The Evil Within

by S M Hardy

  She glanced around and another young woman appeared at her side to take the bottle. I’d guessed Emma was probably fairly well heeled, but I was beginning to get the impression that she was a lot wealthier than I’d previously imagined.

  She led me over to a couple of middle-aged women who were animatedly chatting to Jed, his social-gathering smile fixed. ‘The two ladies are the Garvin sisters,’ she murmured to me. ‘They live at the other end of the village.’

  She gave my arm a squeeze as the two women looked towards us expectantly as we approached. ‘Miriam, Darcy, I’d like to introduce you to my new neighbour, Jim.’

  Miriam, a motherly looking woman of about fifty, stuck out her hand and gave mine a firm shake. ‘Good to meet you, Jim.’

  Darcy was equally enthusiastic, although as opposite in appearance to her sister as she could possibly be. Where Miriam was pink-faced and with soft, chubby curves covered in a voluminous floral dress, Darcy was stick-thin and all angles, dressed in a silver-grey trouser suit that did nothing for her complexion, leaving her pale-faced and drawn.

  ‘You’re renting the old Morgan place, I hear,’ Darcy said.

  ‘Yes,’ I replied, taking a sip of my champagne and wishing it was something a little stronger.

  ‘How are you finding it?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s a nice cottage.’

  ‘Do you think you’ll stay?’ Miriam asked.

  ‘No,’ I said and wondered whether I should break the news now that I intended to leave for London first thing the next morning.

  ‘He says not, but he will,’ Jed said.

  ‘What makes you say that?’ Darcy asked him.

  Jed gave me a strange look. ‘He has things to do.’

  ‘Like what?’ Darcy asked.

  ‘Like meet all his wonderful neighbours,’ Emma interrupted and drew me away before Jed could reply.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said as she led me over to another group of people. ‘Jed isn’t always the most discreet of people.’

  ‘What did he mean – things to do?’

  She stopped and drew me around to face her. ‘He thinks you’ve found your way to Slyford for a reason.’

  I inwardly sighed. ‘And what would that be?’

  She cocked her head to one side as she studied my expression. ‘I don’t know,’ and a small frown creased the centre of her forehead, ‘but I suspect we might find out over the next few weeks, maybe even months.’

  ‘Look, Emma.’ I really did need to tell her there wasn’t going to be any weeks or months − not even days, if I had my way − but we were interrupted by one of the maids.

  ‘There’s a phone call for you, Mrs Mortimer. Mrs Sims asking for a word.’

  ‘Excuse me a moment, Jim. I’ll be straight back,’ Emma said, giving my arm a pat and then she was gone.

  Another maid appeared to take my glass and hand me a refreshed champagne flute. I sipped my drink and took a surreptitious look around. There were too many people, mainly a lot older than me: ladies in floral posh frocks and men in navy jackets and old school ties. I caught a glimpse of Jed, red-faced and laughing. He’d moved on to another couple, who were obviously more to his liking, but his eyes were on me. I didn’t want to risk him bowling over and taking me somewhere I didn’t need to go, so I strolled towards the door and out into the entrance hall, taking another swallow of my drink and hoping to appear nonchalant and at ease.

  In the hallway I had a quick glance around. Emma was nowhere to be seen, and before I’d even a chance to consider what on earth I was doing I turned left and hurried past the staircase. Seeing the door to the next room ajar, I pushed it open and stepped inside, closing it behind me.

  This was a smaller room and was kitted out like an office-cum-library. There were certainly a lot of books lining the walls. A large fireplace dominated the room, taking up more than two-thirds of one wall. There was no fire burning in the wrought-iron grate, although there were logs and kindling piled to one side in readiness for the fast-approaching winter months.

  On either side of the fire were the obligatory leather, high-backed, winged armchairs and the opportunity to sit down in one to hide from Jed and the other guests was too great for me to resist.

  I padded across the room and it was only as I sank down into one of the chairs that I realised that its twin was occupied.

  ‘You trying to escape from all the frivolity as well?’ a voice asked.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said, starting to stand, ‘I didn’t mean to intrude.’

  He raised a hand, gesturing that I sit. ‘I don’t mind a bit of company, but some of Emma’s friends I find a little wearing,’ he said, giving me a pleasant smile. ‘Now, as I’ve never seen you at one of these things before, I’m guessing you must be our new neighbour recently arrived from London.’

  ‘Jim, Jim Hawkes,’ I said, half-getting up and leaning forward to stick out a hand.

  We shook and we both sank back into our respective chairs. He retrieved a crystal glass from the small table beside him, cradling it in long-fingered hands as he studied me and I studied him right back. Soft lamplight glinted on the golden contents of the glass catching my eye and for the second time in not so many minutes I wished that my glass contained something a lot stronger than champagne. I pushed the notion from my mind. I wasn’t here to get smashed, then wondered where that thought had come from.

  ‘So, Jim, how are you finding Slyford?’ Then he laughed. ‘I suspect you’re getting fed up with people asking the question.’

  ‘Just a bit,’ I told him with a wry smile.

  ‘It was exactly the same when I first moved here, and from experience I can tell you it won’t change until someone else new comes into the village, then I’m afraid you’ll find yourself asking them the self-same question.’

  He put the glass back on the table and plucked at the blanket covering his bony knees, pulling it up to his waist. How had I not noticed the blanket when he had half-stood to shake my hand?

  ‘You’re better off hiding in here with me,’ he said, drawing my eyes back to his face.

  When I’d first sat down I’d have said that he was in his forties, but looking at him now I realised I must have been mistaken, he appeared considerably older, then it could be because he was ill and I wondered how I’d missed this as well. Looking at him again it was plainly obvious.

  He had high cheekbones and in his youth would have been handsome, now they just accentuated how sunken his eyes and cheeks had become, though his eyes were bright and from the lines around his eyes I could see he was a man who laughed a lot. He was laughing now. A cheerful sort who wouldn’t let anything that life threw at him get him down and suddenly, as ill as he appeared, I wished I could be like him.

  He glanced down at the watch that hung about his painfully thin wrist. ‘Hmm, you’ve probably got another hour or so before things next door start to get serious.’

  ‘Serious?’

  ‘Emma and Jed,’ he said with a sigh. ‘Not their faults, really. The Garvin sisters will start begging for a seance and Jed will’ve had too much to drink to remember it isn’t really a good idea. Emma will feign reluctance, but that’s all it’ll be. No, it’s better you stay in here with me.’

  ‘They’re going to have a seance?’

  ‘More than likely.’

  ‘Maybe I should leave.’

  He picked up his glass and raised it shakily to his lips, the veins tracing the backs of his hands looking a dark purple in the lamplight.

  ‘Maybe it’d be for the better if you did – somehow I think not. I think you’re meant to be here and now. Maybe then it can all be done and dusted. Maybe then a few of this village’s ghosts can be laid to rest.’

  My mouth felt very dry. ‘Ghosts?’ I asked, and it came out more as a raspy croak.

  His smile was very gentle. ‘I know you want to leave Slyford, but give it time, a few more days, a week, a month, but give it time. This village needs you. Emms and Jed need you.’

&nb
sp; ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘You—’

  ‘Jim?’ a voice called.

  ‘You’d better go,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, Jim, there you are,’ Emma said, and I glanced around the wing of the chair to see her crossing the room towards me with Jed in her wake. ‘I thought we’d lost you.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said, hastily getting to my feet, ‘I just needed a moment of quiet and I got talking to …’ Then I realised he’d never told me his name. I glanced down at the other armchair and the world about me gave a little lurch. The seat was empty. I forced myself to carry on even though my head was reeling. ‘I just needed a moment,’ I finished lamely.

  If either of them noticed I was talking rubbish they didn’t show it. Emma linked an arm through mine. ‘Come on. I have some more people to introduce you to.’

  As she led me from the room I glanced over my shoulder at the back of the empty chair and it occurred to me that maybe Sir Peter had been right. Maybe I was in the middle of a breakdown.

  I didn’t have time to brood. The next hour or so passed in a confusion of names, faces and inane small talk, when all I wanted to do was escape back to the cottage. No, not to the cottage. I didn’t really care if I never saw the place again. What I really wanted was to escape back to London and if I could say ‘Beam me up, Scotty’ and suddenly appear back in the familiar surroundings of my own home, I would.

  At about eleven-thirty people began to leave and to my relief there had been no mention of a seance. That the Garvin sisters appeared to be ensconced for the night did give me cause for concern and, when they gravitated towards Jed as the elderly couple he was talking with said their farewells, I decided it was time for me to leave.

  Emma was in the front hall saying goodbye to her guests and I dutifully joined the queue wishing they’d get a move on. Why it was some people when they decided to leave just couldn’t get on and do it I’d never know. It was always the same. They’d say their goodbyes and then stand on the doorstep yattering on and on for half an hour or more.

  When it finally got to my turn Emma gave me a bright smile. ‘Leaving so soon?’

  ‘Emma, it’s been great. Thanks for inviting me.’

  ‘You’re not going?’ a voice boomed from behind me, making me jump.

  I glanced over my shoulder as Jed crossed the hall to join us. Behind him the Garvin sisters hovered. Miriam’s expression was possibly one of disappointment; Darcy’s was more like tight-lipped disapproval.

  ‘Why not join us for one last nightcap?’ Emma suggested.

  ‘That’s very kind, Emma, but it’s been a long day,’ I said.

  ‘Ah, come on, Jim. Have one last snifter with us for the road,’ Jed said, slapping me on the back.

  I wanted to refuse. I wanted to leave. All the same I found myself being drawn across the hallway into what I imagined was Emma’s sitting room.

  Four lamp stands were positioned around the room, the light passing through their amber glass shades bathing the gold and cream striped walls in a cosy, warm glow. Several floral-covered couches and armchairs were arranged around a central coffee table and to my relief it crossed my mind that never had I seen a room less conducive to the calling upon of spirits.

  Jed fetched glasses, moving around with a familiarity that made me wonder at the relationship between him and our hostess. Emma poured two fingers of Scotch into each of the glasses and handed them around. Then, when we were all seated, she dropped down into a chair herself with a happy sigh.

  ‘Cheers,’ she said, lifting her glass.

  ‘Cheers,’ we all echoed.

  It was good stuff. Sir Peter would have loved it.

  I rolled the first mouthful around on my tongue, savouring the slightly peaty flavour, and when I swallowed the golden liquid left a trail of warmth down my throat and into my chest that had me closing my eyes and feeling grateful I’d stayed.

  ‘This is lovely,’ I murmured.

  ‘Reggie’s favourite,’ Emma said. ‘I was never much of a whisky drinker before he introduced me to this blend.’

  We all relaxed back into our seats, sipping our drinks in a companionable silence and I couldn’t help thinking it was the perfect end to the day and perhaps my stay in the village. It wasn’t the right time to mention it, though. I thought maybe in the morning I’d pop round to see Emma with a bunch of flowers to give her the news. If I was all packed up and ready to go, she could hardly talk me out of it.

  ‘Have you seen any more of the Finch girl?’ Darcy asked Jed.

  I inwardly winced. Maybe I should have left.

  He looked up from his glass. ‘The last time I saw her was a few days ago. Her brother warned me off.’

  ‘Warned you off?’ Emma said. ‘It was she who needed warning off.’

  ‘He didn’t see it that way.’ He took a swig of his drink. ‘Anyway, I’d already told the lass I didn’t have anything else for her. If the dead don’t want to talk, I can’t make them.’

  ‘And her father didn’t?’ Miriam asked.

  ‘He’d said all he had to say and moved on, and that’s the way it should be.’

  ‘Had any other messages?’ Miriam asked, her eyes bright, and Darcy shifted forward on the couch, elbows on knees, hands clenched together as if in prayer.

  I shivered. There was something in their expressions that I found unsettling, repugnant even. A fervour, a zealous excitement. I now understood what my companion in the study meant. This was the moment they’d been waiting for all evening. Getting Jed to perform for them. I didn’t want to see this. I didn’t need to see this.

  I went to stand, but my legs didn’t want to work and my head swam. Had I drunk more than I thought? I’d only had three glasses of champagne, four tops, and I still had a finger of whisky left in my glass.

  I looked up. Fortunately, all eyes were on Jed and no one had noticed my momentary incapacity. His cheeks were flushed and his lips wet. He’d certainly had more than three or four flutes of champagne.

  ‘I’m sorry, ladies,’ he said. ‘I’ve nothing for you tonight.’

  I relaxed back into my seat. Thank the Lord for that. Jed’s parlour games I did not need. I took another sip of my drink closed my eyes and everything went blank.

  Blank – no, not blank. It was like I was blind, deaf and dumb. It was like I’d been submerged into a sea of black. I couldn’t breathe; I was drowning in darkness. I began to panic. I was sitting in Emma’s lounge with four other people who had no idea I was dying in front of them. I tried to speak; I tried to scream, but no words came.

  Then, almost as though I had imagined the whole thing, the veil was lifted. I gasped in air. I could breathe, hear and see.

  ‘Oh my God, oh my God,’ I heard a woman’s voice saying over and over again.

  ‘Jim. Jim, can you hear me?’ That was Emma.

  I looked up. Emma was crouched in front of me, her eyes wide, her face pale despite the sunny glow of the lights. Jed was doing something to my hand. When I looked down he was wrapping a towel around my palm, but even as the material wound around my hand it rapidly turned scarlet.

  ‘Should I call an ambulance?’ Jed asked.

  Emma ignored him. ‘Jim, are you all right?’

  I looked back at my hand and the bloody towel. ‘What happened?’ I suddenly felt very cold. Had I had some sort of fit? Had I had another episode of craziness?

  ‘Don’t you remember?’ Emma asked, biting her lip, then she and Jed shared a look.

  Jed had lost the ruddy glow to his cheeks, and I wasn’t sure whether it was the sight of my blood but he appeared to have sobered up pretty damn quickly.

  Over his shoulder I could see Miriam and Darcy huddled together on the settee. They’d lost their eager expressions; Miriam was staring at me in cold-eyed shock – no, her expression was more like horrified, and Darcy’s complexion looked bloodless. Bloody hell – what had I done?

  Jed stood. ‘I’ll see you out,’ he said to them.

 
‘You didn’t tell us,’ Darcy said.

  ‘I didn’t know,’ Jed said, glancing my way as he ushered the two women out of the room.

  I instinctively flipped a wave of farewell. Darcy’s expression was troubled, but Miriam … I caught a glimpse of something else. She was looking directly at me, her eyes narrowed. There was something there that made me shiver and then, within an instant, it was gone and she gave me a weak smile. Good God, I was seeing menace where there was none. She was a middle-aged woman, for heaven’s sake.

  Emma unwound the towel from around my hand and started to dab at my palm with the least bloody patch of material she could find. When I looked I could see an inch-long, jagged gash across its centre. She peered down at the wound, still dabbing at it as the flow of blood began to slow.

  ‘You’ll live,’ she said, giving me a tight smile, ‘and I don’t think there’s any glass in it.’

  ‘Glass?’

  She gestured over her shoulder at what remained of one of her whisky glasses. Now a pile of broken, blood-smeared pieces.

  ‘I’m sorry – did I do that?’ Though I couldn’t see how I had; the glass was of thick, good-quality crystal. ‘What happened? Did I have some sort of seizure?’ I babbled, my fear fast turning back to panic.

  ‘No, not a seizure. Don’t worry. It’s nothing to worry about.’ Jed appeared next to her and handed her a packet and a roll of bandage. She muttered her thanks and, dropping the bloody towel on the coffee table next to the shards of crystal, began to dress my hand.

  ‘Well, I’ve got a feeling we won’t be seeing the Garvin girls for some time to come,’ Jed said and started to chuckle.

  Emma shot him an angry look. ‘I’m glad you’re amused.’

  ‘It is kind of funny.’

  ‘You think?’

  ‘What happened?’ I asked, my fear turning to irritation as they appeared to be talking around me.

  ‘Make yourself useful and pour Jim a drink,’ Emma said.

  ‘You want one?’

  ‘I think I could do with one.’ She pinned the bandage into place. ‘There. All done,’ she said and got up to sit in the chair next to mine.