Tovey awoke to find himself alone. At first he thought little of this, assuming his wife had gone downstairs to make the usual early morning cup of tea. Only when he sensed the deep silence underlying the marked abscence of tinkling crockery, and noticed that his wife's side of the bed was quite cold, did he instinctively realise that something was wrong.
He rose, padded to the bedroom door and peered out onto the landing. He shouted down the stairs-
"Susan??? ....... You OK love??"
There was no reply. Struggling into a bathrobe, Tovey crept down the stairs, already sensing what he wouldn't find. The house was deserted and his wife gone.
On the living room mantelpiece, placed in a prominent position, Tovey found a small, buff coloured envelope marked 'Tovey' in felt tipped pen. He ripped it open-
'Tovey-
I'm sorry things have turned out this way. I feel ashamed for not being brave enough to tell you to your face, but this is probably the best way for both of us. The fact is- I'm leaving you (for the time being at any rate). I've taken the car, but as I'm taking the early morning bus to Lancaster out of Chipping Welburn, I'll leave it in the village for you to pick up. You can use the spare keys.
Please don't get the wrong idea.... I'm not running away with a black man or anything, I'm simply going home to my mothers for a while. I just cant stand it at Butterkeld anymore. I've tried to tell you, but you're so full of yourself you wont listen. I need to think for awhile and try and sort out my life a bit. Don't worry.....
I love you-
Sue'
Tovey collapsed on the settee. Gobsmacked would be the appropriate word! What should he do now?? He looked at his watch, his immediate instinct to try and overtake her at Chipping Welburn, but instantly realised that he would be already too late. So what? He thought a moment, then noticed the phone on the kitchen wall. Of course! That was what he would do! He would wait until she got to her mothers and then ring her up! Once he had retrieved the car from the village he would be able to drive off to Oldham in hot pursuit. Yes... this was what he would do. Tovey had decided- decision making always was an agony for him. Thank god he had a plan! Suddenly he felt more relieved.
He went into the kitchen and put the kettle on. No morning coffee in bed today, he would have to make it for himself. Unscrewing the lid from off the coffee jar, Tovey paused and stared pensively into space. Then suddenly it occurred to him. Something, somewhere, gradually, almost imperceptibly had changed. What could it be? intuition, or mere imaginings? Instinctively Tovey pulled the bathrobe tightly around his body, and as he did so the answer to that question surfaced suddenly in his mind- he felt cold! Yes, that was it- the temperature had dropped and he suddenly felt bloody chilly!
Armed with a pint mug of steaming coffee, a handful of chocolate digestives and a red duvet jacket which he had picked up in the hall en route, Tovey settled himself snugly back on the settee, grabbed the remote and switched on the Telly. It was the usual- the continuing warnings of impending drought and the escalating crisis in the Persian Gulf. He flipped over the channel- a political debate.. too early for Grandstand... it would have to be the Gulf Crisis. He flicked back to the original channel only to be greeted with a screen full of interference and dancing dots! 'Strange...' he thought, 'the transmitter must be out'. He switched back to BBC 2. That was out too! He flicked through all the stations- nothing but snow! 'Odd', he thought, 'must be the aerial'.
He took a gulp of coffee. It tasted awful!- bitter and sulphurous! It made him think of the benefits to be derived from having a wife to make it for him! A pattering noise behind him made him start. He spun round and gazed in astonishment - for the first time in months rain was lashing the windows of Butterkeld.................................................
The car remained in Chipping Welburn. Tovey, gazing through the streaming windows at the leaden sky, felt uninclined to venture out on foot in such torrential conditions. He would ring his wife first, he resolved, and decide on his next move afterwards.
He rang at noon. There was no reply at the other end, just a monotonous 'number unobtainable' tone. He rang the operator, and his enquiries revealed that the number had recently been changed, and was now ex-directory. So much for that! Tovey spun round nervously as the squall outside lashed the window pane. All of a sudden, for the first time in a long time, Tovey began to feel alone.
The afternoon passed uneventfully. At 3pm the rain abated slightly, but the skies remained misty and grey. Tovey, now fully dressed and contemplating the best method of getting to the car, donned his raincoat, went out into the yard and headed for the shed where he kept the bike. In the yard mist was rising from sodden, mossy paving stones. He stopped.
Everything was silent. Silent as the grave. The insect hum, the singing summer birds, so long the hallmark of Butterkeld's splendid isolation, even the friendly babbling of the nearby brook seemed somehow swallowed in the deep maw of a dank, grey silence- It was uncanny- unnerving. A faint breeze, almost as if in answer to his confusion rustled the dripping leaves like a breath of gentle sadness. Then it occurred to Tovey. It was because of Susan. His wife had gone and it was as if somehow the house knew. It was as if the sun had shone and the birds had sung just for her...and for her alone..
The shed door was open and the bike gone! Dammit! he thought, who on earth could possibly want to steal a bike from here? It didn't make sense. He started at the sudden sound of a door being slammed across the yard. It was the wellhouse.... With faltering steps and his heart in his mouth, Tovey crept reluctantly across the yard and faced the wellhouse door. He called out- "hello? is there anyone there?" There was no reply. Deciding that attack might be the best form of defence Tovey paused a moment, and then, summoning the last vestige of his nerve he flung the door open wide. As he did so, there was a loud crash, and Tovey poked his head inside to see the bike, dashed to the floor. Otherwise the wellhouse was deserted. He gazed at the bike- both tyres were flat. Someone had let them down. Tovey shivered. If the bike had been leant up against the inside of the door, how had the perpetrator of this deed managed to get out of the wellhouse? There was no other exit. Now Tovey really felt scared. Who could possibly have done this? Then he remembered the dug garden, and the cut dress.
Tovey yelled out into the yard- nervously yet defiantly. "Eliza Caldwell? You want this house? Well you can bloody well keep it! I've had enough of it and you!" There was no reply- only that forlorn sad silence. Tovey smiled as his fear faded and the spirit of determined resolution came upon him. Right. He would get the footpump, inflate the tyres and cycle into Chipping Welburn. He headed towards the house, then swore as he remembered. The footpump was in the boot of the car! Tovey locked the house door, recrossed the yard and turned onto the sodden track that led up through the wood. Nothing for it. He would have to walk. Still, it was better than being cooped up in that hostile place. Outside the world beckoned.
It was well into the early evening when Tovey trudged dejectedly past the cottages on the outskirts of Chipping Welburn. As he had left Butterkeld's access track to join the tarmac road on the open fell the heavens had opened once more and a mighty deluge had issued forth- most of it apparently directed down the back of Tovey's neck! As he trudged wearily through the village he imagined that he must look like a drowned rat, for he certainly felt like one!! Tovey gazed around the cobbled square. There was the car- parked outside the pub. Once he got on the road and got the heater going he reasoned, that at least should do a little towards the alleviation of all this damp, soggy misery!
He strolled over to the car, unlocked it and clambered in. There was a smell of perfume on the front seat- his wife's scent. The smell brought home to him how much he missed her- even after so short a time. Tovey put the key in the ignition, started the engine and switched on the wipers. The rain, streaming down the windscreen, was swept aside by the steady beat of the blades. Tovey gazed out across the square- two ladies were standing in the stone bus shelter, waiting for the next bus into Lancaster. Behind them, a child was playing on the grass at the side of the church. Tovey shook his head- kids! Typical! Fancy frolicking in a churchyard on a day like this. He looked again. The child had stopped playing and was now leaning on the wall, arms folded and looking directly towards him. No, not towards him- at him! It was a little girl of about seven, wearing a straw hat. Good God! It was HER!
Tovey switched off the engine and leapt from the car. As he did so the Lancaster bus drew into the lane and pulled in at the stop, effectively blotting out his view. As he crossed the square the bus set off... revealing an empty shelter and no sign of the little girl. Tovey paused. What now? He turned on his heel to return to his car, but as he did so he was seized by a sudden feeling of curiosity. Why the church precincts? A grave perhaps? Tovey crossed the lane at the edge of the square and passed through the lych gate into the churchyard.. A quick inspection revealed that although there were numerous graves around the church porch, headstones were singularly absent from the western side of the church, behind the bus shelter, where the child had been playing. That area contained nothing but neatly mown grass and a large yew tree with a circular seat around its base. Tovey crossed to the tree and sat down. The tall branches seemed to offer some shelter from the grey drizzle, though every so often a sudden gust of wind seemed likely to shake the tree's branches and send a cold wet shower down onto the head of anyone beneath!
Tovey sat there for some minutes, paused and perplexed, gazing pensively at sodden feet on equally sodden turf. Then, as he felt the wet beginning to penetrate the seat of his pants, he shifted uncomfortably and got to his feet. As he did so he glanced up and nearly yelled out in fright- directly in front of him, three feet distant and looking directly at him through sorrowful dark eyes stood a wizened old woman with white hair tied in plaits, wearing boots and an old duffel coat tied with string. Tovey had never seen her before, but was in no doubt as to her identity. She was now almost am acquaintance! He collapsed back onto the seat, riveted to the spot.
Eliza Caldwell said nothing. She just stared aloofly at him through her black, dead eyes. The eyes were neither friendly nor hostile - the expressionless eyes of a stoat, or a foraging blackbird. Tovey felt that he should speak, but somehow words seemed to fail him. Why here? Why had she followed him into Chipping Welburn? And where else might she accompany him? He shuddered as he thought of her tryst with Murph's two little girls. It seemed that Eliza Caldwell had a long reach. But what did she want? It was like a dream, as if time had stood still, and Tovey marvelled that even now, while face-to-face with the perceived source of all his ills, he was, though paralysed with fright, still able to think clearly. But why could he not speak? It was as if whatever was now permeating the essence of his soul had decided that he would not- could not- need not speak at all... it was as if there was nothing to say and no point in saying it anyway. Bizarrely Tovey found himself recalling a childhood visit to the dentist. Frightened of 'the needle' his mother had sat beside him while the anaesthetist had placed the cold, rubber mask over his face. A few inhalations had rendered him unconscious, yet he remembered how amazed he had been, that despite the void of rushing darkness that had swirled all about him he had still managed to remain lucid. 'I must be "out" now', he had thought, 'at this moment the dentist will be extracting my tooth, and I can't feel anything.' Then there had been a sudden onrush of bright light and a loud swooshing noise as he had burst back into consciousness, to find himself being pulled groggily to his feet- his mouth filling with the taste of warm, salty blood. this present encounter was the same- he could perceive all yet do nothing. His conscious state had been somehow altered- here before him was something that could not be real. He could see it, analyse it, yet by its very nature it left him without tongue to speak or legs to run. Like a rabbit trapped in the gaze of a cold eyed snake, Tovey, frozen to the spot could see all yet do nothing. It seemed that she-it--whatever it was had him totally under some kind of control.
Tovey's sudden awakening from this 'altered state' came in the form of a heavy hand tugging at his shoulder and a distant, far away voice calling to him as if from the end of a long dark corridor.
"Hello....are you alright.......? What's the matter? you look ghastly!"
As the final loud syllables of the word 'ghastly' dragged John Tovey violently back to the full possession of his own reality, and suddenly finding within himself the power to avert his eyes Tovey swung round his head- to find himself staring into the friendly gaze of a tall red faced man. Tovey's glance flashed back to the snake eyes- they had vanished into the mizzle from whence they came!
"You OK? You were just sitting there staring into space. You look terrible!" The speaker paused, noticing Tovey's blank, uncomprehending stare.
"Oh sorry! - my name's Paul Cooke... I'm the vicar here. I saw you in the churchyard and wondered what on earth you were playing at, just sitting there in the rain."
Tovey smiled weakly as realisation sunk in.
"John Tovey. I er... thought I saw an old acquaintance here, but when I came here to investigate I found that she'd gone."
"She?"
It occurred to Tovey that he was getting out of his depth.
"Oh just a lady who used to live hereabouts at one time. Doesn't now though." Tovey's smile broadened, "I'm sorry if I worried you!"
His new found acquaintance returned the grin. "Well I must admit you did a little... but don't worry, you can relax. I can assure that I came here more out of curiosity than out of any desire to save your soul!"
Tovey laughed. "Nice to meet you Reverend."
"Less of the 'Reverend' if you don't mind! It's Paul to you old son. It seems to me that you are fed up, soggy and generally pigged off. How's about coming back to the vicarage with me for a nice hot mug of tea, and while we're at it, I'll get your togs dried off. What do you say?"
What could he say? It was an offer too welcome to refuse. Tovey got to his feet, and they crossed the grass to a small, white gate at the edge of the churchyard beyond which a gravel path led through rhodedendrons to a fine old georgian double fronted vicarage. En route Tovey glanced behind him. In the churchyard the old tree stood forlorn and alone in the driving rain. He pulled his sodden coat around his shoulders and suddenly realised he was shivering........................