Scaderstone Pit (The Darkeningstone Series Book 3) (9 page)

“No,” she said. “And listen, I’m not interested in Neolithic stuff anymore. It’s not my field. So don’t expect me to be an expert, all right?”

“Sorry. I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on, that’s all.”

Cally took a breath. “OK. It’s just been a long day. And I need something to eat.” She looked around the restaurant. “I wonder how long our food will be.”

We sat in silence for a long minute.
It’s now or never
, I thought.
But I’d better watch my step
. “I’m sorry if I’m dragging up unpleasant memories,” I said. “But I’d like to talk about the first time we met.”

She looked down at the table and drew imaginary lines on the tablecloth with her fingertip. “OK. What you want to know? I was there on a dig, just helping out back then, and I saw you briefly and showed you the stone.” She hesitated. “After that, it’s all a bit muddled. I was an idiot. I’d been smoking a joint. It was all very…unfortunate.”

“Cally, this is going to sound like a weird question, but when you saw me, what year do you think it was?”

She looked up sharply. “Same as you I expect. I went to university in 2015, so it must’ve been the year before—2014.”

I took a breath and let it out slowly. “No, it wasn’t. Not for me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The year you saw me, Cally, it was 2010.”

She shook her head. “No, like I told you, I was on that dig in the year before I went to Exeter. You must’ve got it wrong.”

I leaned forward across the table and lowered my voice. “Listen, 2010 was the year I went into the quarry. And there’s no way I could get that wrong, because that was the year I went missing.”

Cally’s stared at me in silence.

“Let me show you something.” I took my wallet from my pocket and pulled out a newspaper cutting. I unfolded it and slid it across the table toward her. “My dad gave me this. You can see it was dated in 2010.”

It wasn’t a long piece: a simple report giving my name and stating that I was a missing person. She read it quickly then looked me in the eye. “I hate to ask this, but what happened to you? Did you run away? Were you unhappy or something?”

I almost laughed. “I don’t think I can explain all that, Cally. Not right now. But the point is this—you saw me
before
I disappeared. You saw me in 2010.”

“Wait a minute. I remember something about this.” She looked down at the table, her brow furrowed. “That’s right. Before the dig started they had to wait for the police to say it was OK. There was something about a boy who’d been missing, but they’d found him.” She looked at me and shook her head. “But that can’t have been you. Unless you’d come back from wherever you’d been by then.”

I ran my hands through my hair. I’d rehearsed what I was going to say to Cally a hundred times, but it was all going wrong. I shouldn’t have been surprised. How the hell could I explain what had happened when I didn’t even understand it myself? But then I had the first glimmerings of an idea. I reached across the table and put my hand on hers. “Cally, I’m going to tell you something that I shouldn’t know, and I want you to tell me honestly if I’m right or wrong.”

Something in my tone must’ve convinced her I was serious because she sat perfectly still, and although she glanced down at my hand, she didn’t move hers away. “All right. Tell me.”

“On the day you saw me in the quarry, you laid down on the black stone twice. Once, just before you saw me, and again, right after I left you.”

She sat back and pulled her hand away. “Were you watching me? Is that what all this is about? You’ve got some stupid fixation on me or something?”

“No,” I said, and I couldn’t keep my voice from rising. “Don’t you get it? I couldn’t have been watching you—you weren’t even there. It was 2010 for god’s sake.”

Cally opened her mouth to protest, but at that moment the waiter arrived with our food. I did my best to thank him in French, but beside Cally’s perfect pronunciation, my attempt was clumsy and lame.

Cally picked up her knife and fork. “This looks good.” She started eating, and I followed suit, though without much enthusiasm. I thought I’d lost my appetite, but that changed when I bit into the burger. The meat was rich and juicy, and flavoured with spices and fresh herbs. “That’s the best thing I’ve eaten in a while,” I said. It was true. Since I’d set off on this journey, apart from the awful steak at the hotel, I’d been living on tired sandwiches and stale coffee. I took another bite of the burger and washed it down with a mouthful of red wine. I gave Cally the best smile I could muster. “How’s your fish?”

“Yeah, it’s good,” she said. But she didn’t return my smile. She took a long sip of wine then set her glass on the table with a sigh. “OK, let’s try again. How did you know about me lying down on the stone?”

“Because I did exactly the same thing and something happened to me. Listen, the day after we met, I went back to the quarry to look for you. But there was no sign of you and your friends because you hadn’t got there yet—it was still 2010. You weren’t going to turn up for another four years.”

Cally shook her head, but she didn’t interrupt.

“Anyway, I had a run-in with one of the local thugs—an evil bastard called Robbo. I fell back on the stone, and banged my head.”

Cally opened her mouth to say something, but I didn’t give her the chance.

“And no, I didn’t have a head injury and I didn’t go into a coma. I didn’t even lose consciousness. But the stone did something to me, and it was bloody painful.” I paused and took another drink of wine, draining my glass. I took the bottle and offered it to Cally. She nodded, and I filled her glass and then mine. “Like I said, it was a horrible experience, and when I climbed off the stone, I wasn’t in the quarry anymore.”

“I see,” Cally said very deliberately, as if she was choosing her words with care. “And where do you think you were?”

My blood rushed to my cheeks. “Please, don’t patronise me. I’ve had enough of that from other people. I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s true.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I want to believe you. And you were right, I did lie down on the stone. Just like you said. And I…” She shook her head and looked down at her plate.

“What? What is it that you don’t want to talk about?”

She hesitated. “Tell me your story first. Tell me what happened to you. And I promise I’ll listen this time.”

“All right. I’ll keep it short.” I took a moment to gather my thoughts then I launched into the edited highlights of my brief time in the distant past. I told her I’d been taken to a different stone, probably in a different country. And I explained as best as I could how I came to be pressed against the stone for the final time, when the old man with the painted face had waved a circle of dark stone in front of my face. Then I looked Cally in the eye and said, “And that was when I saw you for the second time.”

She gave me a sharp look, but I pressed on. “You were alone. Somewhere dark. And you looked at me.”

Cally shook her head. “I don’t…”

“You looked at me,” I insisted. “I’m sure you could see me. You called my name. I heard you.”

She looked away , and for a moment, I thought she was going to stand up and head for the door.

“You did see me,” I said. “It’s no use trying to hide it.”

She looked at me, studying my face. “Yes, I saw you. It was a long time ago, in Exeter.” She took a sip of wine. “I’ve always tried to kid myself that it wasn’t real—just something I imagined. But now…”

“Oh, it was real,” I said. “I wish it wasn’t, but there’s no use trying to pretend it didn’t happen. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

She leaned forward. “And there’s something I haven’t told you, something I haven’t told anybody.”

“What?”

“When I saw you, I was in the Exeter passages—they’re tunnels underground. And there was a black stone down there, and when I saw you, you were on it, or rather, you were floating above it. And here’s the thing.” She paused and lowered her voice before she went on. “The black stone down there, it was exactly the same size and shape as the one at Scaderstone. Exactly the same.”

We stared at each other in silence. And in that moment, Cally’s phone began to ring.

Chapter 12

1919

TREVOR STOOD AND STARED
into the gloom beneath the trees surrounding Scaderstone Rock.
Stupid!
he thought.
I can’t see a bloody thing!
He’d known it would be completely dark by the time he got here, but he hadn’t accounted for the lack of street lights and the dense shadows beneath the trees.
Idiot!

But he shouldn’t let the darkness stop him. It was still early and there was nothing to be afraid of. If he chose his path carefully, if he watched where he was going, he should be all right for a few minutes. He just wanted to get a feel for the place, that was all.

He walked forward, picking his way through the damp undergrowth. A briar snagged his trousers and pierced the material, prickling his thigh. He tutted under his breath and stepped back, but the thorns had thoroughly snagged the fabric and he couldn’t get free. “For god’s sake,” he muttered. He took hold of the briar and carefully peeled it away from his trousers, smoothing down the fabric with his fingers. It felt like a few threads had been pulled out and he cursed under his breath. He should never have come here in his best suit. Now he’d have to meet Grigson and Matthews in his only other decent pair of trousers, and they didn’t match his good jacket. He’d look stupid.

He sighed in frustration. It was almost as if someone was trying to tell him to go home—his common sense probably. He should listen.

But he was here now, so he might as well press on. He checked the luminous hands on his watch. He’d give it ten minutes, but no more.

Trevor moved on, walking farther into the murky shadows beneath the straggly trees and wading through the sodden undergrowth. Something crunched underfoot with the brittle, grating sound of splintering glass. Trevor hesitated. Someone had been in here: a drunk probably, or a filthy tramp. Well that would have to stop. He’d suggest the place be fenced off immediately. Barbed wire would do for a start, but then a more permanent solution would be needed to keep people out. He made a mental note. Matthews would like the idea of a solid fence, eight feet high. People like Matthews were always keen to hold onto their possessions.
And that goes for his precious daughter too
, Trevor thought, bitterly.

He pictured his beloved Iris and the memory of her smile cheered him on. She was the real reason he was here. He had to push himself. He had to work harder than anyone else if he was going to make himself worthy of her. It was nothing to do with her pompous father; the man was nothing more than a stuffed shirt.

Trevor pressed on and soon the undergrowth gave way to rocky ground.
I must be getting near
, he thought. He chose a route between two gnarled trees and pushed his way through. When he stepped out onto the other side he found himself standing on the edge of an area of open ground with only bare rock underfoot. “This is it,” he whispered, and he turned around slowly, drinking in every detail of the place.

It wasn’t a huge area for a quarry, perhaps the size of a football pitch, but it was impressive in its own way. The moon had risen, and its scant light picked out the ungainly shapes of the loose rocks littering the ground. The moonlight threw every rugged boulder into sharp relief and painted every jagged fissure with sharp shadows. Above him, the sheer face of Scaderstone Rock loomed like the mighty side of a castle wall: scattered clumps of blackthorn in the place of fortifications, dark caves in the place of windows, and hanging from every ledge, the long, trailing banners of dangling ivy.

Trevor took a deep breath and let his eyes run across the rock face, taking in the stark, untamed beauty of the place. Even in this dim light he could see that the brutal, bare rock was softened by the ferns and other plants that clung desperately to cracks in the stone. And there were even a few stunted trees growing out from the rock face at crazy angles.

In some ways, it was a shame Matthews had got this place in his clutches. It had a certain savage grandeur. But Matthews would tear it all down, crushing it to dust beneath his heel. Trevor took a deep breath, enjoying the chill freshness of the air, and pushed the thoughts of Matthews from his mind.

“Oh well,” he muttered. It was time for him to take a look around. It was no use standing there and getting sentimental about the place. In many ways, Matthews was right: progress was what the country needed. And since Matthews’ plans provided such a golden opportunity for Trevor to advance his career, then that was the way it had to be. Trevor lowered his gaze and walked on, looking from side to side as he crossed the centre of the open ground. When he reached the other side, he realised that the rock face wasn’t as uniform as he’d thought. There was a deep gorge in the rock, as though a huge, v-shaped chunk of the stone had been gouged out, leaving a gap that was several yards wide.

It looks like a secret valley
, he thought.
But it’s too far from the river
. He tilted his head to one side. Rivers could come and go if you looked back far enough, but this gorge looked like it had been formed by subsidence. There was a narrow cleft in the rock just to one side of the gorge. As far as he could see, the cleft ran right down through the rock, all the way from the top edge of the rock face to ground level. Trevor pursed his lips.
There might be a problem here
, he thought. Taken together, the cleft and the gorge suggested that the rock face was unstable. Limestone was notoriously prone to water erosion, and there could easily be a water course hidden beneath the surface. That could cause complications when it came to quarrying the stone. The area would have to be examined thoroughly. Mr. Matthews would not like it if unforeseen complications delayed his new venture.