Raven

By Paul Leatherdale

Raven is the story of four teenage boys growing up in the Suffolk countryside who enlist to fight in the First World War. They are all under age and around 15 at the time they join the army and the Suffolk Regiment.
One of the boys falls in love with an enchantingly beautiful, blue-eyed, dark-haired, local, young girl of the same age before going off to war, but she is clearly not of this world and has a supernatural secret. The raven is her companion, a mysterious, red-eyed bird who accompanies her wherever she goes. The bird is powerful and strong and highly intelligent and has endured across the ages.
The book explores the innocence of growing up in rural Suffolk at the turn of the 20th century and the rapid journey of the boys into adulthood, as a result of their horrific experiences fighting in the trenches of the First World War.
Binding the whole story together is the mysterious raven, an immortal, who influences the lives of those she touches. Who is she and how does she sustain her existence, and who must pay the price?
The book spans three distinct periods, modern-day 1985, the turn of the century, and the 17th century. It is a tale of innocence, love, discovery, supernatural intrigue, and the horrors and brutality of war.
Raven is the first in a series of supernatural stories that explore the development and influence of the red-eyed creature over distinct periods of time and different locations. What begins for our characters as something uncertain and confusing, but at the same time comforting and protective, quickly transitions into something far more sinister and much more deadly, as the forces of darkness coalesce to extend their diabolical and malevolent reach across the world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paul Leatherdale
• Release date: Jan 6, 2021
• ISBN: 9781838336615

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

1985

It was a grey London Saturday in December, cold and damp, miserable you might say, as David got into his car to collect his beloved Tilly from her apartment in North London. The journey from Clapham never took much more than 45 minutes over to Stamford Hill, so when he looked at his watch and saw it was still only 9 a.m., he knew that by the time he’d collected her, had coffee and a piece of toast, there would still be plenty of time to be in East Bergholt before 1 p.m. for the big introductory family lunch. They had been stepping out for about a year now and were absolutely besotted with one another. They had met one Friday evening at a pub in Wandsworth, not a million miles from David’s home, chatted at the bar for an hour or two, got to know that they were both interested in meeting again and the rest, as they say, was history.

Tilly was a little nervous about the day ahead. Falling in love with this lovely guy was one thing, but the prospect of meeting his family was, to say the least, a little daunting! They both had their reasons, but decided to progress their relationship independently from family commentary and opinion, getting to know each other at their own pace in a blissful, uninterrupted bubble. But today was the big day and time for at least one half of the extended family to meet the loving couple.

Tilly had never been to Suffolk before. Growing up in the West Country and working in London, there had been little time or inclination to explore Constable country, although she knew it was supposed to be very beautiful with glorious pocket-handkerchief fields, big skies and lovely riverside walks. Not big on hills or rolling landscape, as was commonplace in the west of the country, but lush and verdant and a stone’s throw away from the East Anglian shoreline. She was excited at the prospect of seeing David’s home in Bergholt, if not his family, and after hopefully getting through the lunch unscathed, taking a lovely, long walk along the riverbank at Flatford, a short distance from the border with North Essex and the picturesque village of Dedham.

David was proud to be a man of Suffolk; it always seemed a privilege to have grown up in such a beautifully unspoilt part of the world. He had particularly fond memories of cycling around the county as a teenager, visiting the local towns of Woodbridge, Orford, Snape, Minsmere, Framlingham and Felixstowe with his friends. Sometimes, and especially in the summer, they would be out all day riding along the country lanes and taking in the lovely scenery whilst making detailed notes and observations of the bird and animal life spotted along the way. He still had those diaries with rough illustrations and descriptions, sometimes with a feather attached or a piece of eggshell, anything really that added colour and some form of record from what was discovered from a particular journey.

With more than a few nerves, they arrived at the family home in good time for the lunch ahead. David’s mum, Lucy, was as described, attractive and welcoming, an intelligent woman in her mid fifties, beautifully turned out in a long, smart, bright floral dress.

Tilly hi, come in. I’ve been so looking forward to meeting you, she enthused. You must be special, as David has never brought any of his girlfriends home before! Let me take your coat, and what would you like to drink? she asked warmly.

Really nice to meet you too, Tilly replied. I’d love a glass of white wine if I may?

Absolutely, Lucy replied. David, get Tilly a glass from the fridge and, while you’re at it, can you get one for me too? Come through to the sitting room Tilly. Let’s introduce you to the rest of the family!

David’s father, Tom, was a tall, imposing man, about 60 with sharp features, well groomed, but with an imperious look about him, not quite as welcoming as Lucy and a little stand-offish. Tilly immediately felt she was being assessed!

It’s very nice to meet you, Tom. David has told me a lot about you. I understand you’re a bit of a wine expert? Tilly enquired.

Very nice to meet you too, my dear. I hope the journey out to see us wasn’t too tiring? Tom replied.

Not at all, Tilly responded. Actually, it was very straightforward and, without traffic, we were able to make pretty good progress.

Yes, I’ve had a career in the wine trade, Tom continued, particularly fond of red Bordeaux and white Burgundy. I’m afraid I haven’t got much time for those new world efforts, pretty brash and unsophisticated, if you ask me! Hope you have a taste for the more traditional?

Actually, I’m pretty open-minded about wine, Tilly replied. I think it’s great fun trying different labels from different parts of the world and making comparisons. I’m a real Sauvignon Blanc fan, if I’m being honest, and New Zealand really does have some specials to enjoy!

Couldn’t agree more, Tom replied. David, this young lady clearly has a discerning taste! Come and meet the girls, I’m sure you’ll have lots in common and to talk about… Jenny is younger than David, and Suzi the youngest of the bunch. Both of them work in London, but we haven’t managed to get them paired off yet…! Here’s hoping! he added somewhat bitingly.

The sarcasm hadn’t gone unnoticed, and Jenny and Suzi, feeling rather deflated, got up from their seats and introduced themselves. Both were good-looking girls Tilly thought, definitely taking after their mother, although a bit sharper featured than her which definitely came from the dad.

Tilly had been briefed by David to keep it as calm and straightforward as possible and not to rise to Tom’s increasingly controversial quips particularly as the wine started to hit the spot.

It’s all a bit of a minefield, David warned, and he was genuinely concerned that she might take offence at the chauvinistic jibes and comments which inevitably would follow as the lunch progressed and the wine flowed.

Tilly liked the girls tremendously and got on very well with them, finding common ground quite easily and sharing stories about interesting places to visit and eat out at in London. Amazingly, the lunch had gone well, they had both survived and after a hearty meal, and much laughter and good conversation, they excused themselves for a well-earned walk and some time together.

That wasn’t so bad, Tilly said positively. Your father behaved pretty well, and the girls are great. It will be nice to see them for a drink after work sometime. Your mum is pretty cool and seems to handle it all pretty effortlessly I thought. She’s very kind and sweet.

She’s lovely, David said, but it hasn’t been easy for her being with Dad. He can be a bit unpredictable sometimes especially as the bottle count increases!

Well, he behaved himself today, Tilly said, and that’s rather special. I really enjoyed myself!

Fantastic, David agreed. "I was a bit worried about it all driving down, but now that we’re through it, and seemingly still intact, we can do a bit of exploring and have a nice walk!

Let’s park up by the village church, he continued, it’s very beautiful and the outside bell cage particularly so. I have a feeling it dates back to the 1500s, and I believe there are five bells inside. We can come back tomorrow and listen to the ringers bring a close to the Sunday morning service, if you like? It was magical listening to the bells when we were kids, after weddings and other events, especially in the summer when the countryside is at its best, it was nice just to sit on a bench and watch the world go by, David recalled cheerfully.

I think I have a copy, somewhere here in the car, of a pretty little ditty which was once found inside the cage, with a rather lovely message for those who came to listen. I thought you might like to see it?

Oh, yes please, Tilly replied, I love looking at those things!

Bells ring for joy and eke for sadness

For solemn requiem

Or in the marriage peal of gladness

Do thou like them

Fitly employ thy voice

The scripture precept keep

Rejoice with them that do rejoice

And weep with them that weep.

That’s really sweet, David. It just about covers all of life’s eventualities, wouldn’t you say? Where shall we go to first?

Let’s have a walk around the church and then have a look at the community hall on the other side of the road, he replied readily.

Across from St Mary’s, David started to explain, as he reversed the car, is Old Hall. It was originally built as a manor house in the 16th century, was rebuilt over the years and was also used as a Franciscan friary right up until 1974. It is now home to a community who farm the land and live off the produce, a kind of modern-day commune if you like!

How fantastic, Tilly exclaimed, "I’ve always had a huge interest in ecological issues and a sustainable lifestyle.

Do you think they would let us join?"

There are about 50 people living there now, I think, David replied. They grow their own vegetables and harvest their own livestock. I’ve heard they are always looking out for new people to join in and live the good life, especially extra pretty, dark-haired ones from London, he added jokingly.

Wow, that would suit me down to the ground, she said enthusiastically. Let’s ditch our jobs in town, sell up and move in, that sounds like bliss to me!

Once parked, they opened the hatchback door and let out the family dog who couldn’t hide his excitement at the prospect of a long walk and a dive in the river down at Flatford, all those lovely ducks to chase, what mischief to be had! But before then, David wanted to show Tilly the church, the old friary and something rather special contained within the church itself. It was just a month since Armistice Day was celebrated on the 11th November, a time of year which always had huge importance for David. A time to remember the brave and those who died certainly, but also a time to remember his beloved grandfather who had fought so bravely, so proudly and so magnificently in the Great War, and to remember his grandfather’s close friends, all local boys, who weren’t quite as lucky as Billy and didn’t make it home.

They crossed the church grounds, walking towards the familiar memorial to those fallen, similar to those which could be seen up and down the country, situated in almost every church, in every parish and in every county, a monument to those who died in the Great Wars of 1914 - 1918 and 1939-1945. The actual list of names of those who gave their lives in service to the Crown and to their country could be found within the church itself, mounted on large boards on the right-hand side of the building, listed in alphabetical order, commemorating each of the great campaigns. For the ’14 - ’18 war, there were the names of all the local men who tragically died, names familiar to many of the people still living in the village, people whose families had lived there for generations.

They entered the church quietly and respectfully, walking from the entrance to the altar, pausing for a second or two to take in the majesty of the scene in front of them and, without talking, moved off to the right of the building where the commemorative plaques were located.

You tend to look for someone with the same family name or for the names of family friends, David said quietly. It’s difficult just looking at everything without a point of reference.

Tilly found herself feeling a little anxious, as they walked from the front of the church back towards the entrance.

I’m a little uneasy in these situations, she said. "It’s not particularly rational, but I always feel a little distressed. There’s no reason for it, I’m not afraid of ghosts or spirits or anything. I think it’s more an appreciation of sadness, particularly for those whose time came too quickly. It’s the sense of loss, I suppose, for those who had to carry on with their lives with their loved ones gone, never to return.

I actually find churches rather beautiful, she added, quiet, peaceful and secure. I appreciate the solitude and opportunity for contemplation if I’m feeling a little uneasy and worried about something. I sometimes visit the local church near my office in London and sit quietly at the back over lunch break and close my eyes for a few minutes thinking things through, perhaps asking for help or a little guidance. I find my time spent there reassuring and positive.

I know exactly what you mean, David agreed. I’m not particularly religious either and do pretty much the same. I walk in, sit at the back and say a little prayer in my head for family members and friends, hoping to keep them safe and happy, he smiled. "It’s a little chat with the man upstairs, I guess, a request to keep everyone fit and well.

"I wanted to bring you here to show you three names in particular. These were the lads who enlisted with Grandad at the same time shortly after the war started, they were all under age, around 15 I think, when they signed up for service, all great friends and all tragically killed in action. The only name missing is my Grandad Billy, William King. Fortunately, he survived and made it home.

"Dick Clarke, Luke Lambert and Sammy Kerr; what characters, what free spirits they were. Grandad spoke of them so affectionately while he was alive, lots of stories from their past, lots of adventures and fun, lots of magic, lots of potential and lots of sadness and the lasting regret that they never made it safely home!

It’s getting a little late, David added, shall we walk down to Flatford and see the river?

Oh yes, I’d love to do that, Tilly said. A walk and some fresh air is exactly what I need. How long will it take to get down there?

Only about 15 minutes, David replied. We need to head down the lane, opposite the church, until we reach Bridge Cottage at the bottom, and then the lovely river walk to Dedham awaits us on the other side!

The light faded rapidly at this time of the year and, although it was still only 3 p.m., David knew they had to get their skates on. The lane leading down to the river was quite narrow, fine for walking, but room for only one car at a time and in one direction only, as progress would be impossible otherwise. The hedges were high and thick, further adding to the sensation of the day fading and the rapidly approaching night. Their progress down the hill seemed swift enough, and it wasn’t long before they were standing at the bottom looking at the beautiful, little bridge spanning the River Stour.

God, this is pretty, Tilly said. The river is not as wide as I’d expected, but it looks quite deep.

Not as deep as you might think, David replied. We used to swim here in the summer as kids, and although the water is dark, it’s largely due to the thick beds of underwater lilies and reeds which make everything appear darker. I don’t think it’s any deeper than 4 - 6 ft. I can remember standing on the bottom in places as we threw a tennis ball around. If you look left, it gets much deeper as the river flows towards the millpond. We’ll have a quick look at it before we head back in the opposite direction and make our way across the fields to Dedham. I’m looking forward to a nice cup of tea when we get there!

After crossing the bridge, a very short walk took them to the lock gate, which restricted water flow from the river into the millpond itself.

I remember fishing down here as a 10-year-old, David said. The water in the lock is incredibly deep, and we took a lot of risks crossing the gates from one side to the other, one fall and it could have been curtains. Boy, we were reckless in those days! The lock doesn’t look so scary now, but when we were small it really was quite frightening!

Leaving the lock swiftly behind them, the waterway suddenly opened up and the beauty of the millpond captured in Constable’s wonderful painting was there to behold.

Oh, this is stunning, Tilly said excitedly, as she gazed at the beautiful old mill standing grandly before them. It’s such a lovely building and so sympathetically balanced with the surrounding countryside.

The fast-flowing stream rushed out from underneath, filling the outlying pool with richly oxygenated water.

The best fishing was always here, David reflected. We would sometimes catch a small minnow, cast it into the stream and let it flow into the main river, pike would congregate on the edges of the water and ambush any unsuspecting fish caught up in the dizzy swell! I caught a beauty once, at least 10 lb in weight and as fresh as anything, full of power and menace. Of course, I put it back to fight another day! We’ll have to come back again another time, perhaps in the summer, to really do this place justice. Let’s head off now and make our way to Dedham before it gets too dark!

How long do you think it will take? Tilly asked.

If we’re quick, no more than 45 minutes, but it will be completely dark by the time we get there! David replied. Don’t worry. I know the way like the back of my hand, so there’s nothing to fear!

They turned around and headed back in the opposite direction, quickly reaching the little bridge again and moving through the pedestrian kissing gate into the big field, which led onwards to Dedham.

Hope there aren’t any bulls in this field? Tilly asked a little nervously.

Me too, said David. I know that farmers graze their cattle on the rich fields of grass all the way between Flatford and Dedham, but if we can’t see them now we should be OK!

They walked close to the riverbank enjoying its blissful peace and quiet, but the wind started to pick up and steadily rustled through the long branches of the willow trees dotted all along both sides of the river.

Gosh, these willow trees must be ancient, Tilly commented. They are so gnarled and deformed, quite spooky in this half-light, sometimes looking like angry spirits guarding the pathway ahead.

Funny, I used to think exactly the same when we played down here as kids, David replied. "We would frighten ourselves half to death saying the trees were going to get us as we ran home again in the dying light. We would reach the bridge exhausted and panting only able to relax once we crossed its magical pathway to safety again.

Don’t worry, Tilly, there’s absolutely nothing to worry about. We’ll soon be there! he said positively.

The countryside, even in the fading light, was quite breathtaking, with wide, open fields either side of the river, majestic oaks hundreds of years old along both riverbanks, along with poplar, horse chestnut and beech trees, all starting to whisper to them as the willows had done earlier with the increasing strength of the wind.

I’m not sure this is such a good idea, Tilly said feeling increasingly unsettled. Would it not be better to turn around and head back the way we just came?

We’re more than halfway now, David said reassuringly. We’ll be there before you know it. He held her hand tightly and could feel that she was uncomfortable. There’s nothing to fear, he said, it’s only the wind that’s making the noise!

It sounds like a warning, Tilly said. I keep hearing that we should go back, it sounds like a message. I know it’s my imagination, but I wish we could turn around!

Dram, the family Patterdale, started to get quite agitated, as they made further progress his hackles rose and he started to growl, gazing intently ahead.

What’s he looking at? Tilly said uncomfortably. What’s he seen?

The wind continued to pick up and was gusting all around them, the noise from the trees was quite deafening now, and she struggled to hear David’s reply.

Only the wind, he shouted. Not long now. Keep going, we’re almost there!

A branch snapped off high above them from one of the old oaks and came crashing down just in front of them, narrowly missing the little dog.

I’m really not enjoying this, Tilly said. How much longer do we have to walk?

Another 10 minutes, he replied confidently.

The temperature had dropped dramatically, and Tilly was feeling decidedly shaky. This lovely walk in the countryside had suddenly turned quite sinister, and she was genuinely worried for their safety. Dram continued to bark and rushed forward into the gloom.

Dram! Dram! Get back here, David shouted urgently, but there was no sign of him now, just faint barking coming from somewhere in the distance.

We need to get out of here, Tilly said, now clearly worried. I’m really not enjoying this!

Keep going, Tilly, David replied, another field or two to cross and we’ll soon be at the road.

The wind started to howl and more branches were breaking off all around them.

Let’s move into the centre of the field, I know a shortcut, David suggested.

They held hands tightly and moved away from the river into the centre of the field, the wind was just as strong, but now they were away from the trees and the chance of something falling on them was no longer a danger.

There! See in the distance? he said. Car lights. Not far now!

The light had almost gone, as they approached the road, but there was still enough in the sky to see a large flock of jet-black birds heading straight towards them.

God, they’re coming straight for us, Tilly said nervously.

The birds covered the ground quickly and flew just above their heads, wheeling crazily around them, only just above them and within touching distance at times. Backwards and forwards they flew, darting in and out, so close it seemed as if they would crash straight into them.

What are they doing? she cried. It was like a whirlwind of dark-feathered bodies tearing all about them, a compact, angry black mass of birds intent on doing them harm. What the hell is going on? Tilly screamed.

More crazy circles and mock attacks from the flock followed, and then suddenly they were gone, save one enormous and powerful, dark bird which seemed to stop in the sky, kestrel-like, with wings rapidly beating, holding its position and looking directly at them. Tilly could see its bright, red eyes boring into her from out of the darkness. It seemed to be reaching into her very soul. She felt as if she were suffocating and couldn’t move, her chest tightened, as the bird intensified its gaze, its hold over her seemed to last forever, then in a second it too was gone and the darkness around them was once again complete and still.

What the hell happened there? Tilly cried. Where did those crows come from, and why did they attack us? Did you see that last one? It seemed to target us somehow. I’ve never seen birds behave like that before!

Not crows… ravens, David replied. They’re rare in this part of England, but there were rumours of a flock living up at the big hall during my grandad’s time. I remember a story of one being nailed to the church door to ward off evil spirits, really scary and disturbing stuff at the time. People were frightened of them back then and deeply mistrustful of their powers and influence, he advised.

Tilly was visibly shaken and trembling uncontrollably.

Come on, Tilly, David said gently, we’re almost there now. He put his arm around her shoulders and hurried their pace along. I can see the road out in front of us, we’re almost there. Faster now, just in case those birds decide to come back again!

As they approached the road, they could see a tiny, dark figure waiting patiently, looking in their direction.

Dram! David shouted, and suddenly one very happy Patterdale rushed towards them tail wagging furiously! The relief to reach the road was palpable and although nothing nasty had actually happened, they were both terribly distressed by their experience.

I can’t get over that last bird, Tilly said. It seemed to look right inside me. It was challenging me in some way, as if it recognised something within me, something familiar that singled me out. I felt a connection with it, but it was on a spiritual level, something unworldly yet something very ancient and deeply unsettling.

I’ve never seen a bird do that before, but they are well known to be highly intelligent, loyal and protective, David replied.

Also extremely sinister, Tilly exclaimed, "vengeful, dark and capable of cursing those who do them harm.

Remember the story from the Tower of London? she continued. If the ravens should guard the Tower no more then the Tower and its kingdom will surely fall. I guess that’s why they are still kept there to this day! Where do you think they were going, David?

Not really sure, he replied. It seems as if their destination was the top of the hill, up by Red Hall, he guessed. That’s where they are supposed to have lived at the turn of the century before disappearing completely in the early nineteen hundreds!

Perhaps they have been here all along? Tilly pondered. "Perhaps they never went away, just keeping