Hills of the North Ch. 04

Tuesday was uneventful for Alice. She worked part-time at the local supermarket. A social butterfly, she enjoyed the banter between her work colleagues as much as the gossip from the church congregation.

By late afternoon, the sky grew steadily darker.

That evening, Alice was slumped on the couch, idly checking her smartphone. Mike hadn't bothered to call once. She was used to that. But for one brief email explaining that he was going to be away for another week, there'd been no further contact. Cordless vacuum cleaners were obviously more important than she ever imagined. She didn't care any more. Her marriage was all but dead.

Outside, rain was lashing against the windows. She was half-watching an old movie -- Sudden Impact, staring Clint Eastwood in another of his outings as Inspector "Dirty" Harry Callahan.

In the kitchen, The sound of the cat flap door clicking shut was heard. Binx hated the rain. Moments later, the cat came padding into the lounge.

"Hello cutie-pie!" She made some clucking noises and he jumped up on the couch, purring at her. His black fur glistened with raindrops. "How's my good boy?"

Binx nuzzled her.

Alice sighed. She was really missing Ray right now. Craving him. But he'd been unable to call round tonight as he'd gone to visit his son. She'd see him at church tomorrow and would have to make do for now.

On the TV, Harry Callahan shot dead a trio of hitmen.

When Emily woke up in the early hours of Wednesday morning, she discovered she had been sleepwalking. She was in the vicarage's kitchen, but she couldn't recall getting out of bed and coming downstairs. The kitchen was silent. The only sound was from the softly humming motor of the refrigerator. She was standing near the sink. She had opened one of the drawers and had taken a carving knife out of it. She stared down at the knife, startled to find it in her hand. Pale moonlight glinted on the cold blade. She returned the knife to the drawer. Closed the drawer. She had been gripping the knife so tightly that her hand ached.

"Why did I want a knife?"

A chill scuttled like a spider along her spine.

Her bare arms and legs broke out in goosebumps, and she was suddenly very aware that she was nude.

Outside, a dog barked in the distance.

Then wind. The patter of rain. The branches of a tree scraping lightly against an outside wall.

She hurried back upstairs. Obviously she'd been sleepwalking. When she returned to the bedroom, she realised her heart was pounding. Fumbling for the bedside lamp, she switched it on.

The light didn't disturb Reverend Hosking. He mumbled in his sleep but didn't wake. Emily leant back against the headboard and listened to her racing heart as it gradually slowed to normal.

"Just a bit of sleepwalking, nothing more."

She looked at the vicar and whispered, "I love you." She'd been staying here since Monday night and was so relieved that she'd never have to live in the lonely terraced house she'd bought after selling her parents' home and moving up north. Reverend Hosking had asked her to marry him and she'd said yes. It was meant to be. God had meant for this to happen.

He continued to snore softly. Smiling, Emily clicked off the light and settled under the covers again. For a couple of minutes she listened to the rain and to her new partner's rhythmic breathing, then she drifted into a satisfying sleep.

Reverend Hosking had stopped having nightmares since losing his virginity on Monday afternoon. He slept deeply, peacefully, without interruption. He quickly forgot about the flickering, silvery blade of the knife, the fire and the severed head.

Meanwhile, Alice was in bed, flat on her back, one arm raised and angled across her face as if she were warding off a blow. Her other hand was gripping the mattress. She had kicked the duvet off. She tossed her head violently from side to side, gasping, pleading with an imaginary person.

"Don't do it. He's not your father!"

She let out a yell. "No! Don't! It was an accident!"

Gradually, however, she shook off the nightmare and calmed down.

"I've...got to stop it happening. It's going to happen again. She's come back..."

Alice woke up. Another nightmare. "Now it's all starting to make sense," she gasped. She looked at the bedside clock. It was just after seven, and sunlight was filtering through the gap in the curtains.

Suddenly, there was a thump as something swift and black jumped on the bed. Alice screamed and almost had a heart attack.

It was her cat, Binx.

"Jesus!" she gasped, as the sleek, black feline moved closer, cocked his head and stared at her with intense green eyes. He miaowed and nuzzled her, as if to say,

"Come on you lazy hooman! I am a cat, a superior species and don't you forget it. I am overdue for my morning dose of attention. You are failing in your duties."

"You got me!" Alice said, stroking him. He purred happily.

She'd got adopted Binx at the end of 2019. He'd belonged to her neighbour Alan, an elderly widower who lived alone and whom she'd been very fond of. He was a gentle, frail man and a devoted churchgoer. When Alan discovered he had terminal cancer, it was his express wish that Alice adopt his beloved pet, seeing as he had no other family. She'd been more than honoured to do so. Mike viewed the cat with indifference; it was less demanding than a dog and could mostly look after itself. When the lockdowns began, Binx had been a godsend during those long, isolating weeks.

The cat pawed her again.

"Okay, you win. I'm getting up."

Binx jumped off the bed and headed out of the room. Alice shuddered as she stood up. Her heart was racing and she felt tingly all over. That nightmare was still haunting her.

"It's a warning. I've got to tell Ray."

The weather had improved. Wednesday was shaping up to be summery and blue.

"You're getting married?" Ray gasped as the vicar shared his happy news just before the start of the midweek Eucharist. "To a woman you've known for a barely a week? Are you absolutely sure about this?"

"I've never been more sure about anything," Reverend Hosking replied. "Emily is The One. I've waited so long, and now God has delivered this beautiful angel to me."

"Of course, I'm thrilled for you, Graham...but...don't you think you're rushing into things? How well do you know her?"

His words were falling on deaf ears. The man was hopelessly infatuated by this woman. Presently, she appeared by his side.

"I've handed out some hymn books."

"Ah, excellent! Emily my sweet, I'd like to introduce you to Ray Hilton, our curate."

"Lovely to meet you!"

"The pleasure is all mine," he said, shaking her hand. He studied the slim brunette carefully and thought that she looked a perfect match for the timid, inexperienced reverend. A librarian. Pretty, but not a flashy type. Ideal vicar's wife material. It could be all an act though. Under the Plain-Jane exterior could be a manipulative and heartless gold-digger.

"I'm taking her to the cottage on Saturday. We're going to spend the weekend up there, just savouring the tranquillity and remoteness of the countryside. I think it'll be really romantic. The weather's set to stay nice, so we can climb Pendle Hill."

"Sounds lovely. I hope you both have a great time!" He was still uneasy. There was something wrong. He didn't know what it was. Aside from it being a whirlwind romance, something just felt off. Ray was a bit of a wideboy. He was wise to all the tricks and scams that befell so many more trusting people these days. Rarely a day passed without a story in the news about some lonely divorcee falling victim to a handsome, but cash-strapped member of Nigerian royalty after meeting online. Or some deluded older man who believed the pretty woman thirty years his junior was madly in love with him and not his wallet.

After the vicar had poured out his heart and soul on Monday, Ray now viewed him in a different light and wanted to help him.

The vicar rented a small cottage not far from Barley. The village was the most popular starting point for those wishing to climb Pendle Hill. As a child, Reverend Hosking had always craved the remoteness of the moors. Now, in an increasingly angry and dangerous world, he craved it even more.

"Ah thanks, Ray. It's just what we need. Emily likes watercolour painting. Where better than up on the moors to get artistic inspiration? And when it's dark, cosying up to the wood-burning stove with a glass of wine."

Emily flinched. "A wood-burning stove?"

"That's right. "It still gets really chilly in the evenings. Luckily there's plenty of firewood in the shed."

Emily suddenly looked uncomfortable, and Ray's curiosity was pricked. Alice appeared, and the vicar was quick to introduce his wife-to-be.

"I proposed and she said yes immediately! Naturally, Alice, I want you to play the organ for us!"

"It'd be an honour, Vicar," she smiled, shaking his hand and then Emily's. Looking at the woman's face, Alice's blood suddenly ran cold. She felt strange. Bitterly cold inside. Hollow. As if she were balancing on a tightrope and knew she was going to fall... She was gripped by déjà vu.

"What's wrong?" Ray asked her. She didn't look up.

"Um, just remembered, I think I 'd better start playing the voluntary." She hurried off.

"But it's still early," he replied. Alice ignored him.

"I do admire her dedication," Reverend Hosking smiled, blissfully embracing Emily.

After the service, Ray confronted Alice as she fiddled with some music books at the side of the organ.

"Hey. What's bothering you?" He whispered, putting his hands on her shoulders. When you saw the vicar's love interest, you seemed afraid of her."

She turned to face him. "I've just seen the face of a dead man, Ray."

"What? An actual dead man?"

She shook her head. "No. It's Emily. It's just a coincidence I'm sure. But she's the spitting image of Jordan. The father of my baby. It just...spooked me, that's all. There's something else too. I didn't want to tell you before the service. I've had another nightmare. This one was the worst ever."

"Oh God no. I'm sorry." He hugged her.

"Listen Ray, this wasn't just a nightmare. It was a warning. A prophecy. Caroline Gaskell. She's back and she wants revenge on the father who left her to die. Something terrible is going to happen and we must stop it."

"Whoa Alice, come on, you can't be serious."

"I knew you wouldn't believe me."

"No I do believe you. It's just...I find this sort of thing difficult to believe in. The vicar buried Caroline's remains in a proper grave. He performed a service for her. She should be at peace now that she has a proper resting place."

"But she isn't Ray. That's what these nightmares have been all about. I keep getting them because...I'm tuned up that way. Call it a sixth sense, psychic, whatever. Ever since I was a little girl. I get these feelings from time to time. First time it happened I was seven years old."

Ray sat down on the organ stool. "What happened?"

"Do you remember the Kegworth air disaster of 1989?

He scratched his face. "Vaguely. That was a year after the Lockerbie bombing, yes?"

"That's right. British Midland Airways Flight 092, crashed onto a motorway embankment while attempting to make an emergency landing at East Midlands Airport on 8th January 1989. My mum and I were meant to be on that flight. We were going to visit Uncle Terry, who was living in Northern Ireland at the time. I screamed and freaked out at the airport so much, my mum thought I was possessed. Oh lordy, I got such a beating when we got home. But then it came on the news that the plane had crashed. Of the 126 people aboard, 47 died and 74 sustained serious injuries. Now tell me. Was that a coincidence? I had a vision of that plane crashing. In my teens I blocked out this ability I have. It scared me so much. It seemed to fade away. Now it's back and it's trying to warn me, warn us -- that the vicar is in danger."

Ray felt colder in this church than he had felt outside in the wind and rain. He was still struggling to process this information. He'd never believed in ghosts, the supernatural or human beings with psychic powers. Yet he believed in God. Maybe God chose to endow certain humans with heightened senses and skills?

After a long pause, he spoke at last. "Alice, I believe that some people have the gift to see what others can't. The one thing I can't get my head round is why a woman who has been dead for 154 years would suddenly rise from the dead and start haunting your dreams, and pose a danger to our parish vicar? I mean, he gave her a proper burial, said prayers and all. I could understand the victims of the Pendle Witch trials coming back to haunt the church. St. Peter's wasn't built until the 1820s -- but an earlier church once stood here, one that had existed since the Middle Ages."

"Caroline's father Albert was a vicar, wasn't he? A man of the church, who hid his vile behaviour behind a mask of righteousness. He believed his daughter was into witchcraft. Instead of finding eternal peace when the reverend buried her remains, perhaps it had the opposite effect. Caroline's angry, restless spirit has sworn revenge against clergy."

Ray nodded. "Hmm, yeah. I can accept that. Surely God would've condemned Albert's soul to Hell for how he behaved in life? That alone should've brought peace to Caroline. Unless...God doesn't have complete control over all souls."

"We're falling into a deep rabbit hole here," Alice said, switching off the organ. "This is enough to make people seriously question their faith. I still have mine though."

"Me too. I think we need it more than ever. But what on earth are we supposed to do? I can't seriously warn Graham that the ghost of a Victorian woman might be about to rise from the dead and attack him. He'll think I'm a nutcase. He's so distracted right now, with Emily. I've never seen a bloke fall so madly in love. And when is this ghost expected to appear? Halloween?"

"No. Sooner than that. Very soon. I just know it."

"A ghost wouldn't try and harm a clergyman in his own church. I mean, it's consecrated ground."

Alice groaned. "Ray, that's how it always happens in films. Reality is often a lot different! There are no safe spaces."

"I don't know how to deal with this."

"We've not got all the pieces of this puzzle yet. There's something else. Something about Caroline's death...something that will help us stop it all."

"Like what?"

"Like...what if her father didn't start the fire? What if...it was an accident?"

"I'm going to re-read all the archives, every bit of information I managed to unearth about Caroline Gaskell. Anything which might provide some clues."

"Ray, stay with me tonight. I-I just can't be on my own."

"Don't worry," he said, planting a kiss on her lips. "You're stuck with me now lass, whether you like it or not. The vicar's not the only one who's become smitten."

Her eyes widened. "You really mean that?"

"I'm surprised your psychic sense didn't alert you. I love you, Alice Beresford!"

Outside, grey rain clouds started to flow in like smoke.

Later that afternoon, Ray called round at Alice's house.

"Not more damned rain," he muttered, as the sky darkened yet again. "I'm sick and tired of all this."

"Maybe it's linked to...you know."

Ray switched his laptop on and tried to lighten the mood. "Well shit, Caroline. We get that you're angry. There's no need to make the British weather even more unbearable than it normally is!"

Alice chuckled.

"Listen to this," the curate said, opening a Word document. "I came across it by chance.

The Pendle Witch trials of 1612 are among the most famous in English history. Much has been written about them. The accused witches lived in the area around Pendle Hill in Lancashire a county which, at the end of the 16th century, was regarded by the authorities as a wild and lawless region: an area "fabled for its theft, violence and sexual laxity, where the church was honoured without much understanding of its doctrines by the common people."

"Just like London," Alice added.

Ray continued reading. "Members of the Demdike and Chattox families made against each other, perhaps because they were in competition, both trying to make a living from healing, begging, and extortion. Jane Bulcock and her son John Bulcock, Katherine Hewitt, Alice Grey, and Jennet Preston. The outbreaks of 'witchcraft' in and around Pendle may suggest that some people made a living as traditional healers, using herbal medicine, talismans and charms. Some new names that have been linked to witchcraft around Pendle are Mary Maddox and Catherine Gaskell."

"That surname again. Wonder if she was an ancestor of Caroline?"

"It's very likely," Ray said. "Just thought I'd mention it." He fumbled around in his jacket pocket. "Where's my iPhone gone? Oh crap!" He smacked his forehead. "I left it in the vestry. Damn and blast it."

"Well...can't you collect it in the morning? The rain's bad and if you need to call someone you can use mine, or my landline phone. Yes, I'm one of the few that still has one!"

"I'd rather go and get it now. You know Graham leaves the church unlocked. Just my luck that a bunch of kids will go in and nick it. The church is only a five minute drive away. I'll be back before you know it."

Alice was suddenly uneasy. "Just...be careful," she replied.

"I'll be fine, don't worry."

She flopped back in an armchair and was suddenly overcome by tiredness.

"How much further to the cottage?"

"About twenty minutes," Reverend Hosking said, as he made his way along the winding country road. "Shame it's started raining again."

"I like rain," Emily replied. "It soothes. It quenches flames."

"Well yes, you're right there. Oh I'm so happy that I get to share this place with you. I know I said we'd go at weekend, but I couldn't wait. I know you'll miss two days of work though."

"It'll be alright, Graham. "I'm long overdue to take some days off."

The road snaked across the rugged moorland. Pendle Hill was a constant feature, looming large like a watchful guardian. In the grim rain, it looked more ominous than usual.

"It's watching us. I sense a presence," Emily said, her eyes fixated on the steep slopes.

"It's welcoming us," the vicar said. "So much history, not just the witch trials. Did you know that in 1652, George Fox, a founder of the Quakers, had a vision when he climbed it?"

She shook her head. "No. I only know about the witches."

He quoted Fox's words. "As we travelled, we came near a very great hill, called Pendle Hill, and I was moved of the Lord to go up to the top of it; which I did with difficulty, it was so very steep and high. When I was come to the top, I saw the sea bordering upon Lancashire. From the top of this hill the Lord let me see in what places he had a great people to be gathered."

"Very inspiring."

"It continues to be linked to the Quakers," Reverend Hosking continued. "I gave a speech to a group of American tourists recently. There's a place in Philadelphia named after the hill. Isn't that wonderful?"

She nodded.

Outside, the wolflike wind howled, as the car continued on its journey.

Her face was smeared with blood. Her arms were spattered with blood.

And she knew instantly that it wasn't her own. She had not been slashed or stabbed. She was the one who had done the slashing, the stabbing. Oh God.

"What have I done?"

A gleaming pearl of blood quivered for an instant on the tip of the knife, then it succumbed to gravity and fell.

Alice woke, screaming in terror. She sat up in the armchair and held her throbbing head in her hands. Whimpering softly, barely able to comprehend what she'd just experienced. The woman in her dream in her dream had been Emily. But Emily spoke in the voice of another -- Caroline.