Lighthouse of the Netherworlds by Maxwell N. Andrews - HTML preview

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

End of an Era

 

Squeezing through a side door, Rachel watched Jim running towards the nearby rail tracks, but she turned and headed in the opposite direction, tearing across the cobbled-stoned courtyard. Thomas slammed on The Black Duke’s brakes and skidded to a grinding halt beside her, but Rachel flatly refused his demand to stay behind, flung herself into the front seat of the car and flashed Doris and Stanley a hurried smile.

Thomas just shook his head. ‘I see stubbornness still runs in our family,’ he muttered exasperatedly and with determination chiselled into his face, he donned his goggles and flipped the switch on its side.

As radiant bursts of rainbow light lit up the interior, Thomas spun the car around, and with a burst of speed, they headed in the opposite direction from the deafening sirens and the bright blue flashing lights.

✽✽✽

The pit of Rachel’s stomach tightened as The Black Juke swerved around a lumbering lorry and then a horse and cart, and she thought the horse would bolt, but it trotted down the road as if it hadn’t seen or heard them at all. They raced along the lane after narrow lane until they emerged at a junction. Thomas hesitated, but he eventually took off towards a row of half-lit flickering neon lights that did little to light the road ahead.

Rachel recognised Lower-Inkcome-by-the-sea’s Upper High Street. The typical late night shopping frenzy had all but fizzled out, and most of the shop fronts had closed their shutters. Bright red taillights dazzled them, and The Black Juke came to a screeching stop.

‘I knew I shouldn’t have come this way,’ Thomas seethed.

‘What’s the holdup –?’ Doris began.

Blue flashing lights lit up the High Street.

‘They’ve found us,’ Stanley squealed and grabbed the door handle.

‘WAIT!’ Thomas thundered.

Two police cars tailgated an ambulance as they hurtled by.

Thomas let out a sigh of relief. ‘You see nothing to worry about,’ he said breathlessly, but the anguish in his voice told a different story.

Stanley relaxed, but Doris looked dead ahead. ‘How are we going to get through this traffic?’ she asked agitatedly. ‘The road’s jam-packed.’

‘We’re running out of time, Thomas,’ Stanley squeaked.

A veil of uneasiness fell across Thomas’ face. ‘I’m afraid we have but one option,’ he said broodingly, ‘but it’s a risk we must take.’

‘Remember what happened last time?’ said Doris fretfully.

Thomas gave Doris an unsettling look and adjusted his goggles.

Rachel’s head pounded, and a shrill voice added to her headache.

‘Thank you, Mr Parsons,’ yelled a woman who staggered out of a shop, almost tripping over a lazy cat that loafed in the doorway. ‘My car’s parked across the road, so I think I can manage. Give my regards to your lovely wife.’

Many months had flown by, but Rachel still recognised the woman’s annoying voice. On the pavement, Ms Flora Dandelion, in her bright billowing dress, tottered unsteadily on her feet as she floundered by the fishmonger’s front door with six hatboxes held precariously aloft.

Flora stepped off the kerb, but her shoe stepped in a pile of rotting fish, and both she and her hatboxes fell across The Black Duke’s bonnet.

Flora groaned as she sat up, but she found her head poking right through an engine block; she looked up and saw Rachel staring down at her through The Black Duke’s translucent bodywork, and she returned her nervous wave and shocked expression.

The Black Juke crept forward, slowly picking up speed as it melted through the stationary traffic like a hot knife through butter, making headway towards the chaos of cars up ahead of them.

Thomas looked stern, but he flashed Rachel a shrewd smile. ‘At least you know how we escaped from that shipwreck so easily,’ he told her. ‘One of my more successful and less dangerous inventions I might add.’

Rachel said nothing but looked on in awe as their ghost car glided by.

They finally reached the scene of the holdup. Police officers wrote into their notebooks as they talked to the little old lady who sat on a giant ball of wool. The little old lady seemed unfazed by the carnage of cars that surrounded her or the plight of the other drivers who struggled to get out the long strands of wool that had entangled them in the accident.

As they left Mrs Mullins and the chaotic High Street far behind, they travelled at breakneck speed along the eastern approach road.

‘We nearly at the corkscrew,’ barked Thomas apprehensively.

Rachel’s heart fluttered. For almost the entire journey, she had kept her eyes tightly shut, as she found it very disconcerting ploughing through vehicles without so much of a scratch.

‘Hold on to your hats,’ said Thomas and The Black Juke breezed over a humpbacked bridge and met a tractor and trailer on the other side.

Rachel’s nostrils twitched, and she sneezed as they shot through the trailer overloaded with hay bales that had that familiar farmyard smell.

‘Look, there’s the ocean up ahead,’ said Thomas. ‘Right, I’m turning it off now,’ he added and let out an exhale that was long overdue.

The Black Juke lost its inner sparkle, and its translucent bodywork slowly began to solidify. With his goggles removed, Thomas swung the car into the corkscrew. The cloudless clear sky allowed the moon’s bright aurora to penetrate the seemingly bottomless canyons below them.

Doris leant forward and said cautiously, ‘Now easy does it, Thomas – you know we don’t want to end up down there –’

Everyone squinted. The cerulean light on the horizon seared their eyes, but its blueish colour changed hue and grew brighter before it died.

Rachel felt a punch to the gut, followed by cascading imprints upon her mind: reel after reel of her friends’ collective memories played out, and at that moment, Thomas, Doris and Stanley’s lives flashed before her eyes so fast, she could barely breathe until their pasts released her.

‘Did you see the light?’ Stanley screeched. ‘We’re too late!’

Rachel fell forward, and through the landslide of excruciating pain, she barely heard the sounds of wood splitting against wood and the shrill screech of a skid as Thomas jammed on the brakes.

The Black Juke came to a blinding halt.

The stench of rotting flesh and burning rubber brought her back to her senses. Up ahead of them, shadowy boxes rose up from the depths, tumbling over one another as they came crashing down onto the road.

Dead ahead, coalescing in the swirling scurrilous mist, scores of ghostly apparitions burst forth, rising up from their coffin cocoons, fluttering and flittering against the moonlit sky like macabre butterflies.

Thomas cursed at the sickening sight, and his demeanour darkened. ‘Right, everyone, hang on – we’re going to have to go through them,’ he yelled, his determined voice masking his fear as he floored the accelerator.

Squealing tyres burned and as quick as a hare the car hurtled towards the silver phantoms, weaving in between the discarded coffins that now littered most of the road. Their bloodcurdling screams filled Rachel with utter dread, as one by one, they swooped down upon The Black Juke.

The snug warmth in the car vanished. The sudden cold had caught them unaware, and they all struggled to breathe through the bitter blast.

Ice crystals sparkled in Rachel’s smoggy breath as it began to freeze.

Her weariness threatened to send her into a deep stupor, but Doris’ ear-splitting scream of shock and fear jolted her awake. Looking at the shimmering reflection in the rearview mirror, she watched in horror as Stanley wrestled a festering silver hand that held Doris by the throat.

Almost at once, a snarling silver head punched through the car roof and let out a terrifying wail as its other arm ripped through the canopy, raging and screeching as it wrenched Doris right out of her seat.

‘THOMAS, IT’S STILL ON,’ Stanley bellowed, ‘TURN IT OFF – TURN IT OFF!’ he added in a blind panic, holding tightly onto Doris, who had turned blue from asphyxiation as she hung limply in the phantom’s grip.

Another silver head and arms punched through the roof and reached inside. The phantom grabbed Stanley by the throat and yanked him out of his seat. Thomas had no choice and skidded from side to side. Bracing for impact, he slammed the car into the wall and jammed on the brakes.

The phantoms screamed as they fell by the wayside.

Thomas grabbed his goggles. He flipped the switches back and forth in the falling temperature, but his fingers fumbled in the freezing cold –

Thomas heard the peculiar whooshing sound, looked up and gulped.

Beyond the windscreen, an albinotic fog tumbled and twisted along the road, rolling right up to and over The Black Juke’s dented bodywork.

Stanley loosened Doris’ clothing and frantically shook her awake.

The Black Juke seemed to shiver from the intense cold, and everyone inside the car recoiled at the sight of so many silver phantoms hovering outside, their maladjusted faces writhing beyond the windscreen as if an invisible force kept most of them at bay and in perpetual agony.

‘Take us with you,’ pleaded the handful of phantoms whose skeletal stumps hammered away at the frosty windscreen.

Their rank odour of death drifted in through the car’s ventilation.

Rachel pressed a handkerchief against her nose to stem the rotting stench of the dead and forced her eyes shut as their cries for clemency grew louder and even more desperate –

‘Take me with you… please, I beg you – take me with you.’

The pitiful angelic voice asked again.

Rachel prised her eyes open. Her handkerchief fell into her lap as the head of a young boy pushed through the windscreen and peered down at her. He hovered closer, and she forced herself further back into the seat in shock, not wanting to believe the sight that befell her tear-laden eyes.

‘I have no family here – I am alone… I beg you – take me with you,’ said the young boy, whose ethereal body glistened against the icy windscreen.

Rachel’s dry lips trembled. ‘I – I watched you die… I watched you die, Jack,’ she said weakly, fighting back against her fraught tears and fear.

The exact likeness of Jack Partridge edged even closer. ‘You brought the light that woke me up – you woke us all up,’ he said accusingly, his anguish words laced with bitterness. ‘Your light is calling them – they will come – they will come for us. I beg you – take me back through the light –’

Something ridged and cold pushed hard up against her face. As Jack’s spectral form began to fade away, his desperate hand reached out to her, but two ghostly girls grabbed his shoulders and held him back.

Ever so slowly, the albinotic fog began to disperse and thin out.

Rachel felt warm breath against her earlobe, and she heard Doris’ heartfelt appeal as she whispered, ‘Let him go, Rachel – let them all go...’

The phantoms howled. Beyond the windscreen, their contorted faces dissipated with the fog and they too vanished into the moonlit night.

Thomas gave Rachel a stark look of determination and drove The Black Duke out of the corkscrew and onto the beach. He hit the accelerator, and they sped along Satan’s Scar as if the devil was upon them.

‘WE’RE ALMOST THERE,’ shouted Stanley, peering at the pier lights.

Thomas sounded the car horn, and another car horn mimicked its musical tones. The Black Duke ambled over the undulating sand dunes.

Rachel shivered from the cold, but she knew some of it was fear and thought she should have taken Thomas’ advice and stayed behind, but she recalled Ian’s parting words back at the Motte & Bailey Crown Court.

As they drove towards the pier, her headache began to ease, and she tried not to think about Jack’s tormented face and his dire warning that filled her with inexplicable dread.

Parked beside the entrance to the pier, Gladys stepped out of her tram and waved The Black Duke over. Thomas asked Rachel to stay in the car.

Eventually, the grownups raised and heated voices petered away, and Gladys opened the car door and helped her out.

Rachel gazed into her ruddy windswept face and returned her warm embrace. Gladys wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘Here, Rachel – you don’t need to wear these anymore,’ she sniffed and removed Jack Partridge’s broken glasses from her clammy face.

Rachel looked over Gladys’ shoulder and raised a glimmer of a smile: the choppy ocean waves lashed the underbelly of the pier and the stumpy steamboat moored by its side.

✽✽✽

Dirty grey clouds of smoke puffed out of Shanghai Suzy’s funnel.

Rachel stood within earshot of the grownups who were discussing their predicament. Thoroughly bored, she wandered towards the wooden pier, keeping a close eye on the ocean waves that crashed beneath her.

The invigorating sea air had lifted her mood, but the ghostly image of Jack and his parting words still played on her mind.

He blamed her for their anguish. What did Jack mean, I brought the light?

A dry cough and a burst of fiery light broke her troubled thoughts and made her look up at the figure on Suzy’s deck.

The slim figure stepped onto the gangplank and puffed on a cigarette; seconds later, they quickly stubbed it out with their heel. The figure walked gracefully down the ramp and came out of the shadows. ‘Hullo, Rachel – it’s about time we met,’ said the woman huskily. ‘I’m Polly Pickling – I believe you’ve been seeing my son for well over a year now?’

Rachel didn’t know what to say.

‘Don’t worry, Rachel – I know all about Stewart's little outings,’ Polly added, rubbing her hands down her filthy overalls. ‘I’m not the least bit angry if that’s what you’re thinking,’ she added and held out her hand.

Rachel shook her grubby hand. ‘I met Sally today – I almost didn’t recognise her,’ she told her. ‘I’m so glad she’s finally on the mend.’

Polly glowed with pride. ‘It’s all thanks to Doctor Foster,’ she said, brushing her sooty-stained blond fringe out of her eyes.

Footsteps clattered along the pier. ‘Evening, Captain Pickling - are we ready to cast off?’ asked Thomas, who gave Polly a peck on the cheek.

‘It’s been a long time, Thomas,’ said Polly glibly. ‘And you can drop the Captain, too,’ she added with an affectionate smile.

Doris rushed at Polly and gave her such a hug she had to break free.

Stanley shook Polly’s hand and asked, ‘Have we’ve missed the tide?’

‘The tides on the turn – but I think I can make up the time if we leave now, and if I put Suzy through her paces,’ replied Polly impatiently.

‘Where are you going?’ Rachel asked.

‘Our first port of call will be the Island of Mugnoth,’ said Polly.

‘Excellent,’ Thomas bristled and rubbed his hands from the numbing cold. ‘I’ve been meaning to pay the monks a visit for some time now.’

‘I don’t think it’s a good idea you dropping in on them unannounced,’ Polly told Thomas. ‘I know you own the island, but it’s the monks that have to live there and pay their penance.’

‘I’ve got to make amends sooner or later,’ he retorted. ‘You know –let bygones be bygones and all that.’

‘Remember, it was your infernal meddling that put them in jail in the first place,’ Doris blustered. ‘That’s not easy to forgive – or forget.’

‘I’ll make it up to them,’ Thomas offered. ‘Well, enough of this idle chitchat – let’s set sail before the boys in blue figure out where we are.’

‘Are you coming back, Uncle Thomas?’ asked Rachel sullenly.

‘I don’t know, Rachel,’ he replied in all honesty. ‘Tell Lorraine, tell her I’m off on one of my adventures – she’ll know what I mean. Oh, and Gladys, look after the old man – he’s been through a lot tonight.’

Gladys stepped up to Thomas. ‘Don’t worry, Thomas – I’ll put The Black Duke back together again – I always have,’ she smiled, giving his hands a gentle squeeze as she took his car keys.

Rachel gave Doris, Stanley and Thomas a timid wave as they boarded Suzy. Gladys drew Rachel close. Polly went to walk up the gangplank, but she hesitated, turned and rushed back down again.

‘Now remember, Rachel, you’re always welcome to visit us in Upper Inkcome,’ she sniffed, her walnut eyes welling up. ‘As your parents fed Stewart – it’s only fair that you should come to ours for dinner.’

‘It’s a date,’ Rachel grinned.

‘Goodbye, Gladys – take good care of her,’ said Polly misty-eyed and without looking back, she sped up the gangplank, pulled it on board and rushed towards Suzy’s stern.

✽✽✽

Gladys put her arm around Rachel and gave her a comforting squeeze.

Brewing up from the north, a nasty squall whipped up and lashed the pier. They watched Suzy riding the rolling waves, but off in the distance they heard sirens above the raging wind.

Behind them, car tyres squealed to a stop; a door slammed shut and heavy footsteps thumped along the creaking pier awash with salty spray.

Rachel looked up into the pleasant face of the man who joined them. He returned her warm smile and stepped a few feet beyond. He removed his flap cap, bowed his head in reverence and prayed:

 

‘Dear Lord, in your infinite wisdom, keep our friends and loved ones safe from the storm of storms. Do not forsake us in our hour of need and lead us away from the light that brings us so much sorrow.

 

May Madeline’s mercy save us from an eternity in the shadows.’

 

Ian Inchman put his flat cap back on his head and turned around. They all walked to Gladys’ tram in silence. The squall turned tail and headed inland. Blue flashing lights barely pierced through the rising sandstorm.

‘C’mon, Rachel, we better get going,’ Gladys told her. ‘You’ve had quite enough excitement for one day – and you have school tomorrow.’

‘An excellent suggestion,’ Ian added. ‘And I have to get back, as I still have a lot more explaining to do for the powers that be.’

‘You’ve got a lovely shiner there, Ian,’ Rachel quipped. ‘That should convince them you put up a good fight.’

‘I’ll put a cold steak on it when I get home,’ he grinned.

Rachel beamed. ‘Now, don’t be a stranger,’ she told him, and with Gladys by her side, she quickened her pace as the weather went downhill.

With the inclement weather raging even louder outside, the tram’s engine struggled to start up. Rachel straddled the aft bucket seats and wiped the foggy rear window clean with her fingers. Buffeting against the wind, the tram trundled away as the lead police car skidded to a halt.

The gruff-looking old codger, with his sopping wet grey moustache, tumbled out of the passenger seat and fell flat on his face.

The sound of splitting wood mingled with the storm’s wrath.

With his hands gesturing his frustration, Commissioner McDonald pushed past Ian and rushed towards the pier that was no more.

✽✽✽

The storm clouds abated and another crisp sunny day dawned.

Bellingtons’ four towers glistened as rays of sunlight filtered through the dispersing clouds. Soaked by last night’s blustery storm, its heraldic flags flapped listlessly as the onshore breeze hadn’t gathered strength.

Majestic swans flew away from Bellingtons’ overflowing ditch, and the flying bridge that rumbled and creaked as it took the strain of the varied assortment of vehicles entering the school’s overflow car park.

Tearful children with their tearful parents said their long goodbyes.

Chugging into the car park, The Chilly Cornet ice-cream van reversed into the last parking space. With the van’s rear wheels half-submerged in a pool of muddy rainwater, Rachel leapt out of the van onto dry land and brushed the cornet crumbs off her new school uniform.

Lorraine faced her daughter with buckets of nervous apprehension. ‘Now, Rachel – are you certain you’ve managed to pack everything in here last night?’ Lorraine asked, helping Paul as he broke a sweat, pulling the bulging suitcase’s wobbly wheel out of a massive pothole.

‘I double-checked your list last night, Mum,’ Rachel replied.

‘You’re looking very smart this morning, Rachel,’ said Paul.

‘It’s a pity my school uniform doesn’t come in plum,’ Rachel sniffed.

‘I’m sure Bellington’s black and white uniform will grow on you,’ said Lorraine softly, but she had to admit, she had her doubts.

An irritating cracking noise echoed around the courtyard. Mrs Rose Dandelion cleared her throat and spoke into her megaphone, ‘Now, we’re running late, so would all parents say goodbye to their children. Assembly starts in half an hour – so would all pupils please make their way into the main hall, which is through the large oak doors directly behind me.’

With dewy eyes, her parents hugged her and said their goodbyes.

Rachel waved back and made a hasty beeline towards the other pupils who were also dragging their overstuffed suitcases along the boggy path.

‘Hey, Rachel – wait up,’ said someone from behind, and she grinned back at the crowd of nattering children coming towards her.

Pulling their suitcases along the wet cobblestone pathway, Stewart, Alfred, William, George and Sophronia surrounded her with smiles.

‘We’ve just missed your parents, Rachel. We were hoping for a choc-ice to start the day,’ William snorted.

‘Like you, boys need a sugar rush,’ Sophronia scoffed.

‘We better get a move on,’ said Alfred. ‘Detention on our first day of school wouldn’t look good on our school report.’

They all nodded in agreement and groaned as they pulled their heavy suitcases up the steep spiral staircase that snaked right up to the fortified iron gates. Halfway up the sandstone staircase, a couple of girls came racing up to them and helped to get their suitcases into the main hallway.

Sophronia aided Rachel and helped her to drag her suitcase into the hall, as it had lost one of its wheels in the struggle up the sheer staircase.

They all took a breather and sat down on their respected suitcases.

Sophronia, however, delved into her satchel and fanned herself with a book on poisonous plants. ‘Thanks for that,’ she wheezed, smiling at the twin girls that had helped them. ‘I owe you two,’ she added hotly.

‘Well, aren’t you going to introduce us, Sophronia?’ Alfred asked.

‘We’re the Nettlebed twins,’ beamed the redheaded girls in unison.

‘I’m Jean,’ said Jean, her flaming red hair flowing over her shoulders and down to her thin pencil waist.

‘And I’m Molly,’ said Molly who had the same coloured hair but much shorter. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you all – and welcome to Bellingtons.’

Everyone eagerly shook hands and began talking about Bellingtons and schoolwork, but George found Rachel staring pensively at the twins. ‘Hey, Rachel – come and meet our new friends,’ he said enthusiastically.

Rachel edged slowly towards the twins and looked them up and down.

‘What’s the matter, Rachel?’ George asked, as her troublesome face still gawked at the redheaded twins. ‘Looks like you’ve seen a ghost.’

The twins exchanged glances and held out their left hands. ‘So, your Professor Shire’s niece,’ they said harmoniously with a resounding echo.

‘That’s right,’ Rachel replied and reluctantly shook their hands.

The twins exchanged glances once more.

‘Um – are you sure we haven’t met before, Rachel?’ Molly asked.

‘Your face seems so familiar,’ added Jean.

‘I think Rachel would have remembered it,’ Stewart chuckled. ‘Her powers of recall are legendary –’

Rose clapped her hands enthusiastically to get everyone’s attention. ‘All right everyone – we’re still running late, so would you please follow your new headmaster, Mr Pillings, into the Assembly Hall,’ she fussed.

Alice and Mary rushed down a flight of stairs, gave Rachel a quick wave and a broad smile, beckoning to George to follow them through the Assembly Hall’s heavy wooden doors. Minutes later, the doors closed with a walloping whooshing thud that made the newcomers jump.

Rachel sat beside Sophronia and stared at the twins in front of her.

Sophronia tapped Rachel’s arm. ‘Penny for your thoughts?’ she asked.

Rachel pointed at the stage. ‘Look, it’s my old chemistry teacher, Mr Luddy,’ she exclaimed, changing the subject, as she didn’t want to talk to her about her misgivings. ‘There’s Sister Wiggly, and that must be Matron Crowling standing beside her with the severe smile and haircut.’

Rose tapped the microphone. ‘Well, I’ve never seen so many pupils in this hall before, but we’ve just about managed to squeeze you all in,’ she smiled and rattled on about Bellingtons coming to an end of an era.

Rachel went deaf when she droned on about rules and regulations.

Her troubled thoughts turned to the past, and her frown deepened as she recalled the ageing photograph she had found in Morag and Elspeth’s bathroom; she thought about the giant muscular moustached man who held those twin girls aloft; she thought about Stewart’s candyfloss machine and the words on the antiquated brass plaque; and finally, she thought about Jack’s apparition and the ghostly girls who held him back with their scowling faces full of malice and distrust.

Rachel had no doubt those ghostly girls sat right in front of her –

Molly and Jean Nettlebed suddenly shot to their feet.

Rachel looked alarmed as they turned around and faced her, but they clapped and whooped with the rest of the hall.

Sophronia dragged Rachel to her feet and gave her a firm shove. ‘Well done, Rachel – break a leg,’ she smirked and gave her the thumbs up.

Rose beckoned Rachel onto the stage.

Rachel’s cheeks blushed with every step, but they felt they were on fire when a young boy got up on a bench and yelled at her. Stephen, the boy she had helped to protect from the Marsh Nibbler, pointed at his arm and the large black writing on his plaster cast:

 

RACHEL, YOU’RE MY HERO

 

Halfway towards the stage, Rachel saw Alice grab the microphone and beaming, she cried, ‘C’mon, Rachel – it’s not every day you’re made Prefect.’

William and Alfred stumbled after Stewart, who clambered over the regimented benches and shouted, ‘LET’S GIVE HER A BUNK UP!’

Eager pupils filled the aisle and pushed Rachel aloft. A couple of minutes later, and slightly overwhelmed by the rough ride, Rachel shook Rose’s hand and looked completely out of sorts as she looked down at the Prefects bar badge pinned to her crisp starched lapel.

George and Alice approached Rachel with broad smiles and shook her hand, but Alice took her hand sky high and said into the microphone, ‘Rachel and I want to thank every one of you for welcoming us to Bellingtons…’

Rachel gave the excited schoolchildren an enthusiastic wave, but her flourishing smile wasn’t for them.

Slowly wriggling and weaving her way through the crowd, Sophroni