Anyway, what could happen to them here? It was just a cranky old house that, now it had new occupants, was creaking back to life.
He smiled at his wife, who looked even more beautiful in the warm glow of the firelight, a colour back in her cheeks and lively little flames reflected in her eyes.
'Okay, Eve,' he said. 'We'll give it another try.'
After all, what could happen to them here? A house was just a house.
•
It was as if Crickley Hall had paused to take a breath.
There were no incidents that night, no rappings, no sounds of running feet, no 'whimpering' from closed closets. Nothing untoward occurred during that night and the Caleigh family slept peacefully. Even Eve rested, although her mind was filled with ethereal images of spinning tops and dancing children.
Loren and Cally fretted over their missing pet for a short while, but sleepy tiredness soon overcame them both. Gabe was out almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.
The wind that rushed through Devil's Cleave to the bay below died away and the rain became a light patter.
All was still and silent in Crickley Hall, save for the creaking of the cellar door as it opened a few inches.
27: TUESDAY
Not for the first time Gabe strode across the hall to close the open cellar door. He examined the lock first, though, turning its long key backwards and forwards, having only to use slight pressure to move the locking bolt in and out. There appeared to be no reason for the door to keep unlocking itself and straying open a few inches, enough for a breeze to rise up from the cellar below and escape into the hall. The breeze, he realized, must come from the well down there, rushing waters creating strong draughts of air. But strong enough to push a locked door open? It seemed unlikely, but it also seemed to be the case.
Opening the door even wider, he peered into the inky gloom. The dismal daylight from the hall itself did not travel far into the stairway: it was as if the blackness was pushing back the light, rather than the other way round. Without a candle or flashlight, he ruminated, a person would be swallowed up by it. As if for reassurance, Gabe reached in and flipped down the light switch. The light that came on at the bottom of the stairs was barely fit for the job, for its dusty glow had only a limited effect on the darkness. The smell that wafted up was dank and unpleasant and the low, muffled roar of the underground river was somehow disturbing, as if it were boasting its threat, bragging its danger.
Gabe closed the door and the river's sound diminished, could only be heard if he really listened. He twisted the key again so that the door was locked, and he wondered how long it would remain so. Eve had suggested that he fix a bolt to it, high enough to be out of Cally's reach, and he resolved to visit a hardware store when he was next in town.
It was early, just after 6 a.m., and Eve and the girls were still in bed waiting for their alarms to go off. Gabe was wide awake, though, and full of repressed vigour after a decent night's sleep, finally. Despite the chill, he wore only a pale grey sweatshirt with the arms cut off at the elbows, slim black joggers and his usual sturdy ankle boots. Back at home in London, he managed at least twenty minutes pounding the pavement every weekday before work and he felt he needed to get back to a similar routine. The air should be better and the scenery was certainly much more pleasant.
Still puzzled by the wayward cellar door, he went to the hall's front door, which did have bolts top and bottom, although so far they had relied only on its key lock. This was deep countryside where houses were not meant to be vulnerable to late-night intruders—or so the theory went, he told himself, as he unlocked the door. Maybe no home was safe from burglars any more, country, town or city.
He swung the door wide and fresh air seemed to throw itself at him, immediately cleansing his nostrils of the cellar's lingering odour. The sun had not quite risen above the gorge wall and the trees and shrubbery across the river appeared black and a little forbidding; in the city even the darkest of mornings were lit by street lamps and early-opening shops. Nevertheless, the day would quickly grow brighter as he ran and at least there would not be hazardous junctions to cross, traffic to dodge. He'd keep a lookout for Chester and call his name while he ran: maybe the mongrel hadn't travelled too far and was only keeping clear of the house itself. He would ring the local police station later that morning to report their missing pet, but that was in Merrybridge and they were hardly likely to send out a task force to look for Chester.
Gabe drew in great lungfuls of air, priming himself for the run, and when he bent low to stretch his spine, he saw something lying on the doorstep. He frowned, then knelt beside it. Only one of its wings was splayed, the other lying half beneath the bird's body and, although the light was poor, Gabe saw no wounds or any other reason for its demise. It looked like a wood pigeon to him, and when he picked it up, the head hung loose and the released wing fell open. He examined it further and still could find no gashes or death-causing breaks. It seemed the bird had died of old age rather than anything else. It had probably crashed to the ground mid-flight during the night and had just happened to land on their doorstep.
Gabe was glad he had found it first before Loren or Cally set eyes on it: they would have been distressed. He stood and with his free hand he closed the front door behind him. He trotted past the swing hanging from the old oak and stopped by the bridge. Rather than throw the dead pigeon, he leaned over the rushing waters, one hand hanging onto a rail and, as gently as possible, dropped the feathery corpse into the swollen river where it was swiftly washed away by the current.
•
Pulvington was easy to find on the map and Eve made the journey in less than twenty minutes. Mostly the roads were good, although several times she had to slow the Range Rover to walking pace in order to squeeze past oncoming traffic. Gabe working at home today gave her the perfect opportunity to use their car. It was a shopping expedition, she had told him, the chance to find a supermarket and a decent range of shops. Pulvington appeared to be one of the larger local towns.
Although he would be working in the room off the L-shaped first-floor landing, which he had turned into a makeshift office, he'd be able to keep an eye on Cally, whose bedroom/playroom was only a few doors away on the other arm of the landing. It wouldn't be a hassle for Gabe, because Cally was good at playing on her own, her lively imagination creating all kinds of scenarios for her and her dollies, or the little plastic play people she was so fond of, to act out. Gabe would be within easy hearing distance of her and Cally knew she could go along to his 'office' whenever she liked or wanted something; even though he would be working on the complex operation of the marine turbine, Eve knew that Gabe would be only too glad of interruptions as long as there were not too many, and Cally had promised she would disturb Daddy only when it was absolutely necessary. Eve had used the excuse that she could get a big shop done in half the time without Cally in tow and Gabe had readily agreed to have their daughter with him for a couple of hours, despite his work load. 'Not a problem,' he had told Eve.