'I can't tell why he's afraid,' said Lili helplessly. 'Nothing is right. He's too far away.'
Eve was desperate. 'Please,' she urged, 'please…'
Lili's eyes closed again and she leaned back in the armchair. Her face was tight, drawn, the mental struggle reflected in her pained features.
And then something changed.
Lili's eyes snapped open. She twisted in the chair, cowering, her arms up before her face. She groaned and her head turned from one side to the other. It was as if she were in agony.
Eve was startled by the transformation. Lili's mouth yawned open as if in horror and her eyes were wide, gaping up at the ceiling. Dropping the photograph of Cam, she clawed at her own neck with fevered hands.
And Eve shivered as she felt the dark oppression that had infiltrated the room; it weighed upon her like a dense but unseen mantle. Light seemed to be forced from the room, which was now filled with onerous gloom. Even the fire in the hearth seemed to wither under the presence, the flames dying, losing any warmth.
Lili's arms and shoulders shivered, but Eve couldn't tell if it was because of the room's coldness or because the psychic was terrified. Vapour clouds were expelled from her open mouth in short gasps and Eve attempted to rise from the couch to go to her, but she found herself transfixed, frozen, unable even to lift a hand. She was temporarily paralysed.
Meanwhile, Lili Peel's shivers ran through her whole body, from head to toe, her shoulders shuddering against the back of the armchair. Her neck and spine arched in some sort of spasm and her lips quivered; both of her hands clutched at the ends of the armrests.
She moaned, then cried out, 'Go away, leave me alone! You don't belong here any more!'
Eve wondered at whom or what the words were directed. She and Lili were the only persons in the room, even though she could feel a potent and intimidating presence. And the smell, a malodour that stung the nostrils.
Lili Peel appeared to be having some kind of seizure: her back remained arched and her jaw had dropped so that her mouth was gaping even more; her eyes stared but they were glazed, unseeing. She began to rise from the armchair, still gripping its arms, her stomach pushed forward, head tilted backwards as far as it could go.
Eve felt suddenly nauseous and she fought against it, swallowing hard, breathing through her mouth rather than her nose. It hardly helped. She struggled inwardly to leave the couch, but still couldn't rise. Her spine felt locked, and her flesh prickled. Why couldn't she move?
The answer came to her as a mental taunt: it was sheer terror that held her there; she was too afraid to move. All she could do was watch the psychic, whose body now writhed violently in the armchair. Despite her own fear, Eve was concerned for Lili, afraid that in her paroxysms she would hurt herself. Once more, Eve strained to move and this time she was able to raise her arms. Her trembling fingers reached out to the distressed psychic.
But Lili abruptly collapsed in the armchair and became still. Her head sank to her chest again and her eyes closed. Every second or two an arm, or a leg, or a shoulder, twitched, but she remained slumped in the cushioned chair.
There came a stillness to the room.
And it became even colder.
In the hearth the flames almost died.
Eve's eyes stayed fixed on Lili, who lay in the armchair as limp as a rag doll.
And the room was dark not just because it was a late-October evening, but because something more had weakened the already fading light. Shadows grew, seemed to live.
Opposite Eve, Lili Peel lay loosely in the armchair until her left arm twitched once, twice, then once again. Finally it fell slack against her thigh.
Her head slowly rose from her chest and even her light green eyes looked dark in the room's poor light. Perhaps it was because her pupils had dilated, the irises no more than thin rings round them.
At first, Eve thought the psychic was staring at her. But then she realized that Lili's horrified eyes were looking at something over Eve's shoulder.
42: DARKNESS
Gabe pulled up behind the people-carrier that served as Merrymiddle's school bus. Because of the narrowness of the lane, it was blocking his access to the short parking space on the right-hand side. As he waited for the bus to move on, he glanced up at the clouded evening sky. Dusk was always early this time of year, but the heavily laden clouds easily smothered any last rays the dying sun could throw out.
Loren alighted from the left side of the bus and Gabe watched her wave goodbye to a friend as the vehicle moved away, heading downhill to the harbour village. He steered towards his parking spot and was surprised to see a small blue two-door Citroën had taken up much of the space in the short lay-by. Wondering who owned the car, and if whoever did was visiting Crickley Hall, he squeezed in behind it, a rear corner of the Range Rover protruding slightly into the roadway.
Loren waved to him as she crossed the lane and Gabe climbed from his vehicle, retrieving the large slim portfolio that carried his design drawings and sketches from the back seat as he did so.
'Hey, Slugger,' he greeted Loren as she skipped the last steps towards him. She kissed his proffered cheek and gave him a smile that told him all had gone well at school today.
''Lo, Dad.'
'You been okay?' Her nightmare last night and her pain, imaginary or not, that came with it had been on his mind all day long.
'Fine, Dad.'
'Really?'
'Honest. It was a dream, that's all.'
'Well, I know the doc thought that, but you were in a pretty bad way last night.' He threw an arm round her shoulders as they strolled to the bridge. Kids get over things so fast, he thought. Let's see how she faces bedtime.
'How was the injured party today?' His tone was light, but he kept the smile off his face.
Loren was happy to shake her head. Seraphina had to come to school eventually and Loren wondered if the bad feelings would continue. She hoped not, because she doubted she could punch the big girl again, and certainly not as effectively as the first time when surprise was on her side. She didn't think she could summon up the courage or the anger to do it again. However, despite the trepidation, she was enjoying Merrymiddle; she seemed to be making new friends every day and Tessa had definitely become one of her best.
The dull square shape of the house loomed up across the river and her mood changed. 'Dad, I don't like Crickley Hall,' she said, looking up at him.
He noted that she hadn't said 'I don't like it here at Crickley Hall'; she'd implied that she didn't like the house itself. He felt the same.
'S'why I left work early,' he told her. 'We gotta talk about this place. It's got bad vibes.' If someone else had said that to him just a few days ago, he would have laughed in their face. How could a house have vibes of any kind?
'Are we leaving?' Loren's eyes searched his in the gloom.
'Let's say it's a strong possibility. We'll see what your ma has to say.' After last night and all the trouble that morning, he felt sure that Eve would want to pack up and go as quickly as possible. And as much as he hated the idea of a mere house defeating him, he would happily do the packing.
They crossed the bridge, the rushing waters gurgling beneath them. Loren almost slipped on the wet boards, but Gabe held her tight against him.
'Why are there no lights on, Dad?'
He followed her gaze and saw that she was right. The building ahead was in darkness, not a single window lit, despite the early-evening dusk. It gave Gabe a bad feeling.
To reassure Loren he said: 'Maybe Mummy joined Cally for her afternoon nap and they've both overslept. None of us got much sleep last night.'