CHAPTER FOUR

Lorraine saw a sprinkle of golden lights that might be Burnley. It was time to pull off the motorway. She moved the car down through the gears and swung onto unfamiliar A-roads. Soon she could sense a vast emptiness beyond the strip of unlit road as the little Metro crossed mile upon mile of moorland. For a long time she saw no lights at all, save for her car headlamps' reflection on drystone walls and the occasional farm gate. There had been no road sign for more than twenty minutes. The little car was climbing now, and she steered it close to a steep bank, fearing an invisible drop beyond the road's edge.

At a sharp turn her lights picked out a sign: 'Windwell Village'. Thank God for that. She was tired and her head was buzzing from the noisy rattle inside the car's cabin. The silver crescent of the moon faintly illuminated a black shape crouching at the top of the hill that seemed to blot out the stars. Windwell Asylum. She reached its high boundary walls and 'Danger No Entry' signs. Yawning, she scanned the road for signs to Windwell village where some sort of hospital accommodation awaited her.

From the edge of her vision, a young woman sprang out in front of the car. Lorraine slammed her feet down on the clutch and brake. The car slewed left, in a juddering emergency stop. Lorraine had missed hitting the idiot by inches. She was a teenage girl, hippyish, with waist-length fair hair. Now she stood her ground, staring at Lorraine and whooping like an animal, with a bravado she guessed was chemically induced. More teenagers emerged, moving unsteadily across the road. Lorraine let them cross in front of her. First, a lean and classically handsome Asian boy flickered past, then a spike-headed punk, broad and muscular, banged on her car's bonnet, pulling a menacing face before chasing after the others. Last in line was another teenage girl, white-faced and fey, in jeans and cowboy boots. Lorraine could hear them, excitedly talking in stupid voices and making ghoulish whooing sounds. She waited for them to leave, in no mood to tangle with a group of local potheads. As her hand groped for the gearstick, a scrap of conversation reached her.

'-that woman in the car? She doesn't belong here.'

Lorraine set off, juddering over slippery cobblestones as the sparse lights of Windwell village came into view. Parking up at number 16 on the high street, she was relieved to see she had been allocated a stone terraced cottage, a small retreat all to herself.

When Ella first saw the car's headlamps she thought it was a UFO rushing towards them. Then Oona had seemed to fly away like a bat released from the underworld. Somehow, her friend had arrived on the other side of the road. Wow - Ella blinked and grinned. Tonight Tommo's mate Krish had shared some amazing hash.

'Who's that woman in the car?' Oona asked. Ella could just make out a fair head of hair and a pale hand on the steering wheel. 'She doesn't belong here.'

Tommo was nearby. 'I dunno. Some offcumden. Probably lost.'

'No.' Oona spoke in the mysterious voice she used when telling people's fortunes. 'She's here for a reason. Bringing trouble.'

The woman's car drew away, red tail lights heading towards the village.

'What's up?' Krish had suddenly appeared at her side. At first Ella had dreaded meeting this Asian lad Tommo hung out with, but now she'd warmed to his considerate nature. Tonight she thought he looked nice; in his crisp white shirt he shone like an angel.

'Nowt worth fretting about,' said Tommo, waving them on like a commando leader. 'Right-o. The best way through the fence's just a bit further on. Everyone, keep your traps shut. The security bloke will've done his rounds but he in't deaf.'

What an oaf Tommo was, Ella thought. God knows why Oona was going out with him. He had tattoos for one thing, stupid Nazi eagles on his forearms. God, that was so . National Front. Oona was always talking about how she'd first met him in the hospital canteen and seen an animalistic aura glowing around him. Tommo was overpoweringly large beside Oona, his hair gelled into crimson spikes. His clothes were faded black, his favourite an 'A for Anarchy' T-shirt. And he talked too much, lots of gibberish that he thought was clever but was just bits of old books or lines from boring films.

Next to Tommo, Krish was laid-back and smart. The last time they'd met he'd confided how his uncle insisted he worked in his shop to pay his keep. When she asked what he'd rather be doing, he'd told her about a course in electrical engineering that looked right up his street. He was completely uncool about wanting to go to college. Ella liked that.

Oona was way above Tommo's league, too. It was a whole amazing week since she'd saved Ella, on the night she'd boarded a huge shiny bus to anywhere so long as it was far away. She'd been staring out of the window into the night, like it was some kind of ultra-boring TV channel.

Then someone had said, 'Want one?'

Ella had ignored the voice. Despair pressed against her chest. The darkness up there on the hills. The emptiness, just like her insides. Trying not to think about what she'd done.

'Here you are. Have it later.'

An elegant filter ciggie landed in Ella's lap. She looked around. The girl had a whole packet of twenty golden Bensons. She let the girl light her ciggie with a flashy gold lighter and drew on it, tasting the quality. On the farm she sometimes smoked roll-ups; she rarely had any cash. Carefully, she eyed the girl up using her just-down-from-the-hills eyes. Oona was maybe seventeen, waist-length fair hair like a princess, pop star make-up, the sort of Barbie face that lads really go for. Clothes-wise, her cobweb sweater, flowery maxi-skirt and boots were top gear.

She'd asked where Ella was heading and she'd forgotten, so her story was a right muddle. In the end Oona had asked if she wanted to crash at her mum's place at Windwell.

'Isn't that the loony bin?'

Oona hadn't minded her saying that. 'Yeah, but it's cool. Me and my mum work there so she's got a house with the job. You can have a room in the attic till you get yourself together.'

'Why?' she'd asked, suspiciously. 'Why do you want me to stay?'

Oona had laughed. She'd told Ella - well, it was Eileen back then, before Oona gave her a new, more trendy name - that she was a white witch. She did her best to be a kind person - well, most of the time. It was about karma and all that, about the universe giving back to you what you gave to others.

'Go on, come back to mine tonight. Look, we're almost at my stop.' Oona stood up and put her bag over her shoulder, her Indian bangles jangling.

Staying at Windwell had been great - or cosmic, as Oona would call it. Oona said she liked having a live-in friend. Ella was someone she could moan to about Tommo and her mum, and show off her new clothes to, and educate about all that spiritual stuff. Funny though, that Ella still hadn't felt like telling Oona why she'd run away. Maybe she didn't entirely trust anyone but herself.

Now, as they followed the two guys in the darkness, Oona linked arms with her. 'You OK?'

Ella was dragged out of her stoned reverie. 'Can't we go home?'

'Soon,' she soothed. 'This is such a cool place. You don't want to miss it.'

Ella didn't reply. It was easier to let Oona do the talking. They followed the two guys under the gap in the fence and then under a low-hanging shrub. On the other side the old asylum seemed to rear above them like a great carapace of something that had crashed to earth; an alien ship with sinister intent.

Like kids on a treasure hunt they lit the candles Oona had brought along and trailed onwards, each holding a flickering flame. The hash made them stumble around, their shrieks bouncing around the night sky.

Maybe the moon had chosen that moment to slide out from beneath a cloud, but when she next looked up it was as if the house had risen from the ground like a backdrop in a pantomime. It was a big, very beautiful house; the silver moonlight gleamed down on its blind windows and curly roof mouldings.

'What is this place?' Krish asked Tommo.

'The old nurses' home. Been boarded up for years. Wanna take a look round?'

Too frightened to be left behind, Ella followed them to a small side door Oona and Tommo said they'd discovered on an earlier visit. Back then Tommo had shouldered the entrance to force a gap a foot wide, but they'd had to scarper when a security bloke had spotted them.

'It's a bit small but I think we can all get through.' Oona squeezed herself inside the wooden frame. Krish came next, then Ella launched herself through...