The Retreat(79)

Julia looked around, peering into nooks, running a hand along the cold walls. She walked over to the altar, peered beneath the pews. She found a Bible, sodden with rainwater and falling apart. A draft blew through the building and made me shiver. My body was telling me to get out, to go somewhere warm and light and modern. Because there was nothing here. No proof that Lily was dead.

I wasn’t surprised. Ursula had made it all up.

‘We should go,’ I said.

‘No. There must be something here. Why would she send us here otherwise? How would she even know about this place?’

‘I told you, I saw her exploring the woods. She must have found it. I know what’s going to happen next, Julia. She’ll tell you we must have missed it, that you need her help to find it. And that’s when she’ll mention money.’

But Julia wasn’t listening. She was in the far corner, staring at the painting of Christ. She grabbed hold of one edge and pushed it to one side. It was heavy, the frame made of solid wood, and I went over to help her. We shoved it to the right, the effort making me grunt. I pulled myself up straight and, seeing what the painting had been concealing, said, ‘Fuck.’

It was a wooden door. The wood was a little warped in its frame and there was a gouge down the centre, as if it had been swiped at by some giant creature.

I turned to Julia to remark on this find, but she wasn’t looking at the door. She was staring open-mouthed at something that lay on the ground in front of it.

She crouched down and picked the object up, then stood, clutching it like an explorer who’d found the Holy Grail.

‘It’s a cat. It’s Little Cat.’ I gaped at it. The toy Lily had been carrying when she vanished; the other cat left floating in the river. She held it out to me, looking like she was going to throw up. ‘Look.’

One side of the toy was matted with a dark, brownish substance. A liquid that had dried and stuck to the cat’s fur.

‘It’s blood, isn’t it?’ Julia said, her voice catching.

I swallowed. ‘You should put it down. The police . . .’ They’d want to check it for DNA, wouldn’t they? This was evidence.

But Julia wouldn’t let go. She held the small soft toy against her chest. Then her attention shifted to the painting. ‘What did Ursula say? She’s with Jesus.’

‘You think . . . you think she meant it literally?’

We both stared at the painting of Christ, then at the door it had been concealing. I pulled at it, expecting it to be locked.

It wasn’t. It was heavy and stiff, but I pulled it open without too much effort.

‘We should call the police,’ I said. ‘Now.’

I took my phone from my pocket. Unsurprisingly, I had no signal. Not out here, deep in the woods.

Julia got to her feet, still clutching the cat. She went to go through the door.

‘Wait.’

I checked behind us; it was almost completely dark outside now. I grabbed the other flashlight from the rucksack and turned it on. The beam was bright, doubling the amount of light in the chapel.

‘Let me go first,’ I said. ‘Just in case.’

In case Lily’s body is in there.

Julia was mute as I pulled the door fully open, revealing not a room but a set of stone steps. Steps that led down into the earth.

‘A crypt,’ I whispered.

‘Oh God, what’s that smell, Lucas?’

The stench of something rotten wafted up the stairs. Rotten meat. A wave of nausea hit me and I had to rest against the damp wall beside the doorway for a moment.

Julia moved towards the stairs, but I held out an arm to stop her.

‘Let me go down first,’ I said. ‘If Lily’s down there . . .’

‘I want to see her. I need to see her.’

‘No. Julia, please. If she is down there, we don’t know . . .’ I felt horrible saying it. ‘We don’t know what state she’ll be in.’

‘Oh God. Oh God oh God.’ She took a step backwards, hugging the filthy, sodden Little Cat.

‘I’m going to check it out,’ I said. ‘Then we’re going to leave here, find a house and call the police. Okay?’

‘Okay.’ She sat down at the end of the nearest pew.

I hefted the flashlight in my hand and, with one last look back at Julia, ducked through the low doorway and started down the stairs. The steps were a little slippery, narrow and steep, so I had to hold on to the wall, shining the flashlight down so I could see where I was treading. As I descended, the smell grew more sickening. I pulled the collar of my coat up over my nose in a vain attempt to block the smell.

I reached the bottom of the stairs.

I was in a narrow room with an arched ceiling, small and cramped. There was a small wooden table at the far end, with a cross hanging above it. I had been afraid there might be coffins down here, family members left behind when the chapel was abandoned, but if there ever were, they must have been removed.

Something lay on the floor in the corner, beside the table.

It was a body. I was certain of it. A body, covered by a thick sheet which was actually, I realised as I inched closer, a heavy, old curtain. The smell was almost unbearable now and I covered my nose and mouth with one palm, laying the flashlight on the ground, the beam pointing at the body beneath its makeshift shroud.

I wanted to bolt from this place, to go and call the police, but I needed to see. Julia would want to know.