How wonderful to be so undemanding, thought Eve, not to be in the least disturbed by phenomena that mystified and often terrified older people. Cally seemed to have even forgotten about the 'black' man she had seen in the corner of her bedroom the other night.
'Mummy?'
Eve snapped back to the moment. She turned from the window to see Cally in the kitchen doorway.
'Yes, baby?'
'Can I go outside and play? The sun is shining.'
'It's still very damp out there; the grass is wet.' And the unfenced river was too near, Eve warned herself.
'Please, Mummy. Can I go on the swing, will you push me?' Cally tucked one ankle behind the other and gripped her hands together.
Eve felt they both needed fresh air and after all that had happened that morning, Cally deserved some special attention. 'All right, let me get a tea towel to wipe the swing's seat. Just ten minutes, okay? Then we're going to do some reading together.'
'Can I choose the book?'
'No, I don't think so. I want you to try something a little bit harder today.'
Cally pulled a face, but it was gone in an instant.
'You'll need your wellies,' Eve instructed her. 'I'll get your coat; it's still chilly out there.'
'Okay, Mummy.'
Cally ran to the hall rack where coats and hats were hung, walking boots on the floor beneath them; she pulled out a pair of Wellingtons that were bright green and dotted with white spots.
In a couple of minutes they were ready to go outside.
•
Eve contemplated the frothy river. The water was a murky brown, as if the riverbank further upstream was gradually being eaten away. Even though it hadn't rained that day, the river still looked swollen and enraged. If it should spill over its banks, would it flood Crickley Hall again as it had all those years ago? The two children, the trespassers, had told the police that the hall was flooded, but there had been no sign of it later, not even any puddles or wet patches. Did the house itself trigger such images, did its thick walls remember how the house was once deluged by floodwater? Was it possible for stone and mortar to store memories? It seemed impossible, yet so many strange things had happened since the family's arrival. Eve had always been unsure of her own feelings regarding the paranormal, whether or not events that defied natural comprehension could really occur. Now she was even more uncertain. If her lost son could contact her using telepathy, then why not other phenomena? Accept one instance, accept them all? Her beliefs were being stretched to their limits.
It was good to feel the sun on her back, even though it was a weak warmth, the sun itself watery, as if dampened by the incessant rain of the past week. Behind her, Cally swung back and forth on the now-dried swing, her tiny hands grasped round the rusted chain links, her voice exuberant with the rush of it. Eve had started her off, pulling the swing seat with Cally on it as far back as possible, then letting it go with a firm push, pushing again on its return, using just the right pressure to generate a momentum. Her daughter leaned back, kicking out her legs to keep the rhythm going. It was nice for Eve to hear Cally's hoots and chuckles as the swing reached its zenith, then began its journey back.
'Push harder, Mummy!' came the cry, but Eve used only enough force to keep the swing going. Satisfied that Cally could keep up the momentum herself, Eve stepped back, smiling at her daughter's squeals of delight. Then, diverted by her own thoughts, Eve turned away and strolled towards the river.
Her gaze wandered beyond the tumbling waters and up at the high gorge wall, which was lush with vegetation and full of trees that were either deep green in colour or just turning a golden brown. Crickley Hall was splendidly positioned but, because of its structural plainness—its ugliness, would be more apt—it failed to blend in with the natural surroundings. Which was a shame, a waste. Eve drew in a deep breath, relishing the scented air, refreshing both mind and body, cleansing her thoughts so that for a moment, a moment only, she felt uplifted. She almost felt hopeful once again.
Eve caught something moving in the periphery of her vision. Looking downstream, she saw a large grey heron had landed on a glistening stone embedded in the bank at the water's edge and now its long pointed bill was poised above the flow. It was a long-legged cumbersome-looking bird that might have waded out a little way had the river not been so fierce; all it could do was wait until a fish presented itself close to the bank. It was fascinating to watch, for there was a tension in the air as the bird's S-shaped neck hovered snake-like over the water, its beak almost touching the roiling surface, ready to strike. The heron's neck twitched and then—
And then, a high-pitched scream had Eve whirling round to see what had frightened Cally.
Again, just in the periphery of her vision, Eve glimpsed movement; or thought she glimpsed movement, for there was nothing… only a white shadow… that might not have been there at all. Cally continued to scream and Eve saw her daughter high in the air, the swing's chains almost parallel to the ground, the swing arcing back again, the pendulum movement fast, too fast, Cally gripping the chains hard, her cries becoming one long screech.
Eve dashed forward as the swing reached its highest point on the other side of the oak's bough. Cally's back was to Eve, her hair whipped up behind her, her short legs kicking at empty air as if to control her flight. Now the swing began its return journey and Eve waited, her arms outstretched, ready to catch it and bring its wild oscillation to a halt. But it came at her with a force so much harder than she expected.
Her arms were easily pushed back by the heavy wooden seat, which hit her beneath the chin, sending her reeling backwards. Her legs gave way and she fell to the ground, the swing with Cally on it rising above her. Eve caught sight of her daughter's white frightened face. The swing began its return journey and Eve, trying to regain her feet, had to duck low to avoid being hit again. So high did it go that Cally almost slipped backwards off the seat, only her tight grip on the chains preventing her from doing so.
It was as if the swing were being pushed by strong invisible hands, sending it too high and too fast.
Eve straightened and readied herself this time, backing away from the swing's flight path, raising her arms, her fingers slightly curled to catch the seat as it flew back at her. It smacked into the palms of her hands, Cally screeching all the while, her pale face sodden with tears, but Eve did not try to hold on to it; she merely slowed its pace.
The next time it came her way she applied the same technique, slowing the swing's ascent so that it lost momentum. On the next swing back she managed to slip her arm round Cally's waist, her other hand grabbing one of the chains. It worked. The swing angled, the chain links almost crossing, but it was blocked by Eve's body. She teetered there for a moment, then dragged Cally off the seat, both of them falling backwards onto the soft wet grass.
Eve lay there, momentarily winded, and Cally sprawled over her.
'Why did you push me so hard, Mummy?' Cally wailed as Eve fought for breath. Through her tears, her daughter repeated the question.
'But… but I didn't push you,' Eve managed to say as she struggled to sit upright so that Cally was in her lap. 'I stopped the swing.'
'No, before. You pushed me before. I went too high, Mummy. I was frightened.'
Eve drew her daughter close and looked at the dangling swing that now swayed gently as if all the life had gone from it.