Harry and Alice stood up and walked back through the apple trees towards the house. When they were once again approaching the crowd of people Harry became aware of urgent movement, of someone pushing their way though the throng. A second later Gareth Fletcher appeared, holding Tom’s hand tightly.
‘We can’t find Joe and Millie,’ he said. ‘We’ve looked everywhere. They’ve vanished.’
Part Two. Blood Harvest
18
AS HARRY AND TOM MADE THEIR WAY THROUGH THE HALL, Sinclair Renshaw appeared in front of them.
‘What’s happened, Vicar?’ he asked.
‘The two youngest Fletcher children are missing,’ replied Harry hurriedly.
‘The little girl?’ interrupted Sinclair, speaking softly, in spite of the music and noise in the hall.
‘Yes, and her brother. Their parents have gone home to see if they’ve made their way there. Tom and I are-’
‘One second.’ Sinclair turned to look round the room. ‘Father!’ he called. Then he took hold of Tom’s arm and steered him over to the older man. Tom could hear Harry following, but when he glanced back, he could tell the vicar wasn’t happy. Harry had been told to watch Tom and look outside, and that’s what he wanted to do. It was what Tom wanted to do too – look for Joe and Millie and stay very close to a grown-up he could trust.
‘Father.’ They’d reached the door to the alley. Outside it was too dark for Joe and Millie to be wandering around on their own. ‘The youngest Fletcher child is missing,’ explained Sinclair, still speaking in a low voice. ‘The little girl.’
‘And her brother,’ insisted Harry.
‘Yes, yes,’ said Sinclair. ‘Father, get Jenny and Christiana and search the house.’ Then he lowered his voice even further. ‘Lock the door,’ he added.
Tobias nodded once and then made his way (quite quickly for so old a man) across the hall to where Christiana was still twisting straw. Sinclair turned back to Harry.
‘How long has she – they – been missing? When and where were they last seen?’
Harry didn’t know, of course, so he looked at Tom. Tom didn’t know much either, and it was hard to think when the biggest man he’d ever seen was glaring down at him.
‘In here,’ he said. ‘I was…’ He stopped. He’d been told to keep an eye on his brother and sister while his dad fetched drinks. It was all his fault.
‘What?’ said Harry. ‘It’s important, Tom. What were you doing?’
‘I was under the food table,’ said Tom. ‘Hiding from Jake Knowles.’ He looked up at Harry, hoping he’d understand. Jake and two of his mates had come looking for him, his mum was nowhere in sight and his dad had been at the other side of the room, almost in the garden. Tom had ducked under the big white tablecloth and crawled to the other end. When he’d reached his dad, they’d crossed the room again to find Joe and Millie.
‘We looked all round the room,’ he said. And in the alley outside, and in the garden. They’d just vanished.’
As he was speaking, Tom saw Tobias Renshaw and his granddaughter Christiana cross the room and disappear through a large wooden door.
Sinclair Renshaw continued to stare at Tom for a second, then he turned back to Harry. ‘Keep the lad with you,’ he said. ‘I’ll organize a search. We don’t want everyone involved, it would be chaos. Leave it with me.’
He strode away. Harry and Tom looked at each other and headed for the open door, pushing past a woman wearing a bright-yellow sweater. Outside, the high walls seemed to make the alleyway even darker than they’d expected and Tom was grateful for the tiny lanterns on the wall.
‘Your mum and dad would have gone that way,’ said Harry, pointing towards Tom’s house. ‘Let’s go down here.’
Harry and Tom turned left and the sound of the party faded until they could hear nothing but their own footsteps. The spaces between the lanterns became wider and the alley darker. They turned a corner and reached a dead end.
‘Joe and Millie couldn’t have got over that,’ said Tom, looking at the high stone wall in front of them.
‘No,’ agreed Harry. ‘But they could have gone through here.’
Tom turned and felt as if his insides had fallen out. He could almost imagine he’d see them, if he looked down, lying splat on the ground. There was a tall iron gate in the churchyard wall. A padlock lay open on the ground in front of it. Beyond the gate he could see gravestones, shining like pearls in the moonlight.
Harry looked into the graveyard and then down at Tom. ‘Tom, run back to the hall,’ he said. ‘I’ll watch till I see you’re safely back.’
‘No, I want to stay with you,’ said Tom, without thinking, because the truth was, he wanted to go into that graveyard like he wanted someone to poke a stick in his eye.
‘Tom, it won’t be very nice. Go back.’
It was a graveyard, for God’s sake! And not just any old graveyard, but the one at the back of their house where something decidedly odd liked to hang around. Of course it wasn’t going to be nice. But Joe and Millie were in it. Somehow Tom knew it. They’d gone through this gate.
‘I’m coming with you,’ said Tom. ‘We have to find them.’
Harry muttered something that, had he not been a vicar, would have sounded an awful lot like swearing and then picked up two of the candle-lanterns. He held one out to Tom. ‘Hold this away from you,’ he said. ‘Hold it high.’
Tom did what he was told and then they were pushing at the gate and stepping into the churchyard.
It was so quiet, as though the world had had its volume turned down. Then Harry spoke and Tom couldn’t stop himself from jumping.
‘This would have been one of the monks’ private entrances to the church in the old days,’ he said. ‘Now, we’re going to walk slowly, we’re going to keep to the path as much as possible and we’re going to listen hard. Only I’m allowed to shout. Is that understood?’
‘Yes,’ whispered Tom and they set off.
They’d been walking for several minutes before Tom realized they were holding hands. And the silence felt unnatural. They should have been able to hear something, shouldn’t they? Wind in the trees? Something? Tom could have almost imagined he’d gone deaf if it hadn’t been for their footsteps on the path and the sound of Harry’s breathing. Then Harry stopped and so did he.
‘Joe!’ called Harry. ‘Millie!’
From somewhere nearby came a rustling sound and Harry’s head shot round. ‘Joe?’ he called. They both waited. No one answered Harry and, after a second, he and Tom set off again.
‘Tom!’ called a tiny voice from a few yards further up the hill.
Harry stopped sharp. ‘That was Joe,’ he said. ‘Where did it come from?’ He let go of Tom’s hand and began to turn on the spot, holding his lantern high. ‘Joe!’ he yelled, louder this time.
‘Tom,’ called the voice again.
‘That was definitely Joe,’ said Harry. ‘Did you hear where it came from?’ Harry was still turning this way and that, looking more like a gun-dog than a man, as though any second now he’d put his nose to the ground and start sniffing. Tom, on the other hand, hadn’t moved.
‘No, it wasn’t,’ he said.
‘What?’ muttered Harry.
‘It wasn’t Joe,’ Tom repeated, looking back at the gate, trying to work out how far it was and if, once they started to run, Harry would leave him behind. ‘Harry,’ he went on, ‘let’s get out of here.’
Harry either didn’t hear or decided to ignore Tom. He caught hold of his hand again and began to pull him away from the path and up the hill towards the Renshaw mausoleum. ‘He’s not far away,’ he was saying. ‘Stay with me, Tom. Watch where you’re walking.’
Tom and Harry began to stumble across the uneven ground and soon their feet were soaked. Dew had already formed on the long grass and was gleaming silver where the moonlight touched it. The cold softness brushed Tom’s legs and headstones leered up at them. They didn’t look like pearls any more; they looked like teeth.