But she wasn’t alone. She had forgotten, when she had rushed after Susie, that Max was also in the living room, and she was suddenly filled with a chilling dread as she turned around and found Max glaring at her, with an expression that told her that he had heard every word of what she had just said.
Chapter 23
Alice and Jack had decided to walk to Glitz. It was Boxing Day and a fine dusting of snow had settled over London. This was Alice’s favourite kind of weather, crisply cold with a cloudless blue sky and bright sunshine reflecting on the fresh white snow. She’d rather have a day like this, any day, than a hot, stuffy heatwave. Taking in a lungful of the crisp fresh air, she smiled happily to herself. Her and Jack had had the most wonderful Christmas together. Maggie had stayed for lunch yesterday, which Jack had cooked. He’d gone to so much trouble making sure everything was perfect, and it was. There had been everything you could imagine on that table, which had been decorated beautifully with holly, red berries and candles.
After dinner Maggie had said her goodbyes, after arranging to meet them at Glitz for the Boxing Day party, and she and Jack had fallen asleep on the sofa, with full stomachs and happy smiles on their faces. When they woke a couple of hours later, they had made love, and afterwards they opened their presents. Jack had gone mad, buying more presents for her than she had for him, which had made her feel a bit guilty, but very touched at the trouble he had gone to for her. She had bought him a watch, a book on the paranormal and some expensive fragrance, but he had bought her at least twice as many presents, including the most beautiful amethyst and crystal necklace. He had proudly told her that amethyst was her birthstone for February, and that he had had the necklace specially made for her. She loved it and had put it on straight away.
When it grew dark, they lit the candles in the living room and snuggled up again on the sofa, with a bottle of Baileys, and watched ‘It’s A Wonderful Life’ on TV. Casper was purring softly on Jack’s lap, his belly full of turkey, and the three of them felt warm, happy and content as they had drifted off to sleep.
“What time did you tell Maggie to get here?” asked Alice, as they approached the entrance to the restaurant.
“I told her to come at eleven o’clock.”
“But that’s nearly an hour ago, they’re not expecting us until twelve.”
“Exactly. I’ve known Maggie for long enough to know that if I tell her to be here for eleven, then she’ll be here for twelve.”
“Oh, right,” laughed Alice, and pushed open the door. “Oh, wow, doesn’t it look amazing?” she exclaimed, as they entered. Oscar and Dean had moved all the tables to one end of the restaurant, and had put up a huge dining table in the middle. It was laid for about twelve people with a large selection of plates, cutlery and glasses at each place setting. The table, which looked stunning, had been decorated with natural green pine, gold stars and little red hearts, all wound around thick, tall silver candlesticks. It all looked a bit like something out of one of those posh lifestyle magazines, thought Alice.
“Hello, Sweetie,” called Oscar, as he pushed through the kitchen door, his arms laden with serving dishes.
“Here, let me help you with those,” said Alice, reaching for a platter balanced rather precariously on Oscar’s arm. The platter was full of different types of meat; ham, salami, sausage, sliced roast beef and was beautifully decorated with tomatoes and cucumber, carefully cut into little flower shapes. She glanced at the other two platters Oscar was carrying and saw, with delight, that one of them contained a selection of seafood, including some delicious looking marinated herrings. The other platter contained warm bowls of homemade pate decorated with crispy bacon and pickled cucumber. Alice had never seen such a perfectly prepared and varied selection of food, and suddenly realised that she was ravenous.
“This looks fantastic,” she grinned, greedily eyeing up some small breaded plaice fillets decorated with a yellow relish, prawns, caviar and lemon.
“This, my dear, is a traditional Danish Christmas cold table,” said Oscar, proudly. “My mum’s Danish and we have this every year. Normally you would have this on Christmas Day in Denmark, but we like to do the whole turkey thing, so we usually have it on Boxing Day. I hope you’re hungry.”
“Hello?” The voice came from the entrance, and they all looked round to see Maggie’s smiling face peaking round the door.
“Hi, Maggie,” said Alice, going over and giving her friend a warm hug. “This is Oscar. Oscar, this is the woman who is going to tell you, one way or the other, if there’s anything spooky going on here.”
“Thank you so much for coming,” said Oscar, looking like an excited child. “Finally, I’ll be able prove to Dean that I was right all along. Now, before we start, who would like a glass of ice cold Snaps, straight from the freezer?”
“Do you mind if I have a look around first?” asked Maggie. “It’s probably best so I don’t get my spirits mixed up.”
Oscar laughed and led Maggie through to the kitchen to meet Dean. Alice and Jack waited in the restaurant, while Maggie walked slowly through the premises, taking in every trace of energy she came across. She wandered around for what seemed like ages, occasionally muttering the odd, ‘hmm hmm’ to herself and, when she was finally finished, she summoned Oscar and Dean back into the restaurant, where they all joined Alice and Jack, who had been waiting in the staff alcove.
“Right,” said Maggie, in her usual brisk manner, “I’ve been into every room and I didn’t sense anything out of the ordinary. This building is not haunted, there are no ghosts or curses here.”
Oscar’s jaw dropped in surprise, he obviously hadn’t expected to hear that. “But...” he started.
“No, love. I know for a fact that there is nothing here. If you’ve been having problems, then I’m afraid it’s probably down to bad management, not ghosts.”
“Ouch,” said Dean, giving Oscar an ‘I told you so’ look.
“It’s nothing that can’t be fixed,” continued Maggie. “You need to find better suppliers, extend your menu, open for longer, find an accountant, but you can’t blame it on a curse, because there isn’t one.”
“If it’s any help,” said Jack, “my parents used to run a restaurant when I was a kid and I helped them out at weekends, and then, when I got older, I did a bit of bookkeeping for them. I’d be happy to help out if you’d like.”
Alice beamed at him. She could hardly believe that a couple of days ago, Jack had acted as if he hated Dean, and now here he was offering to help them with their business.
“Cooee!” A voice from the entrance made them all look up and Darren made his way over to them. “Sorry I’m late. Have I missed anything?”
“Yes,” said Dean. “Maggie has just confirmed what I’ve been saying all along, there is no ghost or curse here.”
Darren looked crestfallen . “Oh, guys. I’m so sorry for feeding you all that bullshit then. I really thought I had felt something before.”
“That may be so, but at least you were honest when you were here last time, and I really appreciate that,” said Dean, glancing at Alice, who gave him a discreet wink.
“Tell you what,” said Jack, to Dean and Darren. “Why don’t you both join the psychic group I run? We meet every second Wednesday at my house and work on tuning into our spiritual side. It’ll help you develop any psychic skills that you might have lurking under the surface.” Both Dean and Darren were delighted, and happily agreed to come along to the next meeting, while Oscar was still trying to come to terms with the news that his precious bistro wasn’t haunted. As they drank a toast with the ice cold Snaps, the rest of the guests started arriving and the party got well and truly underway.
The food was out of this world, served with huge amounts of cold beer and even more Snaps. They all remained seated around the table for most of the afternoon, eating and drinking. The room was filled with the sound of laughter and lively chatter, and Alice felt honoured to be a part of such a warm and friendly group of p
eople. Occasionally, she and Jack would get up and join the smokers outside for a bit of fresh air, she normally didn’t approve of smoking, but today, she couldn’t care less. It was several hours before the guests started staggering home, and, after a lot of festive hugs and kisses, Alice and Jack left as well. Maggie had declined to come back with them and had managed to get a cab home.
They decided to walk off some of the food and alcohol, and made their way slowly back to Swiss Cottage, hand in hand and giggling like a couple of teenagers. When they climbed the steps up to the doorway, Jack kissed Alice and murmured something seductive in her ear, which made her giggle even more, before he clumsily dropped the keys on the ground. They both bent down and fumbled for them, and burst into laughter as they both grabbed the keys at the same time. Eventually, Jack managed to get the front door open, and they both stumbled inside, banging the door behind them. And then they froze. Something was wrong, very wrong. The atmosphere was charged with malevolence, and Alice felt her skin tingle as the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She glanced at Jack who had also stopped, and she knew that he felt it too.
“What is it?” she whispered. “Jack, what’s happened?”
“I don’t know,” he answered, “but whatever it is, it’s evil. Something really bad has happened.”
*****
Terrified, Jemma stood frozen to the spot; literally. When Max had learned of Tom’s departure, he had imprisoned her in some sort of force field that stopped her from moving, or even speaking. She could only watch, in fear, as Max paced frantically around her, muttering furiously to himself and looking like a time bomb about to explode. Jemma had often wondered what would happen when Max’s fury would eventually erupt, and it looked worryingly like she was about to find out. She was really frightened now, especially as she couldn’t move to make any attempt to escape. How long had she been frozen like this? She didn’t know, but it seemed like hours, and with every minute that had passed, Max had become more and more angry.
She had tried to talk to Max, reason with him, but her voice just evaporated into muffled, incomprehensible sound waves. There was no point in denying that Tom had left, she realised, because Max had seen Susie disappear, and there could only be one explanation for that. She didn’t know what to do. How long would Max keep her like this? And what about Claire, she must be wondering where she had got to? Would she come looking for her and unwittingly let Max know that she had helped Tom? Would Max harm her? If only she could get away and warn Claire, but she was powerless to do anything. She watched as Max seemed to work himself into more and more of a temper, and her fear grew. Then, without warning, he started shouting an obscene and foul torrent of words at her, storming around the room and lashing his arms out as if smashing everything in it to pieces. A couple of ornaments did actually fall off a shelf, crashing to the floor and Jemma closed her eyes, trying to block out what was happening. And then, as she opened her eyes again and just as she had feared, Claire turned up. She materialised in front of Jemma, facing her and with her back to Max, so she didn’t see him. She tried desperately to give her friend some sort of signal to warn her, but she remained completely frozen.
“Where did you get to? I’ve been waiting for hours. Tom managed to remove the keys, and he and Susie have successfully left. Come on, what are you waiting for?” From the look of frustration on Claire’s face, she clearly couldn’t see the invisible field of energy holding Jemma prisoner, and had no idea either that Max was right behind her. Jemma watched, horrified, as Max’s face took on a new kind of fury, something even darker and more thunderous than before.
“You did this?” He growled. His voice was quiet, dark and his eyes had a look of a madman about them. Claire jumped at the sound of the voice behind her and swung round in shock.
“Max?”
“You helped him!”
“Max, listen...”
“Nooo....!” Max lost it completely now. It was bad enough before, but now that he knew of Claire’s involvement, he lost all control. His cry sounded like a tortured animal, and was so loud it drowned the room, the force of it sending Claire flying backwards.
“I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you both,” he roared.
“Max, we’re already dead. Calm down, please.” Claire’s voice remained calm, and Jemma wondered how on earth she managed to appear so unafraid.
“You betrayed me.” His voice didn’t sound like it came from a person, she thought, it sounded more like an evil demon from a horror film.
“No. All I did was help a friend. I never promised you that I wouldn’t help them. Max, what have you done to Jemma? Why can’t she move?”
“She’s not going anywhere,” he growled, turning his eyes towards her. If Jemma could have moved, she would have recoiled in fear from the look he gave her, and, for a minute, she thought he was going to throw her across the room again. Claire’s warning about Max’s ability to hurt her rang chillingly in her ears and still she remained frozen, unable to defend herself.
“Max, your argument was never with her. Nor was it with Tom, or even Tom’s father. Please don’t take it out on her. Let her go.” Claire’s voice remained calm, and didn’t give away any of the anxiety that she must surely be feeling.
“Never!” he shouted. “She’s not going anywhere. She won’t get away again.”
Some sort of realisation came across Claire’s face then, and she put her hand gently on Max’s arm. “Oh, Max. Does Jemma look like her? Pauline?”
Max’s face darkened even more. With another roar, he picked up a chair and hurled it at Jemma, sending it flying across the room and just missing her by about a millimetre. The fact that he was actually able to throw something as large and physical as a chair was testament to his fury. “Don’t mention that whore’s name, ever,” he shouted.
“Max, that happened a hundred years ago. Isn’t it about time you let go?” Claire’s voice was kind, sympathetic, but Jemma was terrified of Max’s reaction to her insistent questions.
“She betrayed me, Claire. How could she do that?” Something had suddenly changed in Max’s voice. The anger was slowly being replaced with what sounded like grief. Jemma was beginning to feel like she was watching some sort of film in 3D, it was all so surreal.
“Yes, Max. Pauline betrayed you. Not Jemma or Tom and not me. Pauline and Joe. They are the ones you’re angry with.”
“Why?” he asked, with a new pitiful sadness in his voice. “Why did they do it? I trusted them. Joe was going to be my best man. I was going to ask him to be Godfather to our baby.”
“Only it wasn’t your baby, was it, Max?” Claire’s voice was patiently and gently encouraging Max to open up about his past. But Max was becoming agitated again, and Jemma prayed that Claire wasn’t going to push him over the edge.
“No, it was his. I never suspected a thing. Shit, how could I not have noticed what was going on under my nose?”
“They were obviously clever, sneaky. What happened, Max? How did you find out?” Max glared wildly at Claire and, for a minute, Jemma thought that she had pushed him too far and he was going to explode again. But he didn’t. Instead of ranting in rage, his eyes filled with tears and there was genuine heartbreak in his voice as he finally told Claire his story.
“It was the day I decided to ask Joe to be Godfather. I wanted to ask him in private, before we got to the pub, so I popped round to his house on the way.” Max seemed to have forgotten all about Jemma’s presence for now. His voice was now filled with the pain and disbelief he had experienced on that fateful day. He walked over to his armchair and sat down, Claire following silently behind him, waiting for him to continue. “I thought he was probably upstairs getting ready, so I went up. Nothing unusual in that, we were always popping in and out of each others’ houses. I heard them first. I should have stopped and gone back downstairs there and then, but then she laughed and I knew it was Pauline. So I opened the door and there they were, naked on the bed. He was screwing her and she was fucki
ng loving it. He kept saying how much he loved her and she was calling out his name.”
He screwed his eyes up and rubbed them, as he relived the moment his world fell apart. Then he looked up at Claire with fresh tears in his eyes, “Why, Claire? Why did they do it?”
“What happened next?” she probed, gently.
“I didn’t know what I was doing, all I knew was that I wanted them to stop. When I pulled Joe off her, he laughed at me, he fucking laughed. He told me that she was leaving me and that the baby was his. That was when I lost my rag. I punched him, it was only meant to be one punch, but once I started, I couldn’t stop. I wanted to kill him, so I kept hitting him, over and over. It was only when Pauline started screaming that I realised what I was doing and stopped. I thought he was dead, so I turned and ran. I had to get away, from her and from what I had just done to him.” Max buried his head in his hands and wept, probably for the first time since it had happened. Jemma, to her astonishment, actually felt sorry for him, and for the first time, she began to understand some of his bitterness.
Claire held him, letting him unburden his grief on her. She stroked his head and reassured him until he was ready to continue. “I thought I had killed him, Claire. I needed to get away, from her and from the police, and that was when I spotted the advertisement in the paper for crew on the brand new ship, Titanic. I thought it was my chance to get away, to start a new life somewhere else, but...”
“The ship sank,” Claire finished for him. “Oh, Max. I’m so sorry for what you’ve been through. I can see that it seemed like the final straw when Jack’s grandfather didn’t spot you in the water and left you to drown. He wouldn’t have seen you or heard you though, you know that, don’t you?” she said, gently.
Love In The Wrong Dimension (Romantic Ghost Story) Page 25