2

Instructed to “get out” by her captor, Mel once again scrambled stiffly out of the car as the cloth hood was snatched away as unceremoniously as it had been fitted. Instantly she was shivering again and for some reason Mel found incomprehensible, the three of them stood together in a line by the side of the car and waited. Hood stood close to Mel’s shoulder but this time without using restraint. Despite her desire to attempt to run, she had neither the strength nor expectation that such an attempt had any chance of success, so stood submissively with her captors in the gusting cold wind. They waited in silence as though pausing to take in the panoramic view that lay below them.

Gentle undulating countryside stretched in every direction as far as the horizon. A patchwork of grass fields and cultivated farmland, structured by lines of distant alder and lime trees showing the golden colours of autumn gave no comfort on this damp and bleak day. The only inhabitants of this rural landscape appeared to be a few scattered groups of sheep grazing on segments of the mostly square fields.

Ahead of them and nestled low in a dip at the foot of the raised mound on which they stood was the only human commitment to this isolated location. She stared at the derelict remains of what might at one time have been an impressive country house. It had the appearance of a bye-gone abbey, with an unusual juxtaposition of Norman and Gothic architecture. Part of the building was made of flint material and later alterations had included the use of softly hued red bricks, set in grey mortar. Boarded up windows now masked the Gothic features of this rambling building, which at its conception, might have been as commodious and imposing as wealth would allow. Now, it stood a pathetic desolate ruin, long past the point in time when practicable renovation would appear worthwhile. Three blocks of chimneys now gave nesting places and perches to resident birds, but one of the central chimney pots emitted a small wisp of smoke, instantly swept away in the sharp cold wind.

The grand stone aperture of the doorway no longer welcomed visitors, but supported a wall of wooden boarding, upon which was painted in large white handwritten letters, ‘Keep Out. Unsafe Building.’ The property, which had in earlier times proudly boasted sixteen arched windows overlooking the fresh open landscape, was now barricaded with timber, shielding its eyes from the light. Its retched fabric seemed now to withdraw into itself in readiness for the inevitable coming of winter with gloom and pessimism, the purpose of its existence no longer a welcome refuge for caring folk.

Mel stared in disbelief. Surely this awful place was not really their intended destination?

To the right of the great house and some quarter of a mile further along the rough track, stood the only other visible building, a small, similarly neglected church. Significant by its round tower, it had what remained of a conical cap. Its fabric appeared to be almost entirely of flint, with stone dressings to salient angles of the walls and buttresses.

The fierce wind raged at Mel’s flimsy and inappropriate attire until every muscle screamed for the blood supply that had now withdrawn to her innermost organs in an act of self-preservation. The biting cold was unforgiving and she ached from tension. With her fingers now white and stiff and arms wrapped around her chest tightly, she could no longer stand fully upright but stooped like a withering old woman.

Minutes seemed to pass and still they stood there. Then, at last, her cowering form sparked a humanitarian gesture in one of her captors. From the boot of the limousine, Starchy the driver reached in and withdrew a large light brown garment and threw it at her. He said nothing as she caught and held onto the man-sized coat. Fumbling, with fingers that would no longer co-operate, Mel struggled into its soft camel fur and wrapped it tightly around her middle like a blanket. The sleeves covered her frozen fingers and its thick velvety fabric hung well down below her knees. For a fleeting moment, she felt uninhibited gratitude, but as she looked up to see his face, he was already walking away back to the car. Seated once more behind the wheel, the limousine again fired into life and he drove gently away along the gravel track and out of sight. Her captor, Hood, remained standing beside her, seemingly impervious to the cold wind.

Miserably, she remained standing obediently beside her captor. Once more she considered making a run for it, but what was the point? The man beside her was strong and fit. She wouldn’t get very far and there was certainly nowhere to hide.

After what seemed like ages, but was probably only a few minutes, a man appeared from behind the left hand side of the derelict building. Wearing a sheepskin coat, his hands thrust deeply into its pockets, he stopped by the corner of the building and called, “Get round here.” He beckoned to them with a nod of his head. The origin of his northern accent was lost on Mel’s poor knowledge of dialects.

Pushed ahead by Hood, they walked round to where the man stood waiting and as they neared, he turned and led the way to the rear of the big house.

As they rounded the rear corner, a collection of derelict outhouses surrounded a rectangular courtyard. Most of the relics consisted of no more than low stone walls, their decline into disrepair having commenced decades ago. Two slightly better preserved structures represented the farthest corner of the courtyard. Corbels and some of the curving stone ribs were all that remained of the steeply pitched roof, which at one time had spanned the building. Adjoining to the far end of the building, three broken piers were now the remnants of what appeared to have been cloisters.

Checking over his shoulder to establish that they were still behind him, the man paused and Mel saw beyond him a small open door leading into the rear of the building. From his pocket, he withdrew a torch and ducking his head slightly, led them into the dark interior. Mel followed in the oversized camel coat and theatre scrubs and lastly came the large frame of Hood in his black leather jacket, stooping almost double to enter the small doorway.

The smell hit them as they stepped into the derelict structure. The stench of wet rot immediately filled Mel’s nostrils and clung to the back of her throat. She fought against nausea and clasped a hand over her mouth. Clouds of dust danced in the shaft of light from the open door and she crouched to avoid the shrouds of cobwebs which draped every appendage of the passageway. She heard Hood cough behind her with discomfort in the unsavoury atmosphere.

A distant hum of a motor could be heard from somewhere within the building, which Mel later realised to be that of a generator. Electric light, filtering out from an open doorway ahead of them and to their left, lit the way. Following its source, they entered a large hall, some forty feet in length. Where once chandeliers had graced the elaborately decorated ceiling, a single flex light fitting now hung, offering limited illumination. A huge stone fireplace took centre-place along its long wall. Soot and dirt covering the grate lay thick and undisturbed. The room, which might have been used in the past as some sort of banqueting room or other hall for entertaining was now empty, so that the reverberation of their footsteps on the flagstone floor brought discord to the silent remains of this vast room.

Leaving the hall by a doorway in the corner of its farthest wall, they continued on, in darkness now, with only the torchlight again to illuminate the way along a short corridor which turned first to the right and then left. Underfoot, they disturbed a covering of loose debris and dirt as they walked. Passing a doorway on their left, which was either wide open or without a door, Mel shuddered at its dense black cavity. A room of unknown proportions, airless thick dust seemed to reach out like a menacing shroud from its cavernous depths. They passed into a wide foyer where a grand staircase on the left wound its way in darkness upwards to the floor above. To the right, Mel recognised the tall gothic-shaped doorway as being the one at the front of the house which was boarded up on the outside. She felt slightly comforted by the fact that, so far, she had kept her bearings within this large and rambling place. Entering another corridor on the far side of the foyer, darkness again exacerbated the pungent smell of rot. The man ahead strode quickly, turning to his left and descending a flight of narrow stairs, which was lit only by a torch suspended from a piece of cord on a hook attached to the wall. She found it difficult to keep up with him in the darkness, trying to avoid touching the walls with her hands as she descended the uneven steps, but always she could feel the presence of the big man close behind.

At the base of the staircase, a solid wooden door secured by a heavy metal bolt, concluded the tour. The man slid across the bolt, pushed it open and stood aside expectantly for Mel to pass through. Ahead were half a dozen more steps descending into a cellar some twenty feet across, which was dimly lit by one solitary light bulb suspended from the centre of the ceiling. Dancing shadows flickered round the walls as the draught from the open door teased the light, making it swing gently to and fro. Too tired to resist, she obediently alighted the steps.

Startled by the bang of the door slamming shut behind her she let out an involuntary scream. Twisting round in panic, she stared in horror as she heard the metal bolts smacked home, locking her in the underground basement.

A slight movement behind her added to her terror and turning back towards the room she gasped with fright as a man in a neat dark suit stood facing her a few feet away. She had not seen him as she entered the room and not for the first time that day her heart pounded, gripping at her throat so that she felt she could not breathe. For several seconds they stared at each other.