Daddy Won't Kill You- The Haunting in the Woods

by Caroline Clark

  Steve felt incredibly tired. He wanted to sink into a hot bath and sleep for a week, but he had to check on Lauren.

  “Dad,” Chase prompted.

  “Wait here. Everything’s fine … it wasn’t blood, just your mum’s cooking.” He scanned their faces. Lucy looked scared. Her bottom lip quivered and she clung tightly to Bunkie, but Chase sat ramrod straight, determined to be brave. Steve smiled at them both. “I’ll just check on Mum. You two wait here.” He stood up and walked back into the cabin.

  As Steve walked into the cabin, Lauren had her back to him. She was still covered in red and her hair seemed straighter. He noticed the knife was near her right hand, but she seemed to be happy and was even humming something old fashioned. “What’s going on?” he asked.

  Lauren turned to him, a sweet expression on her face. She wiped her forehead and smeared the red paste across it, sending chills down his spine.

  “I have to stay in the kitchen, and then you keep bugging me,” Lauren said.

  “What do you mean, stay in the kitchen? You wanted to cook.”

  She picked up the knife and held it in front of her face. “Can’t I have any peace?” she asked, the wild look returning to her eyes.

  Steve felt a stab in his chest, almost as if she had rammed the knife home. Was it his heart? Or fear for Lauren? He did not know which. “Honey, we’ve been gone hours,” he said.

  “No, you haven’t.” She waved the knife at him.

  “It’s okay,” he said as soothingly as he could. “We have, sweetheart, but it’s all okay.”

  She looked at him and then her eyes changed and her hair seemed to regain some of its spring. Steve didn’t notice. He only saw her put down the knife as a sparkle of tears formed in her eyes.

  “Have you?” she asked.

  “Yes, we have.” Steve pulled her into his arms and felt her shake against him as he held her close. As he hugged her, he noticed black feathers poking out of the bin. Had she put the raven in there? Surely not.

  “What’s this?” he asked.

  “Nothing.”

  She pulled away from him looking stronger, more like her old self. A hand brushed subconsciously across her face.

  “You go look after the kids. I need to clean up and finish dinner.”

  Chapter 11

  Steve sat at the table, twiddling his thumbs while the children played cards. They turned over each card mechanically. The game had been going on forever and held little joy.

  Steve’s stomach growled with hunger and anger burned in his chest.

  “How’s my Lucy Lockett?” Steve asked.

  “I’m tired and hungry.”

  “Me too,” Chase said.

  Steve checked his watch. It had been nearly an hour. What was she doing? “If Mum’s not out in a minute, I’ll go help. But you know how she loves her time in the kitchen.”

  He had checked on her twice and been sent from the kitchen with a flea in his ear, but this was getting to be beyond a joke. I’ll make them a sandwich if she’s not quick, damn her.

  The kids mumbled but went back to their cards. They were just dealing another hand when the door opened and Lauren walked out with a wonderful- looking pie.

  Her face was clean; her hair up in a neat, if old-fashioned bun, and she wore a smart blouse and skirt instead of her normal jeans.

  Steve breathed a sigh of relief; she looked okay, wonderful, even. Maybe it was just stress and she was fine.

  She set the pie on the table. “Dad, you start serving, and I will get the vegetables.” She turned and walked back into the cabin.

  Steve smiled at the kids and cut into the pie. It looked great, but as the knife sliced through the golden pastry, a smell of rot and decay seemed to emanate upwards.

  “Wow, Dad. What’s that smell?” Chase asked.

  Steve felt his stomach roll and fought back a throat full of gorge as he served a piece of pie onto a plate. “I think it’s the pie.”

  “I want cheesy, please, Dad,” Lucy said.

  Steve jumped as Lauren placed a platter of corn cobs and some potatoes over his shoulder and onto the table. He stared at the pie, his hand poised over it with the knife.

  “What’s the hold-up?” Lauren asked.

  Steve didn’t know what to do. Was the pie off? Was it some combination of herbs? Why hadn’t Lauren noticed? He hesitated but could see the anger building in her eyes.

  He served up small portions onto all the plates. It steamed on the white crockery, a golden pie with dark meat that looked wonderful but smelt like corruption. He quickly served two corn cobs and plenty of potatoes onto Lucy and Chase’s plates.

  “Who wants some cheese?”

  “Yes, please,” and “me, me, me,” came from the kids.

  “Eat your pie.” Lauren served herself a quarter.

  “Is it pheasant? It smells a bit ... strong.”

  Lauren looked as if she would fly at him and Steve braced for an onslaught. Instead, she picked up her plate with the foul smelling but steaming pie and went over to the rocking chair.

  “Eat up. It’s good for you,” she said, and started to rock.

  Steve let out a sigh and sat down. At times he felt like he was negotiating a mine field and he’d just missed a big one.

  Lauren happily tucked into her meal as she rocked gently.

  Steve could see the kids watching him, so he smiled and bit into his pie.

  “Bloody hell.” The meat tasted as rank as it smelt. It felt slimy and rotten against his tongue and seemed to coat the top of his mouth with corruption. His stomach contracted, and bile rose into his throat. He choked it back down and spat the pie onto his plate.

  “That’s naughty,” Lucy said.

  “Yes, it is. Sorry, pumpkin.”

  Lauren sat in the chair rocking, eating the pie as if it was delicious, her expression one of rapture.

  Steve tried to swallow, to clear the taste, but the meat seemed stuck in his mouth. The smell and the taste brought bile up his throat and he almost threw up onto his plate.

  “Daddy,” Lucy said, a shocked expression on her face.

  He grabbed his wine glass and drank deeply. Swilling the liquid around his mouth, he leaned over the edge of the deck and spat onto the grass. It took away some of the taste, but he could feel his stomach as it threatened to eject any contents.

  “Sorry, pumpkin.” He lowered his voice, why, he didn’t know. He should tell Lauren the pie was off, but something warned him not to. “Don’t eat the pie, kids, it’s a bit strong.”

  They shook their heads, looking a little strangely at their dad, who didn’t usually spit his food up onto his plate. Steve and the children pushed their pie around their plates and ate the vegetables.

  He kept watching Lauren as she happily chomped through the pie. Was it just him? He wondered about letting one of the kids try a bit, but no, they had smelt the corruption. It must just be off.

  They had finished the vegetables. He gathered up the plates and took them to the kitchen before Lauren could see. He put them down on the side and got the ice-cream from the freezer. Chocolate brownie should take away any residual taste. He decided to scrape away the remains of the pie and turned to the bin.

  Lauren stood behind him suddenly, so close she was almost touching.

  Steve jumped and bumped his hip on the work surface. “Jesus.”

  She picked up the children’s plates and walked across to the bin. Steve took in a deep breath and dished up ice-cream. He wondered whether to say anything about the pie, but decided against it. “Want any ice-cream?” he asked.

  “You never finished your pie,” she said, picking at the pie with a knife. Small white bugs could be seen nestled within the flesh.

  “Oh my God.” Steve bit back the rest of what he was going to say, along with the bile that rose in his throat.

  There were maggots in the meat.

  What is going on?

  Part of him was angry, furious that she could put the childre
n in danger, but part of him knew something was wrong. He knew he shouldn’t say anything, but he didn’t know why. Fear rose in his chest and warned him to be careful. Something in the back of his mind said they must get out of here, but he pushed the thought down. This had to be a mistake. They wouldn’t be maggots, just some rice or decorations she was trying. Though the thought made sense, he didn’t really believe it, but it was all his logical mind could cope with.

  “I’m talking to you … After all the effort I put in, you didn’t finish your pie.”

  “It was a bit strong. Why don’t we have some ice-cream and settle down with a bottle of wine?”

  Lauren stepped on the pedal, and the bin lid flipped open. She tipped the remains of the pie on top of the raven’s bones, stripped of all the rotting meat and feathers.

  Steve stepped toward her. She dropped the bin lid before he could see. “How about that glass of wine?” he asked.

  Lauren spun toward him. “You ungracious pig of a man. I work hard to put food on the table and you won’t eat it, but you want dessert.”

  She pushed him away from her and swept the empty plates off the table. They crashed onto the floor. At the noise, she changed and stood before him looking suddenly vulnerable, almost in tears.

  The kids charged into the kitchen. Lucy was crying. She looked at her mum, ran at Steve, and kicked his ankle. “You shouldn’t make Mum sad,” she said through her tears.

  Steve rubbed his ankle. “Thanks. You’re right.”

  Lauren put her arms around the children and led them from the cabin.

  Steve stood there looking at the mess, the broken plates, and the empty pie dish, which still smelt rotten. He rubbed his hands through his hair. What was happening?

  He bent down and picked up the broken plates. Dumping them into the bin, he could see a few feathers beneath the pie, had she put the raven in there? Now why would she do that?

  Part of him wanted to check the bin to see what was really there, but he knew that was paranoid. Maybe this was all him. After all, Lauren had eaten her pie. Was it just pheasant? A dark meat, maybe one that had been hung and was really strong? Lauren liked her meat strong. He and the kids didn’t.

  For just a moment, he thought of the rotten raven and wondered if she had put that in the pie. No, that was crazy. He was stressed, she was stressed, but there was no way Lauren would risk the children’s health like that. After all, he told himself again, she had eaten the pie.

  Feeling as if his head would explode with unanswered questions, he grabbed the bag, tied it closed, and walked out to the main bin. As he dumped the offending bag, he sighed. What was going on with Lauren? If it was just the stress, would it be better to keep the cabin?

  Steve stood on the deck. Chase was reading his book, his head down, his soft brown curls across his face. Lauren sat in the rocking chair with Lucy curled up on her knee. They looked wonderful. It was a scene to melt his heart, but it scared him.

  Lauren looked across at him; her golden hair cascaded against her cheek, her face calm. She was his Lauren.

  She whispered, “Sorry.”

  He nodded and sat down at the table. He pulled his mobile from his pocket and checked—no signal.

  In front of him, Lauren and Lucy rocked, and Lauren started to sing. She sang the lullaby “Mockingbird” in a sweet, melodious voice.

  Steve watched them relaxing and enjoying the night, but his muscles tensed. Something was wrong.

  He got up and walked away from the cabin. To one side was a small hill and he climbed up the slippery grass. The exercise caused his heart to pound, and he stopped to rest. Peering back over the cabin, he could see the lake beyond and all around, forest and wilderness.

  When he reached the summit, he took out the mobile again. He still had no signal. With a sigh, he headed back to the cabin.

  Lauren rocked Lucy in the chair. Lucy ran her fingers through Lauren’s curls. Her hair was springy but seemed to change.

  “Why’s your hair less curly?” Lucy asked.

  “Never mind that.” Lauren pulled her hands away.

  Lucy freed her hands and went back to stroking the curls. “It’s shorter too.”

  “Don’t be silly.” Lauren pulled the girl tight, hugging her to her chest.

  “Too tight,” Lucy said.

  Lauren ignored her and continued to rock.

  Lucy struggled in her arms, but she was clamped to her mum and couldn’t move. The chair rocked backward and forwards faster now.

  Lucy struggled more, finding it hard to draw breath. Panic flapped in her chest like a bird trapped in a window. Pushing with all her might, she tried to loosen the hold while she gasped for each breath.

  “Mum … I ... I can’t breathe …” She was desperate to escape.

  Chase jumped up from the table. He darted across the deck and planted a punch on his mum’s arm. “You’re just being mean.”

  The chair stopped dead, and Lauren rose from it in one smooth movement.

  Lucy tumbled from her arms and thumped onto the deck. She cried as she hit, bruising her shoulder.

  Chase rushed to his sister. “Leave her alone.” His eyes flashed anger.

  Lauren crossed toward him, her face a blank mask. She grabbed Chase by the throat and tossed him against the cabin. He hit hard and slid down the wall to land on the wooden deck. Lauren walked to him. Her face was menacingly empty.

  “Mummy, please, don’t,” Lucy called.

  Lauren bent over Chase and he shrank back against the wall. All he could see was her fist coming down toward his face. Behind it, her eyes were a cold, icy blue and manic. The fist rushed toward his head.

  “Mummy,” Lucy shrieked.

  Steve ran onto the deck. “What’s going on?”

  Lauren’s face cleared. She opened her fist and reached down to Chase, offering him a hand and helping him up. “Chase slipped. Nothing’s going on,” she said as she turned and walked back to the chair.

  “Chase?” Steve asked.

  Chase looked at him and opened his mouth but before he could speak, Lauren held him with her eyes. The look she gave him was enough to have him shaking his head. “It was nothing, Dad.”

  Chapter 12

  Lauren hummed as she moved around the kitchen. Her hair and makeup were beautiful. She was wearing a skirt, which was unusual, and a scarf hung neatly around her neck.

  Steve walked into the kitchen on edge. She had been up when he woke, and he was unsure how she would react. He dropped into a chair and ran a hand across his stubble. “Morning,” he said.

  She walked over and kissed his cheek. “Morning, sweetie. You slept well.”

  Steve let out a small sigh of relief. Maybe she was fine now. “Actually, I took hours to drop off.”

  “Well, of course I’m wrong again.” She turned and stormed back to the counter.

  “No, that’s not what I meant.”

  “It never is, is it?”

  “What?” Steve asked.

  She stood with her back against the solid wooden countertop, her hands on her hips. A look of pure contempt crossed her face, but as she opened her mouth to answer, the kids walked in.

  Lucy had Bunkie clutched in her hands. She looked tired. Her hair was still mussed up from sleep, and her eyes were hardly open. “Mummy, don’t upset Daddy,” she said, and stumbled over to the table.

  Chase gave his dad an angry look before sitting down and putting his head straight into his book.

  Steve felt like the world was falling out from under him, as if reality was spinning him around until his head buzzed and his stomach threatened to disgorge any contents.

  “Now, my two little pumpkins, who wants pancakes?” Lauren asked. She looked normal again, relaxed and easygoing, if a little old-fashioned.

  Lucy bounced up and down on her seat. “Lucy Loo wants pancakes for two.” Lucy giggled at her own joke and jumped onto her dad’s knee. He kissed her and held her tight while he tried to watch Lauren without her noticing.
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  “Have we any syrup?” Chase’s eyes never left his book.

  “If your dad bothered to pack it.” Lauren cracked eggs into a bowl.

  Steve stood up and put Lucy into her own chair. He checked the cupboard. “Treacle or raspberry?”

  “Both,” Lucy said, her cheeks pink with excitement.

  “That’s gross. Just treacle,” Chase said.

  Lauren served the pancakes and sat down to eat her own. She seemed calm and normal, but her eyes kept flicking to the door with the deck beyond it. It was making Steve nervous. It was as if she was sharing secret glances with someone out there.

  Chase tucked into his pancake, his book closed for now.

  Lucy sat Bunkie on the table and fed him one pretend mouthful for every one she ate. Everything seemed so normal and Steve tried to relax though his throat was so dry that it was hard to swallow his own pancake.

  Steve took another mouthful and chewed as much as he could. The food was fine. The kids were wolfing theirs down; it was just his nerves that made it so hard.

  “Are we going on the lake, Dad?” Chase asked, and Steve almost jumped. What should he say?

  “I’m not sure. What does Mum want to do?”

  Her eyes flared ice-cold. “I thought I was getting some time to cook. Go on the lake. Just keep out of my way.”

  Steve felt a tension in his back. Why was she being like this? “That’s settled then. As soon as breakfast’s over, grab your life jackets from your cupboard and off we go.”

  The kids both pushed their half-empty plates away and ran to their rooms.

  “That’s enough,” Steve said. “You can whine at me all you want, but leave them out of it.”

  Lauren stared back as if she had no idea what he was saying. Her eyes seemed to clear, and she noticed the kids’ half-finished breakfasts. She looked confused. “What happened?”

  “Never mind,” Steve said, grabbing the kids’ plates he walked out of the cabin.

  The children sat on the bench outside the cabin with their life jackets next to them. They had finished their breakfast outside and were waiting for their dad. Both had their eyes down; their heads bowed. Just a few harsh words had crumpled them like a polystyrene cup brought too close to a flame. They had withdrawn and sat still and quiet, almost touching as they gave each other strength.