Clopwyck River - revised version

Chapter Twenty-one

That's a sentence I never thought I'd say.
​My favourite seat was waiting for me so I've unpacked my drawing stuff and taken a few sips of my liquid serotonin. The coffee shop is quiet, just a few people working at laptops or reading books as they drink their coffee.
​"A very good afternoon to you, Demi."
​Nigel's booming voice makes me jump out of my seat, and I put a hand to my chest, willing my heart rate to slow back to normal.
​"Nigel. Hi. Sorry you made me jump." I clear away the sketchpad before he can see the picture of me and Ruby.
​"Sorry, my dear. I was just going to enquire whether you're enjoying your hot chocolate."
​"It's lovely, thanks, Nigel."
​I reach for my glass, about to take another slurp of my drink, which is probably at the perfect temperature now, but my hand stops dead in mid-air. Nigel's smile has frozen, all traces of it vanished from his eyes. He stands like a statue, only his eyes move as he looks towards the ceiling of the coffee shop.
​"Nigel, are you-"
​He puts his index finger up to me, and I close my mouth, following his eyes as they look around the coffee shop, and then I realise what's stopped him in his tracks.
​I hear a rumble, like the sound of a tumble dryer from deep inside the cellar of a house. I frown at my delicious glass of hot chocolate as it's pulled across the table by an invisible piece of string, then I shriek as it topples over, its brown contents spilling across the table and trickling onto the wooden floor.
​"Up! This way!" Nigel shouts.
Nigel grabs my arm and pulls me up, and I trip after him. He drags me past the other customers who are all on their feet, and we go behind the counter.
Coffee pots and glasses dance around, anything that had liquid in it now rolling around on its side, contents merging together with other drinks and crumbs that cover the counter. I struggle to stay upright, the floor getting yanked away and then thrust back under my feet, tripping me over and crashing me into cups and saucers.
Nigel pulls us to the doorway at the back of the Chancellor's, then grabs my shoulders and we stand facing each other, my hands gripping onto the doorframe behind me. I look around the coffee shop as the walls shake and thunder like someone has grabbed it by the shoulders and is trying to shake the truth out of it. Nigel's customers are ducking under tables, and hunching in the doorway to the shop, looking at the shaking ceiling wondering when the earthquake will stop.
I screech as a microwave plummets to the floor and cartwheels towards our legs, and we both manage to jump over it as it goes crashing into the fridges and boxes in the back room. A row of glasses topple to the ground, smashing in unison, then jingling like a Christmas song as splinters of glass dance around each other on the shaking floor.
Then it starts to slow. The cutlery stops clanging together and the remaining crockery goes from crashing, to clinking, and then to stillness. The room feels as though it's getting its' breath back, calming itself so it can stand up straight, until it finally finds its footing. I look at Nigel, his green eyes sweeping every corner of the room, until he looks at me, then nods his head and I can breathe again.
"Are you okay, my dear?"
"Uh-huh."
"Jolly good." He disappears around the corner, returning with a broom which he thrusts at me, leaving me standing alone as he walks back into his shop which now looks like a war zone, and addresses everyone who is still hiding under tables.
"Patrons! I trust none of you are injured?" He doesn't even wait for a response. "Please gather your things and remove yourself from the premises so I can begin to put Chancellor's back together. I will be sure to give you all a hot cup of coffee on your next visit, gratis of course."
Nigel's customers shuffle like zombies towards the door, scratching their heads and murmuring to each other about the natural phenomenon that just interrupted their afternoon coffee. Nigel has positioned himself at the open doorway, nodding at each one of them until it's just the two of us left in the coffee shop.
I take a few steps forward, my shoes crunching on the glass that's dusted the floorboards, as Nigel locks the door and flips the closed sign around. He looks out of the window, surveying the damage, then pulls down the blind.
"Is there anything out there?" My voice sounds alien as it bounces from the broken glass and crockery.
"A fallen tree branch, and a car collision, but nothing serious."
"Okay, that's good." I watch Nigel as he moves from table to table, picking up fallen chairs and spilled pots of sugar. "So....."
"So?" He looks at me blankly, like clearing up after an earthquake is a weekly occurrence for him.
I walk towards him, almost slipping over on a cream cake as I drop the broom against the counter. "So? What the hell was that?"
"What do you think it was, my dear girl?"
"Um, I don't know." I turn on the spot, my arms open as I survey the broken room. "It felt like an earthquake."
"Correct. That's exactly what it was. Now, if you'll pick up that broom, perhaps you can help me get this place back in order."
"Okay....." I float towards the broom, then stop and stare at it. "Wait, no. No. That was weird. Right? Do you get a lot of earthquakes here?"
Nigel bends over, picking up two chairs and placing them the right way up. He sits down on one of them.
"Come and sit down."
"What?"
"Come and sit down, Demi. I'd offer you something to drink, but as you can see, my tools are somewhat unavailable."
I plonk myself down in the chair opposite him, and fold my arms. He brushes down his trousers, then crosses his legs, placing his clasped hands on his knees.
"Let's see. Do we get a lot of earthquakes? Well, if you ask anyone else around here, they'll tell you that what we just experienced wasn't an earthquake, it was due to the quarry in the next town, causing reverberations that feel like an earthquake. Or they'll tell you it's from where they've been felling trees in the woods."
"But that's not what it was?"
"It's whatever you want to believe it was, Demi."
I put my hand up. "Please, enough riddles. Just tell me."
"You've already said it. It was an earthquake." He leans forward in his chair, his eyes sweeping my face. "Have you experienced anything like that before?"
"An earthquake? I don't think so."
"Can I be perfectly honest with you? Can I share my thoughts with you, safe in the knowledge that you will not judge me?"
All of a sudden I wish Ruby was here, or Leo. Anyone that would hold my hand. I nod my head, wondering what I'm about to hear.
"Demi, that was an earthquake, a natural occurrence all over the world, but it is my belief that here in Clopwyck such an occurrence is powered by something more than seismic waves or plate tectonics. How is it that such a thing can happen here in our little town, when the towns that surround us feel nothing of the sort? Can you tell me that?"
I realise he's actually asking me the question, and I shrug shoulders and croak, "No...no I can't."
"No, and neither can anybody else. Demi, let me ask you this, and please, I implore you to be honest with me. Have you experienced anything strange here since your arrival? Anything like what just happened? Perhaps something that seemed so strange you were left questioning whether it had really happened at all?"
His words crush my vocal chords as I think about my dizzy spells, my swirling senses, the bee, and the horse. I nod and Nigel continues.
"There's no need to share your experiences with me, I wouldn't expect you to, but if you do feel you need to share I want you to know that I would never dismiss anything that you tell me." He leans back in his chair, rubbing his forehead. "Believe me, I've had a few on my own."
I look at the books that line the walls as decoration, remembering what Ruby said. Are they really journals? Do they contain accounts of the weird stuff that happens in Clopwyck? I realise Nigel is watching me as I look around, and I sit back in my chair, giving him my full attention.
"Has anyone ever told you about the legend of Ruth and Lizzy Sutton? The witches that lived right here in Clopwyck?" I nod. "And I'm sure that whoever told you about them, then went on to tell you that they are nothing but legend, just a made up story told on dark nights around camp fires."
I remember Leo next to me on the bench, telling me the story and then finishing it with words close to that. Nigel notices the recognition in my face, and continues.
"Well then, a smart girl like you will know that there is no reason why that story would not be true. Women were accused of witchcraft all over this country. Maybe there was some truth in the whispers of our ancestors, that these women cast spells and worshipped something we couldn't understand." He pauses, and I lean forward, wanting him to go on. "But then again, maybe there wasn't."
"What I do know to be true is that these women were tortured and killed for their beliefs, for the way they looked, for how they lived their lives, and it did happen right here in Clopwyck. Poor Ruth and Lizzy existed, according to parish registers, and what happened to them, the story of the locals drowning Lizzy, and Ruth killing herself, is true."
"How do you know that, Nigel?"
"I've read accounts of it. Detailed accounts from the time itself."
"Oh." Gulp.
"Since then, Clopwyck has periodically experienced strange phenomena, from earthquakes to amphibians falling from the sky. These occurrences can go on for days, sometimes weeks."
"What do other people make of it all?"
"They don't. There have been such huge periods of time between each occurrence that they are easy to dismiss, or are buried so far in our history that folks don't know it ever happened. Unless they take the time to read about it." He glances at the books lining the walls, still tucked in nearly together despite the disruption of the earthquake.
"Why does it happen though? Do you think something's causing it?"
Nigel nods head. "Have you ever walked into a room, and you know immediately that the people in that room were arguing just moments before? You can just feel an atmosphere, an almost tangible cloud of negativity that sucks the life from the oxygen that should fill that room?"
I nod, thinking of all the times in the last few weeks where I've felt exactly that after walking into a room where Daria and Andrew have abruptly stopped their conversation.
"That's it. Negativity has a presence, an aura, so imagine what sort of residue a heinous act of violence would leave behind.  Like in an ancient mental hospital where inmates were tortured, or the scene of a murder, or-"
"Where two witches met their death."
Nigel clicks his fingers. "Exactly. It releases something into the ground, seeping into the atmosphere as time goes by. Perhaps it disappears into the cracks of life as we come and go, but perhaps sometimes, just sometimes, it collides with another act of hate, or violence, and it grows, manifesting itself into something else, something we can't explain so we just dismiss it as unexplained phenomena, or an earthquake."
Nigel's words knit together in my head, drawing together everything that has happened to me since I arrived here. Could there be one particular event that's caused all the weirdness? I nod to myself, letting in the belief that everything is coming from one place.
"Ben."
Nigel leans even further forward, putting his hand on his chin. "The boy in the coma? You believe the events surrounding what happened to him are the cause of the earthquake?"
"I'm not sure, Nigel. This is a lot to process, but maybe not just what happened to him the other night. Maybe something else in his past too?"
"Sounds as though you know more about all of this than I first thought."
"The more I know, the more I'm thinking I should leave it alone."
"On the contrary, my dear, if you are experiencing more than just this little earthquake, I would be more inclined to find out exactly how that boy is connected to it all."
I sit back in my chair, the weight of Nigel's theory pinning me back as I catch my breath. So Ben could be the key to why all of this is happening?
I better get myself along to my date with his Dad.