Anne shivered. Pulling one of the cushions from the end of the sofa she threw it down in front of the fire and sat down on it, hugging her knees just as her sister was doing. *Just supposing you are right,' she said thoughtfully. *What are we a.s.suming here? That Alison's excavation has uncovered a long-dead crime? That a murdered woman is still crying out for vengeance after two thousand or so years and that for some reason she and the man who murdered her are attacking everyone in sight. That they are capable of clubbing a man to death, burning down a barn, throwing a car into the sea, cutting off the phone, manifesting soil and maggots and perfumes and physically threatening anyone foolish enough to go outside?'

*It sounds a pretty grim scenario, put like that,' Roger commented wryly. *But for want of a better theory, and because it is more or less midnight, which is traditionally the witching hour, and because whatever has happened has scared the daylights out of a fairly large, responsible group of people, most of whom are otherwise sane adults, I would say it sounds fairly convincing for now.'

*Perhaps Kate is right and we should pray,' his wife put in tentatively. *I appreciate your intellectual opposition to prayer, darling, but it would seem to be the only option left, and traditionally, to use your word, it is the only sensible response.'

*It's the only possible response,' Patrick muttered.

*Rubbish,' Roger retorted. *The sensible response is for us all to get some sleep. In the morning we will have some breakfast and some of us will walk up the track with Joe and call the police. There has, after all, been a murder committed. If there is anyone out there, and I doubt if by now he is still there, my judgement is that he is human. Some kind of maniac on the loose from somewhere. Poor Bill happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. The police will get him. But for the rest of us to end up basket cases because of what has happened is insane in itself. I am sure we will find a concrete explanation. You do what you like. I am going to bed.' He stood up.

No one else moved. *There aren't enough beds for everyone, Roger,' Diana put in absent-mindedly.

*Then whoever wants to can stay down here by the fire. There are lots of rugs. No one need be too uncomfortable.' Roger stooped and threw a couple of logs onto the fire. It roared up the chimney in a shower of sparks. *Joe. I suggest you take my son's bed as he shouldn't climb the stairs. Kate, you and Anne a '

*We'll stay down here, Roger, thank you. I'm very comfortable by the fire.' Kate smiled at him.

*Me too.' Patrick put in.

Kate glanced up at Greg. *You go and lie down in the study, Greg. Rest your foot. We'll keep watch. If anything happens we can call you.'

He reached down and put his hand on her shoulder again. The touch was only light, a brush, no more. *Thanks, but I think I'll stay here. I'm too comfortable to move.'

When the elder members of the group had gone upstairs, Anne seated herself on the chair Roger had vacated. *Have any of you heard the weather forecast?' she said quietly. *It's unbelievably bad. I don't know whether being near the sea makes it better, but they are predicting blizzards for tomorrow. It's not going to be easy to go for help.'

*You think we should try now, before it gets too bad?' Greg leaned forward.

She shrugged. *I don't know what to think. I just wanted to warn you.'

*I don't think we should go out again,' Kate put in. *We've been lucky so far.' Her eyes strayed down to Greg's foot. *But I don't think we should risk anything else.'

*I think we should open a bottle of wine.' Greg levered himself to his feet. *If we're going to stay awake we may as well enjoy ourselves, and if it helps us sleep that would be no bad thing.'

He hobbled across to the kitchen. Then he stopped suddenly. *Where are the cats?'

Paddy shrugged. *I haven't seen them.'

Greg frowned. *Are they upstairs?'

*If they're like C.J. they will be in the middle of the best bed,' Anne commented. *No cat is going to be anywhere else in this kind of weather.'

*They don't usually go upstairs.' Greg bent down and hauled a bottle out of the wine rack in the corner. *It's too cold most of the time. The cosy places are all in here round the fire or the Aga.' He took the corkscrew out of the drawer and tearing the foil seal off the bottle, he began to wind into the cork. *We're all used to fifteen blankets and duvets each and night storage heaters and things but that is hardly up to feline standards. Here, Paddy, carry this for me, there's a good chap and we need some gla.s.ses.' He hopped back to the fire and sat down again with a groan. He put his hand on Kate's shoulder again, more firmly this time, and he let it rest there. *Cheer up, we're all safe now.'

She shook her head. *I keep thinking of poor Bill in the cottage, all alone.'

She accepted a gla.s.s from Paddy and took a sip. *I can't believe any of this has happened. It's ridiculous. It's not possible. Things like this don't happen to people in real life.' Greg's hand was still on her shoulder. Without thinking, she reached up and grasped his fingers. They were warm and rea.s.suringly strong as they returned her grip.

*I'm afraid they do happen to ordinary people,' Anne put in. She smiled at Patrick as he gave her a gla.s.s. *But I'm glad to say there is usually a mundane explanation for even the strangest phenomenon. I'm inclined to think that most of your weird goings on here have been a combination of ordinary things. Cars skid in bad weather; they crash on steep icy lanes. People imagine they see things when the weather is bad. Oh, yes they do, Kate. And people infect one another with something like hysteria very easily when they're scared and you've had something real to be scared about. A man has been murdered.'

*But before he was murdered. When I phoned you. All the things we discussed.' Kate shifted slightly to lean against Greg's good knee.

*Poltergeists.' Anne nodded. *Centred on Alison. I think that is very possible. She seems to be emotionally very disturbed at the moment.' She glanced at the two girls who appeared to be sleeping soundly on their makeshift bed in the corner.

*So you consider poltergeists to be real?' Greg asked.

*Yes. I do, in that they are an outward manifestation of inward conflict; the energy created by the brain is quite astounding, you know.'

*Astounding enough to throw a large car out into the saltings? Astounding enough to set fire to a barn?'

*The latter could easily have been a prowler, Greg.' Kate had accepted the loss of her car with astonishing calm; after everything else that had happened it seemed almost unimportant on the scale of things.

Paddy was half way through his own gla.s.s of wine when he looked up suddenly. *The cats couldn't have been in the barn, could they?'

*Of course not. They never went there except bird-nesting in the summer. They can't get in when the door's locked anyway.'

*Of course they can. There are a or were a loads of holes they could get in through.'

*They won't have been there, Paddy, don't worry,' Anne put in, hearing the panic so near the surface in Patrick's voice. The boy was very near the end of his strength. *The first hint of trouble and they would have been away. Cats are psychic about these things.'

There was a moment's silence then Greg let out a short bark of laughter. *Not entirely a happy choice of words under the circ.u.mstances.'

She grimaced as she hauled herself to her feet. *Sorry. Listen, is there a loo downstairs? I don't want to disturb anyone who's asleep.'

*Just across the pa.s.sage, behind the study.' Kate gestured towards the door. *Here, take this candle.'

The pa.s.sage was very cold after the heat near the fire. Sheltering the flame with her hand, Anne pushed past the coats and boots, past the closed study door. She could feel the draught from the front door on her neck. They should have a curtain for it. The pa.s.sage was cluttered with things: carefully she held the candle up, trying not to trip over baskets and shoes, walking sticks, a box of cat food, an old electric fire a heating this house was obviously a problem a a box of what looked like stones, some rolls of Christmas paper and a box of decorations, obviously ready to go up, and a she stopped. Something had moved ahead of her, just out of candle range. It must be one of the cats. She raised her hand a little trying to throw the dim circle of light a little further from her. There it was again. Something in the shadows. But not on the floor; this was full height. Human height. *Who's there?' To her disgust her voice was shaking.

There was no reply. No sound save the slight moan of the wind under the front door. She could no longer hear the voices from the living room.

*Who is it?' she repeated, louder this time. She was rooted to the spot. Without going closer the weak candlelight would not reach the door; without light she was too afraid to take even one step closer. *Oh, s.h.i.t, come on. Don't mess about. Who is it?'

She could smell it now. The perfume. Rich, exotic, crude, with a strong overlay of wet earth. She swallowed, conscious that her hands were shaking; the candlelight had begun to tremble.

*OK, Lady Claudia. Let's see you.'

Somehow she forced herself to take a small step forward. Her stomach was churning, her knees wobbly. The candlelight licked across the doorway, showing another row of hooks, another huddle of raincoats and jackets. Nothing more. No ghost. No Roman lady. She took a deep breath, feeling her hands ice cold and clammy as she reached for the doorhandle and pulled it open. The small cloakroom was neat, with pale green curtains, a thick rag rug, a green towel, and soap. She wedged the candle onto the high windowsill and turning, began to unzip her trousers. It was then she looked down into the small handbasin. There was a scattering of black soil in the bottom and amongst it, throwing fat, unwieldy shadows in the candlelight, wriggled several maggots.

LVIII.

Snow had settled in the dunes. The streaming moonlight cast long, colourless shadows over the sand. As the clouds drifted inexorably in from the north-east, the sky, backlit to opal and then to dull pewter, lowered closer to the land. No night birds called; only the wind in the trees behind the cottage disturbed the silence of the grave as it lay now lapped in its mantle of snow.

The young man looking down at it cast no shadow; he left no footprints. Like the woman he loved he sought revenge. No kind G.o.d had received his soul as sacrifice, for with his dying breath he had vowed to return and that vow had kept him from his love. There was no need to comb the furthest galaxies; Marcus Severus Secundus was anch.o.r.ed to this spot by blood. The blood of his victims. His hate had kept them apart through the centuries. The young man smiled. They had all three been released by the meddling of the girl and through her this secret charnel house would be made known to the world and his vengeance would be made sweet.

In front of him the moon was shrouded suddenly in a cloak of cloud. The darkness had returned to the land and with it came the snow. Thick, white, whirling, dissolving the shadow which was all that remained of the druid, Nion, save his need for revenge and his love.

There was a hair in her mouth. She pawed at it, s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up her face, and opened her eyes to find a head next to hers on the pillow. Frowning, she stared at it. Sue. It was Sue, her tangled hair strewn across the pillow, fast asleep, cuddled up beside her on the floor. Alison moved her head slightly. A violent pain slammed away behind her temples, but she could see dimly in the candlelight. Candlelight? Had they been to a party? A disco somewhere? Why was she on the floor? *Sue!' She shoved at the girl next to her with her elbow. *Sue!' The whisper was louder this time. Somehow she managed to sit up, her head spinning. She could just see Sue's mother asleep on the sofa. Why? Why were they all asleep by the fire in her own house? There was no one else there. The fire was burning merrily a she could feel its warmth. *Sue!' Not a whisper this time, but a peremptory call.

Sue opened her eyes. *What?'

*How long have you been here?'

*I don't know. Hours. Are you all right?' Sue sat up and looked at her hard.

*Of course I'm all right. Why?'

*They said you'd gone funny.'

*What do you mean, funny?'

*I don't know. All kinds of funny things are happening. Mum crashed the Range Rover, look at my bruises! And we saw your ghost. The Roman. He was horrible.'

*You saw him?' Alison's eyes rounded. She sat up and hugged her knees with a shiver. *Is that why you're here?'

*I think so. Dad found us. He wasn't even angry. I think he's scared.'

There was a moment's silence as they considered this. Sue bit her lip. *Mum's asleep.'

They both looked at the sofa.

*Where's everyone else?'

*I don't know.' There was a rising note of hysteria in Sue's voice.

*They can't have gone.'

*Of course they can't have gone.' Sue did not sound too sure. *Shall I look?'

*No! Don't leave me!'

Hugging one another, the two girls stared round, frightened, as on the sofa Cissy muttered in her sleep. Inside the room the silence was overwhelming. Even the fire seemed quiet, the sweet smoky smell of burning apple logs slowly giving way to the overpowering aroma of wet earth.

LIX.

Greg and Patrick were peering down into the washbasin in disgust. Behind them in the dark corridor, Kate stood clutching Anne's hand. *You saw her, didn't you. Claudia.'

Anne shrugged. *I didn't exactly see her ...'

*But you smelt her scent. You sensed her. You saw the earth, the maggots that drop off her everywhere she goes!'

Anne swallowed hard. *Let's go back to the fire. Surely you've seen enough.' The candlelight was flickering crazily on the ceiling of the small cloakroom as the two heads bent over the washbasin.

*Yuk!' Patrick's one word said it all.

Greg turned with a grimace of pain, balancing on his stick. *You're right. Let's go back.'

They made their way into the candlelit living room to find Alison and Sue sitting upright in their rugs. Both girls looked dishevelled and scared.

*Greg? What is it? What's happening?' Alison's voice had taken on a strangely high timbre.

He gave her a long searching look, then he lowered himself back into his chair, wincing as he lifted his foot onto its cushion with a grimace of pain. *We seem to be orphans of the storm!' he replied. Somehow he managed to keep his voice cheerful. *So, how are you both feeling?'

*Lousy. I've got a really grotty head.' Susie's face was whiter than her companion's.

*And you, Allie?'

Alison shrugged. *I feel a bit s.p.a.ced out. Tired. Who's that?' She had noticed Anne.

*Sorry. I forgot you hadn't been introduced,' Kate put in quickly. *This is my sister, Anne. She picked a really vile weekend to come and stay with me.' She walked over to the two girls and knelt beside them. *Do you want anything to eat? Diana made some soup. It's on the stove.'

Alison shook her head vehemently. *I couldn't eat anything. I feel sick.'

*So do I.' Sue's whiteness had by now progressed to a shade of green. *In fact, can we go and sleep in your room, Allie?'

*No!' Patrick's shout startled them all.

*Why not?' Alison stuck out her chin.

*Well ...' Patrick floundered with a desperate look towards Kate. *Won't you be warmer down here, near the fire?'

*I don't think they'll come to any harm upstairs, Paddy,' Greg put in quietly. *Not if they're together. Why don't you go up, girls. It's a good idea. Take those rugs with you to keep you warm. Sue's had a nasty shock with the car crash, and Allie's probably still suffering from exposure. A warm bed is the best place for both of you.'

The others watched in silence as the two girls climbed to their feet, and collecting armfuls of rugs and cushions, made their way to the door. Their unaccustomed silence was unnerving as they disappeared upstairs.

*You shouldn't have let them do that, Greg,' Paddy said as soon as the staircase door shut behind them. *You know it's not safe.'

*What's not safe?' Cissy's voice from the sofa was weak but perfectly lucid.

Greg grimaced at his brother. *Paddy was thinking about the noise those two make when they get together. It is the middle of the night.'

Cissy lay for a moment staring at the ceiling. *I was on my way to ask you to lunch,' she said suddenly. *Someone jumped out in front of the Range Rover. I remember trying to miss him, and skidding ...' She looked up at Kate who sat down on the edge of the sofa beside her. *Did I hit him?'

Kate smiled rea.s.suringly. *No. No one was hurt except poor old you.'

*Joe ...?'