No Mercy

by J. T. Brindle

  Intrigued, Ellie watched the homely figure depart. What had Rosie meant when she said… ‘the other things’? Ellie told herself that she had imagined the disturbing implications behind those words. But, if that was the case, then why had Rosie been so deliberately evasive? What could she have meant? What ‘other things’? Not for the first time after talking to Rosie, Ellie’s curious feelings about Thornton Place were strengthened. These past weeks, she had promised herself that she would visit the library in nearby Medford, and unearth whatever facts there were with regard to Thornton Place. Now, more than ever, it was something she intended to do. Something she felt compelled to do. So much so, that she could wait no longer. Tomorrow was Saturday. She needed some new clothes and, in two weeks’ time, Johnny would require a school outfit for the new term. She could combine a shopping trip with a visit to the library. She had worked hard and earned a day off. Ellie was sure her father would not object; especially if she took the boy from under his feet. Thanks to the generous salary his employers paid him, Ellie also had been made a small allowance for her labours, so she could afford to treat herself.

  Suddenly, Ellie was made to think again on the manner in which her father had been paid. Six months in advance, together with the sum he had already received, and a deal of money with which to begin work on the big house. There had been a typed letterhead enclosed, simply setting out the various sums of money, and welcoming ‘Mr J. Armstrong’ as the new caretaker. There was the name and address of a firm of solicitors in London, and an instruction that Mr Armstrong should not contact them. That was it! The communication was signed in an unreadable scrawl. When Ellie had pointed out to her father that the letter was unusually short ‘to the point of rudeness’ his answer was to tell her that ‘as long as I’m paid, that’s all we need to be concerned about’. He also indicated that the whole thing could be a ruse by the owner to ‘manipulate his taxes’. That took the whole thing beyond Ellie’s understanding, and so she let it rest. After all, her father was a shrewd and cautious man. If he was satisfied with the arrangements, then who was she to question them?

  When morning became afternoon and the stifling heat became unbearable, Ellie decided to call it a day. After carefully stacking away the tools of her labours in the outhouse, she went to the courtyard, and there she refreshed herself at the old pump, enjoying the cool tumble of water over her face and neck, and ruminating on her plans for the morrow. Her father would not offer any objections, she was sure of it. Ever since coming here it had been his intention to delve into the history of Thornton Place, but, what with all the work, and his suspicions that the owner would soon send out a representative to check on his achievements here, he had devoted himself to the formidable task of renovating the old house. There remained no spare time for trips to the library.

  On her way back to the house, Ellie took the wristwatch from her dungaree pocket. It was 4.00 p.m. An hour, yet, before she would put the evening meal on the table. It was already prepared – rabbit pie, baked in the old range the previous evening, and fresh vegetables, bought from the shop and delivered there daily by the farmer in the valley. There was apple tart and cream to follow; the pie made by Ellie’s own hands in the loving tradition taught by her mother. Her mother! Suddenly, Ellie’s mood was one of regret and nostalgia. In her mind’s eye she could still see the way her mother had been when the boy had found her. The grotesque thing that they claimed was her mother. The horror of it! ‘How could you?’ Ellie was astonished at the vehemence in her own voice. ‘How could you do it, Mother?’ So fierce was the pain inside her that she had to stop. Leaning against the broad trunk of an ancient oak tree, Ellie gave vent to the pent-up emotions. The tears burst from her sorry eyes, misting her vision of the magnificent landscape which had so often eased the sadness inside her. Lifting her face to the skies, she closed her eyes, taking pleasure in the warm, healing touch of the sun’s rays, forcing the offending image from her churning thoughts and trying desperately to compose herself before she came to her father and the boy.

  So intent on chasing away the terrors that tormented her, Ellie had not heard the approaching footsteps. Her mind was closed to the outside world. She felt momentarily safe. The sun caressed her face with its softer warmth, and the gentle breeze dried her tears. She remained motionless, eyes closed, her slim, tired body pressed against the bark, and a sense of peace taking hold of her. Only when his shadow blocked out the sun’s warmth did she realise she was not alone. Startled, she snapped open her eyes – scared, restless eyes that shone like topaz in the gentle shade. She was astonished to see his face so close, his dark, searching gaze on her. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words would come. ‘Ssh,’ he murmured, touching his strong, slender fingers against her face, causing her heart to leap and panic.

  ‘Alec…’ His name died on her lips as his warm, moist mouth pressed into her, sending her surprised senses reeling. All manner of delight surged through her. She raised her arms, sliding them round his neck and drawing him into her, down, down. A small voice inside shouted, ‘This is wrong. Wrong.’ But her need of him was too strong to be denied. At first, his kiss had been tender, enticing. Now it was like everything she had ever craved. His mouth toyed with hers, coveting, touching her ears, her throat, playing with her every nerve-ending until she felt herself clawing into him. Greedily, she clung to his gently moving body – wanting him more than she could bear. ‘Love me,’ she murmured. ‘Love me… love me.’ She knew he wanted her. Her own desperation was mirrored in him.

  Suddenly, Ellie felt him draw back, his black eyes looking beyond her, stiff and reproachful. For a brief second he returned his brooding gaze to look on her puzzled face. She saw the seething anger soften in his eyes; then regret. She glimpsed the intimation of long-hidden secrets arid, in the opaque depths of those magnificent eyes, Ellie saw the underlying anguish. She heard it in his hoarse whisper, ‘You should never have come to this place.’ Then, as suddenly as he had appeared, he was gone, leaving Ellie flushed with humiliation; a humiliation that quickly turned to bitterness when, at the sound of breaking bracken behind her, she swung round. It was the boy. That was why Alec Harman had gone. He had seen the boy watching them.

  ‘What were you doing there?’ she demanded, her senses still in turmoil and the fury rising in her. ‘How long have you been there… spying?’ The word fell from her lips before she could check it. But she was not sorry. Not sorry at all. For what seemed a lifetime, she glared at him, challenging the cold, blue eyes and hating him. Hating herself. When, with the slightest twist of a smile on his mouth, he turned away, Ellie felt the urge to go after him. To shake the truth from him. To kill him with her bare hands! Instead, she wept, inwardly cursing her own weakness. He was her ‘weakness’… Alec Harman, the dark-eye! Why did he haunt her every waking thought? The darkeye. Alec… who was always her lover in dreams, and almost her lover in the flesh. Alec… who instilled such passion in her that it made her lose control. Alec… who made her afraid, and unhappy. She loved him – if the fire that raged in her could be called ‘love’. And he loved her, didn’t he? Didn’t he? But then he had spoken those harsh words to her… ‘You should never have come to this place.’ Ellie punched her fist rhythmically into the tree trunk, her voice echoing hollowly, ‘You… should… never… have… come… to… this… place!’ The sharp bark edges tore her flesh, sending scarlet rivulets trickling down her wrist. She did not notice. Inside, the emotions swelled – fear, love and hate. They surged through her being, fusing into a tight knot in the pit of her stomach. A great sense of frustration overwhelmed her. She had come here to find happiness and peace of mind. She had found neither.

  From a short way off and camouflaged by the overhanging branches in the spinney, Alec Harman had seen how cruelly the boy had taunted her. A wave of savagery ebbed through him. He longed to persuade Ellie back into his aching arms and enfold her to his jealous heart. But he knew he could not do these things. He must not. There was too much at stake. Too
much that might easily be betrayed. He damned himself for falling in love with the Armstrong girl. That was never meant to be. It was not part of the plan!

  Alec Harman saw Ellie’s pain, and his own heart felt it too. Moved beyond endurance, he almost went to her. Almost. But, he was reminded of his dark purpose there, and he kept his distance. As he went away, his proud shoulders stooped with despair, and there was dark bitterness in his heart. He was greatly tempted to retrace his steps and declare his love for her. But then he remembered why he was there. For a while, all had been quiet in this place. Soon, very soon, the evil must be unleashed. It would be foolish to forget his own part in it!

  At long last, Ellie returned to the house, mortified by the awful strength of her feelings. She could never recall a time when she had given vent to such powerful emotions. And the boy? How could she have given in to such destructive feelings of loathing towards her own brother? As for Alec Harman, she knew now that he desired her. And, that he was afraid of her. The first realisation had brought a degree of comfort and satisfaction to her. The second puzzled her. Why would he wish she had not come to this place? Why was he afraid of her? Was he married… was that it? No! Deep inside her, Ellie believed there was no rival for his love. At least, none that was normal. What then? The more she dwelt on it, the more curious she became. She also had to admit the truth of her own feelings towards Alec Harman – she loved him, yes. But, she was also afraid. Afraid of him, and afraid of the emotions he could let loose in her. Oh, but didn’t love and fear always go hand in hand? Was it that simple? Something told Ellie it went much deeper.

  It was evening. Johnny heard Ellie calling, but he had not forgiven her. He had not forgiven either of them. Squeezing himself tighter into the darkest corner of the barn, he held his breath when Ellie came right inside. ‘Johnny… I’m sorry, sweetheart.’ He stayed hidden. She waited. After a moment’s silence, she went away again, her voice calling his name, her footsteps growing distant.

  ‘I saw you,’ he murmured, his slitted eyes burning with vehemence, ‘you and… him.’ His voice was bitter. In his tortured mind he was not thinking of Ellie. He was thinking of another. Two others.

  Now, when he heard the slight movement behind him, the boy began to look around, quickly jerking his head back when the whisper urged him to, ‘Remember our agreement, Johnny. You must not see my face… ever.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Good boy.’ The voice was soft, teasing, barely audible. There followed an interlude of deathly silence, yet underlying it was a great excitement before the whisper came again – this time with threatening overtones. ‘You must never ask my name. That would spoil everything. And you must never tell of our meeting… but then, they would not believe you, would they?’ The voice was smiling now.

  ‘They never believe me.’

  ‘Well then… you must keep our secret. Always.’

  ‘I won’t tell. They hate me, I know. Sometimes… I hate them too.’

  ‘Only sometimes? You surprise me.’

  ‘I hate… her… all the time. Because she hated me.’ A sob choked him.

  ‘You didn’t like what you saw today, did you?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘They were bad, weren’t they, Johnny?’

  A gasp of incredulity. The stranger had said his name! A wave of pleasure washed over him. ‘Yes. They were bad… very bad.’

  ‘Who else was bad, Johnny?’

  Unbearable silence. Now, the pain in his voice. ‘She was!’

  ‘Who?… Who was bad?’ The whisper became a frantic, muffled scream. ‘Who, Johnny?… Tell me who!’

  ‘Her… my mother!’

  A deep, satisfied sigh. ‘Was she very bad?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You saw… didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You saw!… Don’t ever forget what you saw, Johnny. Keep it in your mind… day and night. Dream about it. Keep the memory alive.’

  ‘It won’t go away!’ There was fear now, and panic.

  ‘That’s good, Johnny. That’s how it should be.’

  ‘I know.’ A deep sob choked him. He clambered to his feet and scurried out of the dark corner. At the door he looked back with big, sky-blue eyes; they were bright with fear. And exhilaration. He squeezed the eyes into puckered holes through which he peered into the blackness. ‘Are you still there?’ He waited for what seemed a small lifetime. The silence was suffocating. He had to know he was forgiven. That he would not be punished. ‘I only want to say I will keep our secret, I promise.’

  ‘I know you will.’

  ‘I will! I like the games we play. And because you are my friend… my only friend. And I love you.’ He ran into the evening light, his diminutive form silhouetted in the huge doorway. Then, very softly, oh so deviously, he swung the door to and went quietly away.

  ‘I’m glad you think me a friend.’ The mocking words dripped like venom into the gloom. ‘But you’re wrong, Johnny… This is no game!’ A gentle, silken laugh caressed the air; and the fervent promise issued. ‘There can be no mercy, Johnny… Not even for you.’ A rustle. Then soft, padding footsteps going away. All that remained was the aura of lavender. And the quiet, tortured sound of laughter.

  5

  Ellie shivered as she took her place at the big oak table in the kitchen. The quarry tiles struck cold through the thin soles of her slippers, and in spite of the watery September sun filtering in through the window, the damp air inside the old house seemed to penetrate her very bones.

  ‘Are we staying here for ever and ever?’ The boy was unusually restless this morning, toying agitatedly with the crispy bacon slices on his plate and snapping pieces from his toast with sharp, weasel teeth. When a river of melting margarine trickled down his chin, he reached out a long, snaking tongue to lap at it, his piercing blue eyes raised to Ellie with a look of contempt.

  ‘For heaven’s sake, Johnny!’ Ellie reached across the table, dabbing at the boy’s chin with a tea towel. ‘Don’t be so sloppy with your food… we haven’t got much time as it is, if we’re to catch that nine o’clock bus. There’s no time to change your shin if you stain it now!’ Strange, she thought, how someone else’s miserable mood could ruin a body’s day even when it was hardly started. ‘And cheer up, do,’ she snapped.

  ‘Hmh!’ The ice-blue eyes settled on her face. ‘Don’t take it out on me if he’s not talking to you any more,’ he said cuttingly, ‘it isn’t my fault if Alec Harman avoids you like the plague.’ He began giggling, surprised and amused by his own remark.

  ‘That’s enough! Do as your sister tells you.’ Jack Armstrong thrust his chair from the table and sprang to his feet. With hard eyes he glared down on the boy. ‘Ellie’s put off the shopping trip twice on my account!’ he said angrily. ‘She works hard round this place… a bloody sight harder than someone else I could mention… spending all hours of the day and night building a bonfire! If you put as much energy into helping with the work that needs doing here, you’d be far better employed.’ He stormed towards the door, angrily buckling his trouser belt, and still issuing condemnation even as he closed the door behind him. ‘I should think by now you must have emptied every nook and cranny there is, to pile up that bloody bonfire… and there’s still over six weeks to go before we set light to it. It might be as well if you lay off a while… I don’t want you collecting stuff that I might find a better use for. Anyway, the darned thing’s high enough, I reckon. It’s beginning to resemble an Egyptian tomb!’

  The kitchen echoed to the sound of the door slamming. Ellie sighed, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table. ‘It amazes me how you have a knack of upsetting everyone around you,’ she told the boy, closing her eyes and nodding her head into the palms of her hands. For a short while she gave herself up to the turmoil that churned through her like an angry storm. What the boy had said was true. Since that day when Alec Harman had kissed her with such passion, awakening all manner of demons in her, he had gone out of hi
s way to avoid her. That was two weeks ago. In that time she had seen him on several occasions, stalking through the spinney, or coming from the direction of the cottages. She had even seen him late one evening, down by the lake, silhouetted against the moon like some unearthly phantom.

  On that particular evening, Ellie had been awakened by a strange noise… like the sound of an animal screaming. On going outside she had found only a silent, unusually beautiful night – the scent of blossom had carried on the warm air, and, in the iridescent glow from the moon, the landscape took on an unreal and breathtaking magnificence. The sky above was marbled with rainbows of silver and black, against which the treetops moved like dark, meandering shadows, shifting this way and that in the sighing breeze. There were shadows on the ground too, playing hide and seek across the hills and valleys. On the horizon, the lake stretched out like a dark blanket, interspersed here and there with bright, scintillating shapes that danced and sparkled beneath the moonlight. Here – standing astride on the rising mound that overlooked the heart of the lake – was the unmistakable figure of Alec Harman. Tall, lean and strangely brooding, he had startled Ellie when her roving gaze alighted on him. For a long time, she was dearly tempted to go to him, to ask why he was deliberately shunning her, and to confess her love for him.

  On impulse, Ellie had even started towards the lake, bent on putting things right between herself and this unfathomable, dark-eyed scoundrel who haunted her waking hours and tormented even her sleep. Two things were seared into Ellie’s heart. One – that this man bred fear in her. The other was the disturbing realisation that she loved him. She intended to open her heart to him, to tell him how much he had come to mean to her, and to ask him why it was that he had deliberately avoided her of late. Was it something she had done, or said? Was it because of her father’s hostile attitude? Or was it merely that he did not love her? This last thought had come to her when she was only a short distance from him. It had stopped her in her tracks. Shocked her. But then, something else happened in that moment that was even more shocking. First came the soft, urgent call, ‘Alec… Alec, is that you?’ It was a woman’s voice. Instinctively stepping into the camouflage of the shrubbery, Ellie waited and watched, her heart beating so loudly that she was sure Alec Harman must swing round at any minute to confront her! Soon, the woman was in sight. She was small and slim, with long, thick hair that hung down to her waist. In the half-light it was impossible for Ellie to see the woman’s features. But from the quick, sure way she moved, and judging by the sharp, youthful lines of her silhouette, the woman appeared to be both young and attractive. On sighting Alec Harman, she ran towards him, flinging herself into his waiting arms, their lips exchanging a fleeting kiss. Afterwards, there was a flurry of furtive whispering, when the woman handed something to the man. When they sank to the ground, intent upon each other and talking in soft, secretive tones, Ellie could not bear any more.