by Amy Cross
I do wish he's talk, though. It's so hard trying to work out what he's thinking. If I didn't know better, I'd think he has nothing to say. But when I look into his eyes - deep into his eyes, not the way most people look at one another's eyes - I know there's some depth to him. I can see there's something burning inside. It's just that I have to work out how to unlock it. Certainly if I'm ever going to consider marrying him, I'll have to make some form of progress soon.
I can't deny, though, that there's a sense of mystery about him that appeals to me. He came to town a few years ago, and some of the local oldies say they think they remember seeing his father around. They look very alike, he and his father, though no-one seems to know where his father lived or where he is now. So much gossip! Sometimes I like being at the centre of it all. Other times, I'm not so sure...
"Jess would like to go to the cinema tomorrow night," I say as Patrick and I walk through the suburbs to my parents' house. "I said I'd ask you about it, but to be honest I'm not so keen. What do you think?"
He doesn't answer, of course. Sometimes it's like talking to myself. That would infuriate me usually, but there's something about Patrick that suggests his silence is for a reason. A very good reason. And the truth is, I don't want to go and see a film with Jess because I have this awful feeling that Jess wants to steal Patrick away from me. I know she's jealous, and I feel she might be willing to offer him more than I'm willing to offer. Before marriage, at least. After marriage would be an entirely different story.
"I don't think we'll go," I say, as if we've discussed the matter. "I don't think there's anything good on, and I'd rather just hang out. We could go and get soda, if you like?" I leave a gap for his answer, even though I know he'll say nothing. The truth is, I'll make plans out loud and then I'll wait to see if he shows up at the time I've suggested. Usually he will, but occasionally not. "Around five," I say. "That'd be good. I can't be out too late tomorrow night. I have college in the morning".
We get to the driveway of my house, and we stop. I know he won't come in, but I still want to ask. "I'm sure there's some spare meatloaf," I say, hopefully.
He stares at me.
"Another time," I say. "If you're serious about me, you'll have to meet my parents some time. Properly, I mean".
We stand back as a car turns off the road and parks in the driveway. My father, ever suspicious, quickly gets out. "Dinner's ready," he says, assuming my mother will have everything on the table the moment he walks in. He gives Patrick a suspicious glance, then takes his briefcase inside.
"If you come in some time," I say to Patrick. "He'll get to know you better and he'll like you more. Though I dare say you'll have to say a word or two". I smile, to try to get him to smile. "Oh Patrick," I say. "If you don't want to talk to me, why do you spend so much time with me?"
"Hey!" calls a familiar voice. I turn to the house. My brother John is standing on the porch. "Dinner!" he says. Instead of disappearing back inside the house, he waits, watching me with Patrick.
"I have to go," I say. "Tomorrow, though," I add. "Or even tonight..." I turn and head into the house, hoping that perhaps later there'll be a knock at my bedroom window.
5
The next morning, I decide to walk to John Tisser's house. First, I have to apologise for losing his sister's diary, and second I want to ask him if he remembers anything else from the period around the time of Rose's disappearance. With the diary gone, I could do with drilling his memory one more time. The diary was my only real link to Rose Tisser, it was my window into her world. I need to try to maintain that link even if the diary is gone.
As I get close to John Tisser's house, however, I note a couple of ambulances parked outside. Walking up the driveway, I realise something's very wrong. By the time I get to the screen door on the porch, I have to step aside as medics carry a body out on a stretcher. It's covered with a sheet, but I have a horrible feeling that I know who it is.
"Can I help you?" asks a voice. I turn to find an impossibly good-looking guy in the doorway.
"I... came to see John Tisser," I say.
"You a friend?" the guy asks.
"I know him," I say. That's a bit of an exaggeration, but it'll do for now. "Is everything okay?"
The guy steps back to let me through the door. "You'd better come in," he says. As I walk into the house, he shuts the door. "My grandfather died last night," he says. "I hope you and he weren't too close". A pause. "Does that sound wrong, wishing two people weren't friends?"
I stare at him. "He's dead?"
The guy nods. "Heart attack". He steps towards me and reaches out a hand. "Adam," he says. "Adam Tisser".
I shake his hand. "Sophie," I say. "I sorry. Ididn't know he was ill".
"He wasn't," says Adam. "Just keeled over last night.".
I look at the chair where John Tisser was sat just yesterday, talking to me. "Out of nowhere?"
Adam nods. "My grandmother thinks he must have got up to go to the toilet in the night. She found him this morning, on the floor by the window".
I look at the large window overlooking the garden. "As easy as that?" I say.
"As easy as that". He seems a little uncomfortable. "Look, this might come out wrong. But my grandfather was a 75-year-old man who used to drive buses and you're... younger. How did you know him?"
"I was... doing some research," I say. "On an old news story from the 50's".
"Rose Tisser?" Adam asks.
"Yeah," I say. "How did you know?"
Adam smiles. I notice he has a cute smile, with dimples. "It's a big story in my family. My grandfather used to tell me all about it. Sometimes I think it was the only thing he had to talk about".
I look around the room. "Did anything odd happen before he died?"
"What is she doing here?" asks a voice, interrupting from the kitchen. I turn to see John's wife, who had ignored me last time, standing in the doorway that leads to the kitchen.
"I'm sorry about your husband," I say.
"Don't take this the wrong way," John's wife says, "but please get her of my house. I have a lot to do". She fixes me with an evil, hate-filled state. What did I do to deserve that?
"I'll go," I say slightly stunned by the whole thing.
"I'll show you out," Adam says.
"You need to drive me to the funeral home, Adam," his grandmother says tersely. "We have to be there soon".
"I'll be with you in a sec," Adam says to her. He leads me out onto the porch. "Sorry about that," he says. "Her way of coping with grief is to be an even bigger b... tight-ass that normal".
"I get it," I say, but I'm thinking about something else altogether. "Listen, I know this must be a bad time for you. But when you're done with everything, do you want to meet up? I'd really like to hear everything you know about Rose Tisser".
"Sure," Adam says. "What are you doing this afternoon?"
"Nothing," I say. Wait, that makes me sound boring. "Nothing much," I correct myself quickly. "It's really not that important, I just want to know a few things that your grandfather didn't tell me, like what happened on the night Rose and Jessica died. Do you know that?"
Adam smiles again. He really is kind of cute, though he's totally - and I mean totally - out of my league. "Meet me here at six," he says. "I'll take you there".
6
"You coming to the woods tonight?" Jess asks, as we cross the road in town. She's been going on about going to the woods all week, ever since she heard stories about mysterious lights in the trees. Jess has her head in the clouds half the time, always talking about supernatural rubbish and fancying herself as quite the paranormal investigator. "I've heard it's quite a light show".
"It's too cold," I say.
"Sure," she says, "without Heathcliff's warm embrace".
I sigh. Ever since she read Wuthering Heights, Jess has taken to using the name Heathcliff for Patrick. She sees him as some kind of interloper, some kind of outsider. Just because his family isn't known around here, that
doesn't mean he has some dark background. His family probably live a couple of towns away, that's all.
"Sorry," Jess says. "Listen, I'll cut you a deal. You come to the woods with me tonight, I'll never call him Heathcliff again, okay?"
I don't say anything. We keep walking.
"Okay," Jess adds. "I'll never make fun again". She steps in front of me and turns to face me. "Please, Rose old girl, I need to go and see these lights for myself, and you're the only one I feel safe being out with at that time of night. Don't you want to experience something unusual?"
"At night," I say, rather archly, "I prefer to experience being safe, asleep in my bed".
"With Heathcliff climbing through your window," she says. "Sorry. Look, that's the kind of sharp-tongued waggery I'll cut out completely if you just -" She grabs my shoulders and shakes me theatrically, jokily. "Come - With - Me!" She laughs.
I think about it for a moment. "We have to leave before 10pm," I say.
"Wonderful," Jess says.
"And we have to be back before midnight," I add. "It's simply too cold to be out exploring too late".
"Of course," Jess says, but I know she doesn't mean it. When I say midnight, she knows we'll be out until all hours. But I have to show some strength and put my foot down, even if we both know it's ultimately futile. "You can even bring him," she says.
"I don't think so," I say.
"What about John?"
"My brother? Are you crazy? If he knew I was going out to the woods in the daytime, let alone the evening, he'd tie me down until I came to my senses! Which doesn't sound like a bad idea!"
"Meet me on the corner of Pincer and 44th Street," Jess says. "Half past nine. We'll be in the woods and all being well we should be back out well before midnight. Do we have a deal?"
I nod.
"Wonderful," Jess says. "You know, Rose, I can feel it. There's something in those woods. After all the false starts, this could be when we get some proper evidence!"
"Sure," I say, already dreading being out so late on a crazy wild goose chase. But as Jess hugs me, I realise I have to go. For better or for worse, for reasons I can't even remember, Jess is my best friend. And I can't let her go into the woods alone. Forget mysterious lights, there are plenty of real dangers that need to be avoided, even in a small town like Dedston.
7
Adam leads the way out of town, down past the river and through the woods. Normally I'd be pretty wary of following a stranger into such an isolated area, especially after what's happened to me recently, but this guy has the kind of face it's easy to trust.
Famous last words?
After about a half hour walk, we come out of the woods near the beach, and I realise we're heading to the old lighthouse. "Is that where we're going?" I ask, looking straight ahead at the building.
"You wanted to see where they died, right?" Adam says as the wind picks up.
It takes us another five minutes to get to the lighthouse. I know from my father that this place has been abandoned since before I was born. There's a fence to stop people getting in, but over the years it's been worn down and Adam and I just stroll through. It's weird being here. I used to come with my father.
"Want to go inside?" Adam asks.
"We can go inside?" I ask. My father always said the place was locked, but I suppose my father always does things by the book and probably just wanted to avoid having his daughter running around inside abandoned lighthouses. "Sure," I say. Sorry, Dad.
Adam leads me to a small metal blue door, which he opens easily. We step into the lighthouse and find the floor of the large round first floor room is covered in rubble. Looking up, it appears the first floor has entirely collapsed at some point in the past, showering the ground floor with wood, metal and pieces of abandoned furniture. The place seems old and cold, as if no human being has been here for years. And it seems fragile, like it's just been left here to fall down of its own accord some day.
"Spooky, yeah?" Adam says. "I should warn you right now that this place is supposed to be haunted, if you believe that sort of thing".
"Have you been here before?" I ask, unable to stop looking around at the wreckage all over the floor.
"Sure," says Adam. "All the time. Me and some friends used to come here to hang out, smoke, that sort of thing. Not any more, though".
"Ever seen a ghost?"
He pauses. "No," he says. "But I know people who have. The two dead girls, Rose and Jess. People have seen their ghosts here. Again, that's only if you believe that sort of thing". He flashes a quizzical smile at me. "Do you?"
"I... I don't know," I say, honestly.
"The lighthouse was already abandoned when Rose and Jess died," Adam says. "It was abandoned a long time ago. There was... do you want to hear the gruesome details?" I nod. "There was blood everywhere. All over the walls, on the floors, on the steps. Jess Harper's body was just ripped to shreds. They found some of Rose's blood too, but not her body".
"So they died in here? In this room?"
Adam nods. He points to the other side of the room. "They found Jess's body spread all over there. Ripped apart. Blood spread all over the walls. Like whoever killed them, had so much rage, it couldn't be contained. Whoever did it, just ripped those two girls up with his bare hands in a fit of pure anger. A lot of people thought it must have been an animal".
We both turn as there's a scraping sound nearby. We look at one another for a moment.
"Nothing," Adam says after a moment. "See? Told you it was spooky".
I can't help wondering about Patrick. Everywhere I go these days, I imagine him following me. At first it was a compliment, but now I find it menacing. Ever since last night in my room, when he cut my lip and nearly broke my arm, I'm worried about getting too close to him. As attractive as he is, maybe there are some differences that are just too great to be bridged?
"No-one knows what they were doing out here," Adam says, breaking my train of thought and bringing me back to the real world. "There were some crazy rumours about them being lovers, but... my grandfather swears it was nothing like that". He kicks some rocks against the curved wall. "Not that he had any better theories".
There's a creaking sound from high above us. I look up, concerned, but Adam laughs it off.
"Old building," he says. "The light's still up there. It's huge. I'd show you, but the stairs look pretty dodgy". He puts his hand on the rail of the metal stairs, and when he shakes it, the whole section seems to be only loosely attached to the wall. "See?" he says.
I nod. As interesting as this is, I'm not really learning anything by being here. I need to get that diary back from Patrick, but there's just no way. I'm not even sure I want to see him again.
There's another heavy, loud creak above us.
"We should go," says Adam. "It's getting dark".
Another loud creak, and this time the sound of wood splitting.
Adam looks up. "Come on," he says.
Another creak, and suddenly there's a huge crashing sound and the wooden roof high above us crashes down, with the huge glass lantern from the top of the lighthouse following it down.
"Move!" Adam shouts and he pushes me out of the way and into a small side-room as the lantern smashes down and shatters into a million tiny pieces. I look back and see the huge, heavy metal frame of the lantern wobbling from the energy of the fall. If that had hit us, we'd both be dead right now.
"Like I said: old building," says Adam, clearly shaken. "You okay?"
"Yeah," I say, and then something odd happens. Adam leans in to kiss me, and I lean in to kiss him, and our lips touch for a moment. It's not much, not even a full kiss, but it's something. Perhaps it's just a reaction to the shock of nearly getting squashed by a 100-tonne glass lantern?
"Sorry," he says.
"It's okay," I reply, waiting for him to do it again.
"We should go," he says. "Come on, seriously this time". He takes my hand and leads me out of the side-room. We cross the main hall of
the lighthouse which is now covered in shards of glass, and then we go outside, where it's really starting to get dark.
We walk back towards town, not saying anything, but we stay holding hands. I tell myself it's from the shock of what just happened, but I know it's not, and I'm pretty sure he knows it's not too. As we walk, I can't help looking back over my shoulder at the lighthouse. Would Patrick... No, that's a crazy idea. If Patrick wanted to kill me, he'd just come through my bedroom window and rip me apart, wouldn't he? Then again, that lantern crashing down seemed awfully convenient.
8
Fortunately, my mother sets an early dinner that evening because she's going to visit a friend down the road. My father isn't too happy about this: he usually likes to read his paper, then have his dinner, but tonight he's going to have to read his paper after dinner. He worries out loud about the effect this will have on his digestion, but he knows there's no point complaining too hard. My mother is quite set on having an independent life away from the home.
I retire to my room at 8 o'clock, ostensibly to do homework. I know there's no danger of my being disturbed. Barring a house fire, no-one will knock for me. They'll all think good little Rose is doing her work for college. To be honest, part of me wishes that really could be my plan for the evening. But no, I have to go and meet Jess soon, for our mad little excursion into the woods.