by Dan Scottow
But instead of a hard floor, she splashes into a pool, sinking beneath its surface. The icy water washes over her skin as reeds tangle around her ankles, pulling her down. She struggles, flailing. Raising her head, she sees shafts of light breaking through the water, far above her.
How is it so deep, she wonders?
Reaching down, she claws at her feet, tearing at the weeds that wrap themselves round her limbs.
And then she is dry. Rolling on her back on the floor. The utility door wide open, but nobody is there.
No water. Only Diana, alone, in the middle of the kitchen.
Her eyes creep about the room, searching for a sign that someone else is there.
But nothing is untoward. Everything is silent. No ghosts. No Rose.
She reaches up, pulling herself to her feet on the edge of the counter, checking her clothes. They’re wet from where she sat in the boat, but her hair is dry. Still tumbling loose, free from the constraints of her braid, it falls about her like a lion’s mane. A low rumble of wind rages outside. She feels her ankles, half expecting to find seaweed there. Nothing.
Smoothing her hair down the sides of her face, she lets out a breath, and retrieves her stick from the floor by her feet, crossing the room to the hallway. She has the sickening feeling that the house is rocking from side to side as she walks, like a huge cruise ship, caught in a turbulent sea. She steadies herself against the bannisters as she lumbers along the passageway, stumbling towards her bedroom. Lunging across the hall, she almost falls through the doorway. Throwing open the drawers of her dresser, she pulls pots of pills out, but her hands are shaking too much. Each time she removes a lid, the tablets spill out, falling to the floor, slipping between cracks on the boards. She pushes others through the foil of blister packs using her thumb, but they scatter by her feet, instead of into her hand.
She throws the empty packets down, screaming.
Dropping to her knees, she scrambles around, scooping up the pills, shovelling them into her mouth. Doesn’t know which are which anymore. Doesn’t care. It’s no matter. She simply wants to be unconscious. Away from this hideous waking nightmare.
Crawling to her bed, she pulls herself up onto the mattress. Fully clothed and damp, she slides beneath the duvet. The room swirls around her. She screws her eyes tight, but each time she closes them she sees Rose’s ghost, emerging from the loch, reaching a bony arm with pale, water-bloated flesh sagging from it towards her. Pointing a skeletal finger at Diana’s face.
Her eyes spring open. Anything is better than that.
She stares through the dim room at the wall opposite her bed. The pattern of the paisley wallpaper seems to dance before her, rearranging itself. She squints, blinking a few times. It’s definitely moving.
Crawling like a thousand spiders.
It swirls in undulating movements, and before she can make head or tail of what is happening, it has morphed into a face.
Rose’s face.
Mouth wide open in a snarl. That dreadful, watery voice screams, and Diana balls her fists into her ears.
84
Lucy
They put it off as long as they can but eventually, around four in the afternoon, they head for the house. On a brighter day, the light would still be wonderful at this time, but today, with the thick blanket of cloud in the sky, it feels like dusk. Driving through the woods, the gloom is immense. Memories of jumping into the loch from yachts couldn’t be further from their minds.
Lucy glances at her friend beside her. The booze is wearing off, and now she’s struggling to stay awake. Neither of them speaks for some time.
‘Will she be up?’ Cassie asks as the car winds down the side of the hill, towards Willow Cottage.
Lucy shrugs.
‘Your guess is as good as mine. Depends if she’s been drinking.’
‘I haven’t had any alcohol since before lunch… I think I’d be okay to drive home now, really.’
‘Cassie, is two of your friends dying not enough for one year, without adding your own name to the list?’
Cassie turns to look out of her window, as Lucy immediately regrets her words.
‘I’m sorry… that was insensitive. Of course, if you want to leave, I can’t stop you. But I wouldn’t feel happy about it.’
Cassie nods.
‘I know this morning wasn’t great… but believe me, she’s never been violent before.’
Her friend opens her mouth to speak but stops, as if she has changed her mind.
‘What?’ Lucy asks.
‘Nothing. It doesn’t matter.’
‘Tell me?’
She shifts uncomfortably in her seat.
‘She hit Rose.’
‘Really?’
‘They were arguing about something totally ridiculous, like toilet paper or something… and Diana slapped her in the face. Never apologised for it. I think that was the turning point for Rose… that’s when she knew she was done there.’
‘Why on earth did she stay?’
‘Mylo. She was head over heels in love with him. And she didn’t want to lose him. She begged him to let her move in at his, but his mother is… old-fashioned about things like that. So she stayed… she put up with all Diana’s shit. For Mylo. Sad really.’
Lucy pulls up at the front of the cottage, applying the handbrake. Both girls sit for a moment. She eventually climbs out onto the damp grass. Cassie follows suit, trailing a few paces behind. As they approach, it strikes Lucy as odd that no lights are on inside. Although it’s still early, the light is poor, and the house is in shadow. Frowning, she unlocks the front door, stepping into the hall.
It feels cold. That’s the first thing that hits her.
Diana’s bedroom is wide open. That’s the second.
She steps forward, peering into the room. Empty.
The place is silent.
‘Hello? Diana?’ Lucy calls out as Cassie joins her by her side.
Nobody answers. A creak from somewhere within. Lucy looks at her friend, holding her finger to her lips. She tiptoes down the hallway, pausing outside Richard’s room, peeking in. No sign of him.
They enter the kitchen. The back door is wide open. Diana’s grey hair lies in clumps all over the floor. A pair of shears sits on the worktop. Another creak from behind them.
They spin, but the hall is deserted.
Turning towards the window, they notice Richard in his wheelchair, sitting out on the jetty.
‘What the hell is he doing out there?’ Cassie whispers.
‘Something is not right. Wait here.’ Lucy rushes into the garden, across the lawn to the pier.
She crouches in front of Richard. His eyes are wide open. He stares dead ahead, out over the loch.
His colostomy bag is leaking. The stench of faeces fills her nose. She holds a hand over her mouth, trying not to gag.
‘What are you doing out here by yourself? Where’s Diana?’ she breathes into his ear. Standing, she spins the chair, noticing that Cassie now loiters in the garden, hair blowing in the wind as she hugs her arms around herself against it.
‘You okay?’ Lucy shouts as she approaches.
‘Yeah… I felt weird in there.’
‘No worries. Can you wait out here with him? I’m going to check inside for Diana.’
Cassie nods. Screwing her face up as the smell of human waste hits her, she leans against the wall as far from him as she can manage. Lucy steps back into the kitchen, flicking on the light as she enters. A creak to her left makes her jump. Heart pounding, she spins to see the living-room door swing shut.
‘Diana?’
She steps through to the lounge, in time to see a figure exit on the opposite side of the room. Edging backwards, she sidesteps to the entrance of the hall.
Someone looms by the foot of the stairs.
Lucy shudders. The dark silhouette dashes across the hallway, into Diana’s room. Lucy creeps forward, stopping outside.
‘Hello?’ she says gently, voice t
rembling.
‘Diana?’
Something tumbles, clattering to the floor. She knows it’s irrational, but she doesn’t want to enter the bedroom.
‘I’m coming in…’
As she shifts her weight on her feet, the boards beneath them groan. The sound seems to fill the entire house. The curtains are closed, as they have been for weeks. There’s a stench like sweat, and piss, and filthy bed linen. On reflection, Lucy can’t remember the last time she washed sheets for Diana. Flies buzz around the space, landing on dirty soup bowls, and saucers with half-eaten sandwiches.
At least she’s been eating the food I’ve prepared… mostly, Lucy thinks. She pushes in a little further.
She can’t see Diana by the bed. Glancing about, she realises with a sense of dread that there’s only one place someone could be hiding.
Behind the door.
She turns, too late, as something heavy collides with the top of her head.
And the world goes black.
85
Lucy
There’s a ringing in her ears. Her head throbs.
Opening her eyes, she slowly reaches a hand up to her face. It’s wet, sticky.
Blood.
It takes her a moment to put everything together.
Someone hit her. Hard.
She’s lying on the floor in Diana’s bedroom, in the dark. She has no idea how long she’s been out. She reaches up, feeling around for her injury. She’s groggy, disorientated. There’s a lump, and a cut, but it doesn’t feel too deep. Scalp wounds always bleed a lot. Climbing to her knees, she stays like that for a while, to make sure she won’t collapse again. Blood trickles down the side of her face, dripping onto the floorboards. When she’s positive she’s okay, she stands, crossing to the dresser, throwing open the drawers. She rummages for something soft, finding a black T-shirt, sniffing it. Smells clean. Balling it up, she presses it to the cut. She steadies herself on the top of the unit, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. The house is still. Silent. Outside, the wind has died down. All is calm. She steps out into the hall, still pressing the garment to her. It’s soaking up the blood. She can feel it seeping through to her hand.
Holding her breath, she creeps along the hallway, back jammed against the wall. She enters the kitchen, clicking the door shut as silently as she can. Doesn’t want to risk another attack from behind. She glances towards the living room, and dashes across the floor, stepping out into the garden, sealing the exit behind her again. She looks from side to side. Richard is still sitting in his chair, where she left him, but Cassie is nowhere to be seen.
Peering into the distance, she sees something lying on the lawn, past the jetty, close to the treeline.
Diana’s cane.
She sprints towards it, crouching to pick it up. There are footprints in the mud on the perimeter of the forest. Freshly broken branches where someone has barged in. She looks around one last time, before pushing into the undergrowth. As she makes her way deeper into the woods, the light fades fast. The ground is soft, the leaves still wet from the storm.
A twig cracks somewhere in the distance.
She stops, breathing slowly, scanning the trees. The gentle lapping of the waves on the shore the only sound. Behind her, something rustles. She spins, craning her neck as she tries to see what is there. Some nearby branches sway back and forth. Holding her breath again, heart pounding, she rotates on the spot.
Still nothing.
She pushes further into the forest. Straying from the path, progress is slow. She has to climb over fallen trunks and sprawling bracken. Thorns from brambles catch on her jeans, tearing at her ankles through her thin socks. As the woodland grows denser, she finds it harder to pass, holding Diana’s cane in one hand, the other pressing the T-shirt to her head. She checks the cloth, it’s sodden now, sticky. Tossing it aside, it catches on a branch, hanging a few metres from her. Reaching up, she touches her wound; fingers come away covered in blood. She can feel it trickling down her neck.
She’ll worry about that later. Tucking the cane under her arm, she ploughs on, as waves of dizziness wash over her.
To her left, some oystercatchers screech, fluttering from their hiding place, up into the treetops. Did something disturb them? Was it simply her presence that alarmed them?
Senses heightened, she pushes some branches aside, creeping further into the forest. Another crack.
Closer now. She spins. A large stag stands a few metres in the distance, eyes wide, frozen to the spot. It stares her down. Ordinarily, she would be in awe of this creature, but this is not the time to marvel at its beauty. It turns and disappears into the bushes, lightning fast. And Lucy is alone once more.
She tries to stay low, ready for an attack.
‘Lucy!’
A whisper. But definitely her name.
‘Over here…’
She can’t tell which direction the voice comes from. Her heart thumps violently in her chest. Arms trembling, she edges forwards, into the darkness. Her foot sinks into some thick mud, squelching beneath her shoe. She looks down, shoulders slumping.
A pale hand shoots out from the bushes, gripping her ankle.
And Lucy screams.
86
Lucy
‘Shh!’ Cassie whispers, pulling her down to the ground.
‘My God, Cassie! Are you trying to scare me to death?’
Cassie claps her hand over Lucy’s mouth.
‘She’s got those shears,’ she whispers, eyes wide.
Lucy glances at her friend. Her hair has fallen loose and is tangled with leaves and twigs. The left sleeve of her sweater is torn, bloodied. Beneath the gaps in the fabric, Lucy sees a nasty-looking cut.
‘What happened?’ Lucy mouths silently.
‘She’s totally lost it… went berserk. She’s not making any sense. Charged at me with the scissors, slashed my shoulder.’ She nods towards her wound. ‘Screaming about Rose, basically babbling nonsense. Shouting about how she came out of the wallpaper to get her… bonkers. I ran into the woods. She followed, but I think she’s struggling.’
‘I’ve got her stick. That must be slowing her down a little.’
Cassie’s eyes widen, finger springs to her lips. She suddenly crouches lower, pulling Lucy with her.
She points, slowly, over her friend’s shoulder. Lucy pivots to see behind her. A few metres away, on the other side of a large bush, stands Diana. Blades dangling by her side. Her hair is shorn roughly, all different lengths, spiky, longer in places. It trails in wisps about her ears. She wears a black housecoat, baggy and shapeless. Her eyes bulge in their sockets, as her head whips from side to side.
‘Where are you, Rose?’ she calls in a playful tone. ‘I know you’re here. Somewhere.’
She takes a few tentative steps forwards, before turning her back to the girls.
Lucy barely recognises the lunatic stalking around before them. The transformation is frightening.
‘I’ll find you.’
She edges away from them.
‘Cassie, do you trust me?’ Lucy says as quietly as she can. Her friend nods.
‘I’ll distract her… and I need you to run in the other direction. Go back and call the police. And an ambulance. Tell them exactly what is happening. Then lock yourself in the house and don’t come out until they arrive.’
‘No! She’ll kill you. She’s totally crazy.’
‘She won’t. I’m faster. She’s disabled. She’ll not get near me. But we need help here.’
Cassie’s eyes well with tears as she stares at the madwoman.
‘As soon as I’m gone, you have to get up and run. As fast as you can. Do you understand?’
‘I’m scared.’
‘I know. I am too. But I’ll lure her away from you.’
Cassie nods again. Without warning, Lucy springs out from her hiding place, dashing forwards. The commotion makes Diana spin towards them. Lucy sprints past her, bounding over tree stumps and holly bushes. S
he affords herself a glance over her shoulder. Diana is in pursuit. Behind her, Lucy sees Cassie dart away quietly, heading away to the perimeter of the forest.
Lucy runs, or as close to running as she can in the dense woodland, with what she suspects is concussion. She dodges trees, sidesteps tall ferns, and splashes through puddles. She hears Diana, but she’s falling further and further behind. The woman isn’t steady on her feet on clear ground. Lucy has a distinct advantage, and she knows it.
When she’s confident that Diana can no longer see her, she drops to the floor, rolling to a huge Scots pine trunk, and sits with her back against it, holding Diana’s cane in both trembling hands.
Her breathing is so heavy, she’s positive Diana will hear it.
‘I’m coming, Rose!’ The woman’s voice echoes through the trees. ‘You can’t get away from me.’
She’s getting nearer.
Lucy turns to face the trunk. She leans the cane against it, and places her palms on the bark, peering round the side. She sees a black shape move amongst the bushes. Darting back to her hiding place, she grabs the stick, standing with knees bent. Waiting.
She hears cracks and rustles as Diana grows nearer. She hadn’t planned on letting her get this close, but she’s still out of breath, not ready to run again yet.
‘Come out, come out, wherever you are…’ Diana sings.
The sound sends a shiver down to Lucy’s core.
‘Rose, you fucking bitch! Get out here right now!’ Diana screams. Her voice is high-pitched; doesn’t sound like herself.
Lucy spies a large rock at her feet, covered in moss, half sunk in deep mud. Crouching, she grapples with one hand, prising the stone out of the puddle. It comes free easily. Straightening, she turns, throwing it as far as she can into the bushes.
‘Got you!’ Diana hisses.
Lucy hears a succession of cracks and grunts. She leans around, seeing Diana hobbling away in the other direction, faster than she would have thought possible for the woman. Lucy squats, crawling through the dirt. Her clothes are caked in mud. Blood from her head mixes with it on her jumper.