The Shadows Call Read online

  ‘I called the police,’ I said.

  A flicker of disappointment danced in her eyes, and I immediately felt bad. She thought I was acting cowardly.

  ‘I’m not frightened,’ I blustered. ‘You know what it’s like with those type of people. If you bother them they take it personally, they might come back and smash the windows or something.’

  ‘Trust me,’ Sarah replied. ‘They won’t. They’ll be too busy looking for their next bottle of cider to bother you again.’

  Perhaps. Whoever was down in my cellar had pulled the dumbwaiter back up the shaft, whether intending it as a joke or some other deviltry I couldn’t decide. But if they were prepared to mess about like that, then they might take things further if I pissed them off.

  ‘Let’s just wait for the cops, eh? They’ll get their details and warn them against coming back.’ I lifted the carrier bag. ‘We have another small problem. I’ve no fridge yet. I couldn’t chill the wine like you asked.’

  ‘It was just a turn of phrase.’ Sarah leaned for another look out the window. ‘Do you want me to go and give them a bollocking? They won’t mess with me.’

  Grinning at her, I said, ‘I wouldn’t blame them.’

  ‘Are you saying I look scary?’ She mocked a hard face.

  ‘Not scary. More “formidable”.’

  ‘Bloody hell, Jack, I’ve been called a few things in my time but never formidable. What is that? Man code for “ugly bitch”?’

  ‘Now we both know that’s not true.’ I stared at her gorgeous features just a tad too long. She smiled, but it was with a hint of nervousness. She wafted a hand at the bag, deftly changing the subject.

  ‘Tell me you have clean glasses, Jack. I don’t fancy drinking wine out of the paper cups you were using yesterday.’ She ushered me away. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye out if anyone tries to sneak out the cellar.’

  I wanted to wait, to see whom my unwelcome guest turned out to be, but more so I wanted to please Sarah. Earlier I’d unpacked a box of crockery and drinking glasses and having washed them in the sink, set two glasses on the drainer. I opened one of the bottles and poured a good glug of wine into each glass. I carried them back with me to the living room. Sarah was watching distractedly out of the window. Apparently she’d seen nothing interesting while I was gone.

  ‘Have you heard anything from the cellar?’ she asked as she accepted her glass of Pinot Grigio. I shook my head. ‘They’ve probably already left. If there was even anyone there to start with.’

  While I was out at the supermarket, a trespasser could indeed have left the cellar. I hadn’t considered that. But I still wanted it checked out. I told her about the voices I thought I’d heard, and how they turned out to be the rusty squeaking of the dumbwaiter. Then I told her of my ham-handed swing of the hammer and how the elevator platform had fell, only to return to its original position later.

  ‘Someone had to have pulled it back up,’ I said.

  ‘Unless it’s on a counterweight mechanism,’ she pointed out, and took a deep gulp of wine, watching me all the while over the rim of the glass, her pupils dancing.

  ‘If it was counterweighted it wouldn’t have fallen the way it did. Look,’ I said, showing her my grazed palm, ‘it took the bloody skin off me.’

  Sarah frowned at my palm, but didn’t say a thing.

  She thought I was being a wimp.

  I closed my hand. ‘It’s nothing. I just meant that it was falling fast enough to spool out the rope. It burned me when I tried to grab it. A counterweight wouldn’t have allowed that to happen.’

  ‘So the obvious explanation is that some tramp living in your cellar heard the commotion and thought he’d do the neighbourly thing and send the dumbwaiter back up to you? Why’d he bother?’

  ‘Who knows? He probably doesn’t know himself. If he was pissed…’

  ‘He probably wouldn’t have even heard the thing falling.’

  I’d asked for her second opinion, so wasn’t going to argue. ‘Maybe you’re right. Do you think I should ring the cops back and cancel?’

  ‘You’ve called them now; you may as well let them come. Even if it’s just to put your mind at rest.’ She finished her wine and held the glass out to me. ‘Anything else strange happen last night?’

  ‘Nothing.’ I headed for the kitchen. Sarah followed me this time, and I had to hide the mild irritation. Who was going to watch for the squatter now? Sarah had written the incident off; she didn’t believe me, only her opinion was correct. I shook the feeling off and avoided glancing through the parlour windows as we passed the open door. In the kitchen I refilled our glasses, telling her how I’d figured out the shadow man phenomena, how my own shadow had been cast when somebody in the opposite house shone a bright torchlight into the house.

  ‘Dick head,’ Sarah commented, and I wasn’t sure if she meant my torch-happy neighbour or me. Then she delved in her handbag. ‘That reminds me: I’ve something I want you to have a look at.’

  Before she could go further, I glanced out of the kitchen window as a police car pulled to the kerb outside.

  ‘The cops are here,’ I said, suddenly feeling nervous. If Sarah was right and my squatter had already sneaked off, the police weren’t going to be happy. They’d view me as a time waster. Huh, I thought, they’d probably berate me for making them miss their Sunday lunch too. Did coppers even eat Sunday lunch, trading Yorkshire puddings for doughnuts? I snickered at my own joke and caught another frown from Sarah.

  ‘You feeling all right, Jack?’

  ‘Yeah. Just nervous. They’re probably going to be pissed off at me.’

  ‘At least you don’t have to worry about the police coming back and smashing your windows.’ She smirked.

  I put down my glass on the drainer, and went to greet the police officers at the front door. There were two of them, a woman and a boy who looked barely old enough to shave let alone wear a uniform. I wondered if it was “take your child to work day”, and chuckled again. Drinking wine on an empty stomach obviously wasn’t good for me. They both greeted me with dour expressions and I waved off my laughter, saying, ‘Sorry, private joke with my friend.’

  The female officer introduced herself and her colleague, but I didn’t take in their names. To me they’d be “Officer”, whichever one of them I referred to. I told them about my suspicions regarding the basement.

  ‘How do we get down there?’ asked the woman.

  ‘There’s no access from inside,’ I said, and waved alongside the house. ‘There’s a hatch round there. I’ll show you.’

  As I led them to the coal chute, I explained that it was highly likely that the trespasser had already left. Arriving at the open hatch the two officers stood there peering down into the darkness. I could see the woman judging the narrow gap between the bars and concluding there was no way she was going to attempt squeezing through. She gave her colleague a meaningful look. ‘Got your torch, Andy?’

  The boy ratched about on his cumbersome utility belt and brought out a slim Maglite torch, and held it up. The woman gave him a second meaningful look and he hitched his shoulders. ‘I’ll take a look,’ he offered.

  The subject of who was going down the hole hadn’t been in question: I took it that the woman was a tutor and the boy a probationer. He’d get all the shitty jobs.

  ‘Do you think there are rats down there?’ the young man asked.

  ‘Probably,’ the woman said. Bitch.

  Before he went down the chute, the young cop shucked off his stab-proof vest and unclipped his utility belt. The woman held his belt for him as he shimmied his way through the narrow gap, then passed the belt to him. He fumbled back into the belt as he went down the chute.

  Then we couldn’t see him.

  I heard his muffled voice, as he called out. Even faint, he sounded scared. I shared a glance with the female officer and she shook her head as if to say, “This is the kind of recruits we’re stuck with these days”. I made an apologetic face of my
own. ‘I’m sorry about this. Like I said, they’re probably already gone.’

  ‘Does no harm to check it out,’ said the officer. Maybe if she were the one who’d had to go down the hole it would have been a different story.

  ‘Anything?’ she hollered down the chute.

  There was a shuffle of movement and the young man’s head appeared below us. He looked up, and though there still remained a note of fear in his features, his eyes shone excitedly. ‘It’s amazing down here. Like walking back in time.’

  ‘Anyone there?’ the woman snapped.

  ‘No, it’s clear.’

  ‘Then come on then; we haven’t time for a museum trip.’

  It took the copper a minute or two to climb out, reversing the procedure with his utility belt. Finally he stood on the pavement next to us, and wiped at cobwebs stuck in his hair. ‘Nobody there,’ he reiterated. Then to me he added, ‘Haven’t you been down there, sir? It’s crazy.’

  I shook my head. ‘I only moved in yesterday, I haven’t had the opportunity yet.’

  ‘You should take a look. Really interesting.’

  The woman interjected.

  ‘Was there any sign of damage?’

  ‘No. Someone has been down there though. There was an old mattress in one corner with some empty beer cans and stuff. But it looks old; might even have been there for years.’

  The female officer used the toe of her boots to kick at the bars. ‘This looks like old damage too. We can take a report but…’

  ‘No, no,’ I said, cutting her off, and I saw the relief pass through her. ‘If it’s old it’s pointless giving you a load of paperwork for nothing.’ I thanked them both for coming, and made apologies again for wasting their time. The young cop grinned at me, said it was no bother. He’d actually enjoyed himself, and his enthusiasm intrigued me. They made their goodbyes and walked for their car. I heard the woman give an update over her radio, stating quite clearly that it was a false alarm, and no crime to report. Once they were gone I fitted the tin sheet back over the hole, resolving to come back and screw it in place later. Sarah was waiting for me in the kitchen when I got back. Whatever she wanted to show me before had been forgotten. I noticed that she’d turned her attention to her wine while I was with the police.

  I went and fetched my hammer.

  ‘Want to see something really cool?’ I asked.

  ‘What you going to do with the hammer, knock some sense into your skull?’

  I laughed with her, but then left the kitchen, hoping that she’d follow. After a second or two she did.

  9

  The Chase

  ‘Whoa! What the hell are you doing, Jack?’

  I swung the hammer again, winking over my shoulder at Sarah who was shocked by my vandalism. The hammer punched a second hole in the wall and plaster dust wafted around me. ‘I’m opening the basement,’ I said, stating the obvious.

  ‘How do you know you’ve got the right spot?’

  ‘Where else could the entrance be?’ Having cleared all the ground floor there wasn’t anything that indicated a trapdoor entrance to the basement in any of the floorboards. A little detective work – not to mention recalling that Muir said the previous tenants had boarded it up – I realised that the only place the entrance could be was in the void beneath the stairs to the split-level landing. ‘Look, you can see inside.’

  The wall was plasterboard tacked to a flimsy frame of wood. Over it there were several layers of wallpaper and emulsion paint, indicating how long ago the basement had been blocked up. My two solid whacks of the hammer had already opened a hole large enough to fit my head through. I couldn’t see anything in particular, only a dark emptiness but I knew I’d found the right location.

  ‘Why would you even want to open it up? Isn’t the house already too large for you?’ Sarah had taken a few steps back, wiping plaster dust off her shoulder. She frowned at the dirt on her pristine white sweater the way she had at my palm earlier.

  ‘Muir said I could use the space for storage.’

  ‘Ehm,’ Sarah said, with an expansive wave of her arms. I already had eight rooms and a closet, so take my pick, her expression said.

  ‘Even if I don’t use it, I still want to take a look.’ I told her about how impressed the young copper had been after poking around in the basement for a few minutes. ‘He said it was as if time had stood still.’

  Sarah’s complexion lightened a few shades. Not as a result of the two glasses of wine she’d gulped down. ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea, Jack. There was a reason the previous tenants blocked it up.’

  I offered her a patronising smile. ‘You’re not starting with those ghost stories again?’

  ‘You hear of stuff like this all the time,’ she said. ‘People move into an old house. Everything is fine until they start renovating the place and the changes they make upset the spirits; it stirs them up. Then all hell breaks loose!’

  ‘You watch too many horror movies for your own good.’ I lay in with the hammer again.

  ‘You can laugh, Jacko, but most of those films are based on some grain of truth. I seriously suggest you stop what you’re doing.’

  ‘Too late,’ I crowed, ripping loose a full three feet square chunk of plasterboard. I leaned into the gap and found a set of stairs that descended into darkness. ‘C’mon, Sarah: you don’t really believe all that spooky nonsense?’

  ‘It’s not me who claims to have seen a shadow man.’

  ‘And I already explained what it was,’ I countered.

  ‘Yeah, with the kind of bullshit theory sceptics always come up with. Who is going to be using a torch during the daytime, Jack? It was morning when we came here, not the middle of the bloody night.’

  ‘It was raining, dull, that’s why.’

  Sarah shook her head in disbelief at my stubbornness. I offered another cheeky grin, then kicked loose some boards. Broken pieces tumbled down the newly disgorged stairs. There was now plenty room to step through on to the head of the stairs. I looked back at Sarah as I placed the hammer aside. ‘Coming?’

  ‘No way.’

  ‘Aw, come on. I wanted to share this discovery with you.’

  She relented. ‘If I get possessed by some evil spirit I’m going to take it out on your ass!’

  ‘Promises, promises,’ I quipped, then reached out a hand for her.

  ‘My sweater’s going to get filthy,’ she griped.

  My eyes were drawn to her white sweater. The cotton was sheer and I could make out the outline of her push-up bra beneath. Her breasts were small globes that rose and fell as she breathed. I quickly averted my gaze before she saw where my scrutiny had got stuck, but was positive I’d been too slow. I told myself that was her purpose of mentioning her sweater in the first place.

  ‘Once you’re through the gap it’ll be fine. The stairs are clear and I can just make out an open door at the bottom.’ I looked around as best I could. ‘How do you feel about spiders?’

  ‘Spiders!’

  ‘It’s all right, I was just about to say there are none.’

  ‘Tosser!’

  ‘I love it when you talk dirty,’ I said.

  Sarah made a little dip of her chin towards one shoulder, and nipped at her bottom lip. God, she was gorgeous. I was tempted to forget about the cellar, and go for broke instead. But she spoiled the moment by delving in her bag and pulling out her iPhone. She fiddled about and got an app working. It was a torch light. Probably played havoc on her phone’s battery life, but it was a handy tool. I took out my mobile and hit a button and the screen glowed blue. I beckoned Sarah again, and was happy when she slipped her fingers into mine. ‘Careful,’ I said, leading her through the gap.

  She stood close to me, and I could smell her fragrance. It wasn’t a heavy perfume, more a clean smell of soap and shampoo. I also caught a faint waft of wine breath as she gave a little gasp. She moved so close that our hips touched, and I didn’t move away. I shivered. Jesus, you’d think she was the first
girl I’d ever been close to. I’m certain she shivered too, but it was for another reason. An icy wash of damp air wafted past, and my skin crawled as if gossamer-thin spider webs adhered to it.

  ‘Did you feel that cold draught?’ she said, her voice catching in her throat.

  ‘It’s ages since the place was last opened. It’s bound to be colder down there.’ I surreptitiously wiped at my face with the back of the hand holding my phone, but it didn’t make a difference; the webs were now the tickly sensation of static electricity. Even the small hairs on the back of my hand danced. Goose bumps climbed my arms.

  Unconsciously, Sarah placed her free hand across her breasts. It was the same hand gripping her phone. The beam from the torch app played down the right side of the stairwell. I angled mine to the left. We went down, still - to my secret pleasure - hand in hand. Sarah was trembling, and a little thrill went through me. Not long ago I was worried she thought I was a wimp, now I was her protector. I glanced at her, wondering if it would be going too far if I wrapped a comforting arm around her waist. I hoped for a hint that she’d accept such intimacy but couldn’t read her expression. I chickened out, fearing she’d slap me.

  ‘Exciting, isn’t it?’ I whispered for something to take my mind off the imagined slight.

  ‘Is that what I’m feeling?’

  ‘Are you scared?’

  ‘You have to admit this is weird.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, as we exited the stairwell into larger space. It was weird and creepy, but aren’t all deserted, forgotten places? The torch beams were ineffective here, and we had to turn left to play the light over the nearest feature. There was an open door and room beyond. Dim light played near the far ceiling and as my eyes adjusted to the darkness I understood that we were adjacent to where the coal chute entered the basement. The light leaked around the edges of the boards over the windows, and even at the sides of the tin sheet trapdoor. There was rubbish on the floor – leaf litter, ancient food wrappers, a couple of flattened tins. I could make out where the young copper had kicked his way through the litter as he’d groped his way into the basement proper. It smelled musty, and of wet iron and crumbling brick dust. Still attached at the hip, we shuffled forward, passing another pitch black room, and through another open portal. There we stood, and I had to admit: the copper hadn’t been wrong.