The Drowning Pool. Syd Moore

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Название The Drowning Pool
Автор произведения Syd Moore
Жанр Сказки
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Издательство Сказки
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9781847563002



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      Syd Moore

      The Drowning Pool

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      Dedication

      For my boys Sean and Riley. And for Liz, undoubtedly causing havoc in the heavens.

      I am hugely indebted to Kate Bradley, without whom The Drowning Pool would have never seen the light of day. I would also like to add to the long list of people I owe thank yous: Keshini Naidoo and the incredible team at Avon; Father Kenneth Havey, for his advice on the Robert Eden extracts; Cherry Sandover, for her introduction; Ian Platts for his; Clair Johnston for her research into Sarah Moore; Simon Fowler for his excellent photography; Harriett Gilbert, Jonathan Myerson and my tutors on the Masters in Creative Writing at City University, and the esteemed writing group that developed from it; Steph Roche for her unstinting support and late night chats; my friends and family, especially my dad for ensuring I always strive to do better and my mum, for keeping the faith.

      Contents

      Title Page

      Dedication

      Extract from White’s Directory of Essex 1848

      George Gifford, A Dialogue Concerning Witches and Witchcraftes 1593

      Chapter One

      The night it happened Rob, a friend of Sharon’s, was…

      Chapter Two

      That June was one of the hottest we’d had for…

      Chapter Three

      Looking back, all the signs were there. Human beings have…

      Chapter Four

      When I woke I was moody and morose. Though I…

      Chapter Five

      My computer screen flicked on. I fingered the scrap of…

      Chapter Six

      It’s difficult in retrospect to try and describe how I…

      Chapter Seven

      As it was, on the Thursday, nothing happened. I psyched…

      Chapter Eight

      The storm was on everyone’s lips that day. When I…

      Chapter Nine

      The conversation with Marie had been pretty sobering. Inside it…

      Chapter Ten

      I’d forgotten that this weekend was the annual Leigh folk…

      Chapter Eleven

      The Old Town was packed. Sunday was the less traditional…

      Chapter Twelve

      The holidays stretched before me like a lazy cat. Although…

      Chapter Thirteen

      The Records Office was an odd-looking modernist structure set in…

      Chapter Fourteen

      The other day I found the book I had been…

      Chapter Fifteen

      Sharon’s untimely collapse that night proved fortunate, at least for…

      Chapter Sixteen

      My head was beginning to ache as I put down…

      Chapter Seventeen

      I was woken at ten by a text from Martha.

      Chapter Eighteen

      I arrived in good time for my appointment, hoping to…

      Chapter Nineteen

      When I got home I was knackered but there was…

      Chapter Twenty

      The view over the town square was awe inspiring. Andrew…

      Chapter Twenty-One

      Tobias Fitch was propped up on his bed. The stroke…

      Chapter Twenty-Two

      We said our thank yous to Claudia and Laurens, refusing…

      Chapter Twenty-Three

      It was only later, when we sat back at the…

      Chapter Twenty-Four

      I suppose the first thing that alerted me to the…

      Chapter Twenty-Five

      Puzzles have never been my strong point. Even when I…

      A Note to the Reader

       Read On

      About the Author

      Copyright

      About the Publisher

      Extract from White’s Directory of Essex 1848

      LEIGH, a small ancient town, port, and fishing station, with a custom house and coast-guard, is mostly situated at the foot of a woody acclivity, on the north shore of Hadleigh Bay, or Leigh Roads, opposite the east point of Canvey Island, in the estuary of the busy Thames, 4 miles West of Southend, 5 miles South West of Rochford, and 39 miles East of London. The houses extended along the beach are generally small, but there are several neat mansions, with sylvan pleasure grounds, on the acclivity, which rises to considerable height, and affords, from various stations, extensive prospects of the Thames, and the numerous vessels constantly flitting to and fro upon its expansive bosom. The trade consists chiefly in the shrimp, oyster, and winkle fishery … Besides great quantities of oysters in the season, nearly a thousand gallons of shrimps are sent weekly to London. The boundary stone, marking the extent of the jurisdiction of the Lord Mayor of London, as a conservator of the Thames, is about 1½ mile east of Leigh, on a stone bank, a little below high water mark, and it is annually visited in form by the Corporation. Lady Olivia Bernard Sparrow is lady of the manor of Leigh, or Lee, which was held by Ralph Peverall at the Domesday Survey, and afterwards by the Rochford, Bohon, Boteler, Bullen, Rich, and Bernard families. Three copious springs supply the inhabitants with pure water, and the parish contains 1271 inhabitants, and 2331 acres of land, including a long narrow island, called Leigh Marsh, between which and Canvey Island, are the oyster layings. A fair for pedlery etc., is held in the town on the second Tuesday in May.

      The Church (St. Clement) is a large ancient structure, near the crown of the hill, and has a lofty ivy-mantled tower, containing five bells. It has a nave, aisles, and chancel, in the perpendicular style, and the latter is embellished with two painted windows, carved oak stalls etc., and contains several handsome monuments. The nave is neatly fitted up, and has a good organ, given by the present incumbent. The rectory … is in the patronage of the Bishop of London, and incumbency of the Rev. Robert Eden, who is also rural dean, and has erected a handsome Rectory House in the Elizabethan style. The tithes were commuted in 1847. The Wesleyans have a chapel here, and in the town is a large Free School, attended by about 170 children, and supported by Lady O.B. Sparrow, who established it about 16 years ago, for the gratuitous education of children of this parish and Hadleigh, in accordance with the principles of the Church of England.

      George Gifford, A Dialogue Concerning Witches and Witchcraftes 1593

      ‘Truly we dwell in a bad countrey, I think even the worst in England … These witches, these evill favoured old witches doe trouble me … they lame men and kill their cattle, yea they destroy both men and children. They say there is scarce any towne or village in all this shire, but there is one or two witches at the least in it.’

      Chapter One

      The night it happened