The Drowning Pool. Syd Moore

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СКАЧАТЬ zealous?’ asked Sharon and hiccupped. Everyone ignored her.

      ‘A fervent Christian, he would have nothing to do with witchcraft so he forbade his crew to give her money.’ Corinne licked her lips and lowered her voice further. ‘It was a calm and sunny day when they set sail from the wharf.

      ‘But as they steered into the estuary, a strong wind came out of nowhere and lashed the boat. The sailors tried desperately to bring the sails down but the wind had entangled them and The Smack was tossed about the waves like a …’ she paused to find a simile.

      ‘Plastic duck?’ Sharon offered unhelpfully.

      ‘They didn’t have plastic back then,’ said Martha, opening another bottle of wine. ‘Like a cork perhaps?’

      Corinne was irritated. We had broken her rhythm. ‘OK, OK. The Smack was tossed around like a cork.’

      ‘A cork’s quite small though,’ I said mildly. ‘And a ship’s quite big …’

      ‘Do you want to hear this or not?’ she snapped.

      We muttered apologies and tried to focus.

      Corinne cleared her throat and continued. ‘So they’re in this massive storm. One of the crew started shouting, “It’s the witch! It’s the witch!” Suddenly the captain picked up an axe and hit the mast. The sailors watched him thinking he had gone completely mad but when, on the third stroke the mast fell, the wind immediately dropped. When the boat eventually managed to limp home to Bell Wharf, do you know what they found? There, on the side, was the body of Sarah Grey, three axe wounds to her head.’

      We made approving noises and raised our eyebrows.

      ‘That made me shiver,’ said Sharon.

      ‘Well,’ said Martha. ‘It is a bit cold. You know, Corinne, I’ve heard another ending. Deano’s cousin told me that, yes, the captain had forbidden his men to give her money, so Sarah Grey put a curse on them. The wind came up when they went out to sea and they couldn’t get the mast down but, then he says, every member of the crew but the captain perished. When the captain finally made it back to the shore he swore vengeance on Sarah Grey. The next day her headless body was found floating in Doom Pond, the ducking pond.’

      I sniffed. ‘The ducking pond?’

      ‘Where they used to dunk scolds. Most old villages used to have one: if a woman argued or quarrelled with her husband or neighbours, she’d be strapped into the “ducking stool” and dunked in the water.’

      A small piece of wood exploded in the fire, sending sparks over Martha. We all jumped.

      Martha brushed them off her jeans and laughed. ‘Is that someone telling me I’m right or that I’m wrong?’

      ‘I suppose that’s quite likely to be true,’ Corinne said. ‘Who knows? It’s a shame about Doom Pond.’

      A relative newcomer to the town I’d failed to notice the pond and asked her where it was.

      Corinne’s voice became doleful. ‘Underneath those horrid mock-Tudor flats in Leigh Road.’

      We all went ‘Ah!’ and nodded.

      I said that I had looked at a flat there.

      ‘What was it like?’ asked Sharon. ‘Never been inside one of them.’

      I thought back. God, it had been horrible. Not the interior or the layout but the atmosphere. There was a sharp sense of misery lurking in the corners. It had hit me as soon as I’d walked through the door. But I was still raw then. I reckoned it was just the similarity to my flat back in London and the emotional wreckage that had surrounded me there. But I simply said, ‘It was too small. Smart enough, good finish.’

      Anyway, Corinne was off again so we returned to her pretty face flickering in the firelight. ‘Before the flats there was a supermarket on the site. My friend’s mum used to work there. She said the shelves were wonky. You used to put the tins on one end and they’d slide down the other and onto the floor. Then one day she went to work and it had gone. The whole place had slid into the pond.’

      Martha shifted her weight from the left buttock to the right. ‘So, is that why they call it Doom Pond?’

      Corinne shook her head. ‘Nah. It used to be referred to locally as the Drowning Pool.’

      A flurry of unseen wings took off somewhere in the darkness.

      ‘Really?’ Goose bumps appeared across the bare flesh of my arms. The name sent a shudder right through me. ‘Why the Drowning Pool? What else happened there, apart from dunking scolds? Blimey, did they actually drown people?’

      Corinne shrugged. ‘I guess it must have had something to do with local witches.’

      ‘Local witches?’ The casual comment intrigued me. ‘You say that as if they were commonplace.’

      Corinne’s eyes flitted across Martha and Sharon then back to me. ‘Sarah, this part of the country is riddled with folklore. I know you wouldn’t think it now but Essex was once known as “Witch County”. The village of Canewdon is meant to be the most haunted place in England. And there was the wise-man and sorcerer Cunning Murrell in Hadleigh.’

      Sharon straightened herself. ‘So did he get done then? For being a witch?’

      ‘No,’ said Corinne. ‘He was actually quite well-respected by the community, although he obviously still had a fearsome reputation.’

      Martha leant forward and threw a couple of twigs on the fire. ‘So witches got subjected to all sorts of ill treatment yet Mr Murrell’s skills were, er, more appreciated?’

      Corinne opened her mouth to reply but Sharon was in there immediately. ‘Because, my dear Martha, he was in possession of a cock.’

      I sniggered. Martha laughed and poked the fire. ‘You’re about right there.’

      ‘So,’ I said, steering the conversation back to the pond topic. ‘Why the “Drowning Pool”? You said because of the witches. What have they got to do with the pond?’

      ‘Oh right,’ Corinne nodded and took a sip of her wine. You could see she was enjoying the limelight. ‘They used to “swim” them there: the witches would get tied up, sometimes right thumb to left toe, other times they were bound to a chair, then they would be thrown in the pond. If they sank and drowned they were innocent, if they floated, they were a witch, and would be dragged off to the gallows to be hanged.’

      Martha said, ‘Talk about a no-win situation. Poor women.’

      I sent up a silent prayer of thanks that I hadn’t bought that flat.

      ‘So,’ said Corinne, anxious to go easy on the tragedy and high on spooky. ‘That’s why locals say it was haunted. By the restless souls of the witches and innocents drowned there.’

      ‘And Sarah Grey,’ said Sharon sadly.

      I went, ‘Wooo.’

      But nobody laughed this time.

      Martha СКАЧАТЬ