by E. A. Clark
‘That’s my sister, Sarah. She’s come to take me home.’
‘Oh, you’re leaving then? I thought you were here for another couple of weeks …’
‘I … what with everything that’s happened, I thought it best to cut the holiday short. I just wanted to come and see you all before I left.’
‘Mam’ll appreciate that. She was quite taken with you, you know.’
‘We had a good chat yesterday and got on pretty well,’ I replied, a little surprised that I seemed to have met with Mrs Williams’ approval.
‘Does your sister want to come in, too?’
Tudur kept looking back at the car. I glanced back and saw Sarah giving him a girly little wave. I smiled to myself.
‘No, I’ll keep it brief, as we’re getting on the road now. I just wanted to pay my respects.’
Marian Williams was sitting at her kitchen table, staring out of the window. A sombre-looking Ianto appeared in the doorway, carrying a large tumbler of whisky. My presence seemed to have surprised him.
‘Hello, Mrs Philips. Nice to see you again.’ He nodded an acknowledgement in my direction. ‘Here you go, Mam,’ he said solemnly, placing the glass in front of her.
She looked up and smiled half-heartedly. Her face was drawn and pale, and her eyes glazed. No evidence remained of the hysteria that she had displayed earlier. I suspected that she might have already made quite an impression on the contents of the whisky bottle.
‘Hello, Mrs Williams. I’ve just come to … I just wanted to say how sorry I am about Aneira. It’s difficult to find the right words at such a time. But I wanted you to know I’m thinking of you …’
I felt pathetic. My statement sounded trite and painfully inadequate. What was I to say when the poor woman’s world had just been ripped apart? Marian Williams said nothing for a moment. Taking a huge slug of liquor, she returned the glass to the table.
‘I appreciate that, Mrs Philips,’ she said eventually, her speech slightly slurred. ‘I knew, of course. How could a mother not? But at least we can bring her home now. She can be buried with her daddy. That will bring me some small comfort.’ She paused. ‘I can’t believe she’s been there all along – only a few yards from here. I won’t rest until they lock him up and throw away the key. And if they don’t, I’ll find the bastard and kill him myself. He’ll pay for what he’s done …’
I nodded mutely. There was really nothing more to say. I reached out and touched her hand. ‘I must be going now. I’m leaving today. Look after yourself, won’t you.’
‘And you take care of yourself too.’ She pointed to my stomach. ‘Mind you cherish that baby now. They are so precious, you know.’
I nodded and turned to go.
‘Mrs Philips …’ she called after me.
‘Yes?’
‘Thank you.’
For what, I wasn’t sure, but I was glad that I had gone to see her.
*
The weather that evening in the Midlands was equally grey and cool. My heart sank a little as we neared the end of the motorway. It felt strangely like an anti-climax after the event-filled few days I had spent, in spite of the nature of those events.
We unloaded the car and Sarah came into the house with me.
‘D’you want me to stay over?’ she asked.
‘No, it’s fine. You get on home,’ I insisted. ‘I’ll be OK.’
‘I’ll pop round tomorrow, then. We can have a few days out. I’ve got a fortnight off work, so it’d be a shame to waste it!’
I said that would be nice, and wished her goodnight.
The house felt empty and not terribly welcoming. I unpacked, then watched television for a while. The journey had taken its toll on me and I decided to have an early night. I wondered about Mr and Mrs Parry and how they were coping. I resolved to ring them the following day, just to thank them once again. And I would write to Nia and Arfon. They had been so kind.
My thoughts turned to Peter. Apart from the devastation he had caused to the Williams family, he had blighted the Parrys’ existence too. I wondered if he had any idea of the havoc his actions had wreaked.
I spread out across the bed, mindful, as ever, of the fact that it felt so much bigger without Graham. I couldn’t allow myself to dwell on him tonight. In spite of Sarah’s assurances, the guilt that my thoughtlessness had led to his death would not leave me. I winced at the thought of my behaviour at the party. I could do nothing to change the past, but would endeavour to be the best mother that I could, to make amends in some way.
Rain had begun to fall outside and I listened, soothed by the soft thud of the drops as they bounced against the windowpane. In time I drifted off to sleep, my consciousness gradually emptying of the thoughts that had weighed me down over the last few days.
My blissful rest was broken by some commotion in the street outside. I picked up my alarm clock and groaned, seeing that it was only 2.30 a.m. The baby had become very active at night, with the occasional kick in the bladder necessitating frequent trips to the toilet; plus the tablets were still playing merry hell with my sleeping pattern. I didn’t need any other disturbances.
Peeling back the curtain, I saw a small group of drunken youths engaged in a scuffle in the middle of the road. Soon a police car screeched to a halt outside. There were raised voices and quickly the youths dispersed, two in one direction, the remainder in the opposite. Order was restored. It had clearly been only a minor dispute, but enough to wake me completely.
I went downstairs to get a glass of water, despairing of ever having a full night’s sleep again. I sat in the living room for some fifteen minutes or so, leafing through a magazine. Eventually, in the hope of resuming my slumber, I went back up to bed. Having just made myself comfortable once more, I realized that I had left the curtain open. I sighed in irritation, knowing that the daylight coming through would wake me prematurely, should I be lucky enough to doze off again.
I went to draw the curtain, sighing resignedly as I caught sight of my own world-weary reflection in the window. Even though blurred by the trickling raindrops, I looked undeniably drawn and burdened. But then something happened. My senses suddenly heightened, my heart began to race as I became aware of an unwelcomely familiar musky scent. An unpleasant chill filled the air.
Through the rain, the image before me began to morph slowly into that of someone else. The eyes looking back at me were no longer my own. The face mirrored, as though lit from within, was not mine. I recoiled in horror as at once I recognized the ashen, emaciated countenance staring not at, but right through me: the dark, soulless eyes; the bitter, hateful expression. The mouth gaped hideously into a cavernous, subfusc oval, as if ready to engulf me.
‘What do you want from me?’ I screamed. ‘Leave me alone!’ I dragged the curtain across and backed away. A cool draught brushed past me. I could feel her, pressing invasively against my side. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, not wanting to look upon the haggard, malevolent face. I was shaking so much my legs felt as if they would give way.
Returning home, I had been lulled all too briefly into a sense of some sort of security and normality. I realized now that I had been pursued into my own domain – and I was completely alone. All that had gone before seemed to pale into insignificance. I had never known such a feeling of fear and dread. My blood ran cold as a voice almost spat the words into my ear. ‘I’m in your house now.’
*
What the neighbours must have thought if they’d seen me, God only knows. I needed to get out of there – and fast. Still dressed in my pyjamas and fuelled with adrenaline, I ran like a madwoman from the house and jumped into my car, which had sat unused by the roadside for several weeks now. My quivering fingers turned the key in the ignition. I hardly dared look into the rear-view mirror in case she had followed me. How I got to Sarah’s house without crashing, I do not know.
‘Let me in, please!’ I shouted through the letterbox as I hammered on the door. My heart was still banging against my ribcage.
My head was light and I felt so giddy that I feared I might pass out.
A confused Sarah pulled back the bolt. I almost fell into the hallway.
‘Annie? What the hell’s going on? It’s the middle of the night!’
*
Sarah made Ovaltine, which we had always loved as children. We sat in her living room and once I had calmed down I told her what I had seen.
‘I thought it had all been put to bed,’ I said, shuddering as the words spoken into my ear replayed themselves in my head, ‘that she was at peace now.’
Sarah tried to rationalize the situation. She took my hand. ‘Look, darling, you’ve had a very intense few days. You’re taking medication, and you’ve had a lot of disturbed nights into the bargain. It could be your mind playing tricks on you …’
‘Don’t patronize me!’ I was angry now. ‘I saw what I saw. You weren’t there. This whole episode has been the weirdest thing I’ve ever experienced. And I’m scared, Sarah! Why has this – this thing attached itself to me? Am I in real danger? What have I done to deserve this?’
Sarah clearly wasn’t convinced. She insisted that I come to stay with her for a while until I felt ‘better’. I slept for the remainder of that night, albeit fitfully, in her spare bedroom. I knew what I must do. I resolved to contact the Reverend and Mrs Evans first thing in the morning. Perhaps they would be able to help me. Otherwise, I felt with some certainty that I was at risk of losing my sanity.
Chapter Thirteen
Not wanting to trouble the Parrys, I managed to find Arfon and Nia’s contact details on the Internet. I was surprised to find that they had a website dedicated to their extra-curricular activity, with testimonials from people who had benefitted from their services.
Nia answered the phone and sounded surprised but nonetheless pleased to hear from me.
‘Well, hello, Annie! How are things with you now?’
The levity in her tone altered as I explained what had happened since my arrival home.
‘Dear me, I don’t know what to say. I truly believed that now she had been found and her killer brought to book, Aneira would be able to sleep peacefully. Of course, she still has to be buried; but that aside, there is obviously yet more to be done.’ There was a slight pause. ‘Look, let me get back to you. I’ll have a word with Arfon. He’s due a couple of days off. I think maybe we should come and pay you a visit.’
Nia rang back within the hour. ‘We can be with you by teatime, if that’s convenient?’
I thanked her and felt an enormous sense of relief. At least, if nothing else, I would have the company of people who didn’t think I was losing my marbles.
I borrowed a baggy T-shirt and some sweatpants from Sarah and slobbed around her house until late morning, feeling tired and emotional. At her insistence, the two of us went into town for brunch and to do some mindless browsing, returning to my own home at around three o’clock. I looked tentatively around as we entered, in anticipation of some form of psychic assault; but all seemed calm, for the time being, at least. Teatime for the Evans’s was about 4 p.m., which gave me time to make up the bed in the spare room, with Sarah’s help, and to cut a few sandwiches.
*
I was delighted to see Reverend Evans’ old truck pulling up outside my house, and rushed out to greet the couple as they alighted on the pavement. It felt strange to see them in my own home setting, and I wondered what they would make of my small, suburban terrace amidst so many other houses of the same ilk, compared with their own remote island home.
‘I’m so grateful that you’ve come,’ I told them. ‘I’m frightened to stay here on my own after what happened …’
Nia squeezed my hand reassuringly. ‘We will do everything we can to help you,’ she promised. ‘Don’t you worry. We’ll get to the bottom of this.’
I helped them to unload the car, and we carried the few belongings they had brought with them into the hall. I showed them into the living room and introduced them to Sarah, then went through to the kitchen to make tea. My sister shook hands with them both, introducing herself almost apprehensively. Being of rational mind and a confirmed cynic, she wasn’t sure what to make of this unusual middle-aged couple and seemed to want to keep them at arm’s length.
‘Thank you for coming,’ she said, sounding a little hesitant. ‘Annie’s been in a proper flap since she got back from Anglesey. I’m hoping you can put her mind at rest.’ Pausing, she lowered her voice. ‘I confess I don’t know much about this sort of – erm – stuff, but well, ghosts don’t usually follow people do they?’
‘If you think that this is all a figment of Annie’s imagination, my dear, think again,’ Arfon told her, somewhat sternly. ‘Ghosts, entities – call them what you will – are a law unto themselves. There is clearly some reason this young woman’s spirit has attached itself to your sister. We will do everything we can to find out why and what we can do to rectify the situation.’
After tea, we sat in the living room chatting for quite some time. Sarah was obviously warming to the Evans’s, who were good company and had a plethora of amusing anecdotes that they shared readily with us.
Nia looked up at the mantel clock. It was already seven. We had put off the task in hand for long enough.
‘I think it’s time, don’t you?’ She looked at Arfon and he nodded in agreement. Collecting her faithful carpetbag from the hall, she cleared a space and set out her accoutrements on the hearth rug. Arfon kneeled to light the candles, then stepped back, his lips moving as he uttered a silent prayer.
Nia turned to my sister. ‘Sarah, I don’t know whether you want to stay, but I must warn you that the proceedings may be a touch unnerving for the uninitiated – as I’m sure Annie will testify.’
I nodded vigorously. My stomach was already beginning to turn over in anticipation of what might happen and my heart rate had increased tenfold. But Sarah’s curiosity was clearly getting the better of her. She looked almost excited.
‘I’d like to watch, please – if you don’t object?’
‘No, that’s OK. Just be prepared for – let’s say – an unorthodox experience.’
Nia adopted her cross-legged position on the rug. Arfon stood by and directed me to sit opposite her as I had before. My sweating palms were clenched, my breathing shallow and rapid.
Sarah stood, her back to the wall, watching in fascination as Nia closed her eyes and began to chant softly. As before, a freezing gust suffused the room and the familiar musky scent filled the air. I heard Sarah gasp as Nia’s face began to change. An unearthly pallor washed over her complexion and hollows appeared beneath her cheekbones. Her eyes snapped open and the brilliant blue had been replaced with a glowering darkness. Once again, Aneira was using her as a channel. The voice breaking through sounded agitated.
‘You came to my house,’ she hissed. ‘So I have come to yours. You found it. They must pay.’
My bewilderment overriding my fear, I asked, ‘Found what, Aneira? The tea caddy?’
‘Twpsyn! Someone … hit me … my head hurts … my head … they must pay …’
‘Who must pay?’
‘You found it. You brought him back. Finish what you started … Must make them pay …’
The clock flew off the mantelpiece and smashed on the hearth. Sarah cried out. Nia began to sway. Her own face seemed to wax and wane, but gradually her features were fully restored. Her head dropped forward onto her chest and she breathed slowly and rhythmically. She still appeared to be in some sort of trance. Arfon looked worried.
‘Are you all right, my love?’ He crouched beside her, clutching her tiny hand in both of his. ‘Nia? Can you hear me?’
We all recoiled as an unexpected harsh, piercing cry came from Nia’s lips. Aneira’s disembodied voice, shrill and angry, echoed round the room.
‘You must do it. You must help. MAKE THEM PAY!’ I felt a blast of icy breath against my cheek – and then nothing.
There was a sudden stillness in the air and the temperatur
e quickly lifted. A worried Arfon kept talking to his wife but it took several minutes for Nia to return to normal. She opened her eyes, looking confused.
‘My head hurts,’ she groaned, putting a hand to her temple. ‘I must be feeling some of her dying pain.’
Arfon stood up, evidently relieved. ‘It’ll pass, darling. Just glad to have you back with us.’
‘Well, that was extraordinary!’ gasped Sarah, her eyes wide. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it!’
‘We did warn you,’ said Nia, a faint smile crossing her lips. ‘Are you OK, Annie?’
I was grateful that the atmosphere was back to normal, but was baffled. ‘It’s clear that I’m expected to make sure justice is done, but I don’t understand. Peter’s been arrested. What’s with the “they” all of a sudden? Who is she talking about?’
‘And what did she mean: “you found it” – found what?’ Sarah chipped in. ‘She wasn’t impressed when you mentioned the tea caddy. Was she talking about the poker, d’you think?’
‘I think,’ said Nia slowly, ‘that perhaps you might need to contact the prison. It’s time you paid Peter a visit. It looks as though he’s held his hands up to what he’s done. Maybe he will give you the information you need. It’s certainly worth a try.’
*
Never having visited anyone in prison before, I was unsure of the protocol in such a situation. I was surprised to learn that the visiting rules for remand prisoners were far more relaxed than those for convicted criminals. Having telephoned the following morning, I was able to arrange a visit for the same afternoon. In spite of having slept relatively well and without further disturbance, I felt completely wrung out. I didn’t really want to see Peter, but felt I had no choice if I wanted to be free of Aneira.
Nia and Arfon remained at my house whilst Sarah drove me to the local jail. ‘I’ll wait for you here,’ she said, pulling a face as she looked up at the imposing prison building. It was a dour, forbidding sight.