The Thistlewood Curse

By Simon Dillon

Lawrence Crane’s powers of astral projection are put to the ultimate test when he and his lifelong friend Detective Laura Buchan investigate a mysterious death on Lundy Island.

Sensing a dark power at work, they attempt to identify a human assassin under the control of supernatural evil.

But can they escape a terrifying, centuries-old curse?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Simon Dillon
• Release date: Dec 13, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005443023

Simon Dillon

I was born the year Steven Spielberg made moviegoers everywhere terrified of sharks. I lived the first twenty or so years of my life in Oxford, and am pleased to have spent so much time in the place where some of my favourite writers wrote their greatest works (including JRR Tolkien, CS Lewis, and Philip Pullman). I like to think I can write a diverting tale, and as a result I have penned a few novels and short stories. I currently live in Plymouth in the UK, and am married with two children. I am presently brainwashing them with the same books that I loved growing up.

Book preview

The Thistlewood Curse

By Simon Dillon

Copyright 2017 Simon Dillon

Cover Design by Zara Dillon. Photograph supplied by Frances Belsham.

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, Licence Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Dedication: For Zara, without whom I would be hopelessly lost. Thank you for all your ideas that made this story better.

The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Epilogue

Bonus Content: Chapter 1 of Peaceful Quiet Lives

Bonus Content: Chapter 2 of Peaceful Quiet Lives

Bonus Content: Chapter 3 of Peaceful Quiet Lives

Chapter 1

In spite of the peculiar circumstances surrounding the death of Jacob Price, Detective Sergeant Laura Buchan had all but convinced herself there was no foul play. That he died as the result of a bizarre accident had become the accepted version of events for her and most of her colleagues. Only the senior investigating officer, Detective Inspector Ethan Roland, had any further inkling that Price’s demise was in any way suspicious.

Laura kept pinching the bridge of her nose in a nervous reflex. The questioning of her lifelong friend and occasional colleague Lawrence Crane should have been mere formality; an interview that would establish beyond all doubt that he had no involvement in Price’s death. But Roland kept treating him like a criminal. No doubt he considered his actions thoroughness, but Laura thought he was just being rude. Through the two-way mirror Laura watched as Roland continued to question Crane in the interview room.

‘Are you glad he’s dead?’

Lawrence Crane leaned forward and stared for a moment at the mirror. His eyes met Laura’s and although he could not see her, she experienced the familiar sensation of discomfort, as though she were standing before him naked. His gaze seemed darker and colder than usual, no doubt because he didn’t suffer fools gladly, and Ethan continued to behave like one.

Crane returned his piercing, steel blue stare to the Detective Inspector sitting before him. Although his back was turned, Laura could imagine the dogged, determined expression on Ethan Roland’s face. He had a stocky, bulldog build that intimidated most people he questioned. But Lawrence Crane was not most people. He replied with an icy calm.

‘Obviously I’m glad he’s dead.’

‘Obviously? Seems a little out of character for you. Normally you’re all cold detachment, but this case… seems to have wound you up a bit.’

‘Why don’t we drop this charade, Roland? You know what he did as well as I do. If you were honest, you would admit that you also are pleased this world has seen the last of Jacob Price. He was an evil man.’

‘I thought you didn’t believe in evil?’

‘In the Biblical sense, no. But I do believe in trying to make the world a more agreeable and fair place to live. Jacob Price ruined thousands of lives through his financial misdeeds. He was also responsible for murdering his ex-wife and making it look like an accident. The fact that you were so imbecilic in your contamination of evidence at the trial meant he walked free.’

‘That I admit was unfortunate.’

‘Unfortunate doesn’t begin to cover it. Still, as you say, it would seem the Fates have determined that Jacob Price pay for his crimes.’

Roland nodded slowly. ‘A gruesome and unusual accident, to say the least.’

‘But nonetheless an accident.’

‘So how do you account for Price’s final words?’

Crane sighed. ‘How should I know? Perhaps he didn’t like me. Perhaps he wanted a measure of revenge by trying to frame me for his death.’

‘I want to believe that, but the problem is I’ve heard the recording of Price’s emergency call. Even if he was mistaken, that man was genuinely convinced he could see you in his kitchen as he lay there dying. Why was that?’

Crane shrugged. ‘A hallucination?’

‘But why was he convinced you had killed him? His exact words on the recording are: It was Crane. Lawrence Crane murdered me.’

‘For God’s sake Roland, I wasn’t there.’

‘Yes, I’m aware of your alibi. This girl, what’s her name, Amanda Mendelson? She was with you the whole night?’

‘Correct.’

‘But she would have been asleep some of the time, surely?’

Laura couldn’t help smiling. She knew Crane well enough to know sleeping would have occupied very little of his and Amanda’s time on the night in question.

‘What exactly are you suggesting Roland? That I waited until Amanda was asleep then nipped out to Jacob Price’s house intending to break in and murder him?’

Roland stared impassively at Crane, as though willing him to continue.

‘Alright,’ said Crane. ‘Assume for one moment that I sneaked out of bed so that Amanda didn’t notice, with the intention of murdering Price. Assume I successfully made it past the press that were camped outside his house, and broke in without leaving any trace of a break-in, or any DNA for that matter. Why the hell would I then choose to kill him by turning the gas from the cooker on, hoping he would come down from his bedroom to investigate, and hoping that he would switch the kitchen light on, causing a possible but highly improbable ignition of the escaping gas? Furthermore, how could I possibly escape such an explosion unscathed?’

‘Perhaps to make the punishment fit the crime?’ Roland suggested.

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘Well, you tell me. You’re the one with magic powers.’

Laura bit her lip. She could see the irritation in Crane’s face and wondered whether he would lose his temper. With her he was always polite, charming and caring to a fault, but on occasion she had witnessed him completely lose it with others. Such displays could be quite alarming.

However Crane forced a smile, pushing his hands through his dark, thick hair. He then stood, looming over Roland somewhat menacingly making full use of his six-foot height.

‘Not your usual line of questioning… I thought you weren’t a believer, Inspector Roland.’

‘I wasn’t, but then I can’t go on ignoring mounting evidence. Eventually, I’m forced to ask difficult questions. If you don’t possess the unusual power that your friend Detective Sergeant Buchan claims you have, how is it that you were able to provide information that helped her uncover the truth behind what would otherwise have remained baffling and unsolved cases?’

Crane glared at Roland. ‘Perhaps I don’t help her at all. Perhaps she simply keeps me around for my charming personality. In fact, perhaps she is a much better detective than you are Roland. Perhaps she is the one who deserves all the credit that you claim as your own.’

Laura couldn’t help smiling at the compliment.

‘Let’s go over this again,’ said Roland. ‘The night Jacob Price was killed, you claim you were in bed with Amanda Mendelson the entire time.’

Crane didn’t answer immediately. He rubbed his eyes.

‘Tired?’

Crane nodded. He had actually fallen asleep earlier that afternoon, as he sat in the interview room waiting for Roland to question him.

‘Were you in bed with Amanda Mendelson all night on the night Jacob Price was killed?’ Roland repeated.

‘That is correct,’ said Crane.

‘Did you leave the bedroom at any point?’

‘No.’

‘Did your spirit leave the bedroom at any point?’

Crane paused before answering; his eyes drifting across the drab, functional interview room as though the magnolia paint on the walls was of greater interest than the questions. Eventually he returned his gaze to Roland, and replied without blinking.

‘I did not leave my body at any point last night.’

‘You didn’t astral project at all?’

‘No. Why would I?’

Roland shrugged. ‘You’re the greatest authority on the subject I’ve ever known. With your skills, we’ve managed to locate criminals and evidence, as well as overhear conversations as effectively as any official surveillance.’

‘Only when Randolph permits it.’

‘Ah yes, your almighty spirit guide.’

The sarcasm didn’t appear to rile Crane, who was more than used to sceptics. But Laura felt annoyed with Roland, and found his entire line of questioning uncharacteristically unprofessional. He had experienced the benefit of Crane’s unusual abilities. Why take such cheap shots now? Was he trying to anger him into confessing to killing someone who had obviously died in an accident?

‘What is your point Inspector Roland?’

‘My point, Lawrence Crane, is given that you are so into all this out-of-body-experience stuff, is it not probable that you astrally project yourself during the night?’

‘Well, technically I did. So did you.’

Roland looked taken aback. ‘Did I?’

‘Everyone astrally projects whilst asleep. The spirit normally only hovers a little distance from the body though, so it hardly counts in the sense that you mean.’

‘Yes, well I can assure you I don’t astral project.’

‘There’s nothing to worry about Roland. Your silver cord keeps you attached to your body no matter how far you go.’

Roland didn’t attempt to keep sarcasm from his tone. ‘That’s interesting. So I could just float off as far as I like?’

‘As far as you like.’

‘No danger of this silver cord thing that attaches you to your body snapping?’

‘None whatsoever.’

‘What would happen if it did?’

‘Then you would die. But as I said, there is no danger.’

‘Really? I’ve been reading up on this astral projection floatiness. You insist there is no danger of having this silver cord cut, but some of your fellow loonies disagree. They say there are all kinds of nasty demon things in the astral world.’

‘The astral planes do contain various spirit entities, true. Some of them are negative, some positive. The demons are obviously negative, but they are very low energy creatures and it is easy to avoid them by taking a few basic precautions.’

‘Such as?’

‘Calling on the good spirits, angels, Jesus or even God to protect you. If you really want extra protection you can leave small piles of earth around your body, but the truth is it is fear itself that can create problems during projection. You have to be completely freed from fear, and the best way to do that, once you have relaxed your mind, is to summon a spirit guide.’

‘Like this Randolph character?’

‘Exactly.’

‘Alright, so let’s say for arguments sake you’ve had a nice evening with Amanda Mendelson. After going to bed and whatever activities follow, she falls asleep. You then do whatever it is you do – meditate, relax or whatnot – to astrally project your spirit out of your body and away to Jacob Price’s house.’

‘Are you suggesting I somehow murdered Jacob Price whilst astral projecting?’

‘Did you?’

‘It isn’t possible to do things like that in the astral plane.’

‘Ah, that’s not what I’ve read. As I say, I’ve been doing some research. Apparently, it is possible to interact with the physical world whilst astrally projecting.’

‘Then you’re badly informed. It isn’t possible, in the same way it isn’t possible to interact with the astral world on the physical plane.’

‘Well, according to my research, neither of those statements is true. Oh, it is very, very difficult to affect the physical world whilst floating around as a spirit, but it is possible. Though of course it would take a highly skilled person like yourself. As for affecting the astral world from the physical, I think your average psychic or exorcist would disagree.’

Crane laughed. ‘I assume your so-called research amounts to little more than reading a few misleading articles on the internet. Did you actually see a demonstration of what you are suggesting? Or decide to give it a go yourself?’

‘I’m asking you, in your professional capacity as a police consultant: is there any truth to what I have read? Is it possible to affect the physical world from the astral plane?’

Crane sighed. ‘I will concede that it might be possible, with a great deal of difficulty, to affect the physical world from the astral but to a very, very limited degree. For example, it is possible to visit another person whilst projecting and later they will tell you they sensed your presence. Or perhaps they inexplicably thought of you. But moving physical objects is exceptionally tricky because the physical world exists on a completely different frequency.’

‘Yes, I’m aware of all that mind-bending stuff about vibrations, frequencies, other dimensions and so on,’ said Roland. ‘I’m no physicist Crane, but I’ve read enough science fiction to understand the theoretical principles involved.’

‘So you think I murdered Jacob Crane from the astral plane?’

Roland looked away for a moment. Laura could see his embarrassment since astral projection was hardly a usual topic for official police interviews. Her senior colleague was an ardent rationalist, and very clearly uncomfortable with what he seemed to be reluctantly conceding: that there was something to this astral projection nonsense. He seemed to be struggling with some kind of internal debate, about whether he really wanted to make an accusation that to most people would sound completely outrageous. Eventually Roland compromised, opting for a more neutral response, yet still one that contained an inherent accusation.

‘I don’t believe in coincidences. For one thing, your words to Jacob Price were eerily prophetic. You said them in this very room, when we interviewed him. You got surprisingly aggressive. Want to hear what you said?’

Without waiting for a reply, Roland produced a small dictaphone from his pocket and pressed play. An exchange between Crane and Price replayed through the tinny speaker.

Your wife didn’t die straight away, did she?

I don’t like to think about it.

She had just enough presence of mind left to call 999 whilst she lay on the kitchen floor in absolute agony, covered in horrific burns. She might have been dead by the time the ambulance crew got there, but how long do you think she would have suffered? How many minutes?

I don’t know.

Do you know what it feels like to burn to death?

No.

But you can imagine?

I can imagine, yes.

Perhaps one day you’ll do more than imagine. Perhaps one day you will find out.

If Roland had hoped playing the conversation would unsettle Crane, it seemed to have the opposite effect. Crane merely nodded with a certain satisfaction. If anything he felt pleased to have been proved correct in his prediction.

‘In addition to your scarily accurate prophecy,’ Roland continued, ‘for Jacob Price to meet his end in precisely the same way as his ex-wife seems suspicious to say the least – especially as we established the previous gas explosion that killed Penny Rogers was not an accident. Thanks to your endeavours, I might add.’

‘That’s not what the judge thought,’ Crane muttered. ‘At any rate, we’ve established you don’t believe in coincidences, even when there really is no other explanation. You have absolutely no evidence linking me to Price’s death other than your own paranoid suspicions. It’s funny really, as you seem reluctant to admit to them, as it means conceding a belief in a spirit world. At any rate, I am not responsible for the death of Jacob Price, and you have absolutely no evidence to that effect. Therefore you cannot keep me here any longer.’

Roland eyed Crane coldly. ‘There are some things I simply don’t understand, Lawrence Crane. I don’t believe in a spirit world or any of your hocus pocus, but on the other hand years of experience have taught me to trust my hunches. I don’t know how you did it, but I know you took the law into your own hands and murdered Jacob Price, because you thought he deserved to die. You might be able to pull the wool over Sergeant Buchan’s eyes, but I am fully convinced of your guilt.’

Laura felt her stomach churn. How dare Roland speak that way! The accusation was outrageous and ludicrous. She almost stormed into the interview room and demanded Crane’s release. But she didn’t need to. Roland nodded calmly and indicated the door.

‘Now you can go.’

Chapter 2

Laura slouched on her white leather sofa next to Crane. Sipping mugs of tea, they exchanged occasional silent glances. It had been a very tough day for them both.

‘Can’t believe Roland spoke to you like that,’ Laura muttered eventually. ‘He was way out of line, saying all that in a supposedly professional police interview.’

Crane sighed. ‘This case seems to have pushed us all over the edge a little. What was he saying to you outside, just before we left?’

‘He thinks you’re dangerous and that I should stay away from you. He sounded like my mother, all those years ago. I got really angry with him.’

‘Well, he’s got a point. I’ve been patient. I’ve waited years - ever since childhood in fact. Now I will murder you in your sleep from the astral plane.’

Laura punched Crane playfully in the arm.

‘Of course, what possible motivation I could have for killing my best friend in the world…’ Crane’s voice tailed off.

Laura smiled with faux-imperiousness. ‘You may continue…’

‘You’re taking advantage of my tiredness,’ Crane glanced at his mug of tea. ‘I need something stronger than this. Got any booze?’

‘Sure. Hobgoblin?’

‘Sounds divine.’

Laura dragged herself to the kitchen, and took a couple of Hobgoblin beers from the fridge. After removing the tops she returned to the sitting room and passed one to Crane. She sat next to him and began to drink.

‘What I don’t get,’ said Laura, ‘is how someone like Roland, who doesn’t believe in the spirit world at all, could accuse you of murdering someone from the astral plane? It’s mental.’

‘He just doesn’t like me,’ said Crane. ‘He’s never liked me.’

‘True.’

‘God knows how many times I’ve explained to him that it isn’t possible to interact with the physical world from the astral plane. And even if it was possible, the astral plane brings deep inner peace. It isn’t conducive to murderous impulse.’

‘See, this illustrates what I’ve known about you along. You’re a good person.’

‘Oh Laura, for God’s sake…’

Laura put her hand up. ‘Let me finish. I know you don’t like so-called reductive concepts of good and evil, but you only pretend to think that. Really, in spite of being a spiritual weirdo, you are a highly moral person.’

‘Well that’s bullshit.’

‘Is it? I think actions speak louder than words. Your kindness to me, for many years, makes it clear enough that you don’t really believe half the things you say about moral relativism. That alone shows me that Roland is wrong. You aren’t capable of murder.’

‘You can’t prove I’m not.’

‘Maybe not. Maybe I can’t provide absolute proof, but that’s where trust comes in. I trust you one hundred percent. In the two years you’ve been an unofficial consultant, how many cases have we seen solved far quicker because of your involvement?’

‘There’s been a few.’

‘And how many lives have been saved as a result?’

‘Again, a few.’

Laura smiled, feeling satisfied she had scored a point. But Crane still seemed somewhat depressed.

‘I must be an embarrassment to you.’

‘What is with this self-loathing? You don’t embarrass me! I just don’t like to explain our somewhat unconventional methods to the likes of Roland.’

‘He definitely finds me embarrassing.’

‘I suppose. He’s a bit… narrow in his outlook.’

‘That’s why he got promoted and you didn’t. You don’t get the credit you deserve.’

‘Yeah, well Roland loves the press. I don’t.’

‘It doesn’t matter. Whoever was in charge, it wouldn’t have made a damn difference with the Price case.’

Laura rolled her eyes. ‘Crane, seriously. You need to let this one go.’

‘Jacob Price should have gone down for murder and embezzling pension funds,’ said Crane.

‘He’s dead,’ said Laura. ‘No point in obsessing over it.’

‘He’s dead, but he shouldn’t have escaped justice.’

‘He was certainly crucified in the media. So were a lot of the others involved that did get prosecuted.’

‘That bastard killed Penny Rogers and tried to make it look like an accident.’

‘If she’d made it to the stand, the defence would have torn her to pieces. Angry ex-wife, bitter, would say anything… You know.’

‘She was the key witness, and she suddenly dies in a mysterious gas explosion? Come on! Forensics all but proved it was murder, thanks to yours truly. I knew it was him. I knew the moment I looked him in the eye.’

‘Yes, and then the judge threw out the case because of so-called contaminated evidence.’ Laura stared hard at Crane. ‘I’ve never known you get so wound up about a case before. In the past, you’ve been cold, detached, unemotional… Why did this one get to you so much?’

Crane shrugged. ‘I’m not the iceman everyone likes to make me out to be.’

‘That’s true.’

Laura racked her brain, trying to figure out if there was any personal reason for Crane’s agitation, but she knew almost everything about his past, and couldn’t connect any of it with the Jacob Price case.

‘I suppose you did get quite wound up a year ago when that teenage girl went missing, though you tried not to show it,’ said Laura. ‘What was her name?’

‘Erica Lawson.’

‘That’s the one.’

‘Turned up safe and sound on the 12th of June 2014, in Calais, with her boyfriend. Police found her at 11:40, informed us two minutes later via text message, and then escorted her home on the 14:30 ferry to Southampton.’

‘Why is it you remember the obscure details and dates of every case you work on, but forget easy dates, like my birthday?’

Crane frowned. ‘I didn’t forget your birthday.’

‘You did!’

‘Not this year. I got you that album you wanted, I’m sure.’

‘That was last year. This year you forgot.’

‘You didn’t tell me.’

‘I’m telling you now.’

Crane looked confused. ‘Why tell me now? Did you calculate the moment of optimum guilt and wait until then?’

‘Do you feel guilty?’

‘No.’

Laura shrugged. ‘I guess I made a mistake in my calculations.’

Crane laughed. Laura felt pleased. She had managed to snap him out of his seething fury. For the next couple of hours they chatted about old cases and old times. Crane wasn’t normally a nostalgic type, but for some reason he kept bringing up stories from their childhood. Laura laughed, even though many of the happy memories were mingled with painful ones.

Eventually Crane staggered up, slightly the worse for drink. ‘I’d better get going,’ he slurred. ‘Are you back at the grindstone in the morning?’

Laura shook her head. ‘Harley insisted I take a fortnight’s leave.’

‘Did you want to take it?’

‘No. But when the Chief Inspector says take time off, it isn’t a suggestion.’

‘Bloody idiot probably thinks you’re emotionally compromised from the Price case, that you need to regain your objectivity. Or some such bollocks…’

‘Well, a holiday is long overdue, to be honest. I’m exhausted. I’m not ashamed to say the Price case took a lot out of me, especially with the press getting involved.’

Crane swayed on his feet in the middle of the sitting room.

‘Can you get home alright?’

‘Course I can. Just ordered a taxi. It’ll be outside by now.’

Laura smiled. ‘I don’t mind if you want to crash on the sofa.’

Crane laughed. ‘Like old times, eh? It was usually you that ended up legless and having to be tucked up on the sofa.’

‘You had your fair share of drunken escapades too,’ said Laura. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to stay?’

‘Certainly not. I’ve got important business to attend to.’

Laura thought for a moment. ‘What’s it like on the astral plane when you’re drunk?’

Crane opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment a car horn honked from outside. Peering through the window, Laura saw a taxi outside in the road waiting.

‘My carriage awaits,’ said Crane. ‘Farewell Detective Sergeant. Until we meet again.’

After Crane left, Laura turned on the television. She flicked through channels, hoping to find something that would hold her interest. Somehow, she felt more concerned about Crane than usual. On top of being aggressively questioned by Roland and his general upset at the Jacob Price case, her old friend had seemed melancholy, especially in the way he had brought up childhood stories whilst they drank together. She sighed. Even now, after years of friendship, Lawrence Crane remained an enigma.

They had first met when Laura started secondary school at the age of twelve. Up until that point, Laura had been home-schooled by her strictly religious mother, so she felt both extremely nervous and very excited during her first day. Her mother, Leanne Buchan, had warned her against so much of what went on with non-Christian children that she half expected Bude Comprehensive to be a vice-ridden hive of drugs, orgies and satanic rituals.

‘Just be very, very careful,’ her mother said, the morning before she left. ‘I’ve tried to bring you up as best I could, in the knowledge and fear of the Lord. But now I have to send you to school by law. If it was up to me, I would keep you here. Perhaps I still should…’

‘But you said you wouldn’t be able to teach at a secondary school level,’ Laura said quickly, not wanting her mother to suddenly change her mind.

‘True. Well, I’ve warned you of the many traps Satan has placed for you, so now I will have to trust you.’

Laura looked up at her mother. As usual she had applied too much make-up, and her new bleach blonde hair colour did not suit her at all. Laura would never have dared to say this aloud, but she wished her mother would stick to her natural look. Her over-powdered face made her look ugly, even monstrous at times. Yet there could be no doubt of the concern in her brown eyes. For all her strictness and the severity of her punishments, her mother loved her.

‘I suppose I’d better go, or I’ll be late,’ said Laura.

Her mother nodded. A moment later Laura waved goodbye at the front door then made the short journey on foot through the paths and roads that led to Bude Comprehensive. The scent of freshly cut lawn grass mingled with overnight rain felt invigorating, as though it signalled a new and exciting chapter in her life.

She joined the throng of other uniformed children on their way to school, and it was here, at the school gates, that Laura first saw Lawrence Crane; a tall boy with thick dark hair whose eyes felt searching and a little alarming. To her surprise, he made a beeline for her and started talking.

‘You’re that mysterious girl from King’s Lane, aren’t you?’

Laura immediately felt awkward. She knew from some of the local children she’d been in occasional contact with that she was thought of as odd, because her mother had not allowed her to socialise with any children that did not attend her local independent church, the Brotherhood of True Believers.

‘No more mysterious than you,’ Laura replied.

The boy grinned. ‘I’m Crane.’

Laura frowned. ‘Crane?’

Crane shrugged. ‘No-one calls me Lawrence, so I thought it would be simpler to introduce myself as Crane.’

‘Well, it’s simpler if I introduce myself as Laura.’

‘You could introduce yourself as anything you like, since no-one knows anything about you. What school were you at before?’

‘I went to school at home,’ said Laura.

Crane raised an eyebrow. ‘That sounds cool.’

‘It isn’t. Trust me.’

Crane stared at Laura, and she began to feel very self-conscious. ‘What are you doing?’ she asked.

‘Looking at you.’

‘Well, don’t. It’s weird.’

But Crane kept staring. In the end, when no further conversation appeared to be forthcoming, Laura turned and left Crane without a word. Yet she could still feel his eyes on her as she strode up to the school entrance. Even as she stared up at the red brick building, feeling somewhat intimidated at its size, Laura found Crane’s face had eerily burned itself into her mind in a most uncanny way.

She was unsettled to find Crane attended many of her classes, so tried to sit as far from him as possible. Just before a maths lesson, an attractive girl next to Laura introduced herself.

‘I’m Cathy,’ she said, though she didn’t smile. ‘You’re Laura Buchan, right? The girl from King’s Lane?’

Laura nodded. ‘Everyone seems to know where I live.’

‘Is it true your Mum is some kind of religious weirdo?’

‘Er… No.’

‘But she goes to that strange cult, the Brotherhood of Believing something… Can’t remember the name.’

‘Yes, we go there.’

‘You go too?’

‘Well, yes…’ Laura did not like the way the conversation was headed, so tried to turn the attention away from her. ‘Speaking of weirdos, do you know that boy Crane?’

Cathy smiled. ‘Oh, you’ve met Creepy Crane. Yeah, you wanna stay away from him. He’s definitely a weirdo.’

‘I’ll make sure I do,’ said Laura.

At that moment, Laura and Crane’s eyes met across the classroom. Laura looked away, again not liking the way he stared.

Later that day, at lunchtime in the canteen, Crane approached her again. He opened his mouth, but Laura spoke first.

‘Why do you keep staring and following me around?’

‘Just trying to get to know you,’ said Crane. ‘You’re different.’

‘She doesn’t hang out with weirdos,’ said Cathy, who sidled up alongside Laura.

The moment Cathy appeared, Crane shrugged and walked away. Laura glanced after him for a moment, curious despite the fact that this strange boy unsettled her.

‘He’s always been odd,’ Cathy said in an undertone. ‘He was at my last school, and often got in trouble for being a pervert.’

‘Really?’ said Laura, her imagination going into overdrive.

Cathy nodded importantly. She then invited Laura to sit with her and three other girls at her table in the canteen. Having been introduced, Laura listened nervously to the conversation as the girls discussed which teachers they liked and disliked so far, how much homework they were likely to get, and other topics such as pop music. Regarding the latter Laura was completely ignorant, and this became increasingly evident as questions were asked about her favourite singers or groups.

‘You really don’t know, like, anything,’ said Cathy. She passed Laura a CD of a playlist she had burned off. ‘Check this out. My favourite singles of the year so far.’

Laura took the CD awkwardly, wondering how she could listen to it covertly without her mother discovering. In Laura’s house, her mother had banned all secular music, and all television viewing was strictly vetted for what she deemed satanic influences.

‘Thank you Cathy.’

There were a few giggles from the other girls, and Laura couldn’t quite tell what they were laughing at. She also couldn’t tell if Cathy genuinely cared, or whether by giving her a compilation CD in front of the others she was somehow ridiculing her for her ignorance. Well, she’d soon set that right. She’d listen to the CD that very night.

Unfortunately, later that week, Laura’s mother discovered the CD in her room and insisted that she return it to Cathy.

‘This is precisely what I was afraid of,’ she said. ‘Satanic influences. You can take that back to Cathy, and explain that we don’t listen to music that encourages sexual immorality in this house.’

‘But Mum, she was just trying to be kind to me,’ Laura protested. ‘Besides, I don’t think the words are that bad…’

‘Have I taught you nothing Laura? The spirit behind the music can get into you, corrupt you, change you… The Bible says we must think only on what is noble, lovely and true. It says we must come out from the world and be separate from it. Friendship with the world is enmity with God.’

‘Mum, Cathy will think I’m strange if you don’t let me listen to music.’

‘I don’t care if she thinks you’re strange. We’re not having pop music in this house. You will be pure. You will be holy. Or so help me Laura, you are not too old for my correction.’

Inward dread gripped Laura at the mention of the corporal punishment euphemism so widely used by members of the Brotherhood of True Believers. Such punishment had been a regular mainstay of her upbringing, as her church widely believed this was the only way to ensure a child did not slide into rebellion.

‘Alright Mum,’ Laura said meekly. ‘I’ll take it back.’

‘Do that. And make sure you tell Cathy the reason why we don’t allow demonic music in this house.’

Laura had no intention of telling Cathy this, but she nodded submissively to appease her mother. There were times when she really hated her, though she would never have dared to voice her defiance.

However, if there were times she hated