Chapter Eighteen
Diamonds and Rust
31st October 2016
ALICE CRIED OUT, and the smashed remains of the crosses slipped through her fingers to the floor. For a moment she was ready to drop to her knees and grub through the fragments for something she could use, but stopped herself. She’d already looked, and found nothing. Whatever had come for her now would at least find her standing, not grovelling on her knees.
She dusted her hands and stepped towards the kitchen door; as she reached for the handle whatever it was struck the front door again. She flinched back, then took a deep breath and opened the kitchen door.
What would the tape show? Would she fall dying from no visible wound – a heart attack, a stroke – or would she be remembered as ‘killed by person or persons unknown’?
Two steps down the hall, then a third. The door loomed nearer.
“Alice?”
She stopped, gasped. “John?”
“Alice, you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Can I come in? Please? It’s pissing down.”
“Sorry. I’m coming.”
She’d forgotten; she hadn’t given him a key. That would have been a little too much like old times for her preference.
Alice got to the door and opened it. John shoved through, shoulders hunched and collar pulled against the rain. “Christ’s sake.”
“I’m sorry. You made me jump.” She stole a glance out of the door and breathed out in relief when she saw Collarmill Road was still there.
John was frowning. “Something happen while I was gone?”
She nodded.
He sighed. “Better tell me about it, then,” he said, and walked through into the living room.
John switched on the digital recorder and Alice told him the latest, handing him the journal as she spoke. It already sounded silly and false even to her, and John’s lips were compressed while he listened, his arms folded. Alice almost faltered and stopped, only managing to continue when she looked down and didn’t meet his eyes.
“It’s on the cameras,” she said. “I played it back. Something is, anyway. The end. If you just watch –”
“I’ll watch it,” John said. Clipped, abrupt. Something had changed, and changed badly. He didn’t sound like a former lover any more, or a friend; more like a policeman. “When did it happen?”
She told him. He went to the camera in the hall and played it back, nodding steadily. He kissed his teeth a couple of times, then looked up at her. “Nice trick,” he said at last.
“Trick?” was all she could manage. She’d known how it would look, what any outside observer would say – but not John. She’d thought he’d try to believe her at least.
John sighed and leant back on the sofa. “What is it you want, Alice?” he said.
“What? John, you know what I want.”
“I don’t think I do. You come to me after all this time, pull the whole Diamonds and Rust act, then start talking haunted houses. But nothing actually happens when I’m there, only the first time I go out. And all there is on the tape is a little... conjuring trick, something any half-bright seventeen-year-old could pull off. You think I’m stupid?”
“I never thought that,” she shouted at him. He flinched. She hadn’t meant to raise her voice, but she was losing control. She was actually afraid of what she might end up saying. “Kind, yes. That you’d help me, yes. That you might actually believe me, yes. But I never thought you were stupid.”
“That’s not what you said when we broke up.”
“For fuck sake, John, that was what, twenty years ago? I was young – Jesus, come on, we’ve both been over this. You know I wish I could take back some of the things I said. You know I do.”
“Yeah. Yeah.” But the anger and the suspicion were still there. “Is this some sort of crazy scheme to get me back?”
“What?” She couldn’t keep the scorn out of her laughter and he looked away. “Get bloody over yourself, John Revell.”
He breathed out. Finally he looked at her while he tapped his thumbs together. Alice managed not to smile – she didn’t need him thinking she was mocking him now – but knew the mannerism of old; it meant he was thinking things over, planning tactics and methods. Finally he said, “Arodias Thorne.”
“What? Who?”
“Arodias Thorne,” he said again, watching her closely.
“What? Come on here, John, give me a clue. Am I supposed to know who that is?”
He didn’t answer for several seconds; when he did, it was no answer. “Springcross House.” He was watching her eyes and face, she realised, looking for the least flicker of recognition. When he found none, he tried again. “How about the Beast of Browton, Alice? Or Old Harry?” Then one last time. “What about the Red Man?”
“What about him?”
“You tell me.”
“Oh for Christ’s sakes.” This was maddening. “John, I’ve told you about the Red Man.”
He breathed out, still watching her. “Okay,” he said at last. “One more name.”
Alice sighed. “Go on.”
“Galatea Sixsmythe.”
“Who?”
“Galatea Sixsmythe.”
“No idea. Never heard of her. Is it a her?”
John folded his arms. His face gave nothing away.
“Right, well, I give up. Who’s she? One of Harry Potter’s schoolfriends?”
John didn’t chuckle – not quite. She could tell it was a bit of an effort on his part, though. But then his face hardened again. “One more question, then, Alice. Why did you really move here?”
“You know why, John.”
He shook his head.
“Yes you do, John. I’ve told you.”
“The real reason, Alice.”
“I’ve told you the real bloody reason!” She took a deep breath, calmed herself, then managed to carry on. “I know this area. Used to live here. We did. And I used to love it. ’Specially the Vale. I wanted to be near Mum and Dad but not next door, and have something to do – that’s why I bought this house. I told you, it’s a fixer-upper, it’s...” She shook her head. “Oh sod off, then. Believe whatever you like.”
That, of course, was when the phone began to ring. Alice breathed out and pinched the bridge of her nose. She was tempted just to let it ring – but no, in the long run, that wouldn’t do any good. “Hello?”
“How do, lass.”
“Hi, Dad,” she said, after a moment.
“So, how are you doing up there?”
“I’m okay.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes. Yes, I am.”
“Okay. Not meaning to pry. Just wanted to make sure. I know... look, I know you and your mother had a set-to yesterday.”
“A bit,” she said.
“Well, I’m not going to take sides, Alice. You know that I don’t. Not saying you were right, to have a go like that or to bring up the past. You know how your mother feels about it. But, same time, I know how she can be. We’re none of us perfect.”
“I know, Dad.”
“And I know that – God knows, I’ve no place preaching. I’ve tried to make it up to you since, but I was a bad father to you –”
“Dad –”
“I was. And a bad husband to your mother. Your mother feels guilty about that too – all the stuff you had to see as a kiddy, that you shouldn’t have. But your mother’s got no cause for guilt there, Alice. It was on me, all of that.”
She could hear the strain in his voice. Great work, Alice. Now you’re about to make your father cry as well. “Dad, I’ve never – oh God, Dad, please –”
“It’s all right, love, I’m not having a go at anyone. Like I said, none of us can point the finger at anyone else like we’ve never got owt wrong. We all have, but that’s not what matters. It’s how you try and make things right again afterward.” Dad snorted. “Bloody hell, listen to me. Sounds like some load of New Age crap from one of those bloody magazines your mother likes.”
Alice laughed.
“Look, all I really wanted to do was call and say we both love you. I don’t know how much good it’ll do, but –”
“It’s okay, Dad,” she said. “Thank you. It does mean something. It does.”
“Your mother would like to see you, Alice.” She didn’t answer. “Look, can we come up?”
“No. Not right now, Dad. That’s nothing to do with you or Mum. I’m not angry with her – pretty bloody ashamed of myself, if you want the truth. Don’t tell her that, though, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
Dad chuckled. “You’ve got a point there.”
“I’ve just got something on right now. Got a friend over.”
“Anyone I know?”
She looked at John. “I’ll tell you about it when I next see you,” she said. “Look, why don’t you give me a call tomorrow, the day after – we’ll arrange to get together, all of us. Is that okay?”
She heard Dad sucking his teeth on the other end of the phone. “All right,” he said.
“Okay, then. Love you.”
“And you.”
“And tell Mum I love her as well.”
“I will. Bye, love.”
“Bye, Dad.” She put the phone down, breathed out and turned back to John.
She couldn’t keep meeting his gaze. Any minute now and he’d start pitying her, and that would be the last straw. She twisted round on the couch, staring at the smooth cushion, trying without success not to feel childish.
“Alice,” John said. “Okay, Alice, I’m sorry.”
“Sod off, John.”
“No, I mean... look, I found stuff out today. A lot of stuff. And there’s more, but I need to go and see someone to find out the rest.”
“So?” Still she refused to look at him.
“So there’s all this stuff I found out, just by going to the university library in Salford, and it fits what you told me. Fits it like a glove.”
“You mean, too neatly?”
He touched her arm lightly. When she didn’t flinch, he kept his hand there. “I found most of what I needed to know in about half an hour reading one old book on local folklore. Pretty obscure little tome, not the kind of thing anyone would come looking for – unless they were after something pretty specific.”
“I see.”
“But the librarian was adamant no-one else had come looking for that book in a long time. And it wouldn’t be easy to find without their help.”
Alice looked at him. John smiled at her. “But I had to make sure, you understand?”
She smiled at last, and turned back round to face him. “And now you think you have?”
John chuckled and stood up, stretching. “I’ve been doing this shit nearly twenty years. I’m like the human bullshit detector by now.” He put his hands up. “I believe you, okay?”
“Well, that’s a relief.” Alice raised her eyebrows. “‘The old Diamonds and Rust act’?”
John coughed. “Hey, you always liked that song.”
“So did you.”
“That’s true.” He smiled, looking into her eyes. She smiled back, but after a few moments had to look away; this was too close, too warm. “So,” she said at last, “do I get to know what you found out today?”
John nodded. “You do. But I’ll tell you en route.”
“En route where?”
“St Thomas’ Church, Pendleton. We’ve got to see a vicar – and if we get a move on, we might catch her before the evening service.”