Drummer's Tunnel

DRUMMER'S TUNNEL

By: Joyce Hicks

ANGELA stood once again at the mouth of the tunnel. It looked no less
dark and threatening than it did the first time, and for a split second
she considered turning around and walking away. She'd marched up to it
defiantly enough, but now her feet were refusing to move. She didn't
have to do this, after all. No one would know that she'd chickened out
yet again. Lizzie certainly wouldn't. But Angela would know, which was
precisely why she had to summon up the courage to walk through it, once
and for all.

Lizzie, of course, hadn't hesitated for a second. 'Come on, Angela,'
she'd groaned. 'We could've been through it and back again in the time
you've been dithering about!'

'Oh, shut up a minute!' Angela's fear had turned to anger at her
friend's irritating bravado. 'What if it's true? About the headless
drummer, I mean? Everyone knows he walks through this tunnel with his
head underneath his arm. That's why it's called Drummer's
Tunnel!'

'Don't be such a baby,' Lizzie taunted. 'We've been through all the
other tunnels. There's only this one left, and you swore you'd do it
with me. And now you're acting like a wimp, and going back on your
word!'

Angela couldn't argue because she had promised. The old castle, perched
high on the cliff, was the perfect playground for two twelve-year-olds.
It was riddled with tunnels and passages carved out beneath it.
Together they'd explored them all, but the others were shorter, less
scary, and you could see the light at the other end almost immediately.
Besides, they weren't haunted like this one. Legend had it that in
Elizabethan times the drummer had been beheaded for some long-forgotten
misdemeanour, since when he'd been walking this tunnel clutching his
head with one hand, while trying to beat his drum with the other.

'Are you coming or not?' Lizzie stood there, her balled fists perched
on her hips.

Angela was frozen to the spot, knowing she couldn't do it and knowing,
too, that Lizzie would despise this show of weakness.

'Don't want to!' Angela lifted her chin in a feeble attempt at
indifference, but Lizzie wasn't fooled.

'You mean you can't!' she'd accused. 'OK, I'll do it by myself!'

And she had. After watching until she'd disappeared into the entrance,
Angela climbed the steep grassy bank. At the top of the hill she walked
across its wide plateau, then down the other side until she reached the
tunnel's far exit. Even then she'd waited an age until eventually
Lizzie emerged, triumphant and smug.

'Piece of cake!' she'd gloated. 'Didn't see the drummer, but it
wouldn't have scared me, even if I had. Honestly, Angela, you're so
feeble!'

It was probably true, and Lizzie didn't let her forget it. She hadn't
hesitated, either, in telling their other friends, who'd joined in the
laughter and the jeers. It didn't matter that most of them wouldn't
have dared to walk the tunnel themselves. But unlike Angela they hadn't
been put to the test, and would make doubly sure they never were. Their
reputations and status within the group remained intact. Lizzie's had
skyrocketed. Angela's had disappeared without trace.

But Lizzie wasn't here to goad her now. The decision was Angela's
alone, and she willed her feet to move. A few yards inside, the gloom
enveloped her; so too did the cold dankness of the place. Dim lighting,
placed high up near the roof, fought a losing battle to dispel the
shadows. It hadn't even occurred to her to bring a torch, since this
had been a spur-of-the-moment decision.
In the half-light the tunnel walls and roof glistened with moisture and
green slime. The silence, broken only by the sound of Angela's
footsteps on the hard floor, was awesome.

She paused and looked back. The tunnel didn't run straight as she'd
imagined but curved this way and that, so that now the precious,
comforting light of the entrance had vanished. The way back looked as
scary as the way forward. There was no choice but to go on.

And what of the drummer? Angela had never seen any ghosts, but
countless people claimed they had. Could they all be telling tales? And
why, if the drummer had never been seen in this awful place, was the
tunnel named after him?

She started walking again, more quickly now. The shadows behind became
solid and impenetrable, blocking off any possible retreat, while those
ahead almost beckoned, as though daring her to invade their territory.
And promising untold horrors if she did.

Her breathing, she realized, had become alarmingly rapid, and her heart
thundered inside her ribcage. Beads of sweat trickled from her forehead
into her eyes as she started to run. Every bend gave way to another and
yet another, instead of the light she was desperate to see. Breathless
and exhausted she paused again, flattening herself against the tunnel
wall and heedless of the damp that seeped into her clothes.

Above her ragged breathing and pounding heart, she could still hear
Lizzie's mocking laughter echoing through the tunnel. 'Piece of cake!
Didn't see the drummer, but it wouldn't have scared me, even if I had!'
Angela had believed it then, but now... Could Lizzie really have done
this walk and felt no fear at all? No, it was impossible. Lizzie must
have experienced exactly the same terror. The only difference between
them was that she'd faced it head on. Angela had bottled out. 'But not
this time,' she murmured into the emptiness.

She moved defiantly away from the wall and marched ahead, almost crying
out with relief when, just a few yards further on, she realized it was
now noticeably lighter. Her pace quickened until there, beyond the next
bend, was the light at the end of the tunnel. For the last few yards
she walked, calmly and triumphantly, to the exit. Out in the sunlight
again she turned and looked back into the tunnel.

'GRAN!'

Angela spun round guiltily as a teenaged girl ran towards her.

'We've been searching all over the place for you!' the girl said
breathlessly. 'Mum's given up and gone to wait in the teashop. Reckons
you're worse than a toddler for wandering off! Where've you
been?'

'Sorry, darling.' Angela put her arm around the girl's shoulders as
they walked away. 'A bit of unfinished business, that's all.'

She'd done it. Forty three years late, but she'd finally done it.

Lizzie, wherever she was now, would definitely have approved.