No Mercy

by J. T. Brindle

  Jack Armstrong appeared not to have heard Ellie’s comment about the lake. Instead, he was stretching his neck, searching for a sign, any sign, that there was someone at home. At length, he told Ellie and the boy, ‘Well… I’ve no intention of staying out here all night!’ He began frantically searching in his pockets, crying out when he triumphantly produced a tangled bunch of keys. ‘As from today, I’m the caretaker here. For all I know… the two of them could have cleared off.’ He started fitting the keys to the lock, one after the other. ‘It won’t do no harm to wait inside… make a hot drink… keep warm. If they have “gone out” for the evening, I’m sure they’ll understand. Anyway… according to the letter of appointment, the pair of them have been instructed to move into a cottage in the grounds as soon as they’ve shown me the ropes.’

  ‘What will happen to them?’ Ellie wanted to know. ‘If they’re not being paid as caretakers… what will they live on?’ She had not seen the letter of appointment. Her father had taken care of all that.

  ‘Search me.’ He shrugged his shoulders and began putting the keys to the lock once more; this time with increased deliberation. ‘Stop asking questions, Ellie,’ he told her, irritated that, somehow, he must have missed the key that would open the door. ‘Sorry,’ he apologised, ‘… but it’s been a long, tiring day. I expect they’ll be found another place to take care of… something smaller and more manageable I should think. Or they might be got rid of. I wouldn’t be at all surprised, after what I’ve seen of this place. If you ask me, they’d be better employed at demolition!’ He seemed surprised when Ellie laughed. Slewing round to look at her, he chuckled in spite of himself. ‘No matter,’ he said, still smiling, ‘we’ll soon have this place ship-shape.’ He didn’t admit it, but he was really looking forward to tackling this job. It looked a grand old house; proud but ill used. It deserved better.

  ‘I’m cold.’ The boy huddled closer to Ellie.

  ‘Don’t worry, we’ll be inside in a minute,’ Ellie promised him, wrapping her arm round his small shoulders, ‘as soon as Dad finds the right key.’

  The ‘right key’ was not found. None of the eight keys fitted either the lock on the front door, or the heavier padlocks which were firmly secured to the back door, and the other two doors that provided access to different parts of the house. Jack Armstrong tried them all.

  ‘What are we going to do now?’ Ellie and the boy had waited by the front door while their father had circled the house, searching for a way in, and finding the building to be impenetrable. He had been astonished at the size and structure of the house, which, in his expert opinion, was built more like a fortress than any he had seen. The distance from the ground to the window levels was some fourteen feet high, with the walls themselves being constructed of hard, red brick and strengthened intermittently by thick, formidable buttresses; these structures were knitted deep into the brickwork and thrust upwards for some considerable distance. They were impossible to scale. Besides which, the buttresses were positioned in such a way that they would not afford any point of entry into the house. None of the outer doors was at ground level; each was situated at the top of a steep flight of steps.

  In all his experience of old, historic places, Jack Armstrong had never seen anything like it. He was both shocked and fascinated. Here was a real challenge. He was deeply excited at the prospect of knowing the long history of Thornton Place. He knew also that he would not rest until he had unearthed all its glory, its tragedies, its secrets. He had stood for a long time, staring up at the hugeness of its make-up, cursing it, touching it. It had touched him, also. Beckoned to his heart like no other house had ever done before. He had long believed that a house could possess a personality, a mood, a soul. Maybe take on the qualities of the man who created it. He had never spoken to anyone of this belief, because he knew only too well that there were those who would laugh in his face. But, he did believe in his heart. And, now that he had seen Thornton Place – now that he had communicated with it – he knew beyond all doubt that he was meant to be here, even though the house had denied him access.

  Ellie’s father had recently suffered niggling doubts about moving far away from familiar surrounds. He had spent many anguished hours kneeling by his tragic wife’s grave, talking to her, seeking reassurance, advice, forgiveness. He had found none of these things. Instead, he had grown more afraid and desperate, for himself, for the boy and, most of all, for Ellie. She was so good, so very strong. And she was like her mother. Too much like her mother. Sometimes he would look at Ellie and the memories would come flooding back; good memories, of youth and laughter, and of a love so wonderful that he could feel only joy inside himself. Other times, though, he would see Ellie in the half-light of a lamp’s soft radiance, when she might glance up unknowingly and catch him watching her; then her lovely smile would pierce his heart, awakening other emotions in him, and filling him with such bitterness that he could almost taste it! Somewhere, somehow, he had gone badly wrong. He prayed that some day soon, here in this place, he would know the answer. And be at peace with himself.

  ‘If there’s no way into the house, we’ll just have to go back to the car… wait it out until they get home,’ Ellie suggested. In a way, she felt relieved that her father had been unable to get inside. She hated the idea of the couple coming home to find strangers waiting in their front room.

  ‘You’re right, Ellie.’ Jack Armstrong accepted there was nothing else to do now. ‘Back to the car, then.’ He led the way down the steps. ‘There’s a picnic blanket in the boot… you and the boy snuggle up under that. Hopefully, it won’t be for too long, eh?’

  Keeping close in his father’s footsteps and clinging tight to Ellie, the boy glanced back to the house. He expected to see the woman again. He was not disappointed. He glimpsed her small, narrow figure silhouetted in the window. For a moment he imagined it was his mother. In his mind’s eye he looked at the image that haunted him; she was small and narrow, just the same. He saw the dark crimson substance… bathing the other figure. Smothering it! And that perfume. Lavender. He knew the name, because his mother had screamed it at him when he innocently brought home the pretty blue flowers given to him by the old pedlar. It was a shame, because they had such a lovely, kind of floating scent. But she hated them! She told him never to bring them near her again. And he never did. But, there was something he could not understand. If she hated the perfume so much, then why was she wearing it when he… when he… found her? Why was she wearing it today in the graveyard? And even now, it was in the air, right here at Thornton Place.

  Johnny glanced back once more before the shrubbery closed in around him and hid the figure from sight. Yes. It was still there. Was it really his mother? Now, he could hardly see for the overhanging branches. He looked away. He knew there would be another time. And, curiously, he was not afraid.

  3

  It was a glorious morning. Even before Ellie opened her eyes, she heard the birds singing. The sunlight streaming into the car touched her face, warming her, causing her to blink as she raised her head to look out of the window. A slight groan escaped her as she straightened her back. It had been a long, uncomfortable night.

  Glancing at her watch, Ellie saw that it was not yet 6.00 a.m. Careful not to wake Johnny and her father who appeared to be sound asleep, she quietly opened the door and eased her way out of the car. Somewhere from the vicinity of the house the shrill crowing of a cock shattered the stillness. After that, there was only a deep, brooding silence. Ellie looked into the horizon, scanning the green rolling fields that seemed to stretch away endlessly before tumbling down to the lake. She gasped with astonishment at the beauty of the landscape. Last night, in the light of the moon, it had a special magical quality, dark and mysterious. Eerie, even. But now, in the brightness of morning, there was something about this strange land that was far more enchanting. The shifting clouds created trembling shadows across the fields, making them seem alive. And the sunbeams dancing on the water seemed to twi
nkle a welcome to Ellie. Going on tremulous steps towards the lake, she felt inexplicably drawn there – as though to the arms of a friend.

  Suddenly, Ellie was made to stop in her tracks. There was something, someone, in the spinney! Laughter. She could hear laughter! And furtive whispering. Now the laughter again, like children at play. She listened. No. It was too early in the day for anyone to be loitering in the spinney, she assured herself. It must have been the wind sighing.

  The breeze pursued Ellie, ruffling her hair and making the hairs on her skin stand on end.

  The ground was more uneven beyond the spinney. Ellie found herself stumbling, yet still she went on. She had to.

  ‘Ellie!’ Her father’s voice came like the crack of a whip through Ellie’s pleasant mood. She stopped and turned round, astonished that she had strayed so far from the house. She could see its monumental turrets rising high above the trees. The sight gave her a degree of comfort. Now, her father was rushing towards her. ‘What possessed you to go wandering off like that?’ he demanded, slowing to a walking pace as he came nearer. Ellie could see that he was angry. She felt the urge to rebel against him. Then, almost immediately, she was ashamed. Whatever was she thinking of? What was the matter with her? She felt strange; as though events were careering out of her control.

  ‘I was worried, Ellie.’ Her father was facing her now, his dark blue eyes clouded with anxiety. ‘You mustn’t go off on your own like that!’ he chided her, ‘at this hour of a morning… in a strange place. How in God’s name was I supposed to know where you’d gone?’

  ‘Sorry, Dad.’ Ellie thrust her two hands deep into the pockets of her skirt, her voice full of contrition. ‘I didn’t think… and I didn’t want to wake you both.’

  ‘Don’t do it again, Ellie. Don’t ever wander off like that… at least, not until we know the area… and the folks hereabout.’ He hated the way he sounded like an over-possessive father, but, somehow, that awful sense of impending doom still had not left him. He was being bloody foolish, he told himself. All the same, none of them really knew what they’d let themselves in for here. Until they did, it was wise to be cautious. ‘I’ve been to the house… and the cottage. I thought you might have gone there.’ He laid his hand on her shoulder and gently propelled her along.

  ‘Is there anyone home yet?’ she wanted to know. ‘Did you see anyone… have you been inside the house?’ So many questions. Her apprehension betrayed itself.

  ‘I’ve neither seen nor spoken to a living soul,’ he said, shattering her hopes. ‘As soon as I woke and found you gone, I ran to the house and called. When there was no sign of you, I fled to the cottage.’ He was still out of breath, and afraid for her. ‘Don’t stray again,’ he warned. ‘And as for getting inside the house…!’ He glanced down at her and shrugged his shoulders. ‘You saw for yourself that the keys did not fit.’

  ‘Couldn’t you smash a window… climb in?’ Her heart sank when he shook his head. ‘Waste of time… even if I broke a window… threw a brick or something… there’s still no way I could get up high enough to climb through.’ He stretched out his hands in despair. ‘I hate to admit it… but I’m beat, Ellie. The way I see it, we’ll just have to wait for someone to come back to the house. Surely to God they can’t have just left! They’d be bound to leave a note pinned to the door… explaining.’ He shook his head again, lapsing into deep thought. After a while he murmured aloud, ‘I don’t understand! Why won’t the keys fit?’

  ‘What about the cottage?’ Ellie suddenly recalled what her father had told her. ‘Perhaps they’ve moved into the cottage already!’ A great sense of relief washed through her.

  ‘Sorry, sweetheart. When I found the cottage just now, there was no sign of life. There’s nobody there, I’m afraid… and by the looks of the place, it’s been empty for some long time.’ He paused and slowed his pace, telling Ellie, in a subdued manner, ‘Strange… that cottage. It’s the loveliest place… pretty as a picture. But, there’s something… something…’ He shook his head slowly.

  ‘What?’ Ellie was unbearably curious, yet she knew instinctively what he was going to say. She had already imagined that the cottage would be delightful. After all, Thornton Place was old and full of character. The cottage was probably built around the same time.

  ‘I don’t know!’ In an instant her father’s mood had changed. ‘It might be best if we stay away from the cottage altogether. It was made clear enough by the owners of this place that the cottage was not part of the contract. Besides… if the previous caretakers are moving in there, they certainly won’t want us prying around!’

  For the next few minutes, Ellie walked alongside her father in silence. This was an odd situation, she thought, not at all what she had expected when they set out. Here they were, almost two hundred miles away from all that was familiar, all that they had given up… could not go back to, even if they wanted; which they did not! There was no one here to greet them. The house was closed against them, and there was no sign whatsoever of the previous caretakers. Besides which, they had been given the wrong keys! And the cottage? That, too… empty!

  To Ellie’s mind, there were two things to be done. Firstly, they had to have shelter until they could gain access to the house. That meant they must move into the cottage themselves; unload the car of their personal possessions and take advantage of whatever comfort was on offer. And, so far as Ellie could see, it had to be the cottage! A thought suddenly occurred to her. Then another, and another. What about food? And bed linen? Did the cottage have electricity? No doubt it had a fireplace, and there were more than enough fallen branches about to kindle up a cosy fire when the evening drew on. It wouldn’t be too bad; she was a good homemaker, even if she did say so herself. Her spirits lightened, and she actually found herself looking forward to the challenge. Besides, she reminded herself, it would probably only be for one night, because somebody was bound to turn up at the house. At the most it would not be more than a couple of days. That was her second plan of action. Her father would have to contact the owners and explain the circumstances. Their telephone number would be on the letterhead. In no time at all they would send a representative with the proper keys to the house. It was all a matter of time, and patience. There was nothing to worry about. Nothing at all!

  Ellie had not realised that her father had strode away in front. She chased after him, thinking he would not be so worried when she suggested their course of action. Yet, she was surprised that he himself had not come up with the solution. As a rule, he was level-headed and quick-thinking. But then, he had been through so much, she reminded herself. No wonder he wasn’t thinking clearly. Now, she was full of purpose, pressing down the initial upset and disappointment they had experienced on arriving here. It would all come right. It must! She recalled the estate which they had passed through. It couldn’t have been more than two miles back along the track… three at the most. There was a club there, so there must also be a telephone, and a shop. Her mind’s eye roved back to the previous evening; to the first man who had pointed the way; to the rows of houses and the lamp-lit streets; to the dark-eyed stranger who had spoken to her. Her heart leapt at the memory. The dark-eyed stranger! How defined was his image in her memory. Tall enough to gaze down on her, but not so tall that she felt insignificant beside him.

  Suddenly, Ellie was not running after her father. Instead, she had slowed to a strolling pace, all of her thoughts intent on the stranger; on the intimate way in which he had looked on her. His dark brooding eyes that made her tremble inside. And the voice that seemed to open her heart like a pervading spirit. He was there now, touching her mind and awakening her senses until a great longing was created in her; a desperate longing to see him. The prospect sent a delicious frisson of pleasure through her being. And it frightened her!

  ‘Where’s the boy?’ Once more her father’s angry voice shattered Ellie’s thoughts. It occurred to her that he was angry most of the time, since coming to this place. Quickly now, she ran to
where he was standing, impatiently banging his clenched fist on the car roof. ‘I told him to stay put!’ he snapped, glancing into the vacant back seat, then casting his narrowed eyes all about in every direction. ‘Damn and bugger it!… Can neither of you use your commonsense?’ Catching sight of Ellie’s reproachful look, he clicked his tongue behind his teeth and dropped his head as though in shame. ‘Sorry, Ellie… I didn’t mean to sound off at you like that,’ he apologised, ‘it’s just that… suddenly it’s all going wrong!’

  Ellie half smiled, reaching up to kiss him. ‘I know,’ she said softly, ‘I know. But, it isn’t “all going wrong”… it’s just a small setback. You’ll see… we’ll be ship-shape and organised in no time at all.’

  ‘You’re an angel. What would I do without you, eh?’ He smiled also, and Ellie was relieved to see him more relaxed.

  ‘First of all we’ll find Johnny, then I’ll tell you what I think we should do,’ she suggested, hoping her father didn’t take offence. Normally, he took a healthy, manly pride in being in charge.

  ‘First things first, eh?’ He actually laughed. ‘Quite right, too.’ Now he was pointing towards the spinney. ‘I’ll search the woods… and the cottage, one more time. You look around the house.’ As they parted, he added a warning. ‘Just the house! Don’t go wandering off.’

  ‘I won’t,’ Ellie promised, chuckling to herself when she heard his mutterings – ‘I’ll kick his bloody arse when I get hold of him!’ She knew he would do no such thing, though he would no doubt give Johnny the length of his tongue when they did find him. All in all, Ellie could not blame her father for being angry – Johnny should have ‘stayed put’. She also might have given vent to anger at the boy, if she hadn’t blamed herself for going off, so that her father had felt obliged to come after her. It was she who ought to have ‘stayed put’ she realised, then none of this would have happened.