Ritual (The Cornwall Murders Book 1) by David Pinner

Author:David Pinner [Pinner, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lume Books
Published: 2015-09-09T22:00:00+00:00

13

In the local village hall, opposite the Cat Butcher and about a minute from St. Peter’s, an official questioning was taking place. Led by the Squire, select villagers were questioning Gilly concerning the death of Dian. Gilly was dazed with the intensity of the speakers. Everyone was having a go. Mrs. Spark inserted her verbal razor blades. Gilly’s own father and mother were just as ruthless. At the moment the three labourers were attacking her.

‘Why were you running so hard away from the tree if it was only an accident, Gilly? Why?’

‘It was an accident! An accident! Accident...!’

The Squire broke the questions with a command. ‘Silence! I’ll explain this to you for the last time, Gilly. If you don’t tell us the truth, we’ll have the Inspector on our backs for weeks! What’s worse, he’ll ruin the celebrations this evening! The truth, Gilly! Or we’ll hold you to blame! You know what that’d mean, don’t you? You do know what that would mean, don’t you?’

Gilly looked at her parents. She knew what that would mean all right.

‘I’m telling the truth! How many times do I have to say it? Look, if you don’t believe me I know a way you could find out for sure. Dian told me that her Mum could put people to sleep, and then ask them questions, and then they always had to tell the truth...’

The breathing hushed in the hall. Eyes swivelled to Mrs. Spark. So even a child knew her powers.

Gilly hurtled on regardless. ‘Well, couldn’t you put me to sleep, Mrs. Spark, and then ask me all these questions? And then you’d know if I was telling the truth, or not, wouldn’t you?’

Mrs. Spark spoke to Gilly. ‘Come here, girl, sit on this chair.’

Gilly did so.

‘Look into my eyes, Gilly—no, no, deeper, deeper—until my eyes are everywhere—that’s it—that’s it—it’s water—fathoms of green untroubled water—and now, and now, you are moving down a spiral staircase of water—through corn—yellow corn, shaking their husks together—like rain on the bright water—and now—and now—you are sleeping in the bright water...’

Gilly’s head lolled back over the end of the hard chair. Mrs. Rowbottom held her daughter’s pale hair between her fingers. She whispered, ‘Gilly, tell Mummy, tell Mummy, how did Dian die, Dian die?’

Gilly’s eyes were wide open even though she was sleeping. Too wide. They seemed to stretch like ovals of moon glass. Life had left them. They protruded between her eyelashes.

‘Gilly, come along, darling, tell Mummy—tell Mummy...’

Under the throb of hypnosis, slowly Gilly began to assemble her words. The watchers tensed. They knew that whatever she now said would be the truth. If any fingers were to be pointed, they would be pointed now. Gilly would indict the guilty.

‘Dian’s slowly climbing... slowly climbing the tree... oh, it is so slowly... I’m chewing a bit of grass... sucking the green juice out... she’s laughing... at me... she’s pelting me with twigs and a flurry of oak leaves... and I’m angry... I’m shouting at her... I hate her, really... I hate her Mother.

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