'He's frightened,' said Eve.
Gabe rested on one elbow and briskly wiped weariness from his face with the flat of his hand. It had been a long, hard day and this he could do without.
'He'll be okay,' he assured Eve. 'Just needs to get used to the place.'
Eve was staring at the dark opening of the doorway, the door left ajar so that they could hear either of the girls should they wake up in their strange room and be frightened. Their bedroom door had been left open too.
'Gabe!' she said sharply. Something pale had moved into the opening, but it was too dark to see what: so cloudy was the night that the window offered little light. 'There's someone out there.'
Gabe felt the back of his neck go cold, short hairs there stiffening. He sat up in the bed and stared at the doorway and drew in an involuntary breath.
'Mummy? Daddy?'
Both Eve and Gabe felt their bodies relax when they realized Loren had come to their room. The door swung even wider open and the howling below grew more mournful.
'Chester's upset,' Loren said from the doorway.
'It's all right,' Eve soothed. 'He just doesn't like being alone in a new place.'
'He'll settle down soon,' Gabe added.
'But he's crying, Daddy.' In the cold darkness of night he had become 'Daddy' once more.
He pushed the bed's heavy duvet aside, giving in only a tad reluctantly. He was concerned for the mutt too. That afternoon he'd had to venture out in the rain to Chester, who had refused to leave his spot by the oak tree, heedless of their calls and coaxing. He had picked the mongrel up bodily and carried him back into the house; once inside, Chester had shivered in the corner of the kitchen next to the door while Loren wiped him down with an old towel, his eyes bulging so hard that the whites at the sides were visible. Eventually, and with Loren stroking his wiry fur, Chester had fallen into a troubled sleep.
'You go back to bed, Loren, and I'll go down and see to Chester,' Gabe said as he padded over to the door.
'Can't he sleep on my bed?' Loren implored.
'Uh-huh, kid. He's gotta get through the night on his own. We can't have him sleeping upstairs.'
'Just this once, Daddy. He won't disturb me if he's on the end of my bed. I promise he'll be good.'
'Let me see how he is first.'
'Thank you, Daddy.'
'I didn't say I'd bring him up, I said I'll see how he is. And if he does come up, he'll be in this room, not with you. Now get yourself back to bed before you catch cold.'
She disappeared into her own room, but before he could go to the stairs, her head popped out again.
'You won't be cross with him, will you?' she said plaintively.
'Bed.' He used his no-nonsense tone and she disappeared.
He remembered there was a light switch somewhere on the landing and his hand scrabbled against the wall beside the bedroom door. There, found it. He clicked on the landing light, which was dim, hardly strong enough to spill into the hall below. The switch to the iron chandelier was inconveniently somewhere by the front door.
Gabe usually slept in T-shirt and boxers, but because the house was cold, tonight he wore dark pyjama leggings below the T-shirt. The landing's bare floorboards, which had been varnished some time ago, were cool under his bare feet and for once he wished he was the kind of guy who wore slippers. Hand using the wide rail for guidance, he went down the stairs into the hall's shadowy darkness, old boards creaking beneath his tread. Pausing on the small square landing at the turn of the stairs, even the tall window behind him affording scant light, rain pitter-pattering against the glass, he looked across the grand hall towards the closed kitchen door. But it was another door that caught his attention, a deeper blackness among the shadows. The cellar door was open and he swore he'd closed and locked it earlier in the evening, ever fearful of Cally wandering down to look at the well and its dangerously low wall. Now it was open, unlocked. Had Eve gone down there to see the well for herself—they had been too busy for the full tour earlier—and forgotten to close and lock the door after her? Yet he was sure, being the last one to turn in that night, that the cellar door was at least closed if not locked. He mentally shrugged. Okay, if that was the case, maybe a draught from the well below had forced it open. Had to be, there was no other explanation. A river running beneath the house could cause all sorts of air disturbances, a breeze—a wind even—travelling up the shaft, then funnelled up the cellar stairs.
He descended the rest of the stairway and crossed the umbrageous hall, its flagstones even colder than the wood under his feet. He was an idiot not to have taken the flashlight up to the bedroom with him: he could just make out its black barrel standing erect on the chiffonier where he'd left it next to the old-style phone earlier. Padding over to the narrow sideboard, he picked up the heavy flashlight and switched it on. No need to turn on the hall's light when he had his own source.
Just for the sake of it, he swept the beam around the room, chasing shadows away, lighting up the deeper corners. Everything seemed in order apart from the open cellar door, which he swiftly moved towards. He shut it and heard the lock click as he turned the key. Foolishly, Gabe had to admit to himself he somehow felt more at ease with the door locked.
From the kitchen came Chester's desperate howl and Gabe realized the dog must have quietened when he heard the creaking of the stairs, although for some reason Gabe hadn't noticed. Now the cry was more urgent than before.
The flashlight's beam providing a path for him, Gabe went to the kitchen door and opened it. The howl broke off midway and Chester's short tail began to thump the floor in nervous agitation. Lit by the strong beam, Gabe saw that Chester's neck was stretched to its limit as he perked up.
'Okay, fellah,' Gabe said soothingly as he approached the tough-haired mongrel. 'No one's gonna harm you. Just tell me what all the fuss is about.'
Without switching on the overhead light, Gabe knelt down in front of the quivering dog and began to stroke his head, then pat his side. In return, Chester endeavoured to lick Gabe's face and, when Gabe pulled back, was content to lick his master's outstretched hand.
'There you go.' Gabe kept his voice soft. 'No spooks around to scare you. Only me. Now settle down so we can all get some sleep.'
But Chester would not lie down. He stood on all fours, his favourite blanket rumpled beneath him, and tried to nuzzle his master's face again. Gabe pulled the dog to him and cradled the trembling body in his arms.
'Hush now, you crazy mutt,' he whispered. 'Nothing to bother you in this place. Momma and the girls are in bed where I oughta be, so just you snuggle down and go to sleep.'
Chester only pushed against him all the more.
A flurry of rain suddenly lashed at the kitchen windows causing Gabe to swing round and almost overbalance.
'Wild out tonight, Chester,' he said to the pet. 'You don't wanna be out there in this weather, do you? Is that what all the fuss is about? You busting to go AWOL again, or maybe you just wanna get busy?' 'Busy' was their code for Chester relieving himself. 'You need go find a nice tree?'
Gabe stood and reached for the key in the kitchen's outer door, twisted it, then pulled back the top and bottom bolts. He swung the door open just enough for Chester to slip through the gap, but the dog merely shrunk away from the opening as rain gusted through.
'No? Don't want out? Don't blame you, Chester, don't blame you at all. But come on, you gotta stop this wailing. You're keeping us all awake.' Gabe closed the door and locked it again, then squatted down beside the trembling dog.
'What is it? You wanna come upstairs with me, is that it?'
The dog pressed against his knees.
'Can't do it, boy. You gotta get a handle on the place. Toughen up, okay?'