The Wraith is a haunting narrative podcast that drifts through shadows, secrets, and the supernatural. Each episode unfolds a chilling tale of loss, vengeance, and the unknown — where reality bends and darkness has a voice.
Ghost
All within the castle lay sleeping when they returned to Bargamore. The queen and Lady Blackthorn did not speak to one another, their pain was indescribable and not for sharing. The queen dismissed the wise women as she placed the baby on a mattress that still retained the small shape of her own child. She did not notice the shadowy figure in the corner of the room until he spoke.
“You have exchanged our child, my love?”
“I am the queen, I had no other choice,” she bit down on her lip to still the angry word she wanted to scream at her husband.
“I cannot tell the difference,” he looked down at the sleeping baby.
“You are not her mother,” it was difficult to keep the anger from her voice.
“No, but I feel your pain,” he sat down on the bed beside her.
“You know nothing of suffering,” she started to cry. “You cannot tell the difference, but I can and will do for the rest of my life, and so will Iris.”
“I am sorry, my love,” he reached for her hand, but she pulled it away.
“Go, leave me alone with my thoughts,” she begged.
The baby, sensing the quarrel, started to cry.
“Go,” the queen said. “I will see to her myself.”
The sound of the baby’s wails of anguish followed the king all the way down to the throne room. It would soon be dawn and for the first time he feared the coming of day. In the streets below the lamplighters snuffed the flames on the lanterns. Everything seemed normal, but it wasn’t and would never be again.
“Hush, little one,” the queen picked up the baby. “I am not angry with you. Do not be afraid. I will take care of you,” she kissed her soft cheek. “I promised your mother, and I intend to keep that promise. I will surround you with all the love I have to give, and I pray you will never sense the yearning secret of my heart.”
“That’s a pretty box,” the nurse said, as Alice sat up in the bed.
How strange, Alice thought, as she undid the bow. Had someone come to visit her while she slept? The beauty of the pendant made her catch her breath. It looked expensive, and was obviously given by someone close to the baby? There was no more time to think as the baby carried in. Alice picked up her handbag and tucked the box inside. She would keep the pendant safe until Juliet was old enough to appreciate such a work of art.
“She looks different,” Alice frowned, when the nurse handed her the baby.
“New-borns change from minute to minute,” the nurse said, as she twirled the Id tag on the baby’s wrist. “There you are,” she drew Alice’s attention to it.
“You’re right,” she sighed with relief. “I am just being silly.”
“No, it’s understandable,” the nurse smiled. “But, how could you mistake that hair? We were talking about it this morning. It’s so dark red, it’s hard to describe.”
“I don’t know where her colouring comes from, “Alice said as she kissed her baby. “You’re a bit of a mystery.”
Was it just her imagination or did the baby’s eyes have a slight tilt at the corners that she had not noticed before? Later that night, Alice’s mother confirmed she had an aunt with the same colouring, so mystery solved.
Mary and Bob Dawson had no such qualms when it came to their son. He was perfect in their eyes and neither of them saw anything different about him. The pendant was accepted as a gift from a passing friend, who would, no doubt, reveal themselves in the coming days. Like Juliet, Corey’s hair was the talk of all the nursing staff as it was the whitest, they had ever seen.
“I must have overdone it on the calcium or the milk,” Mary laughed.
So, the months passed, and all four children thrived on the love they received from those around them. In Bargamore the queen and Lady Blackthorn clapped as their children took their first tentative steps around the furniture in the throne room.
“They have grown so fast,” Lady Blackthorn beamed.
“Yes,” the queen sighed.
“You must accept her, my queen,” Lady Blackthorn said.
“I love her, you know that,” the queen said. “But sometimes, when I look in her eyes, I see a stranger staring back at me. There is nothing of the king or me in there.”
The queen looked across at her daughter. Amber sensing her mother gaze turned and said her first word. Its sound was like thorns piercing the queen’s heart, “mamma.”
BARGAMORE
1995
King Karone sat on the balcony overlooking the main square and watched as the first ray of dawn broke through the earthen sky. Bargamore, like the mortal world, experiences both day and night. A series of tunnels are designed to let the sunlight in. There are also dark places beneath the earth that never see light. The silver mines where the dwarfs work, are darker than Hades, and they dig for the precious metal with the aid of hundreds of torches. While those in the hidden world are self-sufficient, they had other needs. Thesale of silver provides for this, and the pureness of the metal is prised by those who trade for it inthe mortal world.
Then, there is the land where the Ereban live, a place of endless night. From his vantage point, the king could see the dark forest forming the boundary to this land, and the eerie shadows of the trees,
“You have not slept my husband?”
Like all her kind, the queen moved on airy feet, and he did not hear her come in.
“Talk to me,” she took his hand in hers. “I sense your fears.”
She knew how troubled her husband was, but she was unprepared by the hopelessness in his eyes when he looked at her. The child in her womb leapt, sensing her distress.
“The scourge that is killing our people has to be stopped,” he said. “There are many poisons that might cause it, but yet the wise women cannot find the cure. We must strengthen our people before it is too late.”
“Have the wise ones thought of a way of doing this.” She asked.
“There is one way of strengthening the blood, but it is so terrible I cannot bring myself to speak its name.” The king said.
“Tell me. “The queen urged.
“Changelings,” his voice was muffled by his hands. “We must exchange elfin babies for mortal ones.”
The queen, overcome with horror, groping her way to a chair and fell into it.
“What have you decided?” She asked.
“Galten had seen into the future. There are two children who are not yet born, that will suit,” he said. “They will be the first of many. The wise women have gone to the mortal world to watch as the time of birth approaches.”
“How can you speak of such a thing?” The queen knuckles glowed white, as she gripped the arm of the chair.
“What is the taking of twenty children over thousands of our people?”
“It is barbaric,” the queen was trying not to cry. “It is beyond cruel to ask a mother to part with her child.”
“The suffering will be in this world, my love,” the king explained. “The children will be swapped at birth and the mortal mother will have no idea it is not her child.”
“So, the mortals will be spared, and the elfin women know the bitter sting of parting?”
“If there was any other way,” he sighed.
The queen walked out on to the balcony. The square below had come to life, and the elves went about their daily duties as though nothing was amiss. Those who sensed her presence looked up and bowed in respect. In that fleeting moment it was impossible to miss the look of fear in their eyes. She went back inside to where her husband waited.
“How many babies are to be born in the hidden world?” She asked.
“Fourteen, according to the wise women,” the king answered.
“What will you do, go from door to door asking who is willing to surrender their new-born? You will not find your subjects so forthcoming, when faced with such a decision.”
She knew she was being cruel, and her words just added to her husband’s torment. But she was queen and if such sacrifices were to be made, she must lead by example. A knock on the door kept her from saying anything more. One of her ladies-in-waiting peeped in.
“Forgive me, majesties,” the woman bowed. “But Lady Blackthorn’s pains have started, and the wise women are not here.”
“I will come at once,” the queen dismissed her, and turning to her husband, asked. “Can you forgive me for the cruelty of my words?”
“There is nothing to forgive,” he kissed her. “These are terrible times.”
As the queen hurried down the hallway to her friend’s chambers, she tried to ignore the gnawing pains in her back and stomach. Her child was in a hurry to be born, and she could not bear to think about the terrible price she would have to pay to save her people.
CHAPTER THREE
BARGAMORE
1995
The blaze from the funeral pyre threw leaping shadows across the mirrored walls, and the crackling of the flames echoed like thunder around the vast cavern. Those gathered around the sacred lake stood with heads bowed, too sad to watch as the craft drifted closer to the edge of the waterfall, that would take it out to sea. The cliffs on either side of the lake rose in towering heights and beyond them stars glistened in the night sky. All funerals are held under the cover of darkness, so that those who live on the land above, do not see the smoke. Each ledge, each fissure in the rock was crammed with fairies, but their colours were muted. The sombre black they wore to mourn the dead made them look like small blackbirds that had taken roost and might at any time take flight. On the lower level’s dwarfs vied for space, as they tried to see over the shoulders of the elves. Lanterns on long poles hung by the shore, but once the blazing pyre disappeared, they did little to dispel the gloom.
“It is time to leave, my dear,” Heather, the Queen of the Elves, placed a small, white hand on her husband’s arm.
“Yes, we will go now, my love,” King Karone’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Forgive me, I was deep in thought.”
“It is understandable,” she linked her arm through his. “These are sad times.”
As the royal party moved off, those standing behind them bowed, and the assembled throng parted to form a pathway. The dwarfs jumped from rocks and started to walk away with the toddling gait of those whose legs are too short for their bodies. The fairies took flight and moved en masse like a dark swarm swooping over the heads of the elves, as they made for home. Lord Blackthorn, the king’s friend and adviser walked beside his wife. His face was ashen and lined with worry.
“You must rest when we get back to the castle,” his wife said. “These past few days have taken their toll.”
He looked up at her and tried to smile, but his eyes betrayed him, and she felt the familiar sense of doom gnawing at her heart.
“It is you who should be resting, Iris” he put his arm around her waist. “Your time is almost at an end.”
Lady Blackthorn smiled and patted the bump in the front of her gown. She, like the queen, was due to give birth at any moment. It would be a firstborn for both families and the imminent births were the only light in this time of dreadful darkness. The funeral was the second one in a year. To mortals this would seem a small amount, but to the Elfin, whose lifespan was many hundreds of years, it spelt catastrophe.
The castle loomed in the distance and was set high above the land on an outcrop of rock. Steps were carved on each side and the queen’s ladies-in-waiting helped both the pregnant women with the climb. This gave their husbands a chance to speak without frightening their wives.
“It is a sad time,” the king shook his head.” Lord Ashwen was so young; he had just reached his hundred and sixty-eighth year.”
“It is no age,” Lord Blackthorn sighed.
“Have you asked the others to assemble in the throne room?” The king asked.
“Yes, majesty, they will be waiting for us,” Lord Blackthorn assured him.
. Both men have the fair colouring of their kind, and their shoulder-length hair shimmered in the light of the many torches lining the steps.
“Is there something else bothering you, majesty,” his friend asked. “Something other than Lord Ashwen’s death?”
“You know me too well,” the king stopped and looked at him.
“I should do, majesty, after all this time,” Lord Blackthorn’s laugh seemed alien.
It was a long time since the sound was heard in the land of Bargamore.
“Did you see them?” The king asked.
“I did majesty. They tried to stay hidden in the shadows, but they failed.”
The creatures the elves referred to are the Erebans. Dark, soulless beings born out of men’s darkest thoughts and desires. They inhabited a land beyond the forest; a place of endless shadow, shunned by the others who share the hidden world. The Erebans are the elves only enemy. Though the elves are of normal size, the Erebans tower over them, and stand at almost eight feet tall. Dressed from head to toe in a cloak of black, they make a frightening spectacle to those unlucky enough to meet them late at night. For this is their time. When others sleep, the Erebans come to life and roam the darkness. Their eyes are completely black, so they are blind during the day, but when the sun sets, they can see further than most. It is unusual for them to stray into the land of Bargamore, and the king knew they had done so only to mock him. They knew the elves were weak and like any predator they circled, anticipating the kill. The king sensed their sneers. He knew if something was not done to strengthen his people, then Perius, their leader, would lead his men in to battle against those in the hidden world. At any other time, he would not fear this, but now, as his people grew weaker, he could not bear to envision it.
In the throne room, Galten, the Seer, stood at a table and gazed into a crystal bowl. He stirred the water to dispel the images that gathered.
“Has the outlook changed?” Mistress Doogood asked.
“No, nothing has changed,” the old man shook his head.
“Nothing?” Her sister healers Mistress Gamp and Mistress Tweed chorused.
“We have a little time left,” Galten said. “Not very long, perhaps forty years.”
“Forty years,” the wise women gasped. “But that is, but a moment.”
“Nevertheless, it is what I see,” he sighed.
“We are working hard to find a cure for this wasting malady, and I pray we may do so soon,” Mistress Doogood said.
Lord Fabien, the ruler of Faranord, the land of the fairies, snorted. Mr and Mrs Furze, who were there to speak for the dwarfs lumbered over to where he sat on the arm of a chair.
“Whatever is the matter?” Mrs Furze asked.
“I do not think anything is the matter,” her husband said, before Lord Fabien could speak.
“But he made a noise, my dear,” His wife said. “At least I think it was him.”
“Perhaps it was someone else,” her husband said. “I may not have been him after all.”
“You are quite right, my dear,” his wife said, “Maybe it was…”
“Enough,” Lord Fabien roared. “We will be here all night if this continues.”
Mrs Furze blushed and turned away. Lord Fabian realising how rude he had been, apologised. Everyone loved Mr and Mrs Furze, but it must be admitted, they are the most absentminded couple. They rarely get to the root of a problem. The dwarfs did not have a ruler and worked together as a happy little group.
“What I was trying to say,” Lord Fabien said. “Was that I think my plan is the best.”
“The king will never hear of it,” Galten said. “It is a barbaric suggestion and one that belongs to olden times.”
“It might seem so,” Lord Fabien said. “But it has worked in the past. If you listen to me the elfin bloodline will be strengthened, and you will be saved all this misery.”
The wise women turned to look at Galten.
“Do not tell me you agree with them?” The old man said.
“Well…” Mistress Dogood muttered.
“Can you imagine the sorrow it would cause?” Galten asked. “The king would never agree to such a thing.”
“He will, if he wants to save his people,” Lord Fabien said.
“What if we could do it without causing suffering on either side?” Mistress Gamp asked
“I can see no way around it,” Galten said. “No matter what we do, someone will have to suffer.”
“But what if…” Mistress Gamp started to whisper in his ear.
The others watched as the old seer’s eyes grew wide in astonishment.
“The king will never allow it to happen,” he said.
“The king will never allow what?”
They were so caught up in their planning; they had not heard him enter the room.
“Well?” He looked at the seer. “I am waiting.”
“Changelings, majesty,” the old man stuttered. “They want to exchange elfin babies with those from the mortal world.”
The nights are quieter now. The only noise to disturb the dark air is the hoot of the owl or the blood-chilling cry of the vixen. Annie and Dora still sleep, and their grave is tended and watched over. The house reverted to Emily after Liam’s freak accident, and with the help of Cora, Marie, and an assortment of nursing staff; it is now a retirement home. Its occupants the inmates of Hillcrest enjoy a freedom denied to them for so long. Between them they have restored the gardens. Marble statues appeared, haphazardly dotting the ground, when the trailing vines were stripped back. Everything was cleaned and polished, giving a sense of renewal. The old take pleasure in Laura and Shelly’s childish chatter and they in turn, love their newly acquired grandparents. They sit together at night and swap news, the two young girls just beginning their life, the others contemplating the end, but safe and content at last.
Still, there are times, when the dark closes in and the house lays quiet, when Cora stands at her window and watches. She looks across the gardens at the statues glowing white in the moonlight and standing like silent sentinels over the grave and wonders how long the peace will last. The red band on her wrist, burnt there by Annie’s hand, shows stark against the whiteness of her skin, and is a constant reminder of the eternal battle she witnessed. She traces her finger along the mark and her mind strays back to the day of Liam’s funeral. Many dismissed her lack of emotion for shock and her sob one of anguish, on seeing Liam’s latest pillow friend. They tut-tutted and whispered about bad taste, but Cora cared nothing about social niceties. What caused her to cry out was the unmistakable bulge in the front of the woman’s coat?
Annie sensed his fear. Its musky, acidic smell surrounded him like an aura. They were alone in the dark and the next move was down to her.
“Do you know who I am,” she asked. “Or why I am here?”
“I know you’re trespassing,” his voice was hoarse, as he brought the back of his hand up to wipe the moisture from his face.
“Then we are alike. You have no claim to this house either.”
“Oh, I get it,” his laugh sounded hollow in the stillness. “You’re one of those bleeding hearts. On some sort of quest, are you?” He jabbed the statue at Annie, pushing her back towards the curtain-less window. “Did the old woman put you up to this?”
“Stop,” Annie pleaded, as for a moment, her fear of the O Brien’s returned.
Liam dropped the statue and grabbed her by the throat. Her back was pressed against the window frame as he moved ever closer. The hand encircling her pressed harder, and she moved up on her toes to try and escape the pressure.
“Let me go,” she croaked. “You are hurting me.”
“This is nothing to what I’m going to do to you. I’ll show you pain that up to now you could only imagine,” Liam’s spittle flew against her face. “You won’t look quite as pretty when I’m done with you.”
His words took her back to that room. She saw once more the gleam of the nails in the chair. Smelt the leather on the restraints and looked on the blood-soaked body of her sister, lit by the light of the brazier. The heat threatened to overwhelm her, but this time the fire was inside her. Liam felt the flesh beneath his hand ripple and ebb, the movement unnatural. He tried to draw back, but terror held him prisoner.
“Fiend,” the voice was no longer that of a young girl. “Betrayer of women; destroyer of the innocent.”
“No,” Liam sobbed, as the flesh he held crackled like dead leaves.
“You bring destruction and death to all and care nothing for the suffering,” Annie continued. “Very well, let us see if you welcome death as freely as you embrace its power.”
The clouds parted and allowed the moon to light the room. Liam screamed into the face pressed against his. The hollow, cobwebby eyes, the jutting bones covered in places by blackened skin, and the putrid breath was toxic.
“So,” Annie smiled at his bulging eyes. “You see me now as I really am. So, tell me, do you still think I am pretty?”
His only answer came from the small trickle of urine that flowed down his legs and dripped onto the floor. He gagged on the stench, and the muscles in his stomach clenched until he thought he would embarrass himself even further. Still, his legs remained like lead.
“And what about my hair?” Annie asked. “Is it not beautiful? Do you not want to touch it?” Reaching up, she ripped some of the matted tendrils from her skull and waved them under his nose. “Go on, run your fingers through it.”
Though the sound of Liam’s screams were as soothing as music, The Dark One grew impatient. He flew towards the attic window and placed his hands on either side of it. All pretence of normality gone; he showed his true features as he roared.
“Kill him. Do it now.”
The demonic face at the window startled the figures silhouetted inside, but it was enough to break the spell and before Annie could regain control, Liam ran screaming down the stairs. Dora, despite her promise, came running to see what the noise was all about. So, the first thing Liam encountered, as he ran along the landing, was the little girl. In his terror and heightened state of awareness, he saw her as she really was. To her he was the monster who’d beaten her to death, and she started to scream. Behind him he heard the slow, shuffling steps on the wooden attic stairs. The thing holding the doll was blocking the stairway, but that didn’t deter him in his flight, and he launched himself over the rail landing awkwardly on the stairs below.
“Go back in there, now,” Annie ordered, and the child scuttled back into the bedroom.
Liam limped down the stairs aware of the footsteps following. The front door loomed in the distance and he gritted his teeth against the pain, as he moved towards it. Twice his sweat-soaked fingers slipped on the latch until finally, with the aid of the storm, it flew open. He had forgotten in his terror, the demon outside. The steps were carpeted with leaves, and he struggled to keep his balance as he climbed down. His injured foot gave way when he reached the rough gravel, and he was forced to grab on to one of the stone sculptures. There were footsteps on the driveway, and he cried with relief. This was short lived when he saw who it was, he screamed again and brought a hand up to protect his face.
“Bastard,” Cora raised the fallen branch. “You killed my child.”
“No,” the voice from the doorway cried.
Cora looked towards the sound and her eyes grew wide with fear. Something was making its way down the steps. Something so horrible, that for a moment time ceased and she remained frozen, the arm holding the branch raised above her head.
“This is mine to deal with,” the thing said. “I am beyond hope. All is lost to me, but you have a chance. As yet, you remain unblemished by this monster, this thief of time.”
Cora realised, despite the creature’s fearsome appearance, the voice was that of a young woman. Liam reached out and caught hold of Cora’s skirt.
“Help me,” he sobbed.
Cora looked into her husband’s eyes and saw reflected in them the cold, white body of her child. She reached down and gently pried away his fingers. All the while the thing stood silent, waiting.
“Poor Liam,” Cora stroked her husband’s cheek, and he grabbed at her hand and kissed it. “You know,” she smiled at him. “I never realised until now what a truly, pathetic little man you are.”
“What are you saying?” He asked, as she raised the branch again.
“I’m saying, I hope you rot in hell,” she swung as hard as she could.
Annie leaped forward and caught her hand in mid air. Cora struggled with her screaming above the noise of the storm, she had to do this. But the fingers encircling her wrist burned like boiling water on her skin and she dropped to her knees moaning in pain. The branch slipped from her grasp.
“Listen to me,” the thing knelt beside her.
Cora’s tried to turn away. Tried to sink into the blackness she saw in the eyeless hollows of the face before her, but instead she clutched at her empty stomach and sobbed.
“I need you to heed my words,” it continued. “You have young ones to care for. They will need you in the days ahead. Do not desert them as I did to all I held most dear.”
Liam watched the scene before him and took advantage of his wife’s distress. His car keys were inside the house, and with his injured ankle, he would never make it inside and back to the car without them noticing. His only option was to make for the trees and out onto the road beyond them. The gravel crunched like glass beneath his feet, but the crying of the wind masked its sound. He inched his way towards the back of the house and moved as fast as he possibly could through the jungle-like garden and into the shelter of the trees.
Annie’s heart ached for the woman and for her terrible loss.
“I know something of your suffering,” she whispered.
“How can you?” Cora sobbed. “No one knows what I feel.”
She looked up at the long-dead thing and gasped. Between the intermittent lightning flashes, she caught a glimpse of the young girl. A stunningly, beautiful girl with flowing auburn hair that floated around her in the wind.
“What are you?” Cora asked.
“I am a wraith. I bring death to the evil in this place. For centuries I have wandered the earth in search of peace. Now it is within my grasp. Your man is the last in his line, and his time has come.”
The roar of thunder overhead was so loud Cora covered her ears. But Annie heard reflected in the sound the voice of The Dark One.
“He is getting away,” he roared, and in an instant, she was on her feet and running.
Liam stopped to rest against a tree. Despite the cold night air, he was sweating. Not far to go, he thought, as the white of the road showed clear between the trees. Pain shot along his leg and he reached down and rubbed at his swollen ankle. There was no time to waste. That thing could come after him at any time. He swore aloud, as he snagged his foot on a root and fell hard onto the forest’s branch-strewn floor.
“Christ,” he gritted his teeth and tried to stand.
This is that bitch Cora’s fault. His anger so intense, he forgot for a moment he was being hunted and it was not until he felt the fingers in his hair hauling him up, his terror returned. He was propelled face first into the nearest tree trunk. The force, with which he made contact, shattered his nose and the crunch of bone echoed in his pain-filled howls.
Annie spun him around. Blood matted his face, dripped down his chin and coated her fingers.
“You cannot escape me,” she snarled.
Her putrid breath mingled with the taste of his blood and made him retch. The grip of the skeleton fingers was so tight he knew if he vomited, he would choke. All around him the night filled with sound. There were urgent whisperings, hundreds of voices chanted prayers he remembered from long ago, when he still believed in a power greater than himself.
“You will not stop me,” Annie drew back a little, but still retained her death grip on the quivering man. She looked towards the shadows in the trees and roared “This is how it must be, if I am to rest.”
“No, Annie, no,” the cries encircled them.
“They will not stop me,” the thing moved closer, until it was pressing against him.
Annie brought her free hand up to his face and then slowly almost dreamlike, she allowed her fingers to slide down his shirt and rip away each button.
Liam sobbed, as the bony fingers pulled aside the fabric and exposed his flesh. The cool night air made his skin tingle, but it was not this that made the goose pimples rise. It was the feel of the claw as it moved towards his chest.
“Please,” he sobbed. “Let me go.”
“You expect mercy; but you have never shown any?”
“Just tell me what you want. I’ll do whatever you say, pay any price.”
“Your riches mean nothing to me, but you will pay, and the price is what lies beneath.”
Liam screamed, as the dirty razor-sharp nails stabbed at his chest, then traced downwards opening the incision wider.
Cora heard him and staggered to her feet. She made no move towards the sound and it wasn’t until she felt the small hand slip into hers, she looked down. A little girl, no older than six or seven and clutching a doll was looking up at her.
“We have to help Annie,” the child nodded towards the forest. “Or else The Dark One will have her forever.”
Cora dropped the child’s hand and started to run around the house.
Liam felt the warm blood as it dripped down his chilled skin. The wound in his chest burned and his eyes widened as the fingers of the thing arched ready for attack.
“Don’t,” he begged.
“It is too late to beg for mercy. I asked for it once and my cries went unheard, and the cries of your son will never sound because of you. I believed men such as you were heartless; I now know I was wrong. I can feel it beating as any other, but it is not like any other. It is rotten to the core.”
Liam’s screams echoed through the trees, as Annie thrust her fingers deep into the wound. She felt the flesh part and the softness of muscles, as she moved towards her target. Her skeleton fingers scraped bone against bone on his ribs.
Despite her revulsion Cora managed to grab hold of her. Annie caught off guard, was thrown back. The suction sound as her fingers were torn from Liam’s flesh was nauseating.
“Annie, no,” Cora gasped, winded from the run and her recent ordeal.
Liam slumped to the ground and was clutching at his torn chest trying to stem the flow of blood. Annie, stunned by the surprise attack, sat against a tree trunk.
“He’s not worth it,” Cora said. “It’s bad enough I’ve had to suffer up to now at his hands, but think of it Annie, yours will be eternal.”
“That is a price I am willing to pay.”
Liam tried to back away as she crawled towards him, ready to renew her assault.
“Please, no,” Cora begged, caring only for the memory of the young girl she had glimpsed moments before and nothing for the man she had once called husband.
“No,” the cries of the spirits joined with hers, and Cora hugged herself as the ground beneath her shook.
The roots of long dead trees sprang from the earth and wrapped themselves around Annie’s ankles, pulling her back. She roared in frustration and beat at the earth-brown sinews holding her against the trunk. Some were so brittle with age they crumbled to dust beneath her rapacious tearing. But as soon as she managed to pull one away another replaced it. Cora sobbed, as she watched the battle before her. Nature itself loved this young woman enough to fight for her. The wind died completely, and the night grew still, except for the snapping of the roots and the howls of their prisoner. The moonlight returned and small shafts of its light made their way through the trees. From far above her head, Cora heard an urgent rustling as every bird awoke from slumbering and took to the air. Crows, sparrows, starlings, and magpies flew as one towards the sky, their wings beating a tattoo and their voices calling out to him who created them for help. Still, the heavens remained silent.
Dora sat on the steps of the house crying and hugging her doll. The noises from the forest frightened her, and even though she wanted to help her sister, fear held her in its grip. She was so frightened she did not even move when the big lights came towards her.
The taxi deposited its passengers and drove away. The darkness returned and Laura, Shelly and Emily were left standing staring at the little girl who sat with her eyes covered, sobbing.
“What’s that noise? Laura looked at Emily.
“I don’t know, but it’s coming from behind the house.”
“Shelly, stay there,” Laura ordered, as she followed the old woman.
Shelly walked to the steps and sat down. Dora peeped between her fingers and realising it was another child took her hands down.
“You have to help Annie,” she whispered.
“I can’t,” Shelly said. “My head is broken.” And she rubbed at the offending lump.
“What happened?”
“My stupid sister did it.”
“Why?”
“Cause I called her names.”
“Hugh beat me with a stick.”
Who’s he?”
“A horrid man and very big like this,” she stretched her arms above her head.
“What did he beat you for?”
“I would not tell a lie about Annie.”
“Did it hurt a lot?”
“Yes, I was all cut and my new dress got blood on it, look.”
Shelly bent to look at the dark stain on the faded garment and wrinkled her nose.
“That’s gross. What did you do then?”
“I fell asleep.”
“Hey,” Shelly noticed the doll, reached across, and grabbed it. “That’s mine.”
“I did not break it or anything. I just played with it.”
Shelly looked at the strange little girl with the big sad eyes and gave the doll back.
“Here, you can keep it. I have loads more.”
“Oh, thank you,” Dora clasped the wonderful gift and, while the earth and all of its forces fought against the threatening darkness two little girls sat and talked about dolls and sisters and things that remained the same throughout the centuries.
Laura caught up with Emily and they walked hand in hand into the turmoil. Annie still fought against her bonds; Liam managed to get to his feet but was unable to walk. A tree took his weight, as he leant against it. He needed both hands to keep his flesh together.
“Mam,” Cora did not hear Laura call her name as above her the birds circled faster, their cries growing more urgent. It was not until her daughter touched her, she realised she was there. She knew the old woman with her had to be Emily.
“Laura, don’t look,” She pulled the child against her, trying to shield her eyes.
“It’s all right, Mam. I know Annie and I know why she is angry. He hurt you, didn’t he?” She cast a disdainful look at her blood-soaked father.
Cora did not have time to reply.
“Annie,” Emily walked towards the struggling figure. “Annie, dearest, don’t you know me?”
Annie stopped and looked at the old woman.
“I’m family, Annie. I am descendent of Rose. Look deep child and remember.”
The skies grew quiet as the birds flew down and lined the branches of the trees. Nothing stirred; even the moon stood still and waited.
“You are Rose’s child?”
“Yes,” Emily walked closer. “And I know all about you and what you’ve suffered.”
“Then she lived?”
“Yes, child. They all lived. Meg, Pat, Lily and Paul. They’ve kept watch over you throughout time.”
With this Annie started to cry. She bowed her head and sobbed, and when she finally looked up, she was a young girl again.
“Then I was not alone?”
“You were never alone. Their love was hidden from you by The Dark One’s curse.”
Who’s The Dark One?” Laura asked.
A shadow slipped from between the trees.
“I am,” he bowed mockingly and walked over to the child.
Cora pushed her daughter behind her, but she was no match for his superhuman strength, and he threw her aside. Bending down, he took Laura’s chin in his hand.
“Don’t touch me,” she tried to pull away. “You’re a bad man.”
“Oh, you have no idea how bad I am, little girl.”
The smack she gave him resounded in the stillness.
“I hate you.”
“The feeling is mutual I assure you.”
“Take your hands off her” the roots released Annie; she pushed him aside and became a barrier between him and the child. “I will not allow you to hurt her.”
“You cannot stop me,” he sneered.
“Oh, I can stop you, Lucifer. Like you I have learned much, and I will cast you down as Michael did before me.”
His eyes blazed and his mouth drew back in a feral grin, as he lunged at her. The force with which she hit him sent him flying and he landed so hard, the earth beneath him cracked. He sat for a moment watching her, undecided. Then got to his feet and brushed the dirt from his clothes. The three women and the child moved closer together. Finally, he spoke.
“Very well; you have made your choice,” he waved at Liam. “He is still alive and my curse cannot be lifted and believe me Annie, he will sire more sons. Your search for peace will be endless.”
“But I know I am no longer alone. Dora is with me, I have seen her, and Rose survived. I will take this knowledge with me always, and I have learned so much I can no longer be of use to you. I will always hold true to the Most High. Go now.”
He moved back into the shadows until they could no longer see him.
“Where did he go?” Laura asked.
“Back to where he belongs,” Annie said. “And I pray he stays there for a long time.”
The lights in the house came on as the power supply was restored and lit the garden.
“Dora is waiting for you, child,” Emily took Annie’s hand and led her out from the trees. Cora and Laura walked behind them.
Liam’s laughter followed them, its sound hollow in the night air. All fear left him, and he considered himself immortal after hearing The Dark One’s words. Already his wound was starting to heal.
“You’re fucked,” he called after them. “All of you are fucked, understand? You,” he jabbed his finger at Cora. “You’re out, and you old woman,” He glared at Emily. “you’ll rot in that home.”
Annie started to walk back to him, but Emily stopped her.
“Leave him be, child. There’s a greater power will deal with him.”
“That’s right,” he sneered. “Listen to the old woman. Because one way or another you are really fucked. Kill me and you know what will happen. I heard him back there. I’m not stupid.”
“Come, child,” Emily pulled the reluctant Annie away.
“I’ll knock the house and dig every inch of the land until I find you. I will grind your bones to dust and there is nothing you can do. You’re useless,” he was shaking with temper. “Just like every woman ever born, you’re worthless.”
The watching birds screeched into flight, as Annie ran back towards him.
“I will kill you,” she screamed, but before she could touch him…
The clouds parted and a ray of light brighter than the sun cut through the night sky forcing them to cover their eyes. The lightening bolt, thrown by one who had remained silent for too long, found its target and cut Liam’s heart in two. The shocked women looked in wonder at his fallen body and the small plume of smoke rising from it.
“Don’t cry, Mam,” Laura said. “Dad was a bad man and he’d have hurt us and Annie.”
“I know,” Cora could not tell her young daughter her tears were ones of relief.
“The power of God is still strong,” Emily said. “And as he says there’s a time for everything under heaven,” she pointed to the opposite side of the garden and the figure of the blond child skipping along beside the young woman.
After the rain, the warm air started to rise, and a mist floated above the grass. Annie and Dora stopped when they reached their resting place and waved.
“God grant you peace,” Emily called to them, before the mist rose and they were lost to her forever.
And deep below the earth, wrapped in its velvet folds, a small child cuddled closer to her sister, stuck her thumb in her mouth and with her free hand holding tightly to her doll drifted away.
The Dark One stood amid storm tossed trees and watched as Annie sobbed over her own grave.
“I am so frightened, Dora,” she whispered. “Meg’s gone and I’m all alone. There is no one to guide me and I am weary. I want to lie down with you and sleep for the rest of eternity.”
The Dark One felt the spirits being moved by her plight. They came from out of the earth, from the sky and their voices echoed in the wind. His enemy was frightened, and he had a right to be so. As soon as he harnessed that girl’s power, he, once called Prince of Angels, would be as strong as the one calling himself God. Then the continuation of the world would be in his hands and he would wreak havoc on all who opposed him. Even now he felt those that lurked in the dark shadows drawing nearer, sensing his strength.
“Let me help you.”
Annie looked up, then shied back from his touch.
“You help me? All you have ever done is hurt anyone who has crossed your path. Why would you help me now, Lucifer?”
“I told you before. Do not speak that name.”
The skin rippled on his face threatening to expose his true features, and the fire in his eyes glowed, as he tried to control his rage.
“Don’t anger me, woman,” he warned. “You, who are without ally, cannot afford to turn down my offer.”
“An offer of eternal damnation?”
“That is not so. I will give you your life back, as promised. You will live out your allotted time and all you love will be restored.”
Annie looked down at the still, silent grave and the dark earth covering her sister.
“She was so young,” The Dark One picked up some of the soil and crumbled it between his fingers. “What a full life she could have lived, but for your selfishness; I would have destroyed the O Brien’s back then and all of this suffering could have been avoided. Yet even now you allow it to continue and another child has died because of him.”
“Then it is as I suspected, the child is dead?”
“A boy child,” The Dark One laughed.
Annie looked at him, disgusted.
“Well, you have to admit it’s amusing.”
“I find no merriment in the taking of life. Get out of my sight, Lucifer.”
This time the use of his given name had no effect on him.
“But it is your fault, if you would, but once admit it. You allow him to live and he will sire others. That woman, the one he calls wife, is not the only one he lies with.”
She could still hear his laughter as he faded back into the shadows. It was her fault, what he said was the truth. If she had given him her power all the suffering could have been avoided.
The house lay shrouded in night, as she moved towards it. All around her the good spirits beseeched her not to go there, but she was beyond reason. She moved silent as death up the steps towards the main door and stood in the shadows, waiting.
Liam groaned, as he drove up the driveway. The trees arched across his path; bending and swaying until he was sure they would scratch the paintwork of his car. He would have to see about cutting them down. A branch scraped across the roof as though reading his thoughts.
“Fuck,” he muttered, and put his foot down hard on the accelerator.
A shower of gravel, thrown up by the car wheels, heralded his arrival at the front door. Ducking his head against the storm, he ran up the steps. The key creaked, as he turned it, and before he closed the door, Annie glided by him. Inside the house was inky black, and he felt his way along the wall for a light switch. The light from the grand chandelier was harsh and lit up the streaks of blood at the bottom of the stairs. He ignored them and went towards his study. The house felt damp, a fault with the boiler, he thought, but he was too tired to correct it. The wait in the hospital seemed eternal. Four hours playing the devoted husband drained him. Hours when he could have been attending to better things. He smirked, thinking of what his dear wife referred to as his latest pillow friend. God, but women bored him. The wiles and whispered promises made his teeth itch. Whores, every one of them, but he made them pay and laughed when their words of love turned to screams of pain. Being the dumb creatures, they were, they came back for more; like whipped dogs cowering before their master.
Logs were piled beside the fire, so he threw some into the grate and set them alight. Taking his hankie from his pocket, he rubbed at his nose. The room smelled musty and a damp odour seemed to surround him.
Annie heard his every thought as though spoken and noticed how his hand shook as he filled a glass from a decanter.
I stayed as long as was necessary, he told himself. After all, the doctor said she would sleep for hours after the anaesthetic. No point in hanging around. The child was dead, best thing for everyone really. When she returned from the hospital, they could all go away for a few days as a family. Women liked that sort of things and she would soon forget the baby. Yes, a holiday would do him good, somewhere hot put a bit of colour into his skin. He held out his hands to inspect their paleness.
Outside despite the storm, the trees stretched skywards reaching out for the heavens. Fighting the force of the wind, they held their branches aloft and begged God to be merciful on one they loved. Even those who lived by the sea and knew well its ways; wondered why tonight of all nights, its voice was so loud. It roared and tossed, giant waves thundered towards the shore and shattered against rocks. The night creatures of forest and hedgerows covered their eyes and wept. “Will you abandon us?” The elements cried. “Will you let the one who was cast down have power over us, as you did to her who was part of us all?”
The heavens lay silent. Even the light from the few stars glowing through the blackness seemed to dim. They must stand alone and be Annie’s only hope. The trees called to the earth and all who inhabited it. From out of the forest came the first creatures. Fox and deer wild cats, rats and even owls worked side by side as they dug into Dora’s grave. Earth flew left and right as sharp claw and nail pierced the soil.
“Come child, come,” The spirits urged. “Your sister is in need of you.”
A small white hand forced its way through the earth and then another until soon, Dora was heaving herself up from the dank hole and running towards the house.
Annie could feel the changes occurring. The smell of her own body sickened her. It was of mould and decay. She knew her features must be frightening and when she touched her hair she cried, a shuddering, sobbing, pain-filled cry. Small tufts as dry as straw laced her fingers. This was his fault; she looked at Liam who had dropped his brandy at the sound. Up till now, she had not allowed him to see her, but that was about to change…
“Annie, Annie,” Dora ran up the steps of the house and tapped at the door. “Annie, let me in.”
Liam looked around, trying to see where the noise was coming from. Annie’s heart ached at the sound of the long-lost voice, but she did not move. The spirits were clever; they would try to distract her. The knocking continued, and Liam who was still shaking from the cry, got up to see what it was. Dora ran past him when he opened the door. The only thing he felt was the force of the wind. There was nothing there. Not for the first time did he question his choice of house. These old places were filled with creaks and groans. Shivering, he went back to the fire.
Annie held Dora and brushed away the dried earth from her face and picked little clumps from her hair, every trace of anger gone now she had her sister back.
“You have to come with me, Annie. Mamma says so.” The child looked up at her. “It is dark, and I am cold.”
“I will come with you, I promise, but not now. You must go back and wait for me.”
“I do not want to. I want to stay with you.”
Before Annie could answer, Liam banged his refilled glass down on the side table. Dora screamed.
“It is him, Annie, Hugh.”
“No,” Annie held her closer. “It is not Hugh; it is someone belonging to him.”
“He hurt me.”
“I know, my sweet, but he cannot hurt you anymore. He cannot even see you”
“He cannot, really, why?”
Annie shrugged, unsure of what to say, but this seemed great fun to Dora, and she crept closer to Liam. Had he been able to see the long dead child, he would have lost his mind. But then so would Annie. All she saw was a rosy-cheeked, blond-haired little girl with her face pressed against Liam’s. In truth, the nose almost touching his was stripped bare of flesh. The blue eyes sparkling with mischief were dark endless hollows, and the flowing hair, tattered tendrils framing the grinning skull.
“You hurt me,” Dora whispered and reached out towards his drink.
An invisible hand swept it from the table. Liam gaped at the fallen glass and spilled liquid.
Dora delighted with her prank, ran from the room and up the stairs. Sure, Annie would scold her; she hid in the shadows on the gallery.
Liam dropped to his knees and mopped at the stain on his Persian rug. The wind shook the shutters on the window and pried them loose. The sound of the wood hitting against the frame made him scream. From within the storm The Dark One watched the tableau and rubbed his hands with glee. Lightening struck the power lines plunging the house into darkness.
Liam, glad of the firelight, took the two ornate holders from the mantelpiece and lit the candles.
Annie crept up the stairs in search of her sister. When Dora heard her coming, she ran further into the house.
“Dora, come back here.”
“You have to find me,” the child giggled and climbed upwards.
Liam looked towards the ceiling and called out to his daughters to be quiet. It was then he remembered they were not there. He was apprehensive, not about ghosts or spirits, because he believed in nothing. Still, there was someone in the house. There was no mistaking the patter of footsteps on the floor above. He wished there were more lights. Despite piling logs on the flames, the fire seemed to lose its glow, and dark shadows crept from the corners of the room. It was no use; he would have to investigate. Taking one of the candlesticks, he moved towards the door.
The hall lay shrouded in moonbeams and darting shapes moved all around him. Leaves, he comforted himself, shadows of leaves being tossed about in the storm outside and reflecting on the floor. But these were nothing so innocent. From out of the darkness the lost souls urged him up, wanting to please their master and bring about Liam’s end. They knew she was up there. The one who could set them free as the master promised. But they were hindered in their work by the others; the ones who worked beside her. Time after time strong hands reached out and pulled them back into the shadows.
Liam moved up winching at each creaking board on the stairs. Somewhere above him a door banged, and he almost dropped the candle. His heart thudded against his ribs and he held the light higher. Was there something crouched at the gallery rail? Cold fear wandered down his spine, sweat coated his upper lip and he stood uncertain of what to do. For a moment all was quiet within the house, except for the sound of the rain on the roof, persistent and melancholic.
“Fuck this,” his voice shattered the silence. “You’re dead, do you hear me. Whoever you are, you’re dead when I get my hands on you.”
“Annie,” Dora came running from her hiding place. “He is going to kill us.”
“No, he is not,” she watched the flame as it moved closer. “Not this time, come.”
She led Dora into the children’s room. The dark was the same as the light to them and the child squealed with delight her fear forgotten when she saw the array of dolls.
“Now, stay here and play,” Annie said. “I will lead him away.”
Dora nodded and picked up the nearest doll.
“Look at me,” Annie turned her face towards her. “I mean what I say. You must stay here. No matter what you hear, Promise.”
Dora nodded again and Annie wagged her finger at her.
“Say you promise. Cross your heart and hope to…”
Dora’s fingers on her lips stopped her.
“Do not say that, Annie. Remember the last time?”
Annie remembered too well and after Dora assured her, she would stay put, she went in search of Liam. Which was no hard feat, as he stumbled along the corridor, a candle in one hand and a small marble statue in the other by way of a weapon? Annie ran by him and up the next flight of stairs towards the attic.
Liam raised the hand holding the statue and wiped his forehead. His shirt clung to his back and the wool from his pants chaffed his sweat-soaked thighs. Every nerve in his body screamed at him to get out, but something was urging him on. A sinister seductiveness surrounded him pulling him towards it. The door to the attic stairs swung noiselessly open and his feet moved forward, despite his terror. Unbroken veils of cobwebs blocked his path and he pushed them aside with the statue. White silken gossamer clung to his sleeves and about his shoulders, making him glow against the black background. Someone stood silhouetted by the window.
“Come out of the shadows. I’m warning you,” Liam raised the statue higher.
Annie walked towards him, the Annie of old with her waist length hair and winning smile. For a moment Liam was taken aback, until she spoke.
“Welcome, I have been waiting for you,” leaning over, she blew the candle out.
Cora groaned, the pressure on her right arm was unbearable. Even in her drug-induced, semi-conscious state, she managed to reach out with her free hand to brush away what was hurting her. There was vague mumbling from above and her hand was clasped in a cool, but firm embrace.
“Cora, wake up now.”
The overhead lights were blinding, so she covered her face. Her mind felt hazy, her thoughts muddled, but she managed to focus in time to see the white figure beside her bed fold the blood pressure cuff.
“Welcome back,” the nurse smiled. “And how are you feeling?”
“I fell,” she tried to make sense of what happened.
“Indeed, you did. It was a miracle you didn’t break something in a fall like that.”
“I didn’t?” She held up her hands to inspect them.
They were covered in yellow and blue bruises.
“I’m afraid you have many more like that, but never mind, it could be worse.”
Now her mind was finally clear of drugs, Cora’s hand went instinctively to her stomach, and she knew her baby was gone. She turned towards the nurse and with eyes filled with fear, asked. “My baby?”
“I’m sorry, my dear. There was nothing the doctors could do.”
“No, please,” she started to sob.
“The pregnancy wasn’t advanced enough. His little lungs were unable to cope.”
“A boy?”
“Yes, you can see him later, when you’re feeling better.”
But Cora knew she would never feel any better and turning on her side, she howled for the loss of her child.
“I’ll ask the doctor for something to relax you,” the nurse patted the bedcovers.
“No,” Cora called after her. “I don’t want anything. Let me be.”
The nurse turned away, shaking her head. Cora wanted to scream, leave me alone. I want to grieve for my loss. Instead, she huddled down under the blankets and her sobbing made the bed shake. After a while she fell into an uneasy sleep. She was back at the house, standing at the top of the stairs with her arms full of dirty bed linen. Then, she was falling, tumbling over and over, the child in her womb spinning faster within her until finally, she was lying at the bottom of the stairs and the warmth between her legs pumped in time to the fading heartbeat inside.
A touch on her arm made her scream, and she struggled to sit up. Marie caught her and held her as the sobbing began again.
“It’s going to be all right, my dear. I know this means nothing to you now, but time is a great healer.”
“I lost the baby.”
“I know, the nurse told me. I said I was your mother. A small lie in a good cause,” she stroked Cora’s back.
Cora sat up and brushed the tear-soaked hair from her face.
“It was a little boy,” she sniffed. “They said I can see him, but I’m afraid. Can you believe that? I’m afraid of my own baby.”
“We all fear death. There is nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Would you come with me, to see him, I mean?”
“Yes, of course I will. I’ll go and ask the nurse.”
Marie left the room and returned in minutes.
“You will need to be taken down in a wheelchair. As soon as they have a porter free, they will send him in.”
During the time they waited, Marie told her how she had taken the children home with her. About Emily and finally, because she knew Cora needed to know, the house’s secret.
For a moment, Cora forgot her own grief.
“Then this Annie, this young girl, has been there for hundreds of years?”
“Yes, poor thing. Trapped in time and bound by a terrible curse to Liam’s family.”
“Is there nothing can be done to free her?”
“Nothing, Emily fears she’s become so desperate in her search of eternal rest she will try to kill Liam.”
“I hope she does.” Cora was trembling with rage. “I hope she tears out his rotten heart.”
“Yes, “Marie sighed. “But if she does, she’s damned. She will belong to the darkness forever.”
“Oh, the poor child,” Marie was unsure if her cries were for Annie or her dead baby.
The sudden whistling from the hallway made them look up and a wheelchair trundled in the door, pushed by a rosy-cheeked porter.
“Your chariot has arrived, my lady,” he joked, as he helped Cora into the seat.
His cheery manner soon abated when the nurse came in and he learned of their destination. It was a solemn, silent little procession that left the room. No one spoke, as they waited for the lift, or even when they descended deep into the bowels of the hospital and along the echoing corridor to the morgue and the chapel of rest. There was more whispering as the porter and the assistant conferred, finally…
“Mrs. O Brien. I’m Joe Hayes. I’ll take you in to see your baby.”
“Thank you,” Cora held out a trembling hand to Marie.
“You’ll be fine, love,” Joe assured her.
She glanced towards the chapel doors and the stained-glass cross fixed in each of them. Somewhere behind those doors lay the body of her child, pale and cold and dead. She wanted to scream, but instead she held tighter to Marie’s hand. The wheelchair jolted as Joe kicked off the brake, and she closed her eyes. She was aware of the doors opening and cringed, expecting a rush of cold air. But there was nothing like that. The room felt warm; there was no harsh smell of disinfectant nothing, but silence.
Marie let go of her and Cora heard her walk forward. Still, she did not open her eyes.
“Ah, God bless him.”
Marie was leaning over a frilled baby basket when Cora peeped through her fingers. There was no coffin, no candles, none of the scary stuff.
“What’s he like?” Cora started to cry.
“A perfect little baby; a little transparent, but that’s to be expected. Come, let me help you.”
With Marie holding her, she moved towards the basket. A sob caught in her throat when she saw her baby. He was as Marie said, perfect. His skin so thin she could trace each vein beneath it. His fingers were curled into tight fists and his mouth pouted into a perfect cupid’s bow.
“Poor little thing,” Cora’s tears flowed as she stroked his tiny hands. “You never stood a chance did you, son?”
Marie bought a hankie to her eyes. Cora was right; he never stood a chance. Hatred for Liam O Brien and for all men like him welled up, so she had to walk from the room as tears threatened.
She had managed to compose herself when Cora was wheeled out. No longer crying, she seemed more at peace, and the hand that grasped Marie’s no longer trembled. The porter soon had Cora back in bed and left with a mumbled “sorry for your trouble.”
Marie was anxious to be back with Emily and the children. So, kissing Cora and promising to be back next morning, she left the room almost colliding with a doctor who was entering.
Outside the wind whipped up, and Marie shivered drawing her coat closer. The forecast said a clear night with a touch of frost. Now, as she looked up at the moon and the dark clouds racing across it, she wondered where the weathermen got their predictions.
Cora studied the doctor standing at the end of her bed.
“Let’s have a look at you,” he indicated at her to pull up her robe and pressed on her stomach.
“It’s amazing you didn’t break anything. I have seen people die from shorter falls than you had. Did you ever think of doing stunt work?”
She did not answer and his face grew serious.
“I’m sorry about your loss. There was nothing anyone could do.”
“Yes, I know. Thank you,” she answered automatically.
“Can you remember what you tripped over?”
“The sheets, I think. I was changing a bed.”
“Yes, that may well be, but it doesn’t explain this,” he rolled back the bedclothes and traced his fingers along a thin red mark on her ankle. “Do you remember how you got this?”
“No, I’m afraid I don’t.”
“Mmm, it’s strange. Your leg must have encounter something sharp. It is worth looking into, but not tonight. You need your rest.”
“Yes,” Cora was unable to tear her eyes away from the thin, blood red line around her ankle.
“There seems to be a storm brewing.”
“Sorry?”
“I said there seems to be a storm brewing. It’s the wrong time of the year for this sort of weather.”
“Oh, yes,” Cora’s attention went back to her leg, so she did not hear him leave.
The effects of the day begun to take effect, and she sank back against the pillows exhausted. There were no more tears left, instead she felt numb. Eventually she fell asleep and her dreams were filled with nightmare images. The one thing she remembered clearly as she awoke was lying at the bottom of the stairs and looking up at the terrified face of a young woman, and the thin piece of wire tied across the top step. Sweat coated her face as the realisation hit. Liam killed her son and had she died in the process; it would not have mattered. Her eyes flew to the clock in the corridor outside. She had only been asleep for half an hour. Easing her way out of bed, she stumbled towards the wardrobe. Her flesh was so battered it felt as though it tore with each movement. The clothes she had been wearing when admitted were folded neatly on a shelf. Though the skirt was blood stained, it was wearable and there were a few crumpled euro notes in the pocket to pay for a taxi. The corridor was quiet; there was no one to stop her flight. The night seemed darker than usual, despite the full moon, and the wind whipped her hair around her face as she stepped outside. She was leaving her baby behind in a hospital full of strangers and heading home to Liam to carry out the teachings of her religion, an eye for an eye.
“It’s getting very dark,” Laura pressed her nose against the window and looked out into the deepening gloom. She had grown tired of waiting for Marie to return and turning to Emily asked. “What’s taking her so long?”
“Perhaps the traffic is bad. It has turned out to be such a windy night. The power lines could be down. Who knows what damage this storm is causing?”
“Yes, but it’s not a real storm,” Laura traced her finger down the pane following the path of a raindrop.
“Why, of course it’s a real storm,” Emily replied. “You can hear it, can’t you and see it?”
“Yes,” Laura shrugged, slipping down from the window seat, and joining Emily and Shelly by the fire. “I mean it’s not caused by the weather.”
“That’s silly,” Shelly stopped writing in her copybook and looked up. “It has to be cause by the weather. You’re weird.”
“I am not,” Laura grabbed at the copybook and a tug of war ensued.
“Stop that at once,” Emily shook her hankie at them with all the power of a demented butterfly.
Laura let go, causing Shelly to fall back against the fireplace and bang her head.
“Now look what you’ve done,” Emily eased her way up from her seat.
“I don’t care. I’m sick of her calling me names.”
“That’s no reason to hurt her,” Emily rubbed at the small lump already beginning to form at the back of the child’s head.
“I didn’t mean her to fall back, did I?” Laura glared at her sister.
“Yes, you did,” Shelly sniffled. “I hate you. You’re a pig.”
“Well. If I am a pig, you must be too.”
“Well, you’re an even bigger pig.”
“Girls give over that nonsense at once. You do not know how lucky you are to have one another. If I had a sister, I might not have ended up in that dreadful place.”
This stopped them, as each had a picture of Hillcrest seared into their memory.
“I’m sorry,” Laura offered. “It’s just people at school are always calling me names. They say I am weird because I see things they can’t. They call me witch and other things.”
“I always stick up for you,” Shelly said.
“Yeah, I know, sorry.”
“It’s OK,” Shelly retrieved the fallen copybook.
For a while peace was restored. Shelly went back to her homework, Laura leafed through a magazine and Emily stared into the flames remembering better times. She had to agree with the child. Marie was taking her time. There was a shuffling beside her, and Emily looked across at Laura who was holding the palms of her hands over her ears.
“Have you an earache?”
She shook her head.
“Why are you doing that?”
“Voices.”
“What do you mean?”
“Voices, in my head.”
“She always hears voices,” Shelly threw her eyes skyward.
“What are they saying?” Emily was intrigued.
“Crying, Annie’s crying and a man, I think it’s my Dad saying help me.”
Emily looked towards the dark window. “She’s out there?”
“Yes, I tried to tell you that. She’s in the storm.”
“We have to save her. We have to get to the house.”
“Shelly, get your pencil case,” Laura ordered, and taking her own from her satchel, she emptied the contents onto the coffee table.
Between them they had over sixteen euros in lunch money.
“This should be enough for a taxi,” Shelly said.
. Marie’s address book was beside the phone, so they found the number of a taxi firm. Laura, taking charge, helped Emily and Shelly into their coats and stuffed the notes and coins into her pocket.
“We better leave Marie a note,” Emily said.
Laura tore a piece from the back of Shelly’s copybook and scribbled a short message. Outside a horn tooted and she ushered the others out.
“You see?” She whispered to Emily, as she helped her down the steps in front of the building. “The sky is crying.”
Marie arrived back at the flat just as the taxi drew away from the curb. She ran inside pulling of her headscarf and unbuttoning her coat. She knew something was wrong. It was too quiet.
“Emily, children,” she called, her voice echoing back in the stillness. Their coats were gone from the hallstand, but everything else was still there. Her eyes were drawn to the copybook on the table and the note lying on top of it. Picking it up, her eyes grew wide in terror at the six words printed in childish scrawl. Annie’s back, gone to save her.
Marie was at her desk earlier than usual next day. To take the afternoon off, she would have to get her work completed. The fact it was so early meant there was no phones to delay her sorting of the post. Rachael breezed in just after nine and was soon followed by Liam. Marie saw by his bleary eyes and hangdog expression; this was not to be one of his better days. She had arranged the post on his desk in neat piles and she heard him shuffling through it.
The next few hours passed in a flurry of phone calls and appointments. The usual sad panorama of his clients filed past her desk and disappeared into his office. They reappeared, either looking smug or dejected. None of them paid her any heed, other than giving their name. It was almost noon when a lull came. Cora would be waiting for her at 1 o clock as arranged, and she could not let her down. But just as she was about to rise, Liam came storming from his office.
“I’m going out.”
“I need the afternoon off,” Marie managed to get in.
He stopped and looked at her.
“I have a dental appointment.”
“Since when?”
“This morning. I’ve been up with toothache all night.”
“I’m surprised you have any teeth left at your age,” he smirked at Rachael, but she looked away.
“My appointment is for one thirty and it may take a couple of hours.”
“You’ll go when I come back, understand?”
“I’ll go at one.”
“Do that and you can stay away.”
They stood face to face, prize fighters squaring up.
“If that’s what you want, I quite understand.”
He looked across at Rachael who was gaping open mouthed at them. Though he hated to admit it, he needed the old witch.
“Very well,” he gritted his teeth. “Go at one, but don’t make a habit of it. And you,” he turned to Rachael. “Don’t screw anything up.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
He glared at her and slammed the door behind him so hard, they thought the glass would break.
Cora spent much of the morning sitting by the window watching the driveway. The night was uneventful with no unwelcome footsteps or strange sounds. Laura seemed more subdued at breakfast, or was she imagining that? Her mind was in so much turmoil she did not know what to think.
Annie sat opposite her, but Cora was unaware of her presence. The only sounds came from the grandfather clock in the hallway, as it ticked away the minutes. All around them the house sighed and settled. As the morning wore on, Cora became more anguished. She would not rest until she found out the house’s secret.
It was well after noon when she saw his car appear. She ran to the kitchen and stood with her back to the knife block, waiting. He did not come straight in or even call her name. She heard his footsteps on the stairs, and it was a few moments before he came looking for her.
“Ah, there you are.”
Cora gripped the edge of the worktop.
“I want you to change my bed linen.”
“Your bed linen?”
“Yes, wash and dry the same linen that’s on it.”
She stood looking at him for a moment before answering.
“I have other linen.”
“For fuck sake will you do as I ask? Strip off the old linen, wash it and replace it. It’s hardly rocket science.”
“All right,” Cora dodged by him, and Annie followed.
Cora pulled the quilt from its cover and gathered up the sheets and pillowcases. Neither of them realised Liam had crept up behind them. Cora was struggling along the gallery towards the stairs; the linen bundled up in her arms when she heard the noise. She stopped and listened. It sounded like breaking glass, then…
“Cora, help. For God’s sake help me, I’m hurt.”
She dropped the linen and ran towards the stairs. Annie realised too late, what was about to happen. In the seconds it took for her to register the cord pulled taunt across the stairs, Cora’s ankle met it and she fell. Her back, her side, her stomach bounced hard off each step, until she landed on the marble floor. Annie looked down in disbelief at the battered figure. She smelt the blood that was yet to show seeping from between Cora’s legs. Annie heard him speaking but couldn’t see to whom he spoke. She was clutching the banisters so hard her fingerprints scorched and blackened the wood. Once again, she had failed; another child died. The rage within her roared, and she felt herself change as she charged down the stairs.
Liam was looking down at his wife’s still form as Annie came towards him, her blackened hands reaching for his throat. A scream from the doorway stopped her, and she turned to find Laura and Shelly standing there. Shelly ran to her mother sobbing and calling to her, but Laura stood with her hand clasped over her mouth. She saw what the others could not, the burnt skeleton with its tendrils of hair sticking to its bones. The gaping mouth and hollow, cobwebby eyes though sightless, could still see her.
“What did you do?” She whispered.
“I did nothing,” her father answered. “Your mother had a fall. An ambulance is on its way. Take Shelly and wait in there.”
He ushered them towards the sitting room. As soon as they were inside, he ran to the top of the stairs. Taking the claw hammer from its hiding place, he pulled the nail from the skirting board and tucked it and the wire into his pocket. The scattered bed linen was thrown to the bottom of the stairs.
“Such a silly thing to happen,” he muttered.
From close by he heard the wail of sirens and ran back down to play his role of concerned husband.
They were loading Cora into the ambulance when Marie drove up. Liam rung and asked her to call, saying there had been an accident.
“What happened?”
Liam ran his hand through his hair.
“She was coming down the stairs with some sheets. She must have snagged her foot on them. I warned her not to do heavy work in her condition.”
Had she not known of his treatment of his wife and his desire to be rid of the child, she might have believed him. Instead, she looked towards the window and the two tear stained faces framed there.
“I’ll have to follow the ambulance,” Liam said. “Will you take care of the children for me?”
“I have an appointment, but I’ll take them with me. I’ll keep them overnight if need be.”
“Good, yes, do that.”
“We have to hurry,” the paramedic called.
“I’ll be right behind you,” Liam ran to his car.
Marie shivered as the paramedic climbed inside and sat beside the white, still form of Cora.
The house smelt sickly sweet when she entered the hall, like flowers that had lost their bloom. The children were squashed together in one small chair, their fingers entwined.
“Will my Mam be all right,” Laura asked.
“I hope so, dear,” Marie held out her arms and Shelly slipped from her seat and ran to her. Laura remained seated, though her lower lip trembled. They both knew who Marie was, having met her on their rare trips to their father’s office. Laura liked her on sight. She smelled sweet like a baby, and she talked in a funny way.
“Your Dad wants you to stay with me overnight, so we’ll need some things from your rooms.”
“No,” Laura jumped up. “Don’t go upstairs.”
“I’ll only be a moment,” Marie promised. “Just while I get your pyjamas.”
“I’ll show you,” Shelly offered.
“No,” Laura screamed, throwing her arms around her sister.
“Very well; I’ll go up alone. Just tell me where your room is.”
“We can sleep in our undies.”
“I can’t sleep without teddy,” Shelly whimpered, and before Laura could offer any more resistance, Marie walked from the room.
That child is really frightened she thought, but when she saw the pool of blood at the end of the stairs she could understand why.
Annie was sat huddled in a corner of the children’s room; her features normal again, now the hatred had subsided. She watched as the old lady rummaged around, pulling open drawers, and taking clothes from them. Annie sensed the woman’s goodness, and she cried out. Marie froze, as the shuddering, sobbing, pain-filled cry echoed around her. She turned and looked around the room. Her first instinct was to run, but when it came again, its pain touched her.
“I’m lost and I’m frightened,” it cried.
“Oh, dear Lord,” Marie heard the words clearly. Picking up the teddy bear, she ran from the room and bundled the children into her car.
“I have to visit with someone,” Marie explained. “And I need you to come with me. “It’s a nice old lady I promised to call on. It’s not far away.”
“I’d rather go to the hospital,” Laura said.
“This is important. It’s something I’m doing for your mother.”
“Oh, OK.” Laura sat back and watched the bushes on the roadside flash by.
“Why were you home from school so early?” Marie asked.
“The heating broke down and everyone was complaining about the cold, so we were sent home.”
“Disgraceful,” Marie snorted. “And they didn’t have the decency to let your mother know.”
“It’s only down the road,” Laura sighed. “We often walk home.”
“Still in this day and age.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
Marie had no idea if this was a smart answer, but it sounded decidedly so.
Hillcrest Rest Home was not on a hill, neither did it have any hills around it. It stood, quietly decaying behind rusted gates, that creaked and groaned as they drove past. Even the few trees surrounding it appeared jaded. They hunched and stooped; their branches stripped clean by the late autumn wind. Ivy trailed down the walls and dark roots sprung from the earth and grasped at the building, as though the land wanted to reclaim it; to suck it down so it was no longer an eyesore. The Home itself had seen better centuries. The paint was picked clean from the windows, and the door was so damp, the rotten wood showed through. All the front windows were misted over. There was no answer to Marie’s hesitant knock and the door swung open when Laura pushed against it.
“Phew,” the children cried in unison.
Marie had to agree. It smelt of mould, boiled cabbage, and something much more overpowering.
“It smells of pee,” Laura concluded.
“Is that any way for a young lady to speak,” Marie hushed her, but she had to agree it did smell of urine. It emanated from the faded carpet.
“Hello, is there anyone there?” Marie was bristling now. There was not even a reception desk.
“Paging nurse pissy pants.”
“Will you behave?”
But it was no use Laura and Shelly were too caught up in the joke.
“Hello,” they moved towards a door at the bottom of the stairs. The latch no longer worked, and it swung noiselessly open. They stepped into what was once a sitting room. Although it was early afternoon the light was already starting to fade, and only the embers of a fire lit the room. Chairs were arranged to form a circle and a hunched figure sat on each one.
“I’m frightened,” Shelly whispered.
Marie had to admit the scene before them was surreal. No one moved or spoke. She felt along the wall for a light switch. Even the wallpaper felt damp on her fingers, and relief surged through her, when she felt the cold switch and flicked it down. The light in the centre of the ceiling came on, but the bulb was much too low for such a large area and threw the room into shadow. Still no one moved. It was if they were unaware of the change. Marie looked around at the men and women sitting there and her heart ached, because she saw the despair etched in each face. These were the unwanted people, the ones considered no longer useful to society or their family. They had been sent to this place, this elephant’s graveyard to await their death. She saw the neglect they suffered. Dried food clung to the clothes of the feeblest and stained their faces. Hastily spooned by impatient hands into mouths unable for the load, it was allowed to spill over and lie wherever it landed. Her eyes travelled downwards, and she touched the papery dry skin on the hand nearest to her. It felt dry and cold, but her touch sparked something in its owner, and the old woman looked up and smiled. Then, noticing the two girls hiding behind Marie, she whispered, “children.”
Instantly the others came to life. Those who could heaved themselves up from their chairs and came towards them. Others held out their arms in longing for the softness of a child once more. Marie wanted to ask them where their children were, or what they had done to warrant such a sentence in this awful place. Instead, she urged the girls to speak to the old people, whispering they were lonely and needed someone to talk to. Soon Laura and Shelly overcame their reserve and were telling everyone about their school and their friends, and were no longer afraid of the fingers touching their hair or holding them close.
Marie bent down to the old woman, who was still holding on to her hand as though it was a lifeline and asked. “Do you know which of these women is Miss James?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know anybody’s name, my dear.”
“Are you new here?”
“I’ve lost count of the years I’ve been here. I think it’s about ten or more.”
Marie shook her head in disbelief. Ten years and she did not know anyone’s name. This place was surely the nearest thing to Hell.
None of them heard the footsteps on the corridor outside. The door was thrown open and an angry voice asked. “Who turned on the light?”
“I did,” Marie turned to find a grim-faced nurse framed in the doorway.
“Oh, yes, I see,” she became flustered and ran her hands down her stained uniform, trying to brush the filth away. “I don’t like any of the guests to move in case they fall. I’m never far away and they only have to call.”
“I’ve been here for over…” Marie looked at her watch. “Fifteen minutes and I’ve tried to attract someone’s attention a number of times.”
“Well, I was probably down in the kitchen preparing supper,” she was growing angry now. No one ever answered her back.
“Are there no other members of staff?”
“I really don’t see why it concerns you, or what business you have here.”
“I am here to see an old friend of my family’s, a Miss James, Emily James.”
“Well, you won’t find her in here.”
“That,” Marie said. “Is blatantly obvious. Where is she?”
For a moment she was afraid Miss James was dead until the nurse, deciding she was obviously trouble and it was best to let her have her way, gestured towards the ceiling.
“She’s upstairs. She has become very weak over the past few weeks, so she spends most of her time in bed. If you follow me, I will take you to her room, but I have to say I’m not one bit happy about this intrusion. I do not even know you and have only your word as to who you are. After all, you could be anyone.”
“Yes, your right. I could be anyone; even the health inspector.”
“Are you threatening me? I run this place in accordance with nursing home regulations.”
“Then believe me those so-called regulations need to be revised. But, since I have business elsewhere and have neither the time nor the inclination to bandy words with you, I would appreciate seeing Miss James.”
“Follow me,” she turned, then stopped and glared at the girls. “And another thing. I don’t like children running all over the place.”
“We’re not running,” Laura stood with hands on hips. “We’re just standing here, talking.”
“See that you stay that way. I don’t want you tripping up one of the guests.”
Laura threw her eyes to heaven and answered with the customary, “Whatever.”
Marie put her finger to her lips and Laura shrugged, resigned to having to do as she was told.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Marie said. “Stay here.”
As she followed the nurse outside and closed the door as well as the faulty catch allowed, she became aware of the buzz of conversation inside. In dawned on her, as she climbed the stairs, her feet making squelching noises on the dirty, sticky carpet, there was total silence once the nurse appeared. The old people were afraid of her. Well, she would see about that later. She had made many useful contacts in her years as a legal secretary and the health board would hear about this place.
The upstairs was colder than below, and the low lighting did nothing to dispel the gloom of the long, door lined corridor.
“In here,” the nurse threw open a door and stood aside to allow Marie to pass. “There’s a lamp beside the bed,” was her parting shot, as she slammed the door and the room was plunged into darkness.
For a moment, the only sound was the beating of her heart, then a small voice asked.
“Is someone there?”
“It’s all right, Miss. James,” she started to edge her way across the room. “I’m a friend. I’ve come to visit you.”
The outline of a bed appeared, and she felt her way along it.
“But I haven’t any friends,” the voice had an edge of fear.
“It’s all right. I promise. I have come from your old home. Can you turn on the light for me?”
“I can’t reach that far.”
Marie knew if she did not locate the lamp soon the old woman would start to cry. Her hand knocked against a glass and a couple of things fell from the overcrowded bedside cabinet. Like the rest of the lights in the Home the wattage in the bulb was extremely low, but it was enough for her to see the old woman who lay propped up on a nest of stained pillows. Tiny care worn hands clutched the faded bedclothes and her eyes, like all the other prisoners in this place, had the same hopeless look.
“It’s all right,” Marie whispered. “I just want to ask you a few questions.”
“I’ll help if I can, my dear.”
To her horror Marie realised the woman’s breath made small white clouds as she spoke. The adrenaline rush from the fright of being left in the darkness made her oblivious to the cold, but now she shivered in the damp air.
“It gets very cold here in the evenings,” the old woman noticed her discomfort.
“I expect it’s cold here most of the time?”
Marie looked around the room at the faded carpet, the peeling wallpaper, and the patches of damp on the ceiling.
“Of course, you’re right. This really is the most dreadful place.”
Realising she hadn’t introduced herself; Marie told the woman her name and was rewarded with an outstretched hand so small and delicate that she was afraid it would break at her touch. But the grasp as she folded her fingers over it, was surprisingly strong and the smile the old woman gave her as she insisted, she call her Emily, took the anguish from her face making her appear younger. Marie explained the reason she was there.
“Do you have any idea what’s happening? I thought you might know something of the house’s history. Can you remember anything?”
Emily’s eyes seemed to glaze over, and Marie was worried she’d upset her; so reaching out she patted the old woman’s hand.
“So, she is back, is she? Poor child.”
The fine hairs on Marie’s neck prickled.
“Who, who’s back?”
As though she had not heard, Emily asked. “Is it that cur, O Brien that’s living there?”
“Yes, the family name is O Brien. Liam was your solicitor.”
“Yes, I remember him well enough. He cheated me you know. But he will get his comeuppance now, by God he will.”
“Who is she? She asked again. “Why is she here; can you remember?”
Emily answered in a tired, sad voice.
“Many things blur over a lifetime and get forgotten. But there are some tales belong to you. They stand out in your mind and are so powerful they chill the blood and wake you screaming in the darkness.”
With this she started her story. Told Marie the history of the house. How it started out as a humble cottage and was added on to as the family fortunes improved. Marie listened enthralled as Emily told her of Annie’s fate and the curse, she had placed on the O Brien’s.
“We have all heard the legend of the Banshee. There’s not one true Irish man who hasn’t.”
Marie nodded and waited for her to continue.
“Well that’s what O Brien has, his own private Banshee who’s wandered throughout the centuries trying to find peace. The O Brien’s were rogues back then and they are still the same today. I take it he’s without heir?”
“There are two children, girls. They’re downstairs now,” she explained about Cora’s accident and how the children came to be in her care.
“That’s what’s causing her to rise. A son would’ve saved him.”
“My God,” Marie was horrified. “Then she’ll kill him?”
“It’s the only way she’ll ever rest, but in doing so she’ll destroy any hope of salvation. If she takes his life, then she loses her soul. But she’s wise, and I pray that during her long years she’s learned to forgive and will let him live out his allotted time.”
“Was she an ancestor?”
“I’m descended from Rose, her sister.”
“What am I to do?”
“There’s nothing you can do. To warn him would be a waste of time. She is not tied to the house. She can rise in the air and be carried on the breeze. So, you see it is useless, she’ll seek him out.”
A noise at the door made them turn. Laura, who had grown tired of waiting crept up in search of Marie.
“Laura, come here.”
“Were you talking about Annie,” Laura asked.
“Have you seen her, child?” Emily sat up straight in the bed.
“Yes, I’ve seen her when she’s pretty, and I’ve seen her when she’s ugly.”
“She changes? Marie asked.
“Yes, when she gets angry, she looks like a monster. She was like that when Mam fell down the stairs. I saw her and she saw me.”
“Then nothing’s changed,” Emily sighed. “The hatred she felt is still there.”
The clattering of a trolley on the corridor outside announced the arrival of Emily’s supper. A blowsy, hard-faced woman came through the door with a tray. This she dumped on Emily’s lap and without a word to her or her visitors walked away. All three of them stared in disgust at the food on the plate. A cremated sausage, two pale, fat slices of bacon and a half-buttered slice of brown bread, to be washed down with milky tea from a chipped mug.
“Are you very ill?” Laura asked.
“I’m not ill at all, just heartbroken. I took care of the big house you are living in on my own up to a few months ago. You’ve seen the others downstairs?”
“Yes, they’re a bit creepy,” Laura pretended to shiver.
“The walking dead I call them. I pretend I am ill, so I don’t have to sit there and stare into space. I’ve no time for the old.”
“But you are old. You must be a hundred.”
“Laura, please,” Marie scolded.
“Out of the mouths of babes, eh,” Emily laughed.
“I’m sorry,” Laura said. “My teacher says I have the most annoying habit of saying exactly what I think. It gets me in terrible trouble.”
“I should think it does,” Emily smiled. “But I wouldn’t have you any other way.”
Laura hugged her. She liked this small, old woman with the white hair and crinkly smile.
Oh, you’re still here,” they hadn’t heard the nurse come in.
She looked down at the tray of uneaten food.
“Not hungry Miss. James?” Without waiting for an answer, she scooped up the tray and started to walk away. “Please don’t be much longer,” she said to Marie. “I don’t want you tiring Miss James.”
“What she means is she doesn’t want you poking your nose in here,” Emily whispered. “And supper will be kept for my breakfast.”
“Oh, gross,” Laura pulled a face. “I’d die if I lived here.”
“That is what will happen, I afraid. I’ll fade away and die.”
“No, I won’t allow it,” Marie walked to the wardrobe and started to rifle through it. “Can you walk?”
“Yes, dear, but…”
“Get dressed,” Marie tossed some clothes on the bed,” I’ll pack your things.”
The agility at which Emily sprang from the bed was amazing.
“You’ll come home with me,” Marie told her, as she folded and stacked the woman’s few personal belongings into a suitcase she found on top of the wardrobe. “We’ll figure something out. Come along Laura. Let us leave Miss. James to dress in peace.”
“I’ll go and get Shelly,” Laura ran ahead, and Marie followed carrying the suitcase.
“What have you got in that suitcase?” The nurse stood at the end of the stairs.
“Miss. James’s clothes. She’s coming home with me.”
“Over my dead body.”
“If need be.”
“She was placed in my care because she was unable to look after herself.”
“I’ll be looking after her from now on. Move aside,” Marie nudged her with the suitcase, but she stood firm.
“I mean it. She is not leaving here. I’ll call the police.”
“Marie, dear, “Emily was standing at the top of the stairs. “Perhaps it’s best to leave me here.”
“You’re not staying in this awful place. Do not worry. I have seen the papers that committed you. They won’t stand up in court,” turning back to the nurse she ordered. “Get out of my way.”
“You’re not taking her.”
Marie handed the suitcase to Laura. Though she had never in her life been involved in any physical confrontations, she was ready to do battle with the woman. She walked down the last two steps and stood facing her, so close their noses almost touched.
“Kick her ass,” Laura cheered.
“Not only will I do as the child asked,” Marie warned her adversary. “But when I’m finished, I’ll drag you through every court in the land.”
Shelly, who was drawn out by the argument added. “My Dad’s a solicitor. He’ll put you in jail.”
This weakened the nurse’s resolve.
“Very well,” she stepped away. “But you’ll sign for her. I’ll not be responsible once she steps foot outside.”
“Help Miss James to the car,” Marie told the girls. “I’ll be right out.”
The nurse’s office consisted of a desk and a filing cabinet in the corner of the kitchen. The stench was worse here, a dirty butcher shop smell.
“Sign this and she’s yours,” this was said as though Emily was a piece of lost luggage
Marie filled in the appropriate details and walked away. Out in the hallway an old woman leaning on a Zimmer frame came hobbling towards her.
“Are you taking her home?”
“Yes,” Marie answered. “I’m taking her home.”
“I’m glad,” the woman’s eyes filled with tears. “No one should have to die in a place like this.”
Marie leaned down, stroked her cheek, and watched her eyes light up as she said.
“I’m coming back. I promise you that much. Things are going to change.”
It was pitch black when she stepped outside. The wind whipped up and leaves whirled around her as she ran to the car. It looked as though it was going to be a bad night. She turned the key and the engine sprang to life. Switching the car heater to its highest setting, she leaned across and patted Emily’s hands. “You’ll soon be warm.”
“Thank you, my dear. I was feeling a little cold.”
“And we’re starving to death,” Laura’s voice came from behind.
“My apartment’s nearby. We’ll soon be there, and I’ll fix dinner. A proper dinner,” Marie winked at Emily.
The car headlights cut the dark as Marie guided it over the rumbling cattle grid and out through the gates of Hillcrest. The first splatters of rain hit the windscreen as she turned onto the main road and headed for home.
Cora shivered, despite the warmth of the small electric fire in Marie’s flat. She heard the clatter of cups being set out, and wanted to scream, and ask Marie to hurry up, but it would have been impolite. The woman seemed to come from another time and was quite prissy. She was forced to leave the children with an old friend. Promising to be just an hour, after garbling off some weak story about a sick relative, she looked at her watch and then towards the kitchen.
“Well, here we are.”
Marie appeared with a tray baring cups, saucers and matching milk and sugar bowl. She took her time spreading out coasters and napkins, until Cora felt she would scream. The warm stream of amber from the pot’s sprout made her stomach somersault. This pregnancy made her turn against things she had once enjoyed, tea being one of them, but she took the proffered cup and sipped.
“Do you take milk or sugar?”
“No, thank you. This is fine,” she was afraid, if she reached for either the woman would notice her trembling hand.
No one could fail to notice the dark ringed eyes or the pallor of her skin.
Are you looking after yourself?” Marie asked, and was sorry for asking, as she watched Cora’s eyes fill up.
“I’ll get the papers you wanted.”
Cora heard the opening of a drawer but did not look up. Instead, she hung her head, mortified at her loss of control. An envelope was placed in her lap and a soft hand covered hers and held tight.
“I want you to know you’re no longer alone.”
With this, Cora started to sob. Tears ran unchecked, and she tasted their saltiness on her lips.
“There, there, child,” Marie stroked her hair. “Tell me all about it, and let’s see if I can help.”
Between sobs Cora managed to tell her about the ghost, about the things happening all around her and how Liam wanted her to get rid of the baby. She told her about the workman, and his story of how Ms. James was sent away.
“My parents are old, and their health is failing,” she explained. “Anyway, they’d only say I’d made my bed and must lie in it. They never liked Liam; you see.”
“And with good reason,” Marie sighed. “I’m looking for a new job. I’ve taken all I can from that man.”
“You’re lucky. My marriage has become a life sentence for me, and I cannot bear to think of what it is doing to the girls. If I do not find a way out soon, I will go mad. He’s already accusing me of that, being mad, I mean.”
“Come now,” Marie took the envelope from her. “Let us try and track down this Ms. James. The sooner we speak to her, the sooner we know what we’re dealing with.”
“We?” Cora looked up.
“As I said, my dear, you’re no longer alone.”
Marie spread the documents along the coffee table and sorted them into order. There were several medical forms, signed by prominent doctors on the health of Miss. Emily James. All attested, that while she was physically sound, psychologically she was unable to care for herself. From the date on the forms, they saw Ms. James was just over seventy and was committed to Hillcrest Rest Home, a facility just minutes away from Marie’s flat. Cora saw, to her horror, it was Liam’s signature on the committal form.
“I hope she’s still alive,” Cora said. “It’s over,” she counted on her fingers, “Six months since she went in there.”
“I’ll make an excuse. Say I have a dental appointment and we’ll go there tomorrow afternoon.”
“Thank you, Marie. I feel much better knowing you’ll be with me, but I don’t want to cause you any trouble.”
“It’s no trouble. In a way, I feel I owe it to Ms James. I kept quiet once and an innocent man suffered. I won’t make the same mistake again.”
The headlights of Cora’s car swept up the drive but did little to dispel the darkness. The trees on either side reached across forming a dark tunnel. She put her foot down on the accelerator, wanting to be out of their shadow, and feeling as though she was driving into the mouth of Hell. In this case, she was right. Liam’s car was parked at the front door. The curtains in his study were not drawn, but the light was on. The red lampshade and the terracotta coloured walls made it seem like the room was bathed in blood.
She reached into the back seat and tried to rouse the sleeping children. At any other time, she would have lifted them inside, but not in her condition. They fussed and grumbled, but she finally managed to get them to wake.
The front door groaned open, despite Cora’s efforts to make as little noise as possible. Warning the children to be quiet, she swept them across the hall and up the stairs. They were on the first flight, just beneath the stained-glass window, when they looked up to find Liam standing on the top step; a hammer in his hand.
“Where were you at this hour?”
For a moment none of them spoke. Even Shelly, who would usually run to her father, sensed something was wrong.
“Well, I’m waiting.”
“I had a tummy ache,” Laura said. “And Mam took me to the doctor.”
“You seem well enough now.”
“It was nothing,” Cora ushered the girls past him. “Just trapped wind. I was afraid it might be appendicitis.”
“Wasting money again,” he grabbed her arm. “I want a word with you, when you’re finished putting them to bed.”
“I’ll be down as soon as I can.”
“See that you are. I’ll be in my study.”
Laura and Shelly got undressed and into their nightgowns in silence. Though they each wondered why their Mam did not tell them to brush their teeth, neither asked why. Cora took her time, switching on lights and closing curtains, until she could no longer delay.
“Sleep well, my angel,” she tucked the covers under Shelly chin.
“Night, Mam,” the child snuggled down and was instantly asleep.
“Now, you, madam,” she smiled down at Laura and tried to ignore her dark, troubled eyes.
“You have to be brave, Mam, like the picture,” she pointed towards the gallery. “Pretend you’re her and Dad is the monster.”
“I’ll try,” Cora promised.
She picked up the discarded clothes and draped them across her arms. The gallery was lit in the blues and reds from the window, and she moved between the shadows, praying for strength. The clothes gave her a few minutes respite, as she walked to the kitchen and dumped them into the laundry basket. The door leading to the cottage was closed with stout beam, but just for a moment as she glanced behind her, she could have sworn a young woman stood framed in the doorway; a young woman like the one in the window.
Liam sat with his back to her, his feet resting on a stool. His shoes and socks were scattered about the room. The warm, sweet smell of the cognac he drank reached her before she saw the glass.
“Have you seen sense yet?”
“You mean about the baby?”
“You know bloody well what I mean.”
“Liam, please,” she pushed the study door closed. “You’ll wake the children.”
“Fuck the children and fuck you,” he threw the glass across the room.
The heavy crystal tumbler glanced across the side of her face and she gasped as it sliced open her skin. For a moment he watched the trickle of blood running from the wound. Though she felt the warmth move down her face, she never moved to wipe it away.
“I’ll tell you one last time,” Liam spoke through gritted teeth. “Get rid of that thing or by God, I’ll do it myself.”
“Touch me and I’ll kill you.”
“Oh, I’m really frightened,” he smiled, but there was no look of merriment.
The blood on her face and neck glowed against the whiteness of her skin. Her eyes were wild in anger.
“For God’s sake, clean yourself up,” he turned away, disgusted.
Cora walked to a table and pulled wades of tissue from a box. Her face stung, when she wiped at the cut and her collar and the front of her sweater felt wet. She smelt the sweet, coppery blood.
Annie stood outside the study door her hand clasped on the handle. The scent of the woman’s blood seemed to penetrate through the wood. This one, this man, was like all those who had gone before him, a destroyer of life. She felt the anger well within her and knew if she allowed it to overwhelm her, then she would return to the shrunken, burnt corpse she really was. All around her the spirits whispered, lulling her, begging her to be still, to wait. But she wanted to kill him, to slowly tear him apart. To feel his blood upon her hands and hear his last gasp. She wanted him to suffer the way she had.
“Outside, hidden by the trees, The Dark One smiled and willed her on. He did not dare enter the house. The woman with her symbols and images of his enemy, made him unwelcome.
“He must die,” he whispered. “Finish him and you will have your family back. Go on, Annie. It will be a mercy and you will save the child.”
Annie heard his words and the rage roared. She brushed aside the entreaties of the spirits. The Dark One was right. She would save the child and be restored to her family. It was her faith and if she should be damned then, at least her family would be saved. She drew back from the door and made ready to merge through the wood, when…
“I told her to be brave like you.”
The child’s voice sounded from behind her. Annie froze, not daring to move until her features returned to normal.
“It is you, isn’t it; in the window?”
Annie turned to find a little girl, the one called Laura, standing on the stairs. Silhouetted as she was by the moonlight and with her hair flowing across her shoulders, she looked like Dora.
“Go back to bed, child,” Annie whispered.
“I knew it was you,” Laura tip toed down the last few steps and came towards her.
The sound of her mother’s anguished sobbing echoed from inside the room, and Laura’s eyes darted from Annie to the door, unsure of what to do.
“This is no place for you,” Annie put her arm around the child’s shoulders and led her back up the stairs.
“Is my Mam going to be all right?”
“She will be fine. Come along now. It is late.”
“I knew it was you, in the window, I mean,” Laura said, as Annie tucked her into bed.
“Perhaps, a long time ago,” her heart ached at the familiar scent of the child.
It was the first real thing she smelt since she had awoken. Until now everything smelt of the earth. The raw, blood-sweet scent of soil seemed to surround her.
“Did the monster kill you?”
She was taken aback by the question, and had it come from her sisters she would have lied and pretended it was not so. But this child had the sight and she knew nothing good would come from lying to her.
“Yes, I tried hard to fight him, but in the end he won.”
“So why are you here? You can’t really be dead, if I can see you?”
“I am dead to the light. I come from a twilight place where I wander by day but am awake and I suppose, in a way, alive by night.”
“It’s all very strange.”
“Yes,” Annie smiled. “Very strange.”
Laura snuggled down under the covers.
“Will you stay with me until I’m asleep? I get frightened when my Mam and Dad argue.”
“Yes, I will watch over you and keep you safe. I promise.”
Annie sat there, in the darkness and listened to the even breathing of the child. The memory of her sisters and their loss became a physical pain within her, and she clutched at her heart. With her sensitive hearing she picked out every word of the conversation from below.
“I’m telling you for the last time,” Liam warned. “Get rid of the baby.”
Cora still held the tissue to her face. He turned his chair towards her and put his feet up on a footstool, his eyes fixed cruelly on his wife. Her eyes travelled down toward the soles of his feet. There against the white of his skin, a black cross was tattooed on each foot.
“My God,” she whispered.
“I think they look quite good. Had them done on a night out with the lads,” he got up to fix another drink.
He filled his glass and stood rocking back and forth on his heels.
“Do you know what I am doing?”
“What, I don’t understand.”
“Every time I move like this, with every step I take, I’m walking on the symbol of your Christ.”
Bile rushed into her throat, and she had to swallow hard. He retraced his steps and her stomach churned at each footfall. Finally, she could bear it no longer and she vomited splattering the carpets and his toes.
“For fuck sake,” he tried to sidestep away. “That’s it. I’m out of here,” he picked up his socks and shoes.
The muscles in Cora’s stomach ached and her throat burned. She wiped away any remaining residue from her mouth and brushed the damp hair from her forehead. Liam meanwhile was standing in the shower, hosing down his feet. She heard water gurgling through the pipes and traced his footsteps, as he raged around overhead. Soon he came thundering down the stairs and strode into the room, car keys in one hand, and an overnight bag in the other.
“I’m going now, but I’ll be back in the morning. If you have not come to your senses by then, I swear, I’ll beat it out of you.”
The door slammed and outside the wheels of the car crunched on the gravel. The sound faded and the silence came flooding back to envelop her. She was sobbing, as she fetched cloths and a basin of water to clean up the mess. He would try to beat the child out of her, but he would not find her an easy victim. She thought of the kitchen and its array of shiny, steel knives. Let him try to hurt her child. She would bury one of his precious knives in his chest; reef it through his black heart. The carpet was now free of vomit, but still she scrubbed on. Unaware of the threads scraping and cutting her knuckles or her tears mingling with the dirty water.
Liam guided the car along the driveway towards the main gate. His fingers griped the wheel so tight the knuckles showed white. He meant every word he said. He would be back in the morning and one way or another; he would get rid of that thing she was carrying.
Annie pushed aside the curtains in the children’s room and watched him leave. Her throat ached from tears and the sound of the woman’s sobs became a lament for the loss of the innocent. When he returned she would be waiting. No matter what hour, she would return from her twilight world and tear him to pieces.
gemmamawdsley 