swarm of first responders and the shaken crew. “I’ll get out of your way. Thank you for telling me.”
***
Evan was early for Kyle’s memorial. He sat near the back at the far end of a pew, hiding in the shadows and trying to make sense of it all. Kyle had something happen to his system when he fell down the ridge. There were YouTube channels full of weird biology and it must have been something like that. Adam worked with heavy machinery all the time and accidents happened. If he’d been hungover then he may have missed a safety check. There was always a rational explanation.
This was one of the old churches. Evan hadn’t bothered with church since the mandatory school visits, and while it had a sort of comfort, it was unfamiliar. The notice board was full of church socials and lists for church suppers. The minister seemed more concerned with the church council than Kyle’s friends who were awkwardly filling up the pews. The books handed to him and the service sheet felt awkward and clumsy. It felt far more alien than the moors.
Vicky had sensibly kept the invitations to Kyle’s friends and those of his family without a police record, and the service was comforting. A few stood at the front to share good memories of Kyle, but Evan didn’t feel able to join them. If he hadn’t suggested a hike… if he hadn’t driven them to the moors… He wondered if Adam would have been able to stand up and share memories of their friendship. He shifted uncomfortably on the hard wooden pew. As Vicky rose to speak, guilt pressed down hard. Evan found his breath catching in his throat and a pressure on his chest and he had to get out of that dim, emotion-filled space. As quietly as he could, he slipped out of the pew and through the huge door to the fresh air outside. He staggered to one side and fought for air, collapsing on a bench at the corner of the building.
It seemed like an eternity before Evan gained back control and felt his breathing return to something close to normal. He sat back and looked around, his hand resting on the arm of the bench which was damp and rough grained to his touch. The damp air of a late November evening hung still, filled with the scent of newly fallen leaves, and a faint haze was rising, dimming the nearby streetlights into a faint glow. It would be misty again before morning. For a moment, Evan felt utterly still. There was no movement around him and the faint hiss of distant cars and the subdued singing in the church behind him seemed only to buttress the silence around him in the damp, motionless air. The motionless air in the graveyard. The place that Adam said Padfoot roamed. The place that Evan wanted to avoid at all costs.
Enough light filtered past the heavy yews to show Evan the headstones, ancient, tilted and slick with damp. Behind them was a shape, a creature that should be too big to hide in a graveyard. A huge, shaggy, black dog, with overbright eyes and sharp, gleaming teeth in its gaping mouth. And as it approached, all Evan could hear was the pad…pad…pad… of its great feet.
It took me a long time to learn how to see fairies. I don’t mean the sort that you see in children’s books, but the fair folk, the shining ones, the quiet presence in a country lane. I trained myself to see a shimmer in the corner of a garden, a hint of rainbow as I walked down a dark country lane. I watched for an unexpected glimmer. I listened for a hint of tune that shouldn’t be playing. I waited for the scent of honeysuckle on the winter air.
An old man waited at the gate, grabbing my arm and pulling me to one side where my mum couldn’t see. “They’re hunting you. You need to stay safe. Carry salt or iron – or both! Or you’ll be trapped.”
I laughed and pulled away. How could they be hunting me when it was me that was searching them out, looking for the rainbows in dim places, listening for strange song. The glimpses were getting longer and I knew I was getting closer. I skipped school and found strange corners on the industrial estates where bindweed wound its way through the fences and flies hung in the shade of scented elder bushes.
I read everything in the library and on the internet. I joined groups and forums. They didn’t help. But I started noticing, through the long summer holiday, that I saw more of the glimpses near elder bushes and trees. I searched them out. I found clusters of them near abandoned warehouses and around the edges of neglected parks. I saw glimpses of the fair folk now, just a brief look at a face, glorious with beauty, lit from within by their wild, magical nature.
As the year turned, I ignored school and gloried in the change of the weather, watching the wind swirl the dead leaves around elder bushes drooping under heavy, purple berries. I saw more of them. They wore green and brown and the ladies had wreaths of autumn leaves in their hair. I stayed as still as a cat, watching. As the nights grew longer and the arguments with my mum got worse, I got closer. I could hear their singing and their soft conversations. Finally, I saw them enter the fairy realm. I saw them slip between two elder stems and I followed through.
The sky was alive with colours and shapes. The trees whispered in shock as I walked into the forest and called ahead that a mortal child was here. I could see the Lords and Ladies, the fair ones, riding towards me on fine white horses, their harness jingling and the sun glinting on their shining hair.
***
The doctor put down the latest report and shook his head. “I’m sorry Mrs Taylor. All tests for drugs have come back negative, but your daughter continues in a persistent, catatonic, hallucinating state. We’ve tried everything to reach her, but I’m afraid that there’s nothing more we can do. She’s lost to us.”
She was finally dead. My bitch of a grandmother had finally shuffled off the mortal coil. Everyone knew she was a witch, and she held it over the heads of her family like a dagger. She always acted like she knew everything as well. What was worse, she wouldn’t tell me how to do it.
“You have no warm blood in your heart,” she’d tell me. “You don’t care about anyone but yourself. You’ll never make a witch.” I hated her more every time she told me this.
And she was so precious about her things. A very select few were allowed to look at her notebooks – not me of course – but none of her grandchildren were allowed into her pantry or among her jars and boxes. At least, Annette and Daisy managed to have glimpses, once they were older, but I had always been shut out.
I hadn’t expected her to have a proper funeral, and I hadn’t expected so many to turn out. There must have been over a hundred in the hall afterwards, most of them bringing their sad pyrex casserole dishes filled with something vegan. I don’t see why my mother couldn’t get it catered, but she always was a cheap cow.
I wasn’t going to stick around and simper over someone I was glad to see gone. Annette and Daisy were red eyed and sniffling, but I didn’t care. I was going to do something I had always wanted to do, and no-one was going to stop me now.
I left as soon as they started passing round the instant coffee and headed straight to my grandmother’s house. It hadn’t been touched, of course, and my cousins had been too respectful to do anything before the funeral. They had been left all the magical stuff, of course. I just had the money. It stung that grandmother had done that because she thought it was all I cared about. If she hadn’t been cremated I would have danced on her grave.
I had been in and out of the old house all my life and I knew its ways. I slipped around the back of the house, got the spare key from under the plant pot and let myself in. All of my life I had been fascinated by a jar on the high shelf. Once, when I was around thirteen, I thought I had heard it calling to me and tried to reach it. The old bag had stopped me then, but she couldn’t stop me now.
I stood on a chair, took the jar down, set it on the scrubbed table and paused. I could hear Daisy and Annette shouting to me as feet pounded up the path to the house. They weren’t going to stop me now. The lid was stiff at first, but then it turned easily. I could hear the singing as the lid loosened and then finally, it was open.
I could hear Daisy calling down the hall, screaming at me to stay back, but I didn’t care. Now I could see inside the tiny perfect world, marvel at the minute and delicate fronds. Except now they were not so tiny. The fronds whirled, whipping around like vegetable tentacles, sprouting and stretching, growing faster than I could watch. The jar shattered as I fell back, too small to contain the writhing plants which were sprawling over the kitchen, feeling their way along to the surfaces and grabbing at me. The fronds were strong, far stronger than a plant should be and I couldn’t break free. They tightened around my throat and as I gasped for air, a cold green tendril slid down my throat. I could hear Daisy screaming as everything went black.
“Just keep the circle together.” Rhys frowned as he concentrated. “Auntie Vivienne, are you there?”
I watched from the corner. Did they have any idea how tough it was for a spirit to communicate? A lot of my ideas about ghosts had undergone a change since I died, and I was ready to admit defeat. But my nieces and nephew had always been dear to me.
“I don’t know what you are expecting.” Jan said. “She left a fortune to us as it was. It seems a little greedy to go looking for more.”
I had always had a soft spot for Jan. She was always so determined to do the right thing. I never understood why she tolerated an old reprobate like me, but she had always been very sweet, especially when I was dying.”
“I just get a feeling that she wanted us to have something else.” Izzy said. “And we’ve all had those phone calls asking about Auntie Viv’s legacy.”
Izzy always had her wits about her. She would make sure no-one took advantage of Jan, and she wouldn’t let Jan’s scruples get in the way, either.
“Will you all shut up!” Rhys snapped.
And Rhys, youngest and brightest. He always had a very clear view of his end goal and ignored distractions. His engineering firm could do with an injection of cash. I focused and pushed.
Rhys visibly jumped. “What was that?”
“It came from the cupboard.” Jan said. “It could be a mouse.”
“We have to look.” Izzy nervously pulled her hands away from her brother and sister and went to the built-in cupboard in the corner. She swallowed and then opened the door. “The back of the cupboard has fallen off.” She opened the door wider. “Hang on, there’s something… Pass me my phone.”
Jan passed Izzy the phone, the torch already switched on, and peered over her shoulder. “Rhys, you need to see this. It’s a false back.”
Rhys squeezed past his sisters. “Auntie Viv kept this a hiding place – for these?” He picked up the rolls of film. “I don’t even know where we could get them developed.” He said.
Somewhere discreet, I hoped. There was the roll with the pictures of the upright, no-nonsense cabinet minister, who revelled in her role as a respectable wife and mother, being outrageously chastised by a lady. Then there were the pictures of the accounts of a church leader who ought to have known better than to siphon off so much from the building fund. And there were some very sweet pictures of them when they were kids, and Auntie Viv could always be relied on for sweeties and fun fairs, mixed in with the senior judge with his shady mistress. Good memories, blackmail material and insurance. It was up to them now. I could rest.
“I don’t like Ed, that new boyfriend of yours,” my fellow lodger said.
I looked at Steph warily. “We’ve only been on a few dates,” I said. “We’re not serious.”
“He gives me the creeps,” Steph said. “He only turns up after dark.”
“It’s December,” I said. “The sun sets around 4pm. By the time I get out of work, it’s dark so of course we don’t have dates in daylight.”
“He never suggests you go out in the day at weekends,” Steph said.
“We’ve only had a few dates,” I said. “There hasn’t really been a chance for us to meet at a weekend.” I didn’t want to admit my own feeling of unease was growing.
“And two nights ago your nightmares woke me up even though I’m sleeping like the dead in the other side of the house,” Steph said. “Seriously, he’s creepy.” She looked at me closely. “Has he talked about moving in together?”
“It’s too soon for that,” I said. “Because, like I said, it’s just been a few dates.”
“But he has mentioned it,” Steph said. “I can see it in your face. And have you noticed the extra rats around.”
“What’s that got to do with it?” I asked.
Steph shuddered. “I just think that he’s creepy,” she said.
I looked at her thoughtfully. “I don’t think that he’s a serial killer,” I said.
Steph sniffed. “Everyone says that. The bodies will be being dragged out of the basement and a reporter will be interviewing a sweet old lady who will swear that the serial killer was always lovely and polite and she can’t believe it.”
“He’s picking me up tonight,” I said. “I’ll be honest, I’m not sure. I’ll see how it goes.”
“Don’t let him guess what you’re thinking,” Steph almost shrieked. “You’ll never make it home.” She checked her watch. “What time is he getting here?”
“He’s coming around 9pm,” I said. “We’re going to a club.”
“You’re going to the club in the dark,” Steph said. “He drinks coffee, doesn’t he?”
“Yes,” I said. “Why?”
“I’ll be back in about an hour,” Steph said. “Don’t leave the house until I’ve spoken to you.” She grabbed her coat and bag and raced out of the door.
Steph was back before Ed called. “Look at this,” she said, holding up a glass bottle.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Let me show you,” she said and dived into the tiny kitchen. She returned with two glasses and poured a smidgeon into each glass. She took a drink of one. “Go on, try it.”
I looked at her through narrowed eyes and then drank it down. “It’s just water,” I said.
“But I want to add it to Ed’s coffee,” she said.
“What’s the catch?” I asked.
“Well it didn’t hurt me or you, did it?” Steph said. “So how can their be a catch?”
“Do you think he’s allergic to something?” I asked. “Is it infused with peanuts or something?”
“You would have tasted it if it was,” Steph said smugly. “That’s the door!”
I answered the door and brought Ed through to the living room. “Can we have a quick coffee before we go out?” I asked. “I’m parched and you know how expensive the clubs are.”
“Sure,” Ed said, dropping gracefully on the sofa and spreading his arms along the back. He smiled up at me, his teeth gleaming white and his dark eyes burning into mine. I could feel myself drowning in his gaze, losing all sense of time or place. I jumped like a startled cat when Steph came back with coffee.
“Here’s yours,” she said, handing me my usual coffee with milk and sugar. “And here’s yours, Ed, in a nice cup.” She handed the black coffee over to him.
“I’m glad that I’m appreciated,” he said smoothly. “Perhaps you could come out with us as well, Steph? I’m sure we can all have a good time.”
I took a quick mouthful of coffee to cover my expression. There was no way I was going on any date with him after tonight. “Mmm, nice coffee,” I said to cover my reaction.
“I’ll only come out if we go now,” Steph said. “It’s now or never.”
Ed smiled wickedly. “Then let’s make it now,” he said.
I watched him stand with exquisite grace and drain the cup of coffee. He froze and stared at Steph. “What have you done?”
Steph took a step back. “What do you mean?” she said, her voice shrill and nervous.
Colour was draining from Ed. “Are you okay?” I asked.
He stared at me, shaking his head and clawing at his throat. He staggered towards me, his eyes wild, before collapsing in front of me.
“We need to call someone!” I yelled, pulling my phone from my pocket.
Steph held my arm and shook her head. In front of my horrified eyes, Ed was crumbling. First his mouth and throat collapsed into dust, then inch by inch the rest of him vanished, swirling into a sad stain on the carpet.
I turned to her. “What was in that water?” I whispered.
“I didn’t think anything would happen,” she said. “I thought I was being silly.” She looked at me, her eyes wide. “I thought I was letting stupid books get into my head. There wasn’t anything in the water. It was the water itself. It was Holy Water.”
“Thank you for coming here,” Alfred Gipton said. He watched Inspector Halton get down from the hansom cab and nodded to the cabbie. “You can take the horse around the back, there’s stabling there.” He managed a brisk smile under his immaculate moustache, but tension radiated from him. “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Alfred Gipton, owner of the Scholes Aether Mine. It’s good of you to come, sir.”
“Inspector Halton, Scotland Yard. I was in the area, taking a rest cure when Colonel Bramley got in touch,” Inspector Halton said, shaking Gipton’s hand. “It’s a coincidence that I’m in the area, but my superintendant remembered that I had had some experience working with matters to do with aether energy. I’m happy to help out any friend of Colonel Bramley.” He looked down briefly as he remembered his superior’s comment. “Gipton is a toad,” the colonel had said, “but his brother was at Harrow with Charlie – you remember my son Charlie? So I suppose I’ve got to throw him a bone. How’s the rest cure going? Derbyshire driving you mad yet? Anyway, don’t let Gipton get carried away. And if it looks like something criminal, pass it over to the local boys in blue. You’re Scotland Yard, not Derbyshire County Constabulary. The nearest station is in Matlock, somewhere called Bank Road. Shouldn’t be too hard to find in that tiny place. I’ll owe you a favour.” Inspector Halton was not going to share that with the mine owner. He brought his attention back to Gipton.
“I believe I saw something in the papers,” Gipton said. “Something about a murder in the East End of London, like Jack the Ripper. There’s nothing like that here. But while it’s quieter than London, Matlock and Matlock Bath are quite the thing. There are visitors all year around. There are always people coming and going.”
“It’s a very pleasant town,” Inspector Halton said politely, thinking that Matlock and Matlock Bath together seemed smaller than Mile End, and would fit neatly into any small corner of Bethnal Green or Hackney.
“I’m sure it seems quiet compared to the East End of London,” Gipton said. “But you should have seen it two years ago, during Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee celebrations. The whole of Matlock Bath was lit up and shining – and it was powered by aether stones from this very mine!” Gipton hesitated. “Were aether stones involved in those murders in the papers? I’ve heard all sorts of rumours.”
“I’m not really at liberty to say, sir,” Inspector Halton said, diplomatically. “So, tell me what’s going on here.”
“It’s extortion, that’s what it is!” Gipton snapped. “Pure extortion. You need to find the fellow at once!” He led the inspector into a low, grey stone building, through a passage and into a spacious and airy office with a bright fire that was welcome after the chill of the early spring air.
“What fellow?” the inspector asked as he was ushered in.
Gipton looked over to the corner of the office. “Scholes, you explain. I get caught up in it.”
Inspector Halton followed Gipton’s gaze. The tall, broad young man in the corner was in his early twenties, with dim blond hair and, unlike the older, darker Gipton, was clean shaven. “I don’t think that we’ve been introduced.”
“I’m Francis Scholes,” he said. “I know that all the detectives in books like to have things set out. Why don’t I get Mrs Stanton to fetch tea and you can sit back and listen. It’s an odd tale.”
Gipton snorted as Scholes leant out of the door and shouted for tea. “That lad’s wandering in his wits. He’s got a steady job here, guaranteed, but instead he sends off for night classes in literature and poetry. There’s no money in words.”
Inspector Halton looked at Scholes’ broad back. He looked more like a farmer or a miner than a poet. “Some people seem to make a living out of it.”
Scholes wandered back in. “That’s true,” he said. “But not with poetry.” He smiled, his bright blue eyes glinting a little in the aether lights. “My hobby is poetry, but my employment is business. I hope I give satisfaction.”
Gipton waved an irritated hand. “Aye, you do, but that’s not the point. Now if you were studying bookkeeping or something practical, well, I wouldn’t have to send the books in to Matlock to get them sorted out. You could do it.”
“This is an aether mine, isn’t it?” Inspector Halton interrupted what seemed to be a well-worn grievance. “It’s just I don’t see any evidence of mining. There’s no noise or men around.” He lowered himself stiffly into a chair and watched as a motherly woman bustled in with a tray.
Gipton groaned and ran his hands through his hair. “I’m ruined!”
“The inspector may be able to help,” Scholes said. He watched Mrs Stanton pour tea and waited until she left. “As far as I know, this is unheard of.”
“Ouch!” The inspector rubbed his hand and looked down as a red, circular welt appeared. Something silver and gleaming scuttled down the leg of the chair and into the carpet. “What was that?”
“We call them ‘biters’, and there aren’t that many around at the moment,” Scholes said. “At one point we were overrun with the creatures.”
“It was a menace!” Gipton snapped. “The mine was crawling with the damned things. You couldn’t move for them. They stole the miners’ snap…”
“Snap?” Inspector Halton asked.
“Packed food, like lunches,” Scholes explained. “And not just that. They got into the wiring, they swarmed around the pumps – they were everywhere!”
“Eat the cheeses out of the vats, and licked the soup from the cooks’ own ladles, Split open the kegs of salted sprats…” Inspector Halton quoted. He looked at the blank expressions of the two men. “It’s from a poem, The Pied Piper of Hamelin. I learn poetry by heart to train my memory. It reminded me. It’s about a plague of rats.”
“I’m not familiar with it,” Scholes said as he concentrated on adding sugar to his tea.
“I don’t know about ladles, but they swarmed through Mrs Stanton’s tea urn and we couldn’t have tea at all unless we brought it in flasks,” Mr Gipton said. “And we had to drink it quick when it was poured.”
“They appeared when we broke through into another cavern,” Scholes explained. “It was a very promising source of aether stones. I suspect that they were beetles trapped there for centuries and they became accustomed to the aether energy and fed on it.”
“This part of Derbyshire is riddled with caves,” Gipton said, holding his tea close. “There are passages and tunnels all over. The Romans came here for lead. There are workings everywhere as well as the natural caves, and lots of odd nooks and crannies. But this is the first known source of aether crystals.”
“It’s a surprise that it took so long to find the aether stones,” Scholes said. “But Mr Gipton has been mining them here for the last six years. There was no trouble until we broke through to the new seam.”
“The fat was in the fire then.” Gipton said. He took a long drink of his tea. “It’s bad enough with the miners having to do short shifts on account of the effects of the stones. Once the biters turned up, they couldn’t do any shift at all! Nothing seemed to work.”
“We tried the usual baits for beetles,” Scholes said. “But we got no results. Then we got an anonymous letter.”
Inspector Halton leaned forward. “What sort of letter?”
“I’ll get it for you,” Scholes said and stood and strode over to the mahogany filing cabinet. “It should be here somewhere.”
“We sold the aether stones all over the Empire,” Gipton said. “Our last shipment had to be cleared by the Foreign Office as we sent it to Siam. It’s best quality stones, and our miners bring out the crystals in bigger pieces than almost anywhere else.” He looked around. “You see that brass plate? That’s from the Siamese foundry.”
Inspector Halton looked around. A huge circular plate the size of a cart’s wheel hung, gleaming in the harsh lights. It was beautifully cast with circles of ornate patterns and figures. “That’s what they sent us. I insist on it, you know, as part of the contract. Scholes Aether Mine Limited gets something from the equipment made with our aether stones, first off the press.”
“You must have a lot of scientific breakthroughs here,” Inspector Halton said. “Aether crystals and aether energy are the latest thing.”
“We don’t get the aether machines,” Gipton said. “And we don’t bother tinkering around with what they can do. But we get what they make. Look at that clock, now. The best timekeeping, aether powered, Swiss made and perfect.” He shook his head. “You can see the scratches on the casing where the biters climbed all over it. It’s a crying shame. I was thinking of asking a craftsman from Chesterfield to refinish it, but that costs money. And money is short!”
Inspector Halton let his eyes wander around the office. It was a large room, expensively carpeted with Persian rugs and with doors in all walls leading to passages and storerooms. Oak filing cabinets ranged around as a frame for the two massive desks in the centre. There were even a few aspidistras in the corners. It looked like a top solicitor’s office. The inspector looked closer. These were the products of the latest discoveries. The desks had mahogany tops, but the frames were the intricate brass latticework being produced by the new aether powered foundries in Benares in India. The leatherbound blotters were stamped with details and designs that showed they came from the best craftsmen in Lucca, Italy. Scientific instruments from Germany, Switzerland and the United States hung, mounted on dark, gleaming wood and resplendent in bright brass bezels. “It’s quite a cosmopolitan selection,” the inspector remarked.
“All exports were cleared by the Foreign Office,” Gipton said quickly. “And the lights and the fire are British made, and top quality with it.”
The inspector looked closer at the polished brass lights. They shed the harsh aether light, as expected, and the gleaming fire threw out plenty of warmth without a stick of wood or lump of coal, as expected from the best in Birmingham. “And you have some supplies here,” Inspector Halton said, nodding at a pile of metal sheets stacked in a corner.
Gipton frowned. “I’m still not sure about them,” he said. “They turned up without a covering letter. Scholes wanted to send them back, but I said that you never know when something like that will be useful, and aluminium is expensive stuff.”
“Aluminium?” Inspector Halton asked. “Isn’t that used to shield aether energy?”
Gipton shrugged. “It may, I don’t know. I get a man out once a month, or did. He does all the adjustments and surveying. But we get all sorts, you know. We had some lovely muslins delivered last summer, fresh from a new mill in Manchester, and I sold those for a good price on Chesterfield market.”
“I can’t find the letter,” Scholes interrupted. “It’s missing.”
“What?” Gipton exclaimed, jumping to his feet and rushing over.
Gipton staggered back to his chair. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “The damned thing was typed, even the signature. He called himself John Bluecap.”
“It was obviously a fake name,” Scholes said. He turned to the inspector. “A blue cap is what the miners call a helpful spirit. They used to leave jars of tea and tobacco out for them.”
“Yes, before the biters,” Gipton said. “This so-called John Bluecap offered to clear the biters out for us, at a cost of £100, sterling.” He pulled out his handkerchief and mopped his face. “I’m not denying that we are, or were, making a good living here, but £100 is a lot of money.”
“Mr Gipton thought it was worth it,” Scholes said. “At least, he agreed to it.”
“How did we know that he didn’t bring the damned things in?” Gipton asked. “He may be the man responsible!”
Scholes ignored this. “He insisted that he wouldn’t be seen. We needed to leave a gate unlocked and unobserved.”
“I wasn’t having that,” Gipton interrupted. “I told young Mr Scholes to wait and keep a lookout.” He glared at Scholes. “I don’t know why I bothered.”
“I wasn’t sure that it was a good idea,” Scholes said. “And in the end, I didn’t get a clear look at him. It was dark, and the lights were out, as no-one was supposed to be here.”
“But you did get to see him?” Inspector Halton asked.
Scholes shrugged. “It wasn’t easy. He slipped through almost before I realised he was there, and hardly made a noise. He was very slim – half starved looking really, with lightish hair, I think. And he had a strange suit on, checked in mustard and crimson, like the barkers you sometimes get at travelling fairs.”
“His queer long coat from heel to head, Was half of yellow and half of red,” quoted Inspector Halton.
“More of that rat fellow?” Gipton snorted.
“Just a few lines from the poem,” the inspector said mildly. “It’s a description of the pied piper.”
“Well he didn’t make any music.”
“At least, not that I heard,” Scholes said. “I didn’t see him leave. And the next morning, most of the biters were gone.”
“And the man had the damned impudence to demand that £100 was left in the stone holes near the old cow shed.” Gipton said. “I saw what he left behind. Most of the biters were in heaps in the water butts and down the stream. He just caught and drowned them.”
“Our business was done at the river’s brink,” Inspector Halton quoted again. He looked at Scholes. “You’re familiar with Browning, of course, if you study your poetry.”
Scholes looked uncertain for a minute, then Gipton interrupted. “It’s not like they were going to come back,” he said. “So I left a five pound note where he said.”
“Very like the story,” the inspector said. “So far this is a civil matter.”
“It’s more than that!” Gipton exclaimed. “We got another letter, this time the damned rascal had the nerve to leave it on my own desk, and no-one seeing it. I was getting the miners set to go back down.”
Scholes looked up from the cabinet drawer. “That letter isn’t here either.”
“This is where he turned nasty,” Gipton said. “He had the cheek to say that if he played fair with me, I should have played fair with him. And that he’d make me pay. That’s a threat, that is!”
Inspector Halton sighed. “What happened next?”
“The mine stopped working,” Scholes said flatly. “Everything went dark.”
“I didn’t think that was possible,” the inspector said, looking between the two men.”
Scholes shrugged. “I know more about Shakespeare than aether energy.”
“And I’m a man of business, not a mucky handed engineer,” Gipton said. He sank back into his chair. “But the miners say that they can only find the aether crystals by the glow. And there is no glow. I’m ruined.”
“Surely it’s not that bad,” Inspector Halton said.
“This is the last month I can pay the bank loans and the wages,” Gipton said. “The few crystals left scattered near the door won’t even bring in enough to cover the hay for the mine ponies. I’m ruined.”
“There are a lot of assets in the office,” Scholes said. “I’m sure you can raise enough for another few months while we work out what to do.” He turned to Inspector Halton. “We’ve tried everything. We’ve put advertisements in all the main papers, local and national. We’ve employed private investigators-”
“And that cost a pretty penny!” Gipton took another mouthful of tea. “I can’t afford another month of this.”
Scholes ignored him. “All we need to do is find this John Bluecap and pay him his £100. But he’s disappeared.”
“I don’t think I have £100 now,” Gipton said. “It’s been months. I’ve the payments on the machinery and the payments on my house in Matlock to make – they all mount up. When I spoke to my brother, in Durban, he reminded me of Colonel Bramley, at Scotland Yard. I thought he would be able to help.”
The inspector leaned back in his chair and looked around. There were indeed goods worth hundreds of pounds in the room. However, buyers were like sharks – they could smell blood in the water. If you had to sell in a hurry, you would be lucky to get half of that value. And as for the missing John Bluecap, there was something extremely fishy about that. “Do you remember anything at all about the letters that may be unusual?” he asked. “For example, what sort of paper and ink was used? Was there a stamp?”
Scholes shook his head. “It was such an odd letter that I really studied it. The paper and ink were just like any other letter. And I’ve been racking my brains ever since, but I’ve thought of nothing.”
Inspector Halton turned to Gipton. “Nothing seems obvious,” he said. “I can make some enquiries…”
Gipton held up his hand. “I’ve made up my mind. When I bought the mine, I put in a clause.”
Scholes shook his head. “Not this again.”
Gipton’s face was set. “And I saw a solicitor this morning. Unless you can pull something out of the bag this afternoon, Inspector Halton, I’m selling the mine back.”
“What do you mean?” the inspector asked.
“Exactly what I say!” Gipton said. “I can’t go on like this. My nerves won’t take it. I’m under doctor’s orders as it is. But all the tonics in the world won’t help, not when I’m ruined and in the workhouse.”
“It needn’t come to that,” Scholes said. “There are other things that can be done here. They take expeditions down the Blue John Mines, up past Hathersage, and they have dinners down there and all sorts. Remember how we lit the town up for the Jubilee? We could make something of it.”
Gipton shook his head stubbornly. “I don’t know about this aether stuff, and neither do you with your literature. I’m not throwing good money after bad. I’m off, and I’ll be taking my money and buying a ticket to Durban. I’d like to see my creditors find me in South Africa.”
“They’re at war over there!” Inspector Halton exclaimed. “They’re besieging Ladysmith, and that’s not so far from Durban.”
“I’ll tell them that I don’t want any,” Gipton said, “And my brother says that they have cricket. It has to be better over there.”
“Ladysmith has been under siege for months.” Scholes said. “You can’t seriously risk it.”
“I’ve provisionally booked a passage from Southampton,” Gipton said. “All I need is the £500 from you.”
“For a guilder I’d my ermine gown sell,” Inspector Halton quoted again from the poem. “What is this £500?”
“It’s not legal,” Scholes said.
“It’s in the contract,” Gipton snapped, “And you haven’t got the money for any solicitor to fight it.” He turned to the inspector. “I bought this farm, fair and square, from Mr Scholes’ poor mother, just after she had been widowed. And she was glad of the money. And I made sure I played fair. I paid a decent price, especially as it needed all the investment to get the mine going, and I put in a clause that young Scholes here would always have a job as long as he wanted.”
Scholes nodded. “My mother was fretting. She thought I should still be able to farm if things went wrong.”
Inspector Halton looked out of the window. He did best in London with the cobbles under his boots, but it didn’t look easy farming country. “How big is this?”
“There’s thirty acres,” Scholes said. “We were doing okay until my father died.”
“It’s a hard life, farming up here,” Gipton said. “Though having a spa town nearby helps out, I suppose. Mrs Scholes followed her husband not long after, poor woman, and I did my duty, didn’t I?”
Inspector Halton was taken aback at the aggression of the last few words and looked over at Scholes. “You built the mine?”
“I looked after young Scholes, as I promised.” Gipton glared at Scholes defiantly. “I paid for school and school books, put clothes on his back and food on the table. It may not have been fancy, but it was good plain stuff, and many would be glad of it.”
Inspector Halton looked over the two men. Scholes was indeed wearing a decent suit, which was clean and pressed, but it was the same as most small clerks wore in the City. Like the hordes that toiled through the underground, Scholes was wearing a cheap suit that he had hoped would last but that was showing signs of age. Gipton was wearing bespoke tailoring. “I see.”
“And he has regular employment here, at a decent wage,” Gipton continued. “I daresay he could make better money in Manchester or Sheffield, as he’s a bright lad, but at least here he can visit his poor mother’s grave after Chapel on a Sunday.”
In other words, the inspector thought, Gipton had done the bare minimum to keep the good opinion of the town. “But what’s this got to do with the £500?”
“It was the deal,” Gipton said. “I said that that if I was supporting the young lad, there had to be something in return. That’s the thing in contract law. There’s supposed to be a benefit on both sides. If things go wrong, I get to sell the whole thing back to young Mr Scholes at the original price, which was £500. That’s the land, the mine and all assets and liabilities.”
“So all the debts,” Inspector Halton said. He looked at Scholes, but the young man was staring blankly into the fire.
“And all the assets,” Gipton said. “The business had taken out extra loans for better equipment just before the beetles turned up – in fact, it was the new drill that broke through to that cavern. And you can see that the stuff in here is worth a few guineas. And there’s still farming.”
“I was thinking of creating a poet’s retreat,” Scholes said. “They can visit the spa in Matlock Bath and then stay here for writing and inspiration.”
“There’s no money in words,” Gipton snapped again. “But I won’t care. I’ll be in Durban, watching the cricket.”
“If the inspector can find John Bluecap…” Scholes began.
Gipton held up a hand. “Having talked it all through now, I can see how it is. A good businessman knows when to cut his losses. I would be grateful for payment at your earliest convenience.”
“Mr Gipton, please,” Scholes began. “Just give us the afternoon at least, to let Inspector Halton look around.”
“Are you still using Mr Gill on Dale Road as your solicitor?” Gipton was not going to be deflected from his purpose.
“Hunter’s Chambers? Yes, he saw my mother’s will and signed for me when she sold this.” Scholes said quietly. “But Mr Gipton…”
“I’ll be calling on him at noon tomorrow,” Mr Gipton said. “And I’ll either want the address of this Mr Bluecap or a draft for £500.” He jumped to his feet. “These damned beetles everywhere, funny folk calling themselves funny names, aether stones disappearing – I daresay a thousand pounds disappeared out of that cavern, and that’s just the stuff that’s easy to get! Who knows what else was behind those cavern walls? And my investments haven’t been doing so well. The South African mines have almost been brought to a standstill with the Boer War and I’m pretty much a ruined man! I’ve even had tradesmen knocking on my door – my very door! Did you know that the butcher won’t deliver so much as a pound of sausages to my door, not until his account’s been paid? And after I put him in the way of providing the meat for our Christmas dinner.”
“Mr Slack’s bill for the Christmas stuff is still owing,” Scholes murmured in the background.
“My nerves will no longer take it.” Gipton announced. “One thing or another, I’ll see you at Mr Gill’s office at noon tomorrow.” He looked at the inspector. “I’ll take the cab to Matlock and I’ll send it back for you. Perhaps you can find the answer or perhaps you can’t. All this aether nonsense! I can’t take much more at all!”
Inspector Halton sat quietly in the office as he heard Gipton stamping around outside and the clatter of the horse and cab as it trundled down the track towards Matlock. He looked at Scholes still staring at the fire. The gleam of the fire reflected in Scholes’ eyes reminded him of another few lines of the story, ‘and green and blue his sharp eyes twinkled, like a candle flame where salt is sprinkled’. He leaned back in the soft leather chair and took a sip of tea. “You played Mr Gipton like a fiddle.”
Scholes was suddenly very still, then he turned. “What do you mean?”
“Anyone can see that he cheated you out of your inheritance. Potential aether mines are changing hands for thousands,” the inspector said as he set his cup down on the nearby desk. “What are the biters?”
“I had nothing to do with those,” Scholes said. “They were there all the time, and they were a nuisance.” The polite smile had vanished. Instead there was a cautious defiance. “I haven’t been studying poetry,” he admitted. “I’ve been studying mining and the new aether engineering.” He leapt to his feet. “Do you know the breakthroughs they are making? Gipton will be sending back the horse and carriage, but in a few years time it could be a carriage that had lost the horses and was pulled along by an aether engine. Or perhaps a low level flyer, just skimming along the track.” He waved his arm around the room. “Have you seen all the breakthroughs around this room? Why aren’t there workshops around here? Why aren’t there forges like Benares, or leatherworkings like Lucca? There are some damned good craftsmen around here, and we can learn to be better. Why not even a better loom for the wool from the hills? Or even better shears?”
“Is that what you would do?”
“I didn’t bring the biters,” Scholes said, “But I did everything else. I even ordered the aluminium. If you run an electrical charge through aluminium, it attracts the beetles and then they get stuck, even after the electricity is removed. I had to drown them to get them off.” He grinned. “Very like the poem. It’s an old fairy story, you know. There’s all sorts of legends about the pied piper destroying the rats and then stealing the children. I thought I’d use the ideas. And it was easy to use the aluminium sheeting to cut down on the energy. It’s impossible to spot without knowing where to look. The crystals are still there.” He looked at the inspector. “What are you going to do?”
Inspector Halton looked around the room. There was a false feeling of business and clever dealing. Gipton had cheated a widow and a young lad, and now it looked like he was leaving a lot of people out of pocket as he ran away from his debts. He ought to call in at the police station at Bank Street and let them know. He ought to let Gipton know his suspicions. On the other hand, he was having a rest cure and couldn’t be expected to be able to spot everything. Just for once, after a career of following the rules, he wanted to do what was right instead of sticking to what was legal. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a pocketbook and his card. On the back, he painstakingly transcribed a number and handed it over. “That’s John Farnley’s number, Lord John Farnley. If you can catch him when he’s in England, tell him that I said to call. He won’t mind giving you advice.”
“John Farnley the aether flyer?” Scholes’ eyes were wide with shock and he sank into a chair, holding the small card like fragile crystal. “He knows all there is about aether crystals and engines. He’s…” Scholes voice trailed off.
“He’s a good man,” Inspector Halton said. “But so must you be. We’re setting the slate clean here. You have the £500?”
Scholes nodded, still staring at the cardboard rectangle. “I’ve been very careful with money,” he said. He forced himself to look at Inspector Halton. “You’re not going to say anything?”
The inspector shook his head. “But I expect you to stick to the straight and narrow now. No cheating the miners, no messing about with tricks with beetles, and pay your bills fair and square.”
Scholes nodded. “I think I’ve proved that your sins have a way of finding you out.” He grinned suddenly. “And I’ll remember the last few lines.”
Inspector Halton laughed and quoted the last few lines of Robert Browning’s poem. “So, Willy, let you and me be wipers of scores out with all men — especially pipers: and, whether they pipe us from rats or from mice, if we've promised them aught, let us keep our promise.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Scholes said, and raised his teacup.
Photo by Nineteen on Unsplash
