“Tenterden’s sister-in-law,” Max said, and his voice brought her up sharply.
“Who? How do you know? How can–”
“The newspaper reports,” he said impatiently. “Her name is Cecily – Cecily Brough. She’s the one who looked after Daniel before his father married you–”
“Yes – yes, that’s right. You told me – but Max – Max!” Fear began to rise in her again. “Max, why am I so frightened of that house? I can feel it, all thick and horrible, the fear in the place–”
“That’s what we’ve got to find out,” she said smoothingly. “And we can. Listen to me, Abigail. Close your eyes.” She stared up at him, still feeling fear crawling in thick tendrils through her, but he said insistently, “Close your eyes.” And after a moment, she did. His voice sounded warm and strong, making the tendrils of fear curl up and away and hide themselves, waiting for another chance to come springing out at her.
“You are in the dark, Abigail, and there are pictures coming – like the one that came this morning. Let the pictures come, and describe them to me–”
Obediently, she stared at the swirling pinpoints of light in the darkness behind her eyes, let them get bigger and then diminish and grow again – and the pictures formed, tiny distant pictures that grew and became less wavering as she stared at them.
“I’m in a room,” she said, and her voice seemed distant, as though it belonged to someone else. “A big room – a bedroom. Yes. A bedroom. There’s a big mirror on the wall, and a smell of soap and perfume, and I can see myself in the mirror, and it’s not very light. Only the bedroom light is on. And–”
The picture wavered, lost its shape and almost overcome by the swirling pinpoints of light. “I can’t see anything else–”
“Yes you can. Concentrate.” Max’s insistent voice made the picture regain its definition. “Just concentrate. The boy – is he there?”
“No. He’s downstairs. He ought to be in his bed and asleep, but he’s downstairs and the woman is crying, sitting in the shadows and crying because Danny’s downstairs and she’s afraid. She says something bad is going to happen to him – Danny – I’ve got to go and get him – I must get him–”
And with suddenness of a film, the picture she was staring at shimmered and disappeared, and another came to take its place. A low table. A lamp with a fringed red shade, and a piece of the fringe rucked up. A pool of light spilling over onto the floor. A small figure lying still. It was the same picture she had seen that morning – so long ago, that morning. And helplessly she watched it happen again, her own hand with its familiar scar coming down and turning the child’s head, and the blank battered little face.
But this time it was different. As the picture faded and turned into burrs of spinning light, she felt an excruciating pain at the back of her head, so strong that the whimpered and moved, and opened her eyes, and saw Max’s anxious face peering at her.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered, staring at him with horror. “My God, it was true–”
He put his arms round her and held her close. “What was true, my darling? Tell me what was true.”
“I – Danny’s father – my husband –” and saying the word made her suddenly sick. “My husband. He was the one who hurt Danny so badly. It must have been. He must still have been there when I found Danny – still there, and he hit me – it was he who made me forget. Oh, Max – Max –” she began to weep again, greast helpless tears falling down her face. “Why did I marry him? How could I have married him, Max? How could I have let myself–”
“Perhaps you loved him,” Max said in a curiously flat voice.
She shook her head furiously. “No – no! How could I have done? How could I possibly have loved him and still feel as I do about you? It just isn’t–”
“How do you feel about me?” he stared at her very straightly, just as he had in the hotel that morning, but this time she wasn’t frightened. She smiled up at him, a watery smile, but a smile all the same.
“I don’t know, I haven’t had time to sort it all out yet. But I feel – oh, special–”
And he laughed, throwng his head back and shouting his laughter, before holding her very close again and kissing her very thoroughly indeed. Abigail began to feel a lot better, suddenly. Safer, happier. Until she remembered again.
She pulled back from him, and said breathlessly. “This is wicked. Wicked. Danny’s in trouble somewhere. He’s gone back to that house, and somewhere there – his father – someone’s going to hurt him again. We’ve got to get him–”
Immediately he released her, and said soberly, “Yes. Of course. Of course – but I wish you could remember how he came to be here.”
She shook her head, helplessly. “I can’t. Or even why I know this place at all–”
“Yet you know where it was, you knew the name of that patch of open land we were on–”
“Yes. I did, didn’t I?” Experimentally, she sat up. A new strength seemd to have some to her, and her head remained clear; even her ankle seemed less painful. “Yet I’m certain I never knew the town up to a year ago – up to the time I can remember everything clearly, I mean–”
He helped her to her feet, but when she began to walk towards the door and winced when she put her injured foot to the ground, he stopped her.
“Look, you can’t walk out of here, that’s obvious. And if ever a girl needed a night’s rest, it’s you–”
“No!” she turned and clutched the lapels of his jacket. “No, Max, we’ve got to go after Danny. Now. Go to London, and–”
She stopped and stared at him in consternation. “Max – where in London? I don’t know where the house is –” Her voice rose shrilly, a hint of hysteria coming into it.
Soothingly, he took her hands, gently disentangling her grip. “I know we’ve got to go after him – and it will be easy to find the house. The address was given in every newspaper account, wasn’t it? And we’ll go – tonight. But let’s be practical. We’ll need transport – and my car’s at the hotel. And you are in no fit condition to come with me while I get it – even if it would be politic to do so. That Inpector may stilll be batting about somewhere. I hate to leave you, Abigail, but I think what I must do is go and get the car and come back for you. Can you wait here alone while I do? I’ll be as fast as I can–”
She shivered and drew closer to him, but then straightened herself and nodded.
“Of course. We’ll save time that way. I’ll wait here – but you will hurry, Max, won’t you? I’m still – rather edgy. Not as frightened as I was, but a bit nervous.”
“Of course, darling.” He bent his head and kissed her gently. “Of course. Stay here, and I’ll be as quick as I know how to be.”
And gently, he led her back to the couch, and went, closing the door softly behind him, and she listened to his footsteps going down the path, and heard the silence sweep inexorably back. And shivered again, and sat curled up hugging herself to keep the fear at bay.
She used another trick of her childhood as she sat there, choosing long words – ambulance – and seeing how many smaller words she could make out of the letters in it. She had reached seven, and was trying to follow ‘clan’ and ‘calm’ with another beginning with the letter C, when the light from the candlestick on the table suddenly flared, and she turned to look at it.
The stump of candle had burned almost completely away. There was just a pool of wax and a long curled back wick guttering feebly – and not another candle anywhere in sight.
The fear of being left alone in the dark made her move, made her get up swiftly to start a search of the dresser to see if she could find more, made her move too quickly, for the light sprang high in the draught her movement created, and died abruptly – and Max had put the matches back in his pocket, she remembered with a sense of panic.
Keep calm, she apostrophised the frightened voice starting again to clamour in her mind. He won’t be long – you’ll just have to sit here patiently until he comes,
and never mind the darkness. Your eyes will soon get used to it–
And then the silence was broken. A distant purring which came closer, turned into a definiate buzz – a car’s engine. “Max,” she whispered hopefully – and then relaxed again. It couldn’t be Max, not yet. It would take him at least twice as long again to get back to the hotel and then bring the car here. Just a rare vehicle on a quiet road, that would soon pass and take the purring sound of its engine away into the night.
But it didnt. The car stopped, outside the cottage, and the engine shut off sharply. And then, there was a click of a car door, and footsteps coming up the path. And Abigail stood poised beside the couch, rigid with shock. Who was coming into this remote cottage where she was alone and injured and helpless?
CHAPTER SIX
She would never know just how she managed to move but, when the door opened, she found herself, absurdly, stretched out on the floor with her face pressed against the dusty woodrot-smelling floorboards on the far side of the sofa. She felt a rush of cold air, felt the movement that came with it, and closed her eyes momentarily, almost praying in her trerror.
There was the scrape of a match, and a dim light sprang up. Opening her eyes gingerly, she found she could see under the sofa to the doorway. There were legs standing there. A man’s legs. He was wearing scuffed suede shoes, and even as she looked at them the man moved fowards, towards the table.
If he comes any closer, he must see me, her secret voice shrieked, but then, the match went out, and she heard a whispered curse. After a second he struck another match, and as he did so she remembered the burnt out cndle end. Will he see that the wax has recently melted, realize there is someone here? He must – surely he must! And then whoever he is, he’ll look and find me, and–
But apparently he didn’t notice. She heard the rustle of paper and realized the match was being held higher, for the light moved upwards, leaving the floor in shadow again. Danny’s note – he’d found Danny’s note.
“Oh God, she thought. Why didn’t we keep it, put it in a pocket or something? Whoever this man is, he means trouble, I’m sure of that. Perhaps trouble for Danny, now he’s found that note.
Whoever he is? the voice in her mind said. Whoever he is? You know what you think, don’t you? You think this is Miles Tenterden. You think this is the man you saw in the square this morning, and that he’s Miles Tenterden, that he’s looking for Danny – and probably you, too.
The match went out, and after a second of fumbling, another one was struck. And then the paper rustled again, and she heard a soft grunt. Of satisfaction? Possibly. Indeed, probably, for when that match went out, he didn’t strike another, but moved back towards the door. It clicked, and again she felt a rush of cold air, again heard footsteps, this time receding along the path. Whatever the man had come for, he’d found it, for he was going away. She heard the gate creak and suddenly, she felt she had to know, at whatever cost, at whatever risk to herself, just who he was. She had to know what he looked like.
She half crawled, half fell across the room to the window, and flattening herself against the wall, looked round the curtain to the path and the gate and the roadway beyond. It was dark, but so much darker inside the cottage that she was able to see fairly clearly. There was a small car parked by the gate, and standing in front of it, peering at a map in the beam of the car’s riding lights, she could see a man’s figure. She couldn’t see his face, for his back was to her, but she could see what he was wearing. A pale coloured Burberry. It was the man from the square, and she shivered as she looked at him. Was this her husband? It must be, she thought bleakly. Why else should the sight of him so frighten her, why else did he seem familiar to her?
The man moved then, raised his head and came back from the front of the car towards the gate, and for one sick moment she thought he was coming back into the cottage. But he didn’t; he climbed into the car, and the engine coughed and purred into life, and the car moved forwards, its red rear lights winking at her above a twisted fender in a sort of triumph. And fear came back, sick and cloying.
He’s going to follow Danny, going to catch him and finish the job he started. Unless Danny had a good start, had found a way to get himself safely back to London before his pursuer caught up with him, he was in danger. And only she and Max could help him, only she and Max knew where the danger lay. But Max wasn’t here yet. And though he knew they had to get to Danny, he didn’t yet know how urgent it had become.
The next half hour crept by like an eternity. She sat by the window peering out in the darkness until her eyes watered with their concentration, stretching her ears to catch every sound that might herald Max’s return. And so thrown into despair was she by the long wait that when the estate car did stop at the gate she sat for another second in bemused inactivity before she fully realized that he actually, and at last, had come back.
She ran out of the cottage and down the path, ignoring the pain in her ankle, and reached it as Max was getting out.
“No – no,” she gasped, pushing him into the driving seat. “We haven’t a moment to spare – start the engine again –” and she ran round the car to hurl herself into the passenger seat.
“What the hell? –” Max said, but obediently, started the engine and put the car into gear.
“On this road, – it must lead to a main road East, to London – do hurry. You must catch him–”
The car moved forward and gathered speed, and without taking his eyes from the swathe of headlit road in front of them. Max said, “What’s happened?”
Breathlessly, she told him of the cottage’s visitor, of the way he had seen the note, and left immediately.
“He – he must be going after Danny. And I’m frightened for him,” she paused, then, as Max halted at the end of the narrow road, and leaned out in an effort to read the finger post at the corner. After a second, he swung the car to the left, and began to gain speed on the better macadam of the surface, for this road was a much wider and better one.
“Max,” she said. I think – I’m not sure, but I think I know who this man is.”
“You recognized him? Max said sharply, turning his glance at her briefly before concentrating again on the dark road flying before them.
“Not exactly. I mean – he was the man I saw in the square this morning. You thought it might be the hotel manager, but it wasn’t, I know that now. So, there’s only one person it could be,” she swallowed painfully. “Danny’s father.”
“Your husband.”
“Don’t call him that!” she said violently.
“But Danny’s father is your husband, Abigail. You can’t ignore that fact even if you can’t remember it. Did – did the sight of this man make you feel anything – anything at all?”
“Frightened,” she said succinctly.
“No, I mean something more than that. Emotional involvement.”
She shook her head with the same violent rejection. “No! I just felt I knew him from somewhere, and he frightened me. That’s all – Oh, Max, I must remember soon, mustn’t I? How much longer can I go on this state? I feel stupid, so lost and – and helpless. And I’m not the helpless type, truly I’m not.”
“I don’t for one moment think you are. Look let’s forget memory for a while, and use some deduction. As I work it out, you’ve been a brave sort of person, and far from helpless.”
“How do you mean?”
He settled in his seat as they reached another crossroads, this time meeting a wide major artery swishing with traffic. They moved into the stream of cars and trucks, and the car built up till it was going a steady fifty miles an hour, which was pretty good for so ancient a vehicle as the battered estate car. Without for one moment letting his concentration on the road slacken, Max talked.
“From what you’ve remembered so far, Danny was in some sort of danger. Somebody – a woman – came and told you, and what did you do?”
“I can’t remember –” she began to feel anger and frustra
tion building in her again.
“Be quiet. What you obviously did, going by your other fragment of recollection, was go and see what happened. You didn’t hide with your head under the blankets. You went and walked into danger, even though you’d been warned there was danger there. That’s not being helpless and stupid, is it? Anyway, you got – apparently – a wallop on the head for your brave pains, and hence your present amnesia. The question that is really interesting is – what did you do next?”
“Are you really asking me that? Or is that merely a rhetorical question too?”
He smiled briefly. “Merely rhetorical. As I see it, what you then did was come round after your wallop, and discover that Danny was alive. Right?”
“He must have been – of course. Why else the note?”
“Why else? I did wonder for a while if the note was genuine–”
She stared at him. “Of course it was genuine. Why shouldn’t it be?”
She shrugged slightly. “It might have been a planted thing – part of some mad complicated plot I don’t understand yet. But now it’s genuine, because that man – whoever he is – and we still don’t know – took it seriously. He accepted it as genuine, because he went belting off as soon as he saw it, didn’t he? Anyway, the note proves Danny is still alive, which brings us to the next deduction. That you took Danny to that cottage.”
She frowned, trying to sort it all out. “Because I knew the cottage – knew where it was?”
“Precisely. I wish you could remember how you knew it–”
An oncoming truck had its headllights full-on instead of dipped, so that car suddenly filled with blazing light. Automatically, Abigail closed her eyes against the glare, and in the yellow-black murk behind her lids, heard her own voice say with a sort of impatience, “Because I’d bought it–”
The light disappeared as the truck went roaring past, and she heard Max say softly above the noise of their own engine, “When did you buy it? Why?”
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