ground level? There is something I’d like to discuss with you.’
‘It’s not balls this woman is after,’ whispered Jessie as Sally made to leave.
As soon as they were out of the door Mark moved in. He started by picking up one corner of the tarpaulin and dragging it across the floor. The stiff shifted.
‘Wait,’ shouted Jessie. ‘Let’s at least take a photo of it.’ She reached out to the police photographer hovering by the rusty boiler tanks.
‘No,’ said Mark. ‘I need you upstairs, where they found that blanket. Quick, before we lose this light.’
‘She isn’t here and you know it.’
He raised his heavy lids to meet her eyes then slowly rubbed his chest.
‘Fine,’ she retorted. Placing herself between the body and the hole in the ground, she pulled her backpack off her shoulder. ‘I have my own camera. So go to hell.’
The flickering light stopped flickering, popped and then went out, taking all the other lights out with it. A soupy darkness wrapped itself around them.
‘Shit,’ said Mark. Jessie heard a thud. The corpse of an unknown man being unceremoniously dropped.
‘No one move,’ shouted Jessie. ‘Torches, anyone?’
‘Someone go and find out what’s going on!’ shouted Mark.
‘No, don’t move. You don’t know where you’re walking. Burrows, you’re nearest the door, you go.’
Jessie heard a rustle.
‘No one else move, the pits are open!’
‘We’re not,’ came the chorus.
‘Someone is moving!’
‘Jesus Christ,’ said Mark. ‘Fucking pussies, thelot of you.’ Jessie heard the strike of a flint. Mark was holding up a lighter. Two more strikes. Two more lighters. Then another, then another.
Mark started waving his lighter in the air. ‘It’s like a fucking Barry Manilow concert.’ There were a few laughs.
‘What can we conclude from this?’ asked Mark.
‘That the place is spooked?’ said a voice from the darkness that Jessie recognised as Fry.
‘No, lad. That coppers smoke too much.’ More laughter. ‘Now, let’s get the fuck out of here and have a break and a smoke, like I suggested.’
All the lighters moved at once.
‘Not all of you,’ exclaimed Jessie. But the lighters kept on moving until there were none left. Jessie felt warm air on the back of her neck. Finally she found her torch. She swung round with it, illuminating Mark’s face. He stood a few feet away.
‘Very funny,’ she said, with no trace of humour in her voice.
‘What? Get that light out of my face.’
‘Stop pissing about.’ She could feel little hairs bristle as she rubbed the nape of her neck. She shone the beam of light towards the floor. Open, empty eye sockets gaped back at her. Startled, she nearly let go of the torch. ‘Now look what you’ve done, Mark!’
‘What? I didn’t do anything.’
‘You dropped him.’
She passed the light over the body again.
‘I didn’t.’
Jessie frowned. The lids lay closed as before. Hiding the holes that lay beneath. ‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘it must have been a trick of the light.’
‘Trick of your mind, maybe,’ said Mark. ‘Don’t tell me this place is getting to you. Not the fearless, indomitable Jessie Driver.’ He took two steps towards her, snatched the torch from her hand and switched it off.
‘Mark, don’t!’
She could hear him moving about in the darkness.
‘This is so childish. You could fall.’
He didn’t reply. She imagined the infantile grin on his pasty face.
‘Turn the light back on before you do yourself an injury,’ said Jessie, following the sound of him feeling his way through the dark. Still he didn’t reply. He was mistaken if he thought she’d fall to her knees and sob like a baby. That was his speciality.
‘I thought you didn’t like the dark?’
Silence.
‘Remember? In the dark, alone, scared.’ A cold blast of air came from nowhere, wrapped itself around her legs and made her shiver. She could still hear Mark. His shuffling was getting closer. She braced
‘It’s not balls this woman is after,’ whispered Jessie as Sally made to leave.
As soon as they were out of the door Mark moved in. He started by picking up one corner of the tarpaulin and dragging it across the floor. The stiff shifted.
‘Wait,’ shouted Jessie. ‘Let’s at least take a photo of it.’ She reached out to the police photographer hovering by the rusty boiler tanks.
‘No,’ said Mark. ‘I need you upstairs, where they found that blanket. Quick, before we lose this light.’
‘She isn’t here and you know it.’
He raised his heavy lids to meet her eyes then slowly rubbed his chest.
‘Fine,’ she retorted. Placing herself between the body and the hole in the ground, she pulled her backpack off her shoulder. ‘I have my own camera. So go to hell.’
The flickering light stopped flickering, popped and then went out, taking all the other lights out with it. A soupy darkness wrapped itself around them.
‘Shit,’ said Mark. Jessie heard a thud. The corpse of an unknown man being unceremoniously dropped.
‘No one move,’ shouted Jessie. ‘Torches, anyone?’
‘Someone go and find out what’s going on!’ shouted Mark.
‘No, don’t move. You don’t know where you’re walking. Burrows, you’re nearest the door, you go.’
Jessie heard a rustle.
‘No one else move, the pits are open!’
‘We’re not,’ came the chorus.
‘Someone is moving!’
‘Jesus Christ,’ said Mark. ‘Fucking pussies, thelot of you.’ Jessie heard the strike of a flint. Mark was holding up a lighter. Two more strikes. Two more lighters. Then another, then another.
Mark started waving his lighter in the air. ‘It’s like a fucking Barry Manilow concert.’ There were a few laughs.
‘What can we conclude from this?’ asked Mark.
‘That the place is spooked?’ said a voice from the darkness that Jessie recognised as Fry.
‘No, lad. That coppers smoke too much.’ More laughter. ‘Now, let’s get the fuck out of here and have a break and a smoke, like I suggested.’
All the lighters moved at once.
‘Not all of you,’ exclaimed Jessie. But the lighters kept on moving until there were none left. Jessie felt warm air on the back of her neck. Finally she found her torch. She swung round with it, illuminating Mark’s face. He stood a few feet away.
‘Very funny,’ she said, with no trace of humour in her voice.
‘What? Get that light out of my face.’
‘Stop pissing about.’ She could feel little hairs bristle as she rubbed the nape of her neck. She shone the beam of light towards the floor. Open, empty eye sockets gaped back at her. Startled, she nearly let go of the torch. ‘Now look what you’ve done, Mark!’
‘What? I didn’t do anything.’
‘You dropped him.’
She passed the light over the body again.
‘I didn’t.’
Jessie frowned. The lids lay closed as before. Hiding the holes that lay beneath. ‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘it must have been a trick of the light.’
‘Trick of your mind, maybe,’ said Mark. ‘Don’t tell me this place is getting to you. Not the fearless, indomitable Jessie Driver.’ He took two steps towards her, snatched the torch from her hand and switched it off.
‘Mark, don’t!’
She could hear him moving about in the darkness.
‘This is so childish. You could fall.’
He didn’t reply. She imagined the infantile grin on his pasty face.
‘Turn the light back on before you do yourself an injury,’ said Jessie, following the sound of him feeling his way through the dark. Still he didn’t reply. He was mistaken if he thought she’d fall to her knees and sob like a baby. That was his speciality.
‘I thought you didn’t like the dark?’
Silence.
‘Remember? In the dark, alone, scared.’ A cold blast of air came from nowhere, wrapped itself around her legs and made her shiver. She could still hear Mark. His shuffling was getting closer. She braced
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