'An' sometimes, sometimes I gets frightened too 'cause I can hear somethin' else. Soft little feet runnin' past my door an' goin' into her room. Goin' in to haunt her 'cause of what she done.'
It was ridiculous but Gabe felt the hairs on the back of his neck stiffen.
47: GORDON PYKE
Loren skipped off the people-carrier, gave a wave to her new best friend Tessa (ignoring the scowl she received from Seraphina, who sat silently but grumpily in the back seat of the vehicle) and hurried across the road to the bridge. She hardly registered the dark red Mondeo parked behind her father's Range Rover and whose driver's door was beginning to open. She was too eager to get out of the rain and tell her mother about Seraphina, who had turned up for school that morning nursing a sore-looking nose and without a word to say to Loren. Loren had expected more trouble from the hefty girl when she eventually returned to class, but Seraphina had ignored her all day (although Loren had caught some dirty looks from her). Loren knew it was wrong, but she felt pleased that punching her seemed to have worked, for Seraphina's intimidation had stopped. Mum would be relieved there was no further problem, though she would hide it, and Dad would be delighted, but he wouldn't show it in front of Mum.
She reached the wooden bridge, rain seeming to thud against her woollen beanie, and quickened her pace. Unfortunately, she didn't realize how slippery the bridge's planks were.
One foot slid sharply forward and she went down, her other leg collapsing beneath her, bending so that her bare knee whacked against the wood. She cried out in pain and surprise, her school bag falling from her shoulder, spilling some of its contents onto the bridge.
Momentarily numbed by the shock, Loren was unable to move. She sprawled on the wet boards, her weight on one elbow, eyes smarting with welling tears. Mustn't be a baby, she told herself. Her leg wasn't broken, it just hurt a lot. Looking down at her injured knee, she saw blood beads appearing on its scraped skin. She wondered if she would be able to walk properly. Not far to the house, but she was soaked already. She tried to rise on wobbly legs but found it difficult.
That was when a large, strong hand reached under her shoulder and began to pull her up.
•
Gabe had just come down from the room in Crickley Hall that he used as an office. Earlier that day at the Seapower office in Ilfracombe he had surprised his new colleagues with the news that he had almost solved the maintenance problems of the marine turbine. However, he preferred to work out the details alone, without distractions, and that was probably best achieved from home. He had offered no excuse for his late arrival that morning (after visiting the old folks' home) and none was sought—in any case, as a subcontractor to the company and technically a free agent, he was allowed some latitude, provided he came up with solutions. So Gabe had returned to Crickley Hall mid-afternoon.
In truth, he had wanted to leave early so that he could discuss with Eve his eerie meeting with Magda Cribben. He'd had to phone Eve from the office because his cell phone still wouldn't reach Hollow Bay, although it worked fine outside the area, but it proved difficult to talk freely with co-workers in close proximity. He had told Eve that Magda hadn't said a word to him, that she'd remained silent throughout the visit; he hadn't mentioned the crazy next-door neighbour who maintained that Magda had not lost the power of speech but sometimes spoke in her sleep. As for ghosts running down corridors in the dead of night, well, he thought he'd omit this from his report for now.
Face to face, he told her everything and Eve had become very quiet—if not pale—when he mentioned the crazy woman's assertions that Magda Cribben still had the power of speech, even if it was only when she was dreaming, and that ghosts were also haunting the nursing home. It had all only served to deepen his wife's belief in spirit children.
The engineer had then worked solidly on his design for raising the marine turbine's gearbox and generator above the water level so that maintenance could be carried out using a surface structure and ancillary vessel, and it was late afternoon before he came down again, hungry and thirsty because he had worked through lunch.
He crossed the hall, but before he could enter the kitchen, the loud discordant sound of the doorbell brought him to a startled halt. Through the kitchen doorway he caught Eve's surprised look in his direction. He shrugged and went to the front door to unlock it.
The man standing outside with Loren was tall, at least six foot one or two, Gabe reckoned. The stranger wore a funny little Tyrolean hat with a small stiff feather stuck in its band.
'Delivery of one young lady with a badly scraped knee,' the stranger announced in a deep but friendly voice. Then, smiling, he introduced himself: 'My name is Gordon Pyke. I think I might be of some help to you.'
•
Gordon Pyke had the kindest eyes Gabe had ever seen. They were of the lightest blue and creases—laughter lines—spread from their corners almost to the man's temples. He looked to be in his sixties—late, or early seventies, Gabe couldn't tell—but his long figure looked strong and straight, only a slight paunch bulging against the lower buttons of his waistcoat, which was worn under a brown tweed jacket. An open fawn raincoat hung over both. He leaned on a stout walking stick that favoured his left leg.
When Loren had explained that she had fallen on the bridge and Mr Pyke had helped her to the front door, Gabe had immediately invited him in out of the rain.
Once inside, the stranger had removed his hat to reveal thin grey-black hair swept back over the dome of his head. He sported a small goatee beard, which was also black flecked with grey, as were the thick sideburns that partially disguised the largeness of his ears. His smile was warm, with teeth so perfect Gabe guessed they had to be manufactured.
Eve came out of the kitchen, Cally following, and went straight to Loren. She bent to examine her daughter's injured knee.
'Oh, you poor thing,' she said sympathetically. 'How did you manage that?'
'I slipped and fell on the bridge,' Loren told her, putting on a brave face even though the scrape was really sore by now. 'Mr Pyke picked me up.'
'I'm sure you'll find it's not a mortal wound,' Pyke said teasingly.
'Thank you for helping Loren,' said Eve, satisfied that the injury really wasn't serious.
'You are Mr and Mrs Caleigh, I take it.' The tall stranger looked first at Gabe, and then at Eve. 'Yes, you're certainly Eve Caleigh. The photograph of you in the North Devon Dispatch was an excellent likeness. Not all newspaper pictures are.'
'You saw that?' Gabe was both resigned and suspicious.
'I'm afraid so. Not the sort of publicity one normally seeks, is it? But newspapers enjoy publishing such hokum because they increase circulation figures.'
'Is that why you're here?' Gabe suspected they had one of those sightseers they had dreaded on their hands.
'As a matter of fact, it is, Mr Caleigh.'
Gabe felt his heart sink. He would thank the man, and then get rid of him.
'But not out of mere curiosity,' Pyke continued, 'I can assure you of that.' He smiled at Gabe, and then at Eve.
Eve spoke to Loren. 'Go into the kitchen and wait. I'll be there in a minute to clean your knee and put some ointment on it to stop any infection. It might need a plaster. Oh, and take Cally with you.'
Loren limped off, leading Cally back into the kitchen, while Eve returned her attention to the tall man with the nice smile and pleasant manner.
'So you believe all this nonsense about ghosts,' Gabe said when Loren and Cally were out of earshot.
'No. It's precisely because I don't that I'm here,' came the reply.
Gabe and Eve exchanged glances and Pyke gave a short, deep-throated chuckle.