Where Monsters Lie

by Polly Ho-Yen

  I rang Finn to tell him I wouldn’t be coming in and not to hold the bus for me. I washed up the breakfast things, collected our dirty laundry and filled the washing machine. I played with Tommi for a bit, but she was still more interested in her pebbles, and so I found myself in the unusual position of not having anything to do.

  I decided to work on my map of Mivtown. I had been neglecting it recently, what with everything that had happened, and so I brought it down to the kitchen table and unrolled it carefully, securing the corners with anything I could find – a banana, a set of keys, a discarded fork.

  The last time I worked on it, I had drawn in the places that Mum liked to visit. Now I added another little mark, a small x, just by Rosemary Tanner’s cottage and close to the loch. This was where she said she’d seen Mum at seven that morning; after that, she’d never been seen again. It was the last place she’d been before disappearing for ever.

  ‘Let’s go out,’ I said to Tommi, rolling up my map. ‘Let’s go for a walk.’

  I bundled us both up in coats, gloves, hats and scarves; we looked like overstuffed snowmen as we stomped towards the loch.

  Tommi ran ahead of me through the village, but I called her back when we neared Rosemary Tanner’s cottage.

  ‘Stay next to me, Tommi. Come here,’ I shouted to her, and remembered Old Bill’s reasoning that the legend was about keeping children away from the deep waters of the loch. It looked grey and solid in the distance, as though you could walk on it.

  ‘Tommi! Come back!’ I shouted a little louder, and something in my voice reminded me of Mum on the night of the Tindlemas, calling me over to her, insisting that we hold hands the whole way round the loch. Tommi looped back to me and I held her mitten securely in my own, as Mum had held mine all those months ago.

  ‘Good girl,’ I said. ‘Let’s stay together for this bit.’

  Our breath curled into smoke in the cold winter air. I pointed this out to Tommi, and she was fascinated by it, and huffed and puffed all the more.

  ‘You wee dragon,’ I said, laughing at her. Because I was looking at Tommi, I didn’t notice them straight away.

  It was the oldies. I could see them clearly through the little window of the cottage: Old Bill, Mr and Mrs Daniels, and Rosemary Tanner herself. Not in the hospital in Abiemore at all, but standing together in the living room of the stone cottage.

  Chapter Forty-five

  ‘Over here, Tommi,’ I said, and quickly pulled her behind the wall that ran along the path and up to the cottage, out of sight.

  ‘Hold onto my hand, Tommi, and no talking, OK? As quiet as we can. We’re going to tiptoe because . . . because . . .’

  Tommi looked up at me expectantly.

  ‘We are stepping on a sleeping giant and we don’t want to wake him. OK? Really quiet.’

  Tommi’s eyes widened, and she looked down at the grass as though to check on the giant. When she looked back at me, she closed her mouth firmly so her cheeks puffed out a little. We started to tiptoe.

  ‘That’s it,’ I whispered. ‘Just like that. Really quiet. We don’t want to wake him.’

  I was determined to get closer to the cottage and find out why the oldies had lied about Rosemary Tanner being in hospital. Why would they make up a story like that? And what was really stopping them from looking after Tommi today?

  ‘This way, Tommi.’ I gestured for her to follow me. ‘Quietly!’ We crept along the wall towards the cottage – although I wasn’t sure if we would hear anything as the windows were shut, the stone walls thick and solid.

  All at once I heard the door open, and then heavy footsteps – Old Bill. Then came the lighter steps of Mrs Daniels, with Mr Daniels following after. The door closed behind them with a slam.

  I mimed at Tommi to keep quiet, and she nodded at me in agreement and put a finger to her lips, a mirror of me. I squeezed her mitten and we stood there, unmoving; for a moment it was as if we were part of the wall itself.

  At first the oldies didn’t speak, and I thought they were going to leave the cottage and we would learn nothing more than we knew already.

  Then I heard Old Bill clear his throat.

  ‘She’s not in a good way, is she?’ he said gruffly.

  There was no answer, and I imagined Mr and Mrs Daniels shaking their heads in agreement. I kept as still as I could, but Tommi was tugging at my hand. She wanted to pick up something on the ground, and as she knelt down, she made a rustling noise – which was masked by Mrs Daniels’s voice:

  ‘She’s terrible. Just terrible. What a state she’s in.’

  They were walking away now.

  ‘We’ll pop back in an hour or so – do you want to come back a bit later?’ Mrs Daniels asked.

  Their footsteps carried on along the path, their voices becoming faint. I was beginning to think that Rosemary Tanner had fallen after all, and that they had just come back from the hospital – but then a phrase sailed through the air to me like an arrow released from a bow.

  ‘. . . can’t stop talking about those slugs . . .’ Mr Daniels said, and then their voices receded until I couldn’t make out a word of what they were saying.

  Chapter Forty-six

  Everyone knows that if you visit someone who is sick or has had bad news, you have to bring them something. When Mum disappeared, people kept bringing us food and flowers – so many that we ran out of vases and jugs and had to make do with jam jars and tin cans.

  I cast around the undergrowth for something to pick for Mrs Tanner, but as it was winter, there was not a lot to choose from.

  ‘Come on, Tommi,’ I said as we made our way past the cottage, ducking under the window and looking around.

  That was when I saw it. The bladderwort. I was sure it wasn’t the right time of year for it to flower, but the dainty yellow heads nodded at me gaily in the breeze; the whole area looked like a mossy green and yellow blur.

  I picked a few hurriedly, remembering that Mrs Daniels had said she was going to return, and when I had something resembling a bunch, I took Tommi’s hand and said to her, ‘Let’s go and see Rosemary Tanner. She’s sick.’

  I suspected that Rosemary Tanner knew more about the slugs that she had let on, and after Mrs Daniels mentioned them, I was convinced of it.

  ‘R’mary Tanner,’ echoed Tommi. ‘Sick.’

  ‘That’s right,’ I said.

  I knocked three times with the black iron knocker, but there was no answer, so I pushed open the letter box and called through.

  ‘It’s Effie and Tommi come to see you,’ I said. ‘We’ve brought you something.’

  I heard movement inside the cottage, and sure enough, the door swung open and Rosemary Tanner stood in front of us.

  I had expected her to look ill, to be wearing a dressing gown, but not a hair of her stiff grey bun was out of place, and her eyes were flooded with an energy I had not seen before. She was wearing her usual tweed suit and she smiled at us, showing all her yellowed teeth.

  ‘Come in, come in, wee Tommi, Effie.’

  I hesitated, doubting the decision that had brought us there.

  ‘Out of the cold, the pair of you,’ Rosemary Tanner commanded, and I found my legs moving forward as though I were a robot.

  ‘We heard you weren’t well and so we brought you something,’ I said, and offered the wilting flowers.

  Rosemary Tanner looked at the bladderwort with barely disguised disgust, but took the bunch off to the kitchen. ‘Who told you that I wasn’t well?’ she asked.

  ‘Dad. He said you’d had a fall and the old— I mean, everyone was with you. Did you just get back from the hospital?’

  ‘Hmm,’ Rosemary Tanner said, not answering. ‘So that’s what they’re saying, is it. Anyway, you two must be freezing. Cup of tea? I’ve got a fruitcake that needs eating.’

  ‘Oh, we just ate,’ I said quickly. ‘We can’t stay long. Just wanted to see how you were. And say sorry about your fall.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ she replied. ‘You�
�ll both stay for a slice, now you’re here. Sit down.’ She reminded me of Miss Bell.

  I sat in a high-backed chair covered in faded material patterned with flying birds, and pulled Tommi onto my lap. I’d never been inside the cottage before, and the more I looked around the walls, the more I noticed. There were watercolours of Mivtown – mostly of the loch, black and brooding, more like a bottomless hole than a stretch of water. And there were lots of porcelain birds, as well as feathers tucked into vases, and even a tiny nest containing three impossibly small speckled eggs.

  ‘Here we are,’ Rosemary Tanner said, and set down a tray complete with teapot and cups and three slices of fruitcake studded with raisins and gleaming red cherries that looked like jewels.

  ‘Erm – thank you, Mrs Tanner. So, are you feeling better?’ I looked at her closely, but she ignored my question.

  ‘Any more slugs?’ she asked.

  ‘Er . . . a few – you know,’ I answered.

  ‘You know what is happening, don’t you? You feel it too, like I do. I’m right, aren’t I?’

  Rosemary Tanner fixed me with one of her hungry, fierce looks and carried on talking – although she now seemed to be somewhere far away from us.

  ‘It’s the legend,’ she continued. ‘I told you they would come. I did, I did. As soon as . . . I did. Ever since, ever since . . . I told you, I told you. The girl born after a boy—’

  Suddenly she stopped and looked around anxiously, as though she didn’t know where she was or who she was talking to.

  ‘I think we’d better be going,’ I said quickly, standing up and holding Tommi tightly.

  ‘No, no, no.’ Rosemary Tanner shook her head.

  ‘We’ve got to get back,’ I said, more firmly.

  ‘Don’t you want a cup of tea?’ She leaned forward to pour the tea into the delicate little teacups. The teapot looked heavy, and she had to grip the handle tightly to lift it, her hand trembling with the weight – and that was when I noticed it.

  It was the black notebook, the one she always carried around with her: on the open page I saw a shadowy drawing that was, unmistakably, a slug.

  The first drop of blood was dark, almost black. It looked like a tear. It made me think of the last time I let myself cry. The day Da passed. I told myself that nothing would be worse, that I would never let myself cry over anything else because it would be trivial in comparison.

  Then came the day at the loch.

  I shouldn’t have left her there.

  They are coming for me now.

  Chapter Forty-seven

  Later that day, when Dad was back with Tommi, Finn asked me why I hadn’t asked Rosemary Tanner about the legend.

  ‘I just felt uneasy there. She seemed like she was – I don’t know, not really there. It was like she thought she was talking to a different person. And then I saw the picture of the slug in her notebook and I just had to leave.’

  When I saw it, I got up and just blurted out, ‘Sorry, sorry, sorry,’ like a siren, and we’d left without giving Rosemary Tanner time to see us out. Without even looking back.

  ‘It was all so weird, Finn,’ I said. ‘It was like she hadn’t had a fall at all; she seemed just like normal – or maybe a little weirder than usual. But she hadn’t hurt herself, she was walking fine. And yet the oldies were definitely worried about her: they were planning when to come and check on her throughout the day. And then the bladderwort!’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘It was flowering.’

  ‘But that flowers in June at the earliest!’

  ‘And there was loads of it, Finn. All in this little spot by the loch.’

  Finn scratched his head.

  ‘I picked some,’ I continued, ‘to give to her. But I don’t think she liked it.’

  ‘Did she ask where you got it from?’

  ‘No. But I could tell she didn’t like it.’

  ‘I think we should go back and see Rosemary Tanner. Together,’ he said. ‘She might tell us more if we’re both there, without Tommi. Shall we go now? We could check on the raft too if we’ve got time.’ We still wanted to see whether it floated all right, before we did any more to it.

  ‘We might bump into Old Bill or Mr and Mrs Daniels,’ I warned Finn. ‘I think they are going in to see her every hour or so.’

  As we approached the cottage, we saw a few lights; they illuminated the semi-darkness around us – night was creeping steadily, stealthily towards us.

  I reached for the knocker, but as I did so, the door swung open by itself.

  ‘Hello?’ Finn called out. ‘It’s Finn. And Effie. Hello?’

  ‘She’s not there,’ I said, sensing the stillness within.

  ‘Let’s have a quick look around.’

  ‘Finn!’ I hissed, but he had already disappeared into the cottage. I followed him in.

  The small living room was exactly as I had left it earlier, right down to the cups of tea sitting on the table, their contents now grey and filmy. The only difference was the black notebook: it had been lying with its pages open; now it was face down on the table, as though someone had just put it to rest for a moment while something else distracted them.

  I walked towards it and turned it over.

  I knew almost immediately that it was something I should not be reading. Here and there the writing was small and cramped, the letters squashed into one another; in other places it was looping and large and filled the page. But I knew intuitively that the person who had written those words had wanted to keep them private. It wasn’t about village life at all.

  ‘Finn!’ I said. ‘I’ve found the notebook.’

  ‘What does it say?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s not about the village; it’s a . . . it’s a diary. There’s dates, but it’s hard to read.’

  As I flicked through, something fluttered from in between the pages.

  Finn picked it up and looked at it closely before handing it to me. ‘It’s her, isn’t it?’

  I put down the notebook and took it. It was a very old photograph. Two children holding hands – a brother and sister, perhaps, though they were so close in size, I immediately wondered if they were twins. The girl, as Finn had thought, reminded me of Rosemary Tanner, although she looked as if she were about to burst into laughter – an expression I had never seen on the Mrs Tanner I knew.

  ‘Effie, you’d better see this,’ Finn said. He was flicking through the diary and had stopped at one page, pointing to a word.

  ‘What is it?’ I asked.

  Then I saw it.

  The word he was pointing to. A word that was scattered across the page.

  Tori.

  Tori walked right up to me this morning. Right into the space that I inhabit. That was her first mistake. But the second was mine.

  I can’t remember what it was she was talking about – something about the girl – but I do remember how angry she was. Her nostrils flared like a horse’s, I remember thinking. A panting horse. Her eyes were wide. Furious.

  She was too close. Much too close, and so I did exactly what Da taught me to do if someone got in my way.

  I pushed.

  Chapter Forty-eight

  ‘I pushed,’ I read aloud.

  My voice stumbled over the words, but I read on.

  ‘Tori fell back towards the bank. Stumbled, really. As if she had tripped on the path. Her legs gave way beneath her like broken sticks. Then I heard a sound I shouldn’t have. A dull crack. A heavy thud. Something breaking, hard.

  ‘I didn’t need to look to know that there was . . . there was . . . stone where her head fell. She just lay there. Unmoving. Almost as though she were resting.

  ‘I turned round and walked away; it seemed like the easiest thing to do. By the time I reached my door it was like nothing untoward had happened that morning.’

  I dropped the diary and it fell to the floor with a heavy thud.

  ‘Rosemary Tanner . . .’ Finn said. ‘She knew all along.’

 
; I thought of Mum. Falling on the ground. Lying in a heap. And Rosemary Tanner turning her back on her and walking away. Did she die then? The moment when she fell? Or was she hanging on, hoping for help? Waiting for someone to find her?

  ‘What did Rosemary Tanner do to her? Why couldn’t we find her?’

  ‘There’s more,’ Finn said, having picked up the diary. ‘She goes back a little while later, but your mum’s disappeared. There’s no trace of her.’

  ‘How could that be?’ I said, my voice wobbling.

  ‘She thinks . . . she thinks . . . it has something to do with the monsters. They have taken her into the loch.’

  From the small rectangular window in Rosemary Tanner’s sitting room, you can see part of the loch. The middle, where it is deepest. It looked grey. Still, like a stone, and hard, not like water at all.

  ‘We have to find Rosemary Tanner,’ I said. My mind was racing, unable to keep up with everything it was hearing, but I could only see the figure of Rosemary Tanner, her hawkish stance, the eyes that had always unnerved me.

  ‘Let’s try the loch,’ Finn said, and we ran away from the cottage and the diary and the cold cups of tea set out so neatly on the table.

  Chapter Forty-nine

  ‘There she is,’ Finn said, before I’d seen her.

  Rosemary Tanner was just by the flowering bladderwort.

  And she was wading into the loch.

  ‘What’s she—’ Finn started to say, but then he broke into a run towards her.

  ‘Mrs Tanner! Rosemary!’ he shouted. ‘Come out! Turn back!’

  We ran to the water’s edge, calling so loudly that surely everyone in the village would hear us.

  But she did not stop; it was as though she were in a trance or under some kind of spell. Her ears were deaf to our shouts.

  She waded in, deeper and deeper. It seemed to happen very slowly, but then with every step, a little more of her disappeared under the water. Darkness had started to fall, and it seemed as if she was becoming part of it, absorbed into it.