'Normally,' he went on without giving Eve a chance to speak, 'I would sit in a chair somewhere in the house, the hall itself or perhaps the attic room, so I could keep an eye on things, check my equipment every now and again. I just wouldn't feel right if I didn't do something to help you and your family at such a sad time.'
His compassionate smile broadened, but not quite into a grin.
'Besides, I've driven a long way this evening and through the worst weather I've ever known.' (Which wasn't exactly true because he and Magda had braved a similar storm all those years ago.) 'It would be a shame if it were a wasted effort.'
Eve felt her will sink, and it was already at a low ebb. Pyke was persuasive, he had a sincere manner; but it wasn't his entreaties that were wearing her down, it was because nothing else mattered to her right now. She could tell that Loren was taken with Gordon Pyke despite her obvious emotional pain over Cam. Perhaps she saw him as the granddad she had never had? Perhaps if Loren accompanied the ghost-hunter as he set out his tools of the trade and explained each one's purpose she might be diverted from her sorrow for a short while. For the first time ever, Eve abdicated from parental responsibility to pass it on to her eldest daughter.
'What do you think, Loren? Should we let Mr Pyke go ahead and flush out bats in the roof or mice in the cupboards?' She chose not to mention ghosts. 'You were there yesterday when we spoke about it.'
Loren had led Cally down to the bottom of the stairs. The nice, tall Mr Pyke was smiling encouragingly and she could almost feel him willing her to say yes.
'Dad wants Mr Pyke to do it, doesn't he?' she said to her mother.
'Circumstances have changed,' Eve replied, struggling to keep bitterness from her voice.
Loren's face clouded over for a moment and her thoughts skirted elsewhere; she was still shocked by her brother's death even though she had been expecting the worst for months.
'You told Cally and me we have to try and carry on as before—before Cam got lost.' There was something like anger in her tone, but it wasn't directed at her mother.
Eve gave in. She looked up into the investigator's gentle eyes and spoke resignedly. 'Very well, Mr Pyke. Put your equipment wherever you think it might be useful. Loren will show you the cupboard on the landing where most of the noises have come from, while I get Cally back to bed. Then she'll take you up to the dormitory—sorry, it's now just an attic as you called it.'
'I'm anxious to examine the cellar where the well is.'
'Yes, of course. I'll take you down there myself when you've finished upstairs. You might want to put some kind of contraption on the cellar door—as I told you, it just won't stay shut.'
'Certainly. I'll use a spring balance and measure the amount of force it takes to open it. It's probably due to strong draughts. And you won't enter the rooms I've sealed?'
'As long as we know which ones they are.'
'I'll site my movement-triggered cameras and tape recorders, but won't set them 'til you're all out of the way in your beds.'
'I'd rather you didn't stay the night.'
'That's fine. I'll leave late and return first thing tomorrow morning. As long as you keep clear of my little, er, traps, there'll be no problem.'
'I hate to turn you out on a night like this…'
'Perhaps the storm will have broken by the time I'm done here.' Besides, now he didn't have to wait until the husband was asleep. 'I'm sure I'll be all right.'
He lifted his suitcase and looked towards Loren again. 'So lead on, young lady; I'm entirely in your hands.' How true, he thought, oh so very true.
Loren produced a wan but polite smile. Cally only scowled at the man when her big sister dropped her hand.
67: INTO THE STORM
Lili drove cautiously, slowly, her nose only inches away from the windscreen. The Citroën's wiper blades did their best, but the rain seemed to be hurling itself at the glass, making visibility extremely poor. Several times she had almost resolved to turn back and go home, for some of the minor roads were flooded with pond-like puddles and each time she went through one she worried that the car might stall and leave her stranded. Yet she kept going, driving steadily, determined to reach Crickley Hall that night. That crucial night. She could still hear echoes of the children's calls in the deeper caverns of her mind, too distant to catch their words, but knowing—sensing—her help was needed.
She ducked her head instinctively every time there was a lightning flash followed by a thunderclap. Lili had never realized that thunder and lightning could continue for such a long time; the thunderclouds had remained localized and that puzzled her, for surely the high winds should have moved them on?
Another car was ahead of her and its brakelights were constantly winking on and off as if the driver were being even more cautious than Lili. Maybe it was a good thing. She needed to keep her speed down and, anyway, following another vehicle made things easier for her. Let them make the mistakes.
The car in front, however, soon turned off onto a side road, leaving Lili to fend for herself. Suddenly blinded by blazing headlights coming at her from the opposite direction, she pulled up sharply, thankful there was nothing behind. Three cars went by, all of them on full beam, the second one dazzling the first's rearview mirror, the third dazzling the second's, a dangerous way to be driving, especially on such a treacherous night.
More lightning, more thunder. A good night for hauntings, she half joked to herself. If anything, she discovered, it was more hazardous travelling along main roads than down country lanes, for the high hedges of the latter offered some protection from the battering wind, even though the branches of some trees bowed perilously close to the Citroën's windscreen and roof.
Coming to a crossroads, she could just make out the signpost, one of its four arms pointing directly ahead to Hollow Bay. She checked left to right, and left to right again, squinting into the storm for headlights approaching in either direction. The road was eerily empty of traffic now; but then, what kind of fool would be out on a night like this? She gunned the engine and shot towards the relative safety of the opposite lane, a mighty burst of wind rocking the small car halfway across. Her hands gripped the steering wheel firmly, keeping the car on course, and then she was in the narrow lane, this section of it at least protected by tall, grassy banks. Hollow Bay was now no more than a couple of miles away, she reassured herself. Not far. Just difficult with all this wind and rain. No going back now, Lili told herself. Despite the heavy dread she felt. Besides, it was that dread that was drawing her to Crickley Hall. She was needed. By the children. She was sure.
After another nightmarish mile, Lili reached the turn-off for the harbour village and was mercifully aware that it wasn't too far to the house from this point. Wind whistled round the vehicle and rain pummelled it ceaselessly. Thinner trees waved and bushes shook wildly. Lili anxiously rubbed the steam of her breath from the glass in front of her with the sleeve of her coat; she had to keep leaning over the steering wheel to get even closer to the windscreen just to see the roadway ahead as shooting rain pounded the road's surface like exploding bullets. The psychic bit into her lower lip and her knuckles were white on the wheel.
Then it happened.
Lightning forked its jagged way down from the turbulent skies to strike an elm tree on Lili's left. Sparks flew out from it and a small fire flared. With a sharp grinding sound the trunk began to split. Her scream was muted by the thunder that quickly followed as the tree started to fall towards her, and it might have been fright or reflex that made her stamp on the accelerator. Branches that were still in leaf scraped against the car's rear window as the tree toppled with a mighty, juddering crash and Lily only stopped the Citroën when she knew it was well clear.