October 2nd 1909 (extract).
My position grows ever more precarious. While Cora continues her gallivanting about town, irrelevant of company and marital honour, her suspicions have narrowed on my romance. She demands to know why I spend much of my time with, in her own words, that slip of a girl. Lord knows that I wish so much to confess all and end this unfortunate charade. But that won’t do at all. My reputation and limited means, which I have striven to achieve over this last few painful years, my wife shall surely take from me.
Just this morning, sweet Ethel suggested we elope and leave this God forsaken city and all who dwell within it, perhaps catch a ship back to the United States. Return to my homeland, to practicing medicine. How dear her naivety! I understand the intentions of my wife. She is comparable to the schoolyard bully who demands all the toys to herself, and shall not allow any of the other children a sliver of happiness. Should I indulge Ethel’s request – and how I have lain awake and considered it so! – this dark cloud will pursue me to any horizon. At times I contemplate ending my affair with Ethel. She deserves this not, and can find love with a more simple man in accommodating circumstances. Yet I know this could never be the case. It destroys me to picture her on the arm of another.
This sleeplessness is affecting my work at the Institute, and I worry that Drouef has taken note of my fatigue and lack of concentration. How can one attend such trivial duties with such a tempest swirling in one’s thoughts?
I have resorted to sampling my own former wares, purchasing vials of Hyoscine from old contacts to aid my rest. I fear the delusions brought on from such medicines, as once again, I am finding terror within the hole in the wall. On a few occasions, in the early hours of the morning as my lodgers sleep soundly in the rooms below and my wife is attending parties, I grip the sheets, too afraid to move. At the far side of the room, I believe I see the wardrobe rocking back and forth and a heavy weight is pounded against it. The great wooden frame becomes pushed aside, its legs scraping fresh trails in the spilled dust and plaster on the floor.
Alone, whimpering in the dark, I watch the darkness spill from that wide cavity like ink dispersing through water, and the brute that abides within curls his ghastly fingers around the lip, pulling himself from the shadowy miasma.
I wish for death and curse those damned medicines that have delivered these macabre visions.
The fiend stays within the darkness of the wall, watching me as I cower on the bed. The weak glow from my gaslight reflects in its gold-rimmed spectacles, and its mouth remains a rigid and serious line beneath its lustrous moustache. Every part, this is my doppelganger.
In the reassuring light of day, I reason that this is my subconscious emerging through the gateway of my troubles and drugged mind. I am no doctor of the human psyche, but I stare back at the tormented soul within the wall, and despite my horror and revulsion, I pity the fellow, for he appears trapped inside his darkness and seeks only a way out of his prison.
January 25th 1910 (extract).
Night terrors increasing despite removal of medication, which I have deposited under the bathroom sink. Ethel’s unease is growing, having found my wife waiting for her outside the Institute on two occasions. I dread our affair has been discovered regardless of our precautions. While this relieves a part of my heart, for at least this lengthy ordeal shows signs of finality, I am anxious for the coming storm we must sail through before safely arriving at port.
For indeed, while Cora – during the few hours we spend in each other’s company – has not yet approached the subject, her behaviour has become increasingly more erratic and promiscuous. She plans to throw a party of her own this next week. How I loathe her demands that I attend on the grounds of presenting a happy and content marriage to those she seeks to impress for the sake of her failing stage career. This gathering is set for the 31st of this month. I reason that should I abide by her wishes, that this will grant me favour with the officious woman my wife has become over these last few years, and may calm the turbulent seas somewhat.
If only I could sleep! My thoughts deceive me.
January 30th 1910.
Cora has dominated my time in regards to this foolish party. I have had barely a moment to meet with my love, who has been sympathetic and patient throughout this business. I assure her that this party is not a social occasion, merely another stepping stone to our future happiness. She believes my intentions, which causes me to love her all the more. Dear, sweet Ethel! I promise you we will be together soon. She requests that I meet with her briefly tomorrow afternoon, for she has news that would interest me greatly, and she does not wish to discuss our affairs at the Institute.
How I would suffer a hundred of my wife’s ludicrous parties for just one moment with my Ethel!
Now I must continue the preparations for tomorrow. Cora appears to have invited all the performers in London to our modest abode.
31st January 1910.
Within these walls, I have seen the darkness of Hell. I know not what I have done.
29th July 1910.
It is with great trepidation that I return to these tainted pages after so long, but my intention is pure and virtuous. Should you, dear reader whom the future hides from me, be reading these entries, then my crimes will have been discovered, and no doubt my thoughts and actions will be presented as evidence should I be caught. To you, sir, I have no regrets in the keeping of this diary. Many a criminal has found himself caught short following some foolish mistake or neglected cover up. Why would one record, in his own hand and voice, such a document as to condemn him?
I make no excuses for what I have done. While my memory remains fogged regarding the events I am about to document, I fully admit the resultant scheme to flee across the Atlantic is entirely my doing. Let it be known that Wifie, my Ethel, had not a hand in this, and she accompanies me as my loyal partner and mother of my unborn child, not as an accomplice.
Indeed, the mother of my child, which is the pressing news she so joyfully divulged that afternoon before the party.
I aim to record the events leading to this morning, where I sit at Antwerp docks, watching the sea, my new wife beside me as I jot this down while we await the liner Montrose. We will seek our refuge in Canada, away from this plight. I believe there has been some… contact with God only knows what, and I shall keep my records complete for reference, should this strange phenomenon occur once more.
For the sake of my Ethel and unborn child, I pray this will never be the case.
I had attempted to retire early the night of the party. Cora had once again become intoxicated on gin and cheap wine, insisting on serenading the attendees throughout the occasion. Our lodgers had vacated the house for the evening, leaving the more colourful of performers – mostly fellow Music Hall performers, musicians and dancers – full reign of Hilldrop Crescent. Cora had taken offence of my bid for privacy, and her mood, slowed by alcohol, quickly darkened.
How I hate her still, that foul pig of a woman! She had indeed approached sweet Ethel with her accusations and declared to her friends how she had driven the seductress away. My husband can barely satisfy one woman, let alone two, she had joked, much to the amusement of the fame-hungry gathering.
Trying to escape her mockery and the public discussion of my most secret business, I fled up the narrow staircase, ploughing through the darkness, unconcerned with lighting the lamps on my journey. I needed the shadows to hide me from their laughing eyes. I demanded seclusion.
Inside our chamber, I sat on the bed, my head in my hands. I remember contemplating leaving the house in a temper. Packing a bag and leaving the damned lot of them behind. Yet, something eased my rapid, undeveloped thoughts. I felt somewhat relaxed for the first time in weeks.
I… sensed his coming, rather like the way the air becomes heavy and charged just before a storm. Three loud bangs echoed in the room, the wardrobe shaking with each blow. This worried me not. I felt no threat from the beast inside the walls, having been subjected to his mis
chief for some time now. On the contrary, and I find this hard to put into words, I welcomed his arrival. Perhaps because Cora had discovered most of my secrets, and while the darkness and the thing it contained revealed itself only to me, I felt the power I had over her. She couldn’t take all of my mysteries.
In point of fact, she would take nothing from me. Not my dignity. Not my love. Not my child.
It was then that the wardrobe was eased aside. It emitted a squeal as its legs scraped across the floor. The shadow spilled out once more from the hole in the wall, reaching for me with tendrils of shadow. A living void. A swirling shade.
I sat up and stared into its black depths, becoming lost in the turbulent eddies of the abyss. Deep within, glittering like treasure found in the darkest depths of the ocean, the golden rims of my twin’s spectacles shone.
He had arrived, and that night, I would aid him in his escape.
I crossed the bedroom, ignoring the sounds of frivolity and Cora’s loud, grating singing voice, and approached the hole. The darkness hung about me like fumes from hot tar, and I shivered, the deep swallowing the very heat from my breath.
I gripped the edge, where my counterpart had clutched the plasterwork with his pale talon-like digits, and leaned ever closer, bringing my
God May Pity All Weak Hearts Page 4