Room Beneath the Stairs Page 2

  “Relax,” he told me. “You don’t have to grip the sides like that. It isn’t going to topple over.”

  “I can’t swim,” I confessed.

  “No? Then I’ll have to teach you. We’ll start lessons tomorrow.”

  “Will I see you tomorrow?”

  “’Course. We’ll see each other every day.”

  “Do you think you’ll want to?”

  “Why shouldn’t I?”

  “I—I’m not very likable.”

  “Nonsense.”

  “Maudie says I’m frightfully sassy.”

  “Well, I’ll keep you in line. You get cheeky with me, I’ll smack ya. We’re going to have lots of good times together, Carolyn. You and me, we’re going to be great chums.”

  Happiness flooded over me, and my fear of the water vanished. I felt safe and secure with him. I had a friend, at long last. It was a glorious sensation, strange and new and wonderful. I could hardly believe my good fortune. The summer had been so long, so lonely, and now everything was changed. I wrapped my arms around my knees, drawing them up against my breast, savoring the warm glow inside.

  Grey handled the oars with magnificent ease. His biceps tightened under the cotton jersey, his chest swelled, but his breathing was easy, and although his hair was damp with perspiration, he seemed to be using no effort at all. I peered at him over my folded arms. With his dark blond hair and clear gray eyes, he looked like a handsome young Viking. I could imagine him sailing for lands uncharted, totally fearless like the storybook heroes. I imagined us sailing away together, leaving the rest of the world behind.

  The cove was far away now, barely visible along the shoreline. We were heading directly for the island. It loomed up larger and larger. I could see the boats tied along the waterfront, rocking in the water, silver gray fishing nets stretched out on ancient brown poles. The picturesque buildings huddled closely together, brown and gray and rust colored. Beyond the village the pine-covered hills rose, but we were too close now for me to see the red tile roof of the big house. As we drew nearer, Grey changed course, rowing around the island, away from the village. Soon there was nothing to see but great gray-black boulders and dense pine woods, shadowy black-green, curiously sinister. This part of the island wasn’t pretty at all. It seemed, in fact, forbidding.

  The bulk of the island cast long dark shadows over the water, and daylight seemed to vanish as we rowed around to the cliff side. It was cooler here, twilight dim, the water deep purple, the rocks black, crouching on the edge of the water like giant, hunched monsters. I didn’t like it at all. I was frightened and wished I hadn’t come. Far away I could see the great gray cliff rising up in stony magnificence, but here there was only a low cliff, the woods above it rising in thick clusters, and more rocks, larger now. Grey rowed steadily, breathing deeply. He headed directly toward a solid wall of black rock, and it was only when we were upon it that I saw the opening. The boat passed under the natural archway, and we were in a small, secret cove completely enclosed by rock, everything black and gray and purple. Small waves lapped against the muddy black shore with the sound of whispers, echoing. I shivered, remembering Maudie’s tales.

  Grey leaped out of the boat and reached down to take my hand, pulling me up. I stepped onto the shore; the mud squished beneath my bare feet. He pulled the rowboat up out of the water and then, as a precaution, tied the rope onto a rusted metal ring fastened to one of the rocks. Taking my hand, he led me along a damp pathway between the rocks, scarcely wide enough for us to pass. Damp black rock walls pressed close on either side, and there was no sunlight, only a dim gray glow. I could easily imagine pirates moving stealthily along this path, cutlasses in hand, expressions fierce as they contemplated some new deviltry.

  The path twisted, slanting up, and I realized we were climbing. Damp green moss clung to the uneven rock walls, and there was an odor of moss, of mud and decaying wood. I stumbled, almost falling. Grey pulled me up sharply, laughing. I tried to smile, but I wasn’t enjoying this. My knees felt weak. My heart was pounding, and a strange apprehension gnawed at me. I shouldn’t be here. I should never have let him persuade me to come. We continued to climb, and a short while later we stepped out into the woods. A few rays of sunlight penetrated the thickness, creating a shadowy brown-green world. Wind whistled through the limbs overhead, and there were a dozen noises: rustlings, cracklings, creakings, none of them pleasant. Grey was still holding my hand tightly. A happy smile curled on his lips. His eyes were alight with pleasure. He was enjoying himself, delighted to be sharing this adventure with me. I tried to ignore the uneasiness inside.

  “We have to go through the woods a way before we reach the caves,” he said, giving my hand a squeeze.

  “How far is it?” I inquired shakily.

  “Not far. Hey—you’re not scared, are ya?”

  “N—no. It’s just—so dark.”

  “Not much light ever reaches this part of the island. Come on, Carolyn. You’ll love the caves. They’re wonderfully spooky.”

  He led me through the thick woods. Although there was no formal path, he moved with confidence, knowing exactly where to turn to avoid running into a thicket. I realized we were moving along the crest of the low cliff. Occasionally I could catch a glimpse of the sunlit water through the heavy branches. Pine needles crackled underfoot, and there was the glorious fragrance of pine mingled with the salty tang of sea air. I felt much better now, my apprehension almost gone.

  Grey stopped abruptly, freezing in position. He motioned me to keep silent, and for a moment we stood very still. He was listening for something; a worried frown creased his brow. My heart started pounding again, and I trembled. All around us the wood noises whispered. There was a loud snap, the snap of a dry twig cracking underfoot. I moved closer to Grey. He curled his arm around my shoulders. Leaves rustled as something slithered under a bush. A bird cried out shrilly. Grey tensed, his body rigid.

  “What—what is it?” I said.

  “Hush!” he warned in a strained whisper.

  He continued to listen. I was petrified with fear. After a few more seconds had passed, Grey relaxed, sighing a heavy sigh of relief. “I thought I heard something—someone,” he said. “I guess I must have been mistaken.”

  He gave me a reassuring smile and squeezed my shoulder. I was on the verge of tears and fought them back only with great effort. The woods were again dark and terrifying, a primeval world shrouded in moving black shadows, the feeble rays of sunlight only heightening the gloom. I was eleven years old and not nearly so fierce and brave as I pretended to be. The distant roar of the sea was like a whispered warning. What had seemed a grand lark before now seemed incredible folly. My sunlit cove was far away, and I longed for it.

  “Do you come here often?” I inquired.

  “I used to play here all the time,” Grey replied casually.

  “Grey.…” I said hesitantly.

  “Yeah?”

  “Maudie said a little girl was murdered.”

  “Yeah. They found her in the caves.”

  “Did they catch whoever did it?”

  Grey shook his head, frowning. “Never found a trace of ’im,” he replied. “Police said he musta been a maniac. Hey, look, you’re pale as a ghost. There’s nothin’ to worry about. I’ll protect you.”

  “I wish we hadn’t come,” I admitted in a weak voice.

  “Because of the murder? That was almost a year ago. I’ve been here lotsa times since then. Nothin’ ever happened.”

  “You thought someone was—following us.”

  “I told-ja, I was mistaken about it. Come on, Carolyn, don’t turn sissy on me. You wanted to see the caves, and I’m going to show ’em to you. They’re fascinating.”

  I squared my shoulders and smiled, showing him that I wasn’t a sissy; but inside I was still trembling. I kept remembering that sharp snap a few minutes ago. What if someone had been following us? The murderer had never been caught. What if he had seen us and decided to …?
I fought back the sobs and hurried after Grey. He sauntered on ahead, hands thrust into his trouser pockets. Arching pine boughs overlapped, making dark green tunnels through which we passed. Birds scurried about in the trees, shrill and vociferous at our intrusion. Grey paused to wait up for me, then led me out of the woods to the edge of a steep incline studded with jagged gray-black rocks. The beach below was almost completely covered with huge, humped black boulders, purple in the dim light, waves lashing against them with savage fury.

  “I’d better take your hand,” he said. “It’s kinda risky.”

  Gripping my hand tightly, he led the way down the incline, carefully picking his footholds, pausing to make sure I was in no danger. The rocks were wet and slippery, and the waves below sent up a fine misty spray that dampened my dress. Grey moved with agile grace, reaching across to help me climb around a boulder. In a matter of minutes we were on the beach below, and Grey led me through the labyrinth of gigantic black stones. We had to wade through pools and pass through fountains of spray, and when we finally reached the narrow cove both of us were soaking wet.

  “Well, here we are,” he said jauntily, pointing to a dark opening in the side of the cliff, only a few feet from the water.

  “Why did we have to come through the woods?” I asked him in an irritable voice. “Why didn’t you bring the boat here in the first place?”

  Grey wiped a damp blond lock from his forehead. “Too dangerous,” he informed me. “The waves are too choppy for a rowboat. It’d take a motorboat to get here safely. Impressive, isn’t it?” he asked, indicating the rough, jagged opening.

  I nodded. I had the perverse, natural curiosity of a child and was eager to see the caves, yet at the same time I was plagued with apprehension. The little girl had been found in the caves. The murderer had brought her here. There was an aura of evil about the place; that dark, gaping hole cast a sinister spell. I wanted to turn back, but I knew I couldn’t. I couldn’t let Grey think me a coward. He was my friend. I didn’t want him to despise me, desert me.

  “Come on,” he said.

  Grey stepped through the opening. I tagged along behind him, trying to quell my fears. We moved down a long passageway where purple-black rock walls dripped with moisture. The place was filled with echoes, and the light grew dimmer and dimmer as we progressed, moving down. Currents of icy air swept through the opening. I shivered in my wet dress. Peering ahead, I could see nothing but pitch black darkness, and there was a rustling, squeaking sound that set my nerves on edge.

  “Bats,” Grey said casually. “They won’t bother us.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “’Course. When I was younger these caves were my private domain. I wrapped a red bandanna around my head and carried a wooden sword, pretending I was a bloodthirsty pirate. I used to build fires and bury treasure in the sand. It was fun. ’Course, I’m too old for that now. Here, wait up a minute.…”

  He began to grope along the wall. I could barely see him—just a faint outline against the darkness. Arms folded around my waist, I shivered as fingers of icy air stroked my body. Grey muttered something unintelligible, and then there was a loud clatter. He stooped to pick something up, fumbling in the dark. There was a loud scratch as he struck a match. A faint orange light flickered, then blossomed and spread as he held the flame to the end of a long torch wrapped in oily rags. Darkness fled, replaced by a spluttering yellow orange light that flickered against the damp walls and made shadows appear. The shadows seemed to dance all around us, dark demons that leaped and darted in fury.

  “I was hoping it’d still be here,” Grey said. “I always used to keep the torch and a box of matches in that niche, never knowing when I might be coming back.”

  The passage led into a large grotto with various natural tunnels leading away from it. Grey led the way down one of them, and we came into an even larger grotto, icy cold. Jagged stalactites hung from the ceiling like blue-brown icicles, a few of them joining with the stalagmites rising from the floor. Grey placed the torch in an old iron holder fastened to the wall, moving closer to me. He reached for my hand, holding it in a bone-crushing grip. It was an eerie place filled with deep purple shadows that seemed all the darker by torchlight. There was something in the air, something fetid and evil, an almost tangible atmosphere of malevolence.

  At first I thought it must be my imagination, but Grey felt it, too. He wasn’t nearly so jaunty and nonchalant as he had been earlier. He seemed younger, a vulnerable little boy, no longer the confident lad who carried himself with such a mature air. When he spoke, his voice was scarcely more than a whisper.

  “The pirates used to bring their victims here,” he said, “captives, and people who displeased ’em. Sometimes they ran ’em through, but usually they just chained ’em to the walls and left ’em to die.”

  He pointed to the ancient chains hanging on one wall, rusty manacles affixed to several of them. I trembled, imagining the moans of those tormented souls left to perish in the darkness. The walls of the grotto seemed to have absorbed the evil once perpetrated here, tossing it back now as we stood looking at the manacles. Behind us the torch spluttered, throwing bizarre shadows over the ground in front of us. Bats squeaked, and I could see the furry brown shapes hanging from the ceiling.

  “She was found here,” Grey whispered, “in this room.”

  I didn’t have to ask who he meant. I knew.

  “Her name was Sally,” he continued. “She was nine years old.”

  “You—knew her?”

  “Everyone on the island did. She was one of the village brats, always getting into trouble. They found her over there, in the corner. You can still see the bloodstains on the rock.…”

  I thought I was going to faint. I closed my eyes, swaying as my knees gave way. Grey supported me, wrapping his arms around my shivering body. He held me very close, and I clung to him, fighting back the sobs. When I looked up at him, his gray eyes were filled with tenderness.

  “You’re afraid, aren’t ya?”

  “Yes. I—I want to leave.”

  “There’s nothing to be afraid of, Carolyn.”

  “Please—please take me away from here.”

  “Don’t you like the caves?”

  “Grey …”

  “I hoped you would,” he said quietly. “I really hoped so. You don’t like them at all. You’re afraid—”

  It was then that we heard the puttering noise coming from far away and echoing through the caves. Grey stiffened, an angry look in his eyes. He released me. I was barely able to recognize the noise: a motor idling. Someone had brought a motor boat into the cove outside.

  “We’d better leave,” Grey said. His voice was strained.

  “Who is it?”

  “Evan, no doubt.”

  “Evan?”

  “My cousin. I hate him. He’s seventeen years old, always spying on me, always breakin’ up my fun. That was probably him in the woods. He probably saw us and figured out where we were going, then went back to the boat house to fetch the boat.”

  “Grey,” I said hesitantly, “you don’t live in the village, do you?”

  “’Course not.”

  “You live in the big house.”

  “That’s right. It’s on the other side of the island, perched on the edge of the cliff. It’s a grand place. Someday I’ll take you there. They won’t like it, but—” He cut himself short, frowning.

  “They?” I inquired.

  “Evan, and Burke. Particularly Burke. He’s worse than Evan; never lets me do anything.”

  “Why?”

  “We’d better get outta here,” he said gruffly.

  Disgruntled, almost surly, Grey took the torch from the iron holder and moved out of the grotto room. I hurried behind him, glad to be leaving the terrible place. We moved down the twisting passageway, through the first, smaller grotto and on up the passage that led out to the cove. When we were halfway there, Grey doused the torch in the damp sand and placed it back into the s
ecret niche, rattling the box of matches as he did so. Far ahead of us, through the tunnel of dark walls, I could see the dim patch of light that was the opening. I started toward it eagerly. Grey reached for my arm, restraining me. He seemed terribly upset.

  “Carolyn,” he said nervously.

  “Yes?”

  “Evan—he’s mean. He—he doesn’t like me. He treats me like a child. I—don’t let it bother you. Okay?”

  I nodded, not understanding this sudden change in him.

  “He doesn’t like for me to have friends. He’ll separate us. He’ll try to keep us apart, but it won’t work. I’ll be there at your cove tomorrow. I promise.”

  “All right.”

  “Don’t let anything Evan says—” He cut himself short again. I could barely see his face, but it was filled with worry.

  Although the light outside was dim, it seemed dazzling after the darkness of the caves. I could see a neat red and white motor launch beyond the black rocks, bobbing at anchor several yards out in the water. Waves hurled themselves against the rocks with splashing fury, spraying mist in every direction. Grey stood quietly beside me. He looked cowed and intimidated, terribly young, and I had the feeling that I was the older, the protector.

  “Well, Grey?” Evan Porter asked lazily.

  He stood several yards away, leaning against a rock with arms folded across his chest. Even slouched as he was, I could tell that he was very tall, over six feet, with the hard, muscular body of an athlete. His raven black hair flew about his head in dark, tattered waves; his tanned face was the face of a street corner tough, a slight hump above his nose giving him a pugilistic look. I knew he was only seventeen, but he seemed much older, frightfully mature, with nothing of the boy about him. He wore gray denim trousers and a loose-fitting black jersey with the sleeves shoved up over his forearms. His dark brown eyes stared at Grey coldly, ignoring me completely.