The utter darkness inside slunk back from the torchlight as if caught unawares.
Gabe poked his head into the opening.
'Junk,' he announced after a moment. 'Nothing but stored-away junk in here.'
He disappeared inside and Eve and the girls filled the open doorway. Eve waved her torch around, more curious than scared now, and although the lights chased shadows away, it caused others that were dense. She saw odd pieces of furniture—chairs with straight backs, boxes piled high on a table with thick rounded legs, more boxes on the littered floor; an old-fashioned two-bar electric fire; rolls of what looked like curtain material; lampshades; a figurine whose head was broken off at the neck; a small statue of Christ with a burning heart, one of its supplicating arms missing; two tall matching vases, both chipped and cracked. There was more: a round hanging clock lying flat on its back and minus a minute hand; a framed landscape painting leaning against a box, its glass cracked; a dented iron bucket; several battered cardboard suitcases with broken handles; other items covered by dirty wrinkled sheets. The partitioned room was filled with Crickley Hall's detritus, oddments of no value or use any more.
Eve moved further in, the girls, clutching each other's hand, following, afraid to be left alone outside. She could see Gabe moving things around in the gloom. The atmosphere was thick with dust and stagnation.
She heard Gabe whistle through his teeth. 'Will you look at this,' he said.
She caught up with him to see what he'd found. 'Toys,' she said almost breathlessly.
'Old toys,' he corrected her. 'Look at 'em. Some are still in their boxes. You can make out what they are under the dirt.'
It was true: the images of their contents were partially visible beneath the thick layers of dust. A train set. Snakes and ladders. A farmyard with painted wooden animals. Eve picked up a flattish box and wiped her hand across it. The box apparently contained a jigsaw; the picture was of a park, with illustrated children playing, some of them on swings, others on slides… a cartoon boy on a roundabout, yellow hair… like Cam's.
Gabe interrupted her melancholy thoughts. 'And check this out.'
His light revealed an archaic blackboard, its corners rounded, chalk markings just visible underneath the dust. It rested against the angled wall, its easel leaning against it. Crammed close to the blackboard were stacked rectangular trestle-tables, their metal legs housed beneath the flat surfaces.
Gabe went over to a large open cardboard box and dug his hand into it. He brought out a strange rubber contraption with large glass eyeholes and a stubby round nose.
'I'll be damned,' he murmured.
'A gas mask,' Eve said.
'Yeah, from the Second World War. But it's small, meant for kids. There's more in there.'
'Do you think all these things have been stored away since then?'
'Seems likely. Look at those toys. They don't make simple stuff like this these days.' He reached down for something lying at his feet and showed it to her, blowing some of the dust that dulled its brightness. 'Made of tin. Look, it's even got a key to wind up the engine.'
Slipping the flashlight under his armpit, Gabe used thumb and forefinger to wind up the old motorcar but the key stuck on the first turn. 'Must've rusted up inside,' he remarked, gazing at the machine in wonder.
Eve picked up a limp ragdoll lying on top of a carton. 'You won't find many of these around any more,' she said, turning the soft doll over in her hand, the reason for searching the attic lost to her for the moment. 'It's a golliwog. It's just not PC for children to play with anything like this these days. I had one myself when I was very young.'
'You know what's strange?' Gabe, having discarded the tin car, was crouching by a cardboard box and wiping away the covering dust with the palm of his hand. 'Look, this one's never been opened and, from what I can tell, nor have any of the others. These toys have never been played with.'
'But why? It doesn't make sense.'
'Maybe they were being kept hidden in here for Christmas. The flood took the poor kids before they got the chance to be given 'em.'
'You think that was it?'
'Only guessing. But they were out of sight behind other boxes and stuff. I moved that blackboard and easel to get to the toys. Could be that they were forgotten after the disaster and more junk was stashed in here in front of 'em so they couldn't be seen. S'way I figure it, anyhow.'
'Daddy, what's this?'
Gabe and Eve turned and searched out Cally among the shadows. She was squatting on her haunches, a podgy little hand resting on a round object standing on the floor.
'Don't touch it, Cally, it's filthy,' Eve warned her. 'Let Daddy have a look at it first.'
Gabe climbed over boxes and other neglected toys to reach his daughter.
'I think it's a top, Dad,' said Loren, who had become interested in her sister's find. 'You know, one of those spinning tops. I used to have one like it when I was little.'
'Let's see.' He knelt on the floorboards and picked up the toy with his free hand. He wiped it on his sweater sleeve and bright colours sprang into life.
Cally gave out a small squeal of delight.
'Don't get too hopeful, Cally. Doubt it's gonna work after all this time.'
He steadied the spinning top on the floor, then pushed down its spiral plunger. It gave out a rusty growl as it spun one and half revolutions before stopping with an ominous clonk.
'Yep, probably rusted inside.'
'Can you mend it, Daddy?' Cally asked hopefully.
'Sure, I can try.'
'Can we take it downstairs? Can I play with it?'
'Lot of other toys here to choose from, Sparky.'
'No, this one, Daddy. Please.'
Gabe straightened. 'Okay, let me carry it 'til we can give it a good wipeover, okay?'
'Yes, please.'
Eve, apart from them in the gloom, felt a sudden shiver run through her. She thought of the sounds they had heard coming through the ceiling when they were downstairs. A scurrying. A rushing of feet. From the attic room that had once been used as a dormitory.
A sound that was loud on the bare floorboards; yet somehow light. As though the sounds belonged to children scampering in bare or stockinged feet.
Running, scattering, children.
18: THIRD NIGHT
Yet another night they slept together, the girls snuggled between Gabe and Eve. The only difference this time was that the dog refused to leave the kitchen, the rain having forced Gabe to bring him in. Chester had resisted Gabe's tugging at his collar, whimpering at his master's coaxing, haunches low. Despite Gabe's entreaties, the mongrel had refused to leave his spot beside the garden door; he cowered there, eyes wild with fear that only he could understand.
In the end, Gabe could only shake his head in mystified frustration. Sure, Eve was right—there was something weird going on in this place—but last night the mutt had howled to be allowed upstairs with the family; tonight nothing would induce Chester to leave his blanket by the door. The engineer was certain that if he opened the outside door the dog would be through it like the wind and this time, in the dark, they'd never find him.
Exasperated, Gabe had left Chester there, hoping he wouldn't howl in the night.
Naturally, Loren and Cally wanted to know who or what had been running around in the old dormitory earlier (although Cally had seemed more interested in the spinning top she was allowed to bring downstairs) and there was no logical explanation either parent could give them. Gabe had unconvincingly muttered about airlocks and waterpipes once more and the girls were not taken in. They were too tired, though, to be more curious, especially Loren, who, unusually, wanted to go to bed. Gabe and Eve knew their daughters would be too jittery to fall sleep on their own, despite their tiredness, so had retired with them.