It was pitch dark when Tovey arrived back at Butterkeld. It had been dark when he had crossed the square in Chipping Welburn on the way back to his car, but here the darkness was total- an opaque black velvet which had flooded in all around him the instant he had turned off the headlights.
Tovey switched on the interior light, and, after fumbling in the glove compartment for the torch, carefully made his way across to the house, the beam dancing over the mossy paving stones of the yard. Tovey reached the door and fumbled in his pocket for the key. He stopped, and flashed the torch around him. Everything was silent- silent with a stillness as all embracing as the velvet darkness. There was no sound, not even the rustle of the wind through the trees, or the hoot of the night owl. Stillness... darkness... emptiness.
Inside, the house was much as he had left it. The fire in the lounge was almost out- a few embers glowed feebly in the firegrate, but with the aid of some paper, firelighters and a couple of logs Tovey soon got it going again. Soon, wrapped snugly up in a duvet hastily snatched from the front bedroom, Tovey was comfortably esconced on the settee, basking drowsily in the warm firelight.
As giant shadows danced on the wall and the blazing logs sputtered and sent their sparks up the old stone chimney, Tovey, snug in the warm glow and wearied by the ravages of a trying day, gradually cast away his cares and drifted gently off to sleep.
It was about 3 am when Tovey suddenly jerked awake. He realised this, because after initially recoiling from those evil green eyes floating in the velvet darkness, he had discovered the source of his terror to be nothing more than the time display on the video. 3 am! He felt a hard griping knot in his stomach- that mysterious regulating mechanism deep within his over indulged digestive system was acquainting him with a highly important fact- it was time to go to the lav!
He looked towards the hearth. The logs had burnt down once more and there was now little more than the faint glow of smouldering embers. Casting aside the duvet, he got to his feet and stumbled his way across to the lightswitch by the lounge door, cursing as he stubbed his stockinged toe against the hard chromium leg of the coffee table. He switched on the lights and padded up the stairs towards the bathroom, but on reaching the bathroom door he hesitated- what on earth was that horrible smell?
Afterwards, Tovey crossed the bathroom to the vanity unit, with the intention of washing his hands, the stale smell still assailing his nostrils- like an old dishcloth he thought. He turned on the tap and allowed it to run awhile, half filling the basin with scalding hot water. Ouch!! It was too hot. He reached for the cold tap, only to discover to his intense surprise the source of the offensive odour- the water was stained brown, giving off a vile stink like that usually associated with raw sewage. It trickled languidly into the basin, tainting the hot water- a liquid discharge gushing malevolently from the pipes.
What a bloody mess! Tovey hurriedly turned it off, pulled out the plug, and then ran the hot once more, with the intention of washing out the basin, only to discover that now the hot water too was turning the same turgid brown. Downstairs in the kitchen it was the same. Tovey knew just what to do- he switched the lights off once more and retreated to his duvet on the settee! He would check out the water in the morning- on a dark night like this that bloody wellhouse could wait!
But now Tovey could not get back to sleep. He tossed and turned, writhing on that sharp, uncomfortable bed of rocks that lies twixt deep slumber and full consciousness. Dozing fitfully, he was soon dreaming, floating just beneath the surface of wakefulness. He could see the old, tall tree in Chipping Welburn Churchyard. Sitting beneath it, on the circular seat, he could see his wife, talking with the vicar. She was smiling broadly, and turned towards Tovey as he approached. She was wearing her usual beret and skirt, but as she fixed him full in the eyes he saw only the cold dead stare of Eliza Caldwell! No... he was dreaming, and somehow knew it- he was really in bed at home. He could hear Susan snoring gently beside him as he turned over and put his arm around her- round something cold, wet and slimy..... Tovey jerked awake with a wild cry!
He had rolled off the settee and was lying on the lounge floor shaking with uncontrolled terror. The room was now filled with that same sour,repugnant stench he had earlier encountered in the bathroom. As Tovey reached out to the settee he quickly perceived the source of the cold clammy horror for what it was- the duvet- it was sopping wet!
God! What time was it? It was still pitch dark and the green eyes of the video no longer shone in the corner. When Tovey staggered across the room to the light switch his worst fears were confirmed- the electricity supply was out. Groping his way to the kitchen, Tovey soon located the emergency torch on its charging bracket, switched on the beam, an re-entered the hallway, shivering involuntarily as he did so. Tovey suddenly felt cold, small and decidedly scared. Shining the beam towards the back door he discovered to his intense horror that it had been flung wide open and a cold grey fog was slowly creeping into the house. Gathering his nerves together Tovey hastily banged it shut and rammed home the bolt. The sour stench was now appalling- it was filling the whole house. Retreating to the lounge Tovey shone the torch round the walls and simply stood there baffled and appalled. Brown water was trickling down the walls, staining the decorations, everywhere it was the same, moisture, mildew, damp and above all that overpoweringly sour and stale smell- the odour of a house long derelict.
Suddenly Tovey was seized with an unfathomable sense of dread- it was as if his very soul was in danger. It now (quite irrationally) occurred to him that he was no longer alone and someone or something outside was trying to get in! Eliza Caldwell?? No... it wasn't her- it was something else... something older, more powerful and all embracing. A raw power in the fog outside, rising relentlessly from the earth itself, a prescence he could feel in the damp, stale air all around him. It was the same force he had felt on that sunny day when he had first opened the wellhouse- a force that had burst upon him like a thousand celestial spheres- a power he had liberated. But now, on a lonely night in this old,dark house, it had turned into something hostile- and unseen.
A sudden noise made Tovey spin around. He shone the torch down the hallway. The back door was open once more and the fog was billowing in. His eyes focussed on the fog.... something dark and shapeless was creeping towards him, down the passage, something drifting on the fog. It was that old, spreading stain, permeating the air with its stale, damp smell. Finding his feet, He began to retreat backwards down the hallway, shining the torch round only to discover that the front door was now open as well!
This was the last straw! Tovey now turned to face the horror, bowed his head and with a terrifed yell charged headlong through it and out into the yard!
A faint, dark shape loomed through the mist- it was the car. Tovey remembered that he had left the keys in the ignition. He sprang into the driving seat. The starter motor turned limply as the engine refused to fire. He tried again- and again. It was no use- the damp must have got into the ignition. Tovey looked back towards the house- the lights had come on! Clambering from the car he paused and turned towards the back door. As he did so the lights were suddenly extinguished and in a moment that shapeless, clawing darkness was upon him!
Tovey lashed out wildly and ran. He ran blindly, in terror, tearing his clothes on branches and spattering himself with mud. He ran uphill, through the trees, the by now feeble torch casting long deep shadows over the contours of the forest floor. He tripped and fell headlong, bruising himself badly. Struggling to his feet his groping hands came up against something cold, angular and hard- a steel girder. It was then that he came to his senses and suddenly realised that he had reached the cattle grid on the Chipping Welburn road.
Tovey struggled to his feet and leaned breathlessly on the gate stoop nearby. He perceived that the fog had fallen away into the dell below, and in the sky he could see the twinkling of countless stars- a silvery, milky light- highlighting the gaunt silhouettes of jagged rock outcrops on the near horizon. A clean, fresh breeze assailed his nostrils as Tovey gazed once more at that bleak skyline. In the wood below he could now hear a stirring of twittering birds. Dawn was approaching and once more Tovey was alone............................