I’m really going to have to talk to Tommy soon.
Nick sighed, then got ready for work.
At Creaky Crystals, Alice Bicker babbled away. ‘The thing is, though, it must have been something dodgy … because why would they burn the body? And the manor? Oh yeah, and in what was left of that place, they found some old artefacts, didn’t they? And even human teeth! Like, what’s that all about? I’m not gonna lie, but it seems like some kind of professional hit to me, like it was government or mafia or something.’ The store wasn’t busy, but Nick hoped no other customers had overheard the conversation. ‘Between you and me, I personally don’t think we’ll ever find out.’ She pulled a smug face like she’d made a profound statement, then stood waiting for Nick’s response.
Alice was the local blabbermouth. She thrived on gossip, and although most people had moved past the subject of Aldrich’s death, Alice could revive any topic at any moment and make it sound fresh. She had a pretty face, pouty lips, always dressed well, and was of average stature and build, although, as she often pointed out, she ‘suffered’ with fluctuating baby fat.
‘Yeah, we probably won’t ever find out.’ Nick looked at the till screen and added, ‘That’s eighteen ninety-nine, please.’ If she says one more irritating phrase, I’m going to have a fit.
‘Thanks, hun, here you go.’ She handed the cash over. ‘You know I love this shop. But I really should stop spending, and at this moment in time, I just ain’t got the money.’ She guffawed. ‘You gotta laugh, eh?’
‘Yeah, I suppose you do,’ he said politely, with good restraint.
‘Bye, Nick! Bye, Mora! Bye, Janet!’ Alice shouted. ‘Oh, Nick, tell Michael I said hi, and that new girl … the kooky one, what’s her name?’
‘Lucy.’
‘Yeah, that’s her. Kooky Lucy!’
‘Will do.’
Alice left. Nick’s manager, Mora, peered over and smiled, suppressing a laugh, and his colleague Janet openly giggled. They both knew what Alice was like.
Outside, it was a clear day, the sky bright enough to hurt Nick’s eyes. He’d always been fond of late spring, and this year had energised him the most. The trees and flowers renewing themselves correlated with his climb out of depression; it felt like a new start. Fresh life, fresh hope. It made him think about all he’d been through, and how experiences other people might have considered traumatic had actually helped him move on and heal …
Six months ago, he discovered the truth of his mother’s disappearance. Samantha Crystan had been missing for almost nine years when Nick had a vision of a stranger, Juliet Maystone, falling to her death. Nick saved her life, but not without consequences: Her soul moved on to the Otherworld but her body remained alive on this side, leaving her with the ability to see ghosts from the realm that lay in between.
With this new ability, Juliet was contacted by the spirit of Samantha, who wanted Nick to visit Grendel Manor. Nick, his brothers, and Juliet all ended up there, where Aldrich admitted to murdering Samantha Crystan. The revelation brought Nick close to killing the man. He wanted to—really wanted to—but he couldn’t. Then, while Juliet and Nick were out of sight, Tommy did murder Aldrich, complicating everything.
Inside the manor, they all tried to find a way to resolve the mess, which was when Aldrich’s subjugated housekeeper, Ryan Fraser, suddenly entered and caught them unprepared. He turned out to be the solution, though: Grateful to no longer be enslaved to Aldrich, he agreed to dispose of the body and destroy the evidence.
And now here Nick was, half a year down the line, with his life getting better and better. The truth was all he had needed.
‘Hey, Nick.’ Janet sauntered over. ‘How are things with Kerra?’
‘Going really well.’
Janet smiled wide, her big gums and teeth on show. ‘I’m so happy! I told you she was perfect for you.’
‘I know, I know,’ he said protractedly. Janet had been the one to set him back up with Kerra, claiming Kerra had changed and wanted to see him again. ‘She is perfect for me,’ he added, though a part of him thought it too early to make such a statement.
‘Are you still going on your romantic weekend away?’ She tilted her head, making her smoky brown hair dangle to one side. She was in her thirties, married, had three kids, and always seemed more interested in other people’s love lives than her own. She was also a Wiccan.
‘Yeah, we are.’
She widened her eyes. ‘Well … you two behave!’ She jabbed him in the arm playfully. ‘I’ll send some positive energy your way.’ With a wink, she returned to work.
When Nick’s shift was over, he met up with Kerra. The weather was mild and surprisingly brilliant this April evening. They took advantage of it and walked around Wood Park, holding hands. In their past relationship, Kerra never would have enjoyed something so simple, but she really had mellowed; she was no longer the impetuous girl Nick had furiously argued with.
The day ended like most had the past few months: Nick fell asleep cuddled up to his girlfriend’s warm body, gently smiling. But in the night, the blood dream came again.
It was becoming more frequent.
Dark was on its way. As the hour approached eight o’clock, Nick drove his black Vauxhall Corsa towards West Edge Country House. The large Victorian hotel featured white window frames, climbing plants, and peaks along the roof. From a glance, rural scenery circled the country house, making it hard to tell what land belonged to the owner. Towards the south and west, the sea was a short distance, and a couple of miles east was the village of Beade.
Many cars were already parked around the property, and more trailed in behind Nick’s. Why is it so busy? He’d paid a fair amount for two nights here, wanting to treat his girlfriend, and hoped he wouldn’t regret it.
Kerra must have sensed his anxiety. As soon as he parked, she grabbed his hand and said, ‘Don’t worry; it looks lovely here. We’ll have a great time.’ She rubbed her thumb reassuringly over his knuckles.
‘Okay. You’re right. Let’s get inside.’
As they neared the entrance, the twang sound of a guitar rose in pitch, dropped, then rose again. Now Nick understood why the drive was full of cars. He gave Kerra a quick kiss before they entered. His luggage was squeezed into a simple duffel bag, and Kerra’s was in an unnecessarily large suitcase. The wheels made a hollow rumble on the wooden floor.
At the small reception desk a man greeted them, though he seemed preoccupied, staring through a doorway into a hall crammed with people. ‘Welcome to West Edge Country House. How can I help?’ His words came out flat and insincere, as he spared the shortest glance for them. ‘If you’re here to see the band, it’s through this way.’ He pointed eagerly in the direction he was so interested in. ‘That’s my son tuning his guitar right now,’ he said proudly, before actually deigning to look at Nick and Kerra. He plainly just wanted to see their reaction.
Nick didn’t fancy stroking the man’s ego and found himself stuck for words. Kerra was more astute. ‘Your son is in the band? Oh, my god! You must be so proud.’ She acted genuinely intrigued: eyes wide, jaw hung, mouth open.
It got his full attention. ‘Yes. He’s played since he was very young,’ he began, gesticulating wildly. ‘My wife and I paid for lessons. He can also play the piano, the violin, and he has a tremendous singing voice. And …’ He came to a pause. ‘And … he’s highly skilled with arts and crafts too! Anything he wishes to try his hand at, my wife and I provide the means.’
‘You sound like amazing parents,’ Kerra said, and smiled. ‘I’d love to sing professionally myself. I have lessons when I can afford them, but that’s not often.’ Nick felt invisible in the conversation and doubted they’d notice his absence if he left. A few people walked past, some coming, some going, but all of them entering or leaving the crowded hall. None using guestrooms.
‘Yes, yes. We do want the best for him,’ the man said, but made no comment on Kerra’s vocal abilities.
Kerra had been h
onest when she said she wanted to sing professionally; Nick had heard her, and she was good. Maybe one day she’d sustain a living performing on stage. It would certainly be more glamorous than blending milkshakes.
Nick had no idea what his voice sounded like to others. I’m probably tone deaf …
‘Right, let me see.’ The man at the desk began. With his ego apparently satisfied, he sobered and finally assessed his guests. ‘Ah, a boy and a girl … and, look! You’ve got luggage with you. I know what room you’re booked into. One moment. Crystan, isn’t it?’
‘That’s me,’ Nick confirmed.
‘I’m Edward Hayworth. You’ll likely see my wife Janice about if you come join the performance tonight. If not, then you’ll hopefully have the pleasure of meeting her in the morning.’
‘It’s nice to meet you.’
‘And the both of you.’ Mr Hayworth nodded politely. ‘Here are the keys for your room, one each, and please sign this agreement.’ Using both hands, he passed the keys to Nick and Kerra simultaneously, then presented a piece of paper with a fairly standard list of trivial rules. Nick signed.
Mr Hayworth explained how to get to the room, told them what time breakfast would be served tomorrow, and said there was a buffet in the hall where the band was about to perform.
‘Lovely,’ said Kerra. ‘We’ll be sure to check it out once we’re settled in.’
‘Wait, before you go’—Mr Hayworth held up a finger—‘you two look like trendy youths to me, not that I’m the best judge on the matter.’ He laughed to himself. ‘But what I’m trying to say is, would you spread the word about my son’s band? I’ll have to write the name down for you, but it’s pronounced like this: a headache a go go.’ Too excitedly, he added, ‘And that’s with an exclamation mark on the end!’
‘A headache a go go,’ Kerra repeated.
‘Here’s how it’s spelt.’ Mr Hayworth neatly wrote it down and passed the note over. Nick looked at it and read ‘Ahedayke-Ago-Go!’ before putting it in his pocket.
Stupid name.
Then, in a way that made Nick cringe inside, Mr Hayworth said, ‘Remember to Like their Facebook page. That’s right, isn’t it? You have to press the little Like button?’
Nick laughed affably. ‘Yeah. We will do.’ As they headed up to their room, he glanced into the large hall again and caught a gentlemen staring at him.
The guy was sitting at a table, and suspiciously flicked his head in another direction when Nick spotted him. From the little Nick saw, the man was white, and had a long face and gaunt cheeks. He was topped off with a mini afro: ashen curls and a slight middle parting. He brought a hand up to twiddle his hair, awkwardly hiding the side of his face … maybe self-consciously? Nick turned away and headed upstairs, taking Kerra’s suitcase so she wouldn’t have to struggle up the steps with it.
The downstairs of West Edge Country House had looked rather pub-ish—wooden beams occupied the ceiling, odd ornaments cluttered the walls and furniture, and dark, mellow colours were prominent. As they Reaching reached the top step, the décor became brighter, with a cream carpet running down the hallway. It reminded Nick of a bad stall at a car boot sale: Strange trinkets and knickknacks filled every free space.
He was jarred by family pictures of the Hayworths everywhere; it was way too personal, making him feel intrusive. With every step he took, the country house seemed more and more eligible to be featured in an episode of The Hotel Inspector.
At the end of the hall, a stocky bloke sat on an indoor bench. His face was set bored and impatient. He saw Nick and Kerra, then muttered, ‘My bloody wife.’ He pointed at a slightly open door. ‘By the time she’s ready, the band will be finished playing, and I’ll be ready for bed.’
Nick and Kerra laughed, and a woman’s shout came out of the guestroom. ‘Callum! I can hear you talking about me!’
‘Ooo, I’m in trouble …’ said Callum. ‘If she ever gets ready, that is.’
Nick found the door to his room, on the right, about halfway down.
‘Hey, Nicky,’ Kerra said levelly. She put her hands on his sides and faced him. ‘Thank you for this.’
Sheepishly, he replied, ‘That’s okay. I want us to have a nice weekend.’ He spoke softly, conscious of Callum a few metres away.
‘I can’t wait to get you inside, and’—she raised her eyebrows and dropped them quickly—‘take a look at your birthmark.’ She stroked at its location. Below his left armpit, towards the bottom of his ribcage, was a humble light brown mark. Whenever Kerra expressed a desire to see it, Nick knew it was code for something else. He was in for a good time.
‘Sounds good to me,’ he said.
‘Nick, I love you,’ she said, fast and sudden.
Nick stalled, his mind scrambled for a response … and then the moment was gone.
‘Oh.’ Kerra searched his eyes with hers. She was dressed vibrantly as always: an open bright green jacket, a red-and-white polka dot blouse, black skinny jeans, and lime Ugg boots. But even in her cheery outfit, she looked sad and deflated.
Nick chewed his bottom lip awkwardly, his face becoming hot. He flicked a glance at Callum, who must have overheard, and the stocky man attempted to look away casually.
As the awkwardness rose and Nick’s cheeks blossomed red, he thought of something. ‘You go in and unpack your stuff. I’ll be back soon.’ He kissed her, unlocked the door, and waited for his girlfriend to disappear inside with the luggage. She did so with a sad smile.
His hand moved up to his forehead as soon as the door closed. He rubbed his third eye, a leaden sigh escaping him.
‘You alright, lad?’ asked Callum.
‘Yeah. I’m just an idiot.’ He sulked off, scuffing his winklepickers along the carpet. When he reached the stairs, he picked up his pace. He hurried past Mr Hayworth, but gave him a friendly nod. In no time, he found himself in his car and heading towards Beade.
The Vauxhall’s full beams led the way, revealing the rural track with a haunting light that left the sky dark and made the spotlit area appear as though it were all that existed: a forever transforming route, vanishing and emerging simultaneously.
Nova River appeared more suddenly than expected. Nick slowed the vehicle, dipped the headlights, and crossed the bridge to find Beade only yards away. The village had narrow streets and a frustrating one-way system, but Nick huffed his way through and parked outside a Tesco Express store.
While he shopped, his mind nagged at him. Why didn’t you say it back? – I wanted to, I just missed the moment, and then I couldn’t have said it – Yes, you could have! – No, it would have seemed like I was just saying it to make her happy – But do you love her? – Yeah, I think so. At least, I want to love her – Then find the right time to say it!
He bought a bottle of rosé, knowing Kerra would enjoy it. She generally avoided alcohol, caffeinated drinks, milk, and dairy products, in order to maintain a healthy voice, but for when she did treat herself, Nick knew she liked to go all out. Adding their favourite nibbles, noms (as they called them), and other tasty titbits to the basket, he made his way to the counter and paid.
On the drive back, his conscience had assertions to make. When Kerra said ‘I love you’ and Nick had stalled, a flash of Juliet’s face had come before his mind’s eye. You barely knew her. How could you think of her when Kerra was there in front of you, professing her love? – I don’t know; I just did.
It had been half a year since he’d seen Juliet, but he remembered exactly how she had looked. Gorgeous … tall and blonde … sky-blue eyes. Somehow, he still came over warm and buzzing when he thought of her. He hated it. It was wrong to let those sensations linger when he had someone like Kerra, who was trying so hard, who hadn’t abandoned him because of his brother’s actions, like Juliet had. Not that Kerra had been given the chance … but that wasn’t the point.
I’ll get back, we’ll have the perfect evening, and then at the right time, I’ll tell Kerra I love her.
He couldn’t ha
ve been gone for more than fifteen minutes when he arrived back at West Edge Country House. Parking up, he spotted the curly-haired guy who’d been spying on him from the hall earlier. He half ran, until he apparently saw Nick’s car and slowed down. His mini afro bounced and wobbled in the dark as he marched away from the hotel. After passing Nick’s vehicle, the man scurried out into the blackness and open countryside.
Nick drew his eyes away and parked. When he looked back, the man was nowhere to be seen.
The hallway was loud when he entered, music filling the long stretch. Mr Hayworth stood half in and half out of the large hall where the band played, glancing back and forth between the reception desk and his son on stage. Noticing Nick, he curtly asked, ‘Decided on tomorrow’s breakfast? Need help? Any problems?’
‘No, thank you.’
‘Grand. Enjoy your evening, won’t you? And remember there’s food through here.’ He turned back to watch the band.
Nick jogged upstairs, the carrier bag of goodies rustling by his side. Callum wasn’t sitting on the bench like he had been before, but came out of his guestroom with his dolled-up wife just as Nick neared the door to his own room.
‘Ta-dah!’ Callum sang comically. ‘She’s finally ready.’ He performed jazz hands to present her. Nick smiled and offered a reserved laugh.
Callum’s wife shook her head. ‘Stop it.’ She shooed her husband.
After a knock on the door received no answer, Nick used his key to open it.
The sight turned him weak. He dropped the carrier bag.
Stunned, he heard a dull thud as the wine bottle met the carpeted floor. Cookies and sweets splayed out of the carrier.
‘Kerra!’ he shouted before he knew it, then kicked into action. ‘Kerra!’ He dashed inside, spun to assess the room. Kerra’s suitcase was open and upside down on the floor, clothes spread out as if they’d been thrown. Spots of red flecked them and the end of the double bed.
A sloppy puddle of blood highlighted the centre of the room. Nick could smell its zingy odour, and he came over dizzy. ‘Kerra!’ he roared so hard it felt like spewing up razorblades.
A Body Displaced (Lansin Island 2) Page 2