Under the Cobblestones

by Aline Riva

  He nodded.

  “Yes,” he said, “Maybe it did. Now I need to call Zack, he should be here by now, he's late.” Then he drew his mobile phone from his pocket and walked out of the kitchen.

  Sally gave a heavy sigh as she looked to the place where her husband had stood, and wondered why there was something about him these days, something she couldn't define, that was starting to worry her greatly...

  Twenty minutes later, as Zack stepped into the Brackenby family home, Kyle's mood had lifted. He smiled warmly as he greeted his close friend, and then the two men went up stairs to explore the attic. Sally watched them go up, and seeing her husband's mood lift gave her hope that maybe she was worrying about Kyle's state of mind a little too much – after all, he was worried about the rash, and she fully understood why that would make him an emotional wreck – but at least now Zack was here, he seemed a lot happier...

  The attic was accessed by a narrow stairway at the end of the upper hall, and as Kyle unlocked the door he glanced to Zack and smiled.

  “You'll love it up here – it's full of history! Actually,” he paused to throw open the door, “You might even find some material for your book. If you do, feel free to take it home with you.”

  “Thanks,” Zack replied, and he stepped into the attic, following Kyle into a long, wide room where light came in from windows set high either end of the attic, up here the floorboards were dusty and in one corner old furniture had been piled up, in another boxes were stacked and on the other side, all manner of objects had been placed and piled and crammed in. There was a wardrobe packed with old clothing, and the doors were half open because they couldn't close due to how much had been stuffed in there. On the floor were a stack of old oil paintings of landscapes, and next to that was an old birdcage, beside that was another stack of boxes, an old mirror and a large trunk that was firmly closed.

  “Where do we start?” he wondered.

  Kyle indicated to the trunk.

  “I know that belonged to Lillith, I remember my grandfather telling me about it. But its locked and he couldn't find the key. That was years ago. We need to take this downstairs, I'll get a hammer and chisel from the garage, that should be enough to crack it open.”

  And together they lifted the heavy trunk and carried it from the attic and then down the stairs. As they set it down on the floor of the upper hall, Zack paused for breath because that trunk was heavy, and Kyle looked at him and smiled, feeling glad he had decided to put that gun back in the shoe box before meeting up with his best friend. He would be taking it out again soon, he felt sure of it, because he felt the need to hold it and feel its weight in his hands, he even needed to hear Frederick tell him there was a way to bring the curse to an end. But he was glad he was not armed at this moment, because he really didn't want to kill Zack unless he had to. Sally didn't know what she was talking about – of course Frederick could still enter this house, he heard his voice inside his head every single day now...

  He was still thinking about Frederick and wondering if he was watching as he and Zack picked up the trunk for a second time, and then they carried it down the staircase.

  They took the trunk outside, placed it on the patio where the slabs were new and one look around this vast garden that rambled on for several acres in the distance all around the property told Zack at a glance that Kyle, for all his family secrets, had no concerns about bodies under cobble stones here. Across the other side of a wide lawn area was a swimming pool, nearby was a covered area that contained a jacuzzi.

  “I wonder what's inside?” said Sally as she joined them and looked at the trunk, and then she stripped off a sheer robe revealing a bikini and a body that Zack felt guilty for admiring, and she settled back on a sun lounger and watched with interest as her husband knelt down on the patio and set to work with the hammer and chisel. Two sharp blows was enough to bust the old rusted lock, then he set the tools down and Zack joined him on the floor as together they forced open the lid, which groaned back on rusted hinges.

  The contents of the trunk were well preserved, and Kyle reached in and took out a photograph in a silver frame, which he passed it to Zack.

  “Lillith,” he said, “The man next to her must be her husband.”

  And Zack studied the picture and felt his heart miss a beat as he recognised her at once and again saw something about her eyes that reminded him of Sarah. The man who stood next to her was tall and stocky and older than her, but had a look about his eyes that said he had wanted to smile for the picture, if only the times had allowed it. He set the picture aside, feeling sure Sarah would want to see that. Then Kyle turned over some folded dresses, an old hand mirror and some gloves,and after turning over more clothing, at the bottom of the trunk he found a black leather bound diary, which he took out and opened up. Noticing the first date on it was May 1912, he handed it to Zack.

  “You might want to take a look at this. I don't know if Lillith would have kept secrets in here, but maybe she kept the diary hidden – it could be worth a read.” Then he closed the trunk and both men got up again.

  “Thanks for this,” said Zack as he stood there clutching the picture and the diary, “I'm sure this will be very useful. Do you want to come over to the cottage today?”

  Kyle hesitated, thinking about that scenario that had just run through his mind again:

  Get out of the car, go up to the door, knock and wait, and then when the door opens, shoot Zack twice in the chest...Bang, bang, Zack goes down on the floor covered in blood, dying in Sarah's arms. Curse lifted...

  “Not today,” Kyle replied as he smiled back at Zack, “I think I'll stay home and relax. I've been so stressed over this rash and I don't even know what it is yet. It might even be nothing. I just want to spend the day out here with my wife. I think I might spend some time in the pool, too.”

  Zack looked at him fondly, feeling relieved that after all the worry and anxiety he had been through, it seemed Kyle was finally looking at the situation from a better perspective.

  “Okay,”he replied, “You take it easy, then. I'll take this diary home and call you later on if I find anything of interest.”

  Then he said goodbye to Sally and left the garden and headed back to his car.

  When Zack returned to the cottage, he called out to Sarah but got no reply. Then he saw a note stuck to the mirror in the hallway:

  'Gone for a walk to the village. Going shopping, will call you when I'm done. Can you pick me up or will I have to wait for the hourly bus? Love you lots xx'

  He smiled and took his phone from his pocket and called her.

  She answered quickly, and he smiled too on hearing her voice.

  “Call me when you're ready,” he said, “I'll pick you up. I've got something to show you when you get back.”

  “Oh really?” she said as amusement crept into her voice, “I think you've already done that - not that I wouldn't welcome more of the same -”

  “I mean about Lillith,” he told her, “Kyle found her diary in an old trunk in his attic. I'm going to take a look through it, see if I can find any clues. I've had this glaring question in my mind ever since all this started and I'm hoping I'll find the answer in the diary.”

  “What question?” asked Sarah.

  “Why didn't Lillith report him missing right away?” he said, “I mean, they were lovers, they wanted to run off together. He suddenly went missing and she did nothing about it?”

  Sarah paused for thought.

  “I can't see her doing that. She would have been out of her mind with worry.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” he replied, “Enjoy shopping. I might have some answers by the time I see you.”

  “I hope so,” she said, “See you soon, Zack.”

  The call ended and he put the phone in his pocket, then he walked down the hallway and went through to the front room, where he sat down on the sofa, placed the old photograph on the table and then sat back, got comfortable and opened up the diary of Lillith Brack
enby and began to read.

  Each entry was written in flowing ink in a neat style, each entry was dated, and as he read on, he began to learn much more than he had first expected:

  The first entry was dated 27th May 1912 – 'Despite having made our plans, Thornton has not tried to contact me. He informed me I was to wait for his word, yet night after night I watch from the window to the place where the trees are dark and I see no sign of him hidden in their shadow. Father remains as stubborn as ever, keeping a close watch on me he says, for fear the demons that Thornton serves may enter into our home. He has no understanding that the only demon I see is him, my own father – a man incapable of understanding that love does not happen by choice but by chance. We do not control our own hearts, they are wild as the poppy seeds that scatter in the wind and can only go where they are blown to. I fell in love with Thornton and I have no regrets nor can I change that. He is the one my heart chose, and I can not disagree with the choice made by my heart'.

  Zack read on, past other entries that mentioned little of Thornton and more about how she detested her home life at the manor, then he found another entry of interest:

  '15th June 1912 – 'I do not believe my father's twisted lies. He blames my constant sickness on an evil spell he says was set on me by Thornton, he says it is the Devil's touch that is making me weak and unable to leave my bed. I know differently, and fear that I can not save myself should the truth be exposed. I have little time to cover this and little hope of fleeing this house to find Thornton, unless the terrible sickness lifts. I can only pray that I will find the strength to save myself.'

  “Save yourself from what?” Zack murmured, and then he turned more pages and found another, lengthy entry:

  12th June 1912 – 'Finally my strength has returned, and in good time. My dear friend Artie needs a wife and I know he will make me happy, at least as happy as a dear friend can. He knows everything. I told him how I learned of Thornton's disappearance, and how weeks had gone by before the police were told. I do not believe he left the village intending to desert me. I believe my father had him killed, but I have no proof. Every day my heart breaks for Thornton, and the pain would kill me but for secret I carry in my belly. The child is Thornton's. The heir to the manor, and every heir to follow, will be of Ravencroft blood. This is my revenge, and I hope my father rots in hell for what he has done – I know he is a murderer.'

  As the shock of the words written by Lillith hit him, and Zack went cold as he drew in a shocked breath and the book slipped from his hands as so much suddenly made sense:

  On the night of the séance, when Grace had contacted the spirit of Frederick, he had said that Kyle was not a Brackenby...Of course he wasn't. The Brackenby line had stopped with Lillith. Every lord of the manor to follow had carried the blood of Thornton Ravencroft. And Thornton had laid down that terrible curse on the night of his death, not knowing about his own unborn child...

  “I cursed my own bloodline!” he said in a hushed voice, and then he put his head in his hands and started to weep.

  Sarah called twice before he answered the phone, and after hearing his shaken voice as he explained he had found something terrible, she told him to wait at the cottage, and soon she was back, pulling up outside in a taxi. She paid the driver, grabbed her bags and hurried inside, leaving her bags in the hallway as she called out to Zack.

  He stepped out of the front room, his eyes were red from crying and as he met her halfway up the narrow hallway, sadness reflected in his gaze.

  “What did you find out?” Sarah asked him, and as he took hold of her hand, she felt him tremble.

  “It was all in the diary,” he said quietly, “Lillith became unwell and couldn't leave her bed for weeks. That was how she didn't realise Thornton was missing. She had a terrible unrelenting sickness. When it left her she found out he was missing and suspected her father but had no proof. He blamed the Devil for her illness but she knew differently, that's why she married her gay friend who needed a wife to hush up the rumours about his sexuality. Later when her son was born they passed him off as Artie's. But he wasn't. Her son was Thornton's. And Thornton cursed every heir to the manor. He didn't know she was pregnant. He cursed his own bloodline!”

  Then he gave a sob.

  “I cursed my own bloodline!”

  She let go of his hand and took hold of his shoulder and gave him a gentle shake.

  “No,not you, Thornton!” she said firmly, “Listen to me, Zack – it wasn't you!”

  Tears ran down his face as he looked into her eyes.

  “But I was him and he's caused so much suffering. When I think of Kyle and what he's been through -”

  “Don't think about it,” she said to him, “Now let's go and sit down, you can calm down and I'll read through this diary. Maybe there's more. We need to know everything.”

  He nodded.

  “You're right,” he replied. His tears had stopped but he was still visibly shaken, “But I still feel responsible,” he added, “It doesn't matter that it was another lifetime - it doesn't change what I did!”

  Then he followed her through to the front room, where beneath the old oak beams in the closeness of walls that had already witnessed the past, he sat beside her as Sarah opened up the diary of Lillith Brackenby and began to carefully read every single entry.

  Kyle had left his wife in the garden and gone back inside the house. He had climbed the sweeping stair case, gone up to the top floor and then looked down over the balcony to be sure he was alone, and then he had taken a slow walk to the master bedroom, where he closed the door behind him, went over to his wife's wardrobe, reached up and taken down the shoe box. He took the gun from the box and then left the box on the floor, he turned the gun over in his hands and then he turned his head and looked to Frederick, who was standing by his side and smiling as he nodded.

  “Do it,” he said, “Destroy the warlock and break the curse. Save yourself, Kyle.”

  And Kyle looked to the mirror, where he now saw a dark resolve set in his hazel eyes.

  “I don't want to kill him,” he admitted, “But I have no choice. It's getting worse.” And he turned his arm over and looked to the livid rash, then he looked to Frederick once more, “I have to save myself.”

  “This is the only way,” the ghost replied, “You must kill Zack. Shoot him dead.”

  Kyle drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, then he slipped the gun into his jacket pocket and walked out of the bedroom. He made his way down the stairs, then he went out the back to where his wife was still relaxing in the sun.

  “I have to go over and see Zack,” he told her, “It's important. I think I know how to lift the family curse.”

  There was something about the look in his eyes that made her feel uneasy, and she sat up at once and looked at him intently.

  “What do you mean, Kyle?” she asked.

  “The curse,” he said, and he pulled up the sleeve of his white jacket and showed her the rash, “I know how to lift the curse.”

  “But you can't know that,” she replied, and she got up and stepped closer to him, feeling deep concern for her husband as he looked at her in a way that made her wonder if he was losing touch with reality.

  “I do know,” he replied, “Frederick told me.”

  “And Grace said to me that Frederick's ghost can't enter this house! You may have heard him at the grave side, you definitely heard him at the séance – we all did. But that was because he was summoned up by a medium! But this house was exorcised back in the fifties, it's not haunted!”

  “Yes it is,” he stated, “I'll see you later, I need to speak to Zack and it can't wait.”

  Then he turned away and walked off, following the path around the house to the driveway where his car was parked. As she heard the engine roar into life, Sally felt a flicker of alarm, then she got up from the sun lounger and went inside, wondering exactly what her husband had just been doing alone upstairs, before talking of ghosts and then driving off at
speed...

  At the cottage, as Zack came back into the room and set down two mugs of tea and then rejoined Sarah on the sofa, she was still reading in silence. By now she had almost finished the whole diary, and he watched her reading, still waiting for his shattered nerves to settle as she took in the words written by herself in a former life. When she had turned the final page she closed the book and set it on the table, and then she looked to Zack.

  “You should have read on,” she said quietly, “There's much to know.”

  “Like what?” he asked.

  She breathed a heavy sigh.

  “Well, she mentions that she passed by the cottage after her marriage to Artie – she wanted to show him where Thornton used to live. And she mentions she noticed new stonework, new cobblestones laid where the porch way used to be bare. The path that runs up to the front door used to go to the end of the lawn. It was extended to cover the area outside the front door, and according to the diary, she believes this is where her father had Thornton buried alive. On the threshold of his own home. She also mentioned something else. She said nothing she suspects her father did would be impossible, because he had the Brackenby darkness within him. And when I read on, I got it. Maybe if you know this too, you won't feel so bad about Thornton's curse on the family. Because whether that curse was real or not, there was another, very real curse already on the Brackenby line - and it's run through the family for hundreds of years.”

  “What is it?” he asked her, and then a knock at the door sounded, and it echoed down the hallway.

  Zack got up and looked out the window.

  “It's only Kyle,“ he said, ”I'll just go and let him in, he really needs to hear about this.”

  And then he left the room and went down the hall to open the front door to Kyle, who knocked again, and this time the knock was loud and impatient...