'And I think I know who you are.' Elsie's eyes slitted, her young lips curling into a sneer. 'Oh yes, you couldn't be anybody else. I should have realised when I first saw you.'
'Oh, and who do you think I am then?' Mild humour, awaiting a spate of further wild stories, more petulance.
"You're the woman my daddy was going to run off with, the reason he murdered mummy and tried to kill me. Aren't you? And don't lie. He used to sneak off from his work and meet you in the wood, didn't he? That's the truth, isn't it?'
'You're just being silly,' she said, trying to laugh it off. 'I never even knew your daddy, let alone met him secretly in the wood.'
'You are!' She spat. 'I know because you wouldn't be walking around naked like that if you weren't. Once my daddy was a good man, mummy said so, until you,' — stabbing an accusing finger, punching the air, — 'until you seduced him, poisoned his mind. You made him kill mummy!'
'That's ridiculous.' Thelma found herself backing away.
'Witch!'
Suddenly Elsie had become a frightening prospect, much more than just a spoiled child getting into tantrums over her fantasies. Her face had aged, her expression blazed the malevolence of maturity. And with that came the realisation that she was dangerous.
The police will be here soon. They're already looking for me,' Thelma Brown blurted out, stepped back another pace.
The police!' This time the young girl's spittle hit her, an act of defiance and contempt. The police won't come, and even if they do they won't find us. Everybody is lost when the mist enshrouds Droy Wood!'
Thelma found herself staring into those eyes which no longer belonged to a child. Pupils that dilated and contracted alternately so that you couldn't stop watching them, seemed to come out at you, bore into you; spun your brain so that you were nodding, speaking, saying things that you would not otherwise have said.
'Yes, I'm the woman you mentioned.' Guilt, you couldn't hold back a he. 'I used to meet your daddy in the wood. I wanted to run away with him because I was having his baby. I wanted him for my own but first we had to kill your mother. We'd have killed you, too, only you were too smart for us.'
'I was too smart for you.' A peal of hysterical piping laughter. 'I'm condemned to live in Droy Wood for ever but so are you\ None of us will ever leave but you will suffer torments worse than mine. Now, go and join your illicit lover in the pit, lie with him in the filth of your own making. Scream, but nobody will come. He screams for mercy every night but nobody hears him. Go join him!'
Thelma was aware that her legs were moving, propelled by a force beyond her own control. She tried to brace herself but she was powerless to halt the pushing, driving power that emanated from those crazed infantile eyes. Backwards. And still backwards!
'No, please!' She thought she screamed but it may have been in her own mind, an intention that got no further than a thought. Another step. And another. She swayed, knew she was tottering on the brink, a wave of vertigo hitting her, pushing her. A scream but it was in the mind again. She felt herself go, head-first; and in that instant the spell was broken but it was too late. A flash of memory, that time when one of her schoolgirl friends had pushed her in the deep end at the swimming baths. Her scream cut short by a mouthful of water, swallowing the chlorine-tasting liquid, panicking in a green underwater world, sinking until she bumped gently on the bottom. Then hands had grabbed her, pulled her up to the surface, helped her on to the side. But this time there would be no rescuer. The black water seemed to leap up to meet her. How deep, oh Jesus, how deep? I can't swim!
She hit the water hard, felt the impact and then something soft was cushioning her fall. Mud, thick black mud, shooting everywhere, sucking noisily for her, gurgling. Floundering but sinking no further, two feet of water at the most, spitting out the vile-tasting fluid. Breathless, frightened, looking about her. Seeing.
She screamed properly this time. That partly decomposed corpse had reared up on a wave caused by her fall, a grotesque thing whose limp arms lifted and fell, the head jerking back and forth like a string puppet, water trickling from the open mouth. Watching her. No, it couldn't see. It could. Toppling, floating again in a macabre crawl stroke, coming towards her. I want to touch you, to hold you, to mate with you, my dearest. We have been apart too long. This is our joyous reunion brought about by my evil daughter and the two of us shall be together for all time.
Fingers touched her thigh but somehow she squirmed away, managed to stand upright. Her left ankle shot pains up her leg, she must have twisted it in the fall. Trying to run, hobbling, splashing, forcibly dragging her feet out of the mud. One way, then another, trapped in a prison whose walls were solid mud with a demented creature that had risen from its watery grave. Tiring, but her pursuer seemed tireless, bubbling black water out of the cavities that had once been nostrils and mouth, following her every movement with those empty eye sockets. Eager, lusting, wearing her down. And up above the child who had called herself Elsie leaned over and watched, laughing insanely with obvious glee.
The two of you are together at last,' she screeched, her shrill piping tones seeming to whistle in the deep pit-hole. That was what you wanted, wasn't it?
But you won't have a second to yourselves because I'm going to be right here watching you. I'm going to see all those things you used to do together when you sneaked off into the wood. You'll be together for always but I'll be right here. You can't escape from the pit but even if you did you'll never leave the wood. Because nobody leaves Droy Wood — ever!'
Shrill peals of mirth that vibrated in Thelma Brown's brain, hurt her. Splashing, running still but slowing down. Her ankle was swelling up fast so that she could barely rest her weight on it.
And then those gnarled icy hands grabbed her, pulled her back, twisted her round. Helplessly she watched those slobbering lips coming in search of her own.
Ten
Detective-Constable Alan Lee sat on the cold muddy bank of a reedy bog and buried his face in his hands. The girl was gone, lost forever perhaps just as the others were. And it was all his fault; he let himself go, wept. Sobbing, contemplating suicide, wondering if he had the courage. He did not think so. He had seen the plane crash, watched in bewilderment as the parachutist had come sailing down. And after that he knew that he had to be crazy. They would have to lock him away somewhere where he couldn't do anybody any harm. He tried to think logically, piece together the events of the past few hours. Jesus, to think he'd done that to the girl! It was unbelievable. You are charged with rape and attempted murder! No, it wasn't me, it was somebody else. It was you, Alan Lee, a police officer on duty who betrayed both the Force and the public you serve. I tell you, I'm not guilty. You have been found guilty and sentenced to.
Sweating profusely. No such thing had been in his mind when he'd picked Thelma Brown out in the headlights, or even when she had got into the car. Not until
he hit that bank of fog lying across the road!
The transformation had been as sudden as that. Up until that moment his thoughts had been concentrated on the case in hand, negative ones. Reconstructions were a dicey business but there was always a slim chance. You only needed to jog one person's memory, the right person. In the States they sometimes used hypnosis on witnesses. Whatever the method all you needed was one clue that would lead you to the killer. But it had been a foul night when Carol Embleton had disappeared and in a village like Droy most people would have gone to bed. But now the police were trying a long shot; no real harm if it didn't come off. Nothing to lose.