Scars

by Dan Scottow

  ‘I don’t even know where to start. She accused me of poisoning her yesterday.’

  ‘What? That’s mental. Why would she say that?’

  Lucy shrugs.

  ‘She’s delusional. I’m probably oversharing here, but… she told me her mother was schizophrenic. Committed suicide. With that in mind her behaviour is… worrying.’

  ‘She called me at the shop the other day. It was so odd. She was asking about this vase that I gave Rose. Asked if I’d ever told you about it. She sounded… wired.’

  Lucy finishes the daisy chain she’s been making, sliding it onto her wrist. She closes her eyes, pushing her hands out through the grass beside her, letting the blades slide between her fingers.

  ‘She’s totally bonkers. She made me do a Ouija board with her last week. I think the stuff with the vase has something to do with that.’

  ‘You’re kidding?’

  ‘Nope. She actually believes the cottage is haunted.’

  ‘Haunted? For Christ’s sake…’

  Lucy looks at Mylo, unsure whether to say anymore.

  ‘She thinks it’s Rose.’

  She lets that sink in. Watches as the muscles in his jaw tense.

  ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.’

  ‘No, it’s all right. It’s funny actually… the other day when you were saying about the stone stacks?’

  She nods.

  ‘Rose used to make those things. She was obsessed with them. She made them all over the place. Really annoyed Diana if she made them in the garden.’

  Lucy’s eyes widen, as she remembers Mylo turning up at the house shortly after the incident. He continues.

  ‘That’s why I went quiet when you were telling me about it. It was… strange. Made me feel a bit creeped out.’

  ‘She says she’s seen her.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘In the house. She’s adamant.’

  Mylo picks a blade of grass, tossing it down the hill in front of him.

  ‘Do you believe her?’

  ‘Of course I don’t! She’s completely insane.’

  He says nothing. Just sits picking grass and throwing it away. Lucy’s eyes drift over the landscape, and she smiles.

  ‘It’s so beautiful here,’ she says, changing the subject. ‘The colours are… incredible. It’s fascinating how much they’ve changed even in the short time I’ve been here. It’s like I’m living inside a rainbow.’

  Mylo’s eyes cloud over. He gives her a peculiar look, his lips part as if he’s about to speak, but seems to change his mind.

  ‘What?’ she asks.

  ‘You’re so much like her, do you know that? Rose, I mean. Not physically. But you’ve said things that she used to say to me. Almost word for word. I’ve noticed it a few times since I met you. It’s… remarkable.’

  Lucy shifts her weight between her buttocks, looking away briefly. She takes a chance, leaning towards his face. Their lips touch, and they kiss. But as quickly as it started, it’s over. He pushes her from him.

  ‘I’m sorry. I can’t.’

  She looks to her side, so he doesn’t see the hurt in her eyes.

  ‘I thought I could. But I don’t think I’m ready. Not yet. I really like you, trust me. But all this stuff with Diana, it’s made me realise I’m still so raw. It wouldn’t be fair on either of us.’

  He touches her chin, tilting her head back towards him.

  ‘You understand, don’t you?’

  She nods. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispers.

  ‘You’ve got nothing to apologise for. You’re wonderful. But can we try friends first… see how we get on?’

  Cassie comes bounding up the hill. Lucy has never been so pleased to see anyone.

  ‘What are you two lovebirds talking about,’ she shouts, plonking herself down beside them.

  And the moment is gone.

  48

  Lucy

  ‘We were discussing Diana,’ Lucy says.

  Cassie shakes her head.

  ‘Sorry I dissed her earlier, I know she’s your boss.’

  ‘No worries.’

  Mylo sits quietly, watching the two girls.

  ‘You deserve a medal for putting up with her though. That cottage is so creepy. I don’t like it.’

  ‘Cassie!’ Mylo chides.

  ‘I don’t. It’s so old. My dad says it’s been there hundreds of years. And get this. This old woman lived there, like, ages ago. And the people round here thought she was a witch because she was a bit eccentric. So one night they all turned up at the door and dragged her from her bed. Hung her from that willow tree in the garden. Left her there to rot as a warning to other witches.’

  Lucy screws up her face.

  ‘That’s enough, Cass,’ Mylo warns.

  ‘It’s fine, honestly,’ Lucy replies.

  Mylo tilts his head, but she shakes hers gently.

  ‘Anyway, my dad says Diana got the place for an absolute steal. It was empty for years. Nobody else would touch it. People round here, the proper old locals I mean, not like my family… well, they’re a bit superstitious about it. They reckon people have seen the witch’s ghost wandering the woods naked, neck broken.’

  She jerks her head to the side, sticking her tongue out.

  ‘Oh yeah, sure!’ Lucy laughs.

  ‘It’s true, I swear! I’d sleep with one eye open if I were you.’ She cackles for effect, labouring the point.

  ‘You’re such a dick,’ Mylo says, standing, brushing grass from his jeans. ‘I’m going down to the beach.’

  He strolls away, leaving the girls sitting in the meadow. Cassie nudges her elbow into Lucy’s.

  ‘So… come on! How’s it… developing?’

  Lucy smiles.

  ‘It’s not.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘He’s not into me… or at least, he’s still into Rose, so I think he feels like he’s being unfaithful or something.’

  The smile drifts from Cassie’s lips. She stares down the hill after Mylo, nodding.

  ‘Give him time. I can’t even begin to imagine what he’s going through. Early days. He’s changed a lot since the accident. He used to be a much happier person. These days he’s so… moody.’

  ‘When did… it happen?’

  Cassie chews her lip.

  ‘About eight months ago.’

  ‘Oh God, so soon. No wonder he’s still hurting.’

  Cassie fingers the daisy chain around Lucy’s wrist.

  ‘Pretty,’ she says absent-mindedly.

  ‘Tell me about her? Rose, I mean.’

  Cassie lets out a slow breath.

  ‘Rose was… amazing. Pure Glasgow. Bolshie as hell, but… beautiful. Inside and out. Mylo worshipped the ground she walked on. He thought she was totally perfect. And she loved it.’

  She smiles sadly.

  ‘How long did she work for Diana?’

  ‘She was there a couple of years. She hated it, you know. She was going to leave. When her and Mylo got engaged, he said she could move in. I was so pleased for them… for her. She needed to get out of that house.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘She changed. Living there. Something about her… I don’t know. I’m probably being melodramatic. I tend to do that, if you haven’t noticed.’

  ‘No, please, go on.’

  ‘I can’t really explain… it’s difficult. But the longer she was there, she became… different. It was sad to watch. I hoped that when she moved out, things might go back to how they were… but… you know, we never got the chance to find out. She used to be so chilled… when she first arrived. But towards the end her and Diana would have screaming fights. Diana would rant at her about smoking in the house, and, of course, that would make Rose do it even more, because… well… she hated her, and wanted to piss her off.’

  She looks at Lucy intently.

  ‘She also became quite jealous… of Mylo. Got a bit funny when he would talk to me, or Molly. Especially Sadiya
, but she is stunning. Not sure I’d like my fella talking to her either.’

  She laughs, but it seems forced.

  ‘I saw a picture of her in Mylo’s flat. I don’t think she had anything to worry about.’

  ‘That’s what I mean though. She was a confident girl… she never felt threatened by anyone else. I admired her for that. When she walked into a room… she owned it. But towards the end… she was paranoid. A bit… psycho.’

  They sit in silence for a while, watching Mylo on the beach. He’s skimming stones out across the loch. Cassie stands, holding her hand out.

  ‘Come on, I need a drink.’

  She pulls Lucy up from the grass, and they head back to the boat.

  49

  Diana

  She sits facing the house, listening to the gentle lapping of the waves on the beach. She can hear them slapping against the side of the small red fishing boat tied to the end of the jetty. She used to adore watching the swallows and cormorants swooping over the water. On a fine day, she sometimes even spied porpoises, their fins arching out above the surface. But she doesn’t dare take her eyes off the cottage. Too afraid. Richard is sitting at his window. She watches for someone behind him, but nobody appears. Her home is deserted.

  Her gaze drifts towards the studio, but she can’t bring herself to go in. She regrets telling the girl she could have today off, not because she needs her, but rather because she doesn’t want to be here alone.

  She feels a little happier after her conversation on the phone with Annette. But she won’t be satisfied until the deed is done.

  She raises her hand, fiddling with her braid; hair feels greasy, unpleasant. As her fingers glide over her chest, they suddenly splay, and she gasps.

  The crucifix which usually hangs around her neck, the one which means so much to her… it’s not there. She must have forgotten to put it back on after she used it in the seance. Biting her lip, she slowly raises herself from the chair, limping with her cane back towards the cottage. She loiters outside the door, staring through into the empty kitchen. Taking a deep breath, she steps inside. Her heart pounds. How has it come to this, she thinks? Afraid to enter her own home.

  Richard’s laboured breathing is the only sound emitting from the house. Sometimes, depending how he slouches, he gurgles as he draws breath. Small bubbles usually form at the corners of his mouth. She pictures this now as she hears the sickening noise from his room. She grimaces, feeling immediately guilty, hobbling through the kitchen. Recalling that the necklace was knocked onto the floor when Lucy pushed the planchette from the board, she scours the floorboards around the dining table. It isn’t there. She checks the rug in case the jewellery has been kicked there. Nothing.

  She lowers to her knees, wincing through gritted teeth. Closing her eyes for a second, she breathes in and out, then begins to glide her palms over the floor. She crawls about the entire room but doesn’t find the chain. The ground is spotless. Not a speck of dirt anywhere.

  A tiny spider scurries across the back of her hand, and she shakes it frantically. Her eyes dart around the room, but she can’t see where it landed. She returns her attention to the task at hand, and it occurs to her that she has heard the girl vacuuming most days, while she has been hidden away in her bedroom, afraid to even open the curtains. She heaves herself up, using the corner of the table for support, heading back to the kitchen. She crosses to the utility room. As she enters, she shudders, hunching her shoulders for warmth. Wet laundry hangs drying, the scent of fabric softener filling the space. Inhaling deeply, the aroma fills her nostrils, calming her a little. Spotting the vacuum cleaner in one corner, she hurries towards it, pulling the waste section from the rear, emptying it onto the concrete floor. She lowers herself to her knees again, searching through the crap that has spilled out before her. She brushes it with her hands, thinning it out, but the crucifix is not there. No glistening emeralds. No glint of bright silver in the afternoon sun. A sense of unease begins to wash over her, as she recalls the rules from the game.

  Always say goodbye… Lucy had left without completing it, leaving it open.

  Never play alone… she had moved the pointer to close the board by herself after the girl left the room.

  The silver… knocked from the table. Three of the five rules, broken.

  Then there was Lucy’s apparent possession, straight afterwards. Fleeting as it was, it was none the less terrifying. The girl appears to have no recollection of the words that left her mouth. Diana has wondered more than once if she actually imagined it.

  A cold sweat forms on her brow. Her head spins, and she suddenly feels sick.

  Standing, she knits her fingers together. She begins to scratch. The backs of her hands, her forearms feel incredibly itchy. The feeling spreads to her shoulders, her ankles. Her face.

  She sees something black scurry over her knuckles. A tiny spider dancing across her. She brushes at it, grimacing. They have always repulsed her. Staring down at her limbs, her eyes widen. Her mouth opens, but no sound comes out. She wants to scream, but she is too petrified.

  Bugs. Thousands of them, crawling over her flesh.

  Their hairy legs scuttle over her, tickling her skin. She scratches, slaps herself, trying to brush them away. She stares in horror as she realises… they are burrowing.

  A fleshy lump appears beneath the surface of the back of her hand and moves in an erratic motion towards her wrist. She drops her cane. It clatters on the hard ground.

  Falling to the floor, she hears buzzing. It grows louder as she sees hundreds of wasps are flying around the room. The sound continues to grow, and she finally manages to scream.

  ‘Oh my God, HELP! HELP ME!’

  She crawls, dragging herself across the concrete, through the muck from the vacuum cleaner. But she doesn’t care about that now. Swatting at the insects as they swoop towards her, her heart pounds. She feels them stinging her all over her body. A thousand tiny poisoned pinpricks over her limbs and face. One crawls into her mouth, and she feels it descend inside her throat. She can feel it buzzing about inside her belly.

  ‘GET OFF ME!’ she bellows.

  She nears the door, but before she reaches it, it swings open; a woman stands staring at her. It’s Rose; angry, glaring.

  No… not a woman anymore… A huge wasp, the size of a person… it hovers menacingly, then swoops down fast towards her. Diana throws her hands up to shield herself and screams. She screams as loud as she can, screwing her eyes tightly shut.

  50

  Lucy

  Diana writhes around on the floor, wailing. She’s swatting at thin air, connecting with the side of Lucy’s face from time to time. She claws at Lucy’s arms as she tries to stop her, scratching deep gouges in her flesh.

  ‘Mylo, help me! Restrain her!’

  Mylo pounces, grabbing Diana’s wrists from behind.

  ‘Diana, it’s us. It’s Lucy and Mylo, do you hear me?’

  ‘GET AWAY FROM ME!’ she screams, head jerking from side to side as she watches invisible objects move around the room.

  ‘Diana, please. Calm down.’

  Lucy’s voice is firm, but level and measured. The thrashing subsides. A look of bewilderment fills Diana’s face. Mylo loosens his grip on her. She seems to relax, slumping forwards.

  ‘Let’s get her outside.’

  They help her to her feet, carrying her out to the garden. She sobs, glancing fearfully at her arms. Brushing at them now and then, as if there is something crawling on them.

  ‘Mylo, inside, in the drawer of the dresser, there’s a number for the doctor, in a diary. Can you call, please?’ She motions with her head towards the house, and he hurries away.

  Lucy grasps the sides of Diana’s head with both hands, staring into her unblinking eyes.

  ‘Diana, you’re safe. I’m here. Do you understand?’

  Her eyes dart from side to side, but settle on Lucy’s own. She nods.

  ‘Good. Keep looking at me. Don’t worry about a
nything else.’

  Mylo appears back at her side.

  ‘He’s on his way.’

  Diana’s head whips towards him.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mylo. It’s my fault. I invited her back.’

  He looks, puzzled, at Lucy, who shakes her head. He says nothing, simply smiles at Diana.

  ‘You can go if you need to,’ Lucy says.

  ‘You sure? What if she–’

  ‘She won’t. She’s fine. I’ve got this. You get home.’

  He kicks at the ground, like he doesn’t want to go, but eventually heads towards the dinghy.

  ‘Mylo,’ she calls after him. He turns to her.

  ‘Thank you.’

  He smiles weakly. As he pulls the cord to the outboard, and the engine starts to buzz, he looks over his shoulder.

  Lucy helps Diana to her feet, helping her slowly back inside as Mylo’s boat hums away.

  51

  Lucy

  ‘And aside from this, have you had any other… episodes?’ the doctor asks, matter-of-factly as he shines a torch into each of Diana’s eyes, watching her pupils.

  ‘No,’ Diana says, glancing nervously towards Lucy.

  ‘And how have you been feeling in general?’

  ‘Okay. A little nauseous at times, but other than that… fine.’

  ‘Sleeping?’

  ‘Same as usual.’

  Lucy narrows her eyes, but the woman shakes her head as the doctor looks away, rifling through his case. Her expression seems to plead. He holds out a bottle of pills.

  ‘Take two of these four times a day, they should help with the anxiety.’

  Lucy steps forward.

  ‘She’s already on medication for anxiety.’

  ‘I am her GP. I realise this. I was about to add, stop taking your Clonazepam. They may interact. Perhaps your body has developed an immunity.’

  He hands Diana the tablets. She grabs them like a child accepting candy.

  ‘Honestly, I just dozed off, and was still half asleep, stuck in a bad dream. Nothing to worry about.’