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This story is for those who believe,
and those who don’t.
1
Confused and afraid, Libby closed her eyes, convinced that when she opened them again, everything would be all right.
She was wrong.
A short time ago there had been the sound of laughter; the happy buzz of other diners talking, and the soft, lilting strains of music in the background. Now, suddenly, inexplicably, she felt horribly alone. But no! That wasn’t right, because Dave was still there, smiling and talking across the table from her.
Yet even he seemed unreal. Almost as though if she were to lean forward and touch him, he would flow like vapour through her fingers.
Just now, she and Dave had been talking about how they had done the right thing in getting back together. They had talked about how the time apart had made them realise they belonged together. Tonight was a double celebration. After spending months apart, this was the first anniversary of their reunion; added to that, it was Libby’s thirty-second birthday. Here, in this beautiful restaurant, amidst all the noise and bustle, they had been saying how their new-found relationship was strong enough to see them through anything. They both loved the new house. It was a brand-new start, and neither of them ever wanted to move again.
But that was before.
Unsettled, Libby glanced about the room. There was no laughter; no people; not even the sound of logs crackling in the fire. The air struck bitter-cold, making her teeth chatter, causing the skin all over her body to stand out in goose bumps.
Yet she could feel the heat from the fire warming her face. The sweat trickled down her back and the hair on her head stuck to her scalp as if it was larded down. Inside her head she thought she heard a stranger’s voice whisper, ‘He’s mine… He’s mine.’
For one awful minute, she thought she must be going mad.
Then, as suddenly as they had disappeared, they were back, the guests and the laughter, the buzz of talk and the clink of glasses. You’re cracking up, my girl, she told herself wryly. Pull yourself together or they’ll be carting you off in a straitjacket.
‘Happy birthday, sweetheart.’ Dave’s voice gentled into her thoughts.
Raising her glass, Libby smiled. ‘Here’s to us.’
When he lifted the wine bottle to refill her glass, she shook her head. ‘No more for me,’ she said warily. The strange, fleeting experience still played on her senses. ‘I think I’ve had more than enough wine for one night.’
Dave laughed. ‘What? You’ve hardly had any at all. Two glasses at the most, and then only partway full.’
‘Maybe. But you know how the wine plays tricks with me.’ That was it, she thought. The wine was playing nasty little tricks with her mind.
Even so, she was unnerved. It had been the oddest thing, as though she was the last remaining soul on earth.
A chill swept through her. Shuddering, she closed her eyes.
‘Are you all right?’ Covering her hand with his, Dave was shocked. The room was suffocatingly warm yet her skin was ice-cold to the touch. ‘My God, you’re freezing.’
She laughed shakily. ‘Time we went,’ she said, ‘before the wine plays havoc with my imagination again.’
He met her gaze with concern. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Nothing.’ Her smile was bright now, the feeling of dread diminished. ‘I’m fine. Really.’
Not quite reassured, he suggested, ‘If you want to leave, sweetheart, we’ll leave. The taxi I booked should be here by now.’ He thought she looked ill. No. Not ill. She looked… scared.
What a strange idea. Why in God’s name should she be scared? Feeling suddenly tired, he rubbed his knuckles into the hollows of his eyes. Maybe he was the one who’d drunk too much wine.
While Dave called for the bill, Libby forced herself to look across the room, to the far corner by the door. Caught unawares, the man quickly turned away. Anger raged through her. Damn him! All night he’d been watching her. Making her jittery.
‘Ready when you are, my lovely.’
She answered with a smile. ‘I’m ready now.’
‘Tired?’
‘A little, maybe.’ She was lying. The truth was, for some inexplicable reason she felt totally exhausted.
‘I’m not surprised.’ Dave glanced at his watch. ‘It’s nearly two in the morning.’ His dark eyes sparkled mischievously. ‘Time I got you home to bed.’
‘So you can have your wicked way with me?’ She giggled, a flush of embarrassment colouring her face. After all this time, he could still do that to her. But then they were still young – though she didn’t feel young at this particular moment.
Dave made no comment. Instead he cupped her hands in his, the light in his eyes communicating his love.
From the other side of the restaurant, the man continued to observe them, his dark, inquisitive eyes coveting their every move. Like Libby, he had sensed the weird, disturbing atmosphere. But he knew what it meant. At first he hadn’t been certain. But now he knew.
Over the years, it had happened many times. It happened when she came. A tragic figure trapped in another time, another world. A beautiful, sad creature who wandered the highways and byways, searching, always searching.
The last time she made an appearance, a man died.
Others had seen her. He never had. He only knew when she was close, and she was close now. So close he could feel the silken brush of her hair on his face, the touch of her cold hand in his. He loathed her. He wanted her hurt as he and others had been hurt. But she was beyond his loathing. Though he would gladly give his life to be the one who punished her, he knew it could never be. He couldn’t hurt her. Nobody could.
Maybe he was imagining it, willing her to appear. Maybe she wasn’t here at all.
His instincts told him differently.
She was here all right. Outside. Waiting, in the shadows.
He glanced through the window. ‘Be patient,’ he muttered, as though talking to some unseen figure. ‘They’ll be leaving soon.’ He was glad he didn’t have to brave the darkness.
Curious, he returned his gaze to the couple. They were laughing and talking together, so much in love. He shifted his attention to the man in particular. It was this man who had unwittingly brought her back and, as sure as night followed day, he would live to regret it.
Outside, the wind screamed and sang, like a soul in torment. A human cry, yet not human.
Inside the restaurant, there was sudden laughter and he jerked his head towards the source. His customers. Ordinary people enjoying an evening out. He sniggered. Little did they know. Resentment uncurled inside him. If only she would choose him! Why was it always the others? Men of a certain kind. Men who could have her for the asking but were too afraid to follow. But then, fear was a powerful thing.
Aware of Libby and Dave approaching, he followed their progress across the room. ‘You’re too much in love,’ he murmured with delight. ‘She’ll make you pay the price.’
Smiling now, he moved forward to meet them. They made a handsome couple, he thought grudgingly. He guessed they were in their early thirties. The man was tall and dark-haired, with strong, handsome features. The woman was neither tall nor short; not pretty or plain. She was slim and feminine, with quick, bright ways and a warm, homely manner. He wanted to like her. He wanted to like them both.
For one brief moment, he pitied them.
A short time later, he opened the door and ushered them out into the night. He couldn’t resist the warning, ‘They say the lanes are haunted. Did you know?’
Buttoni
ng up his coat, Dave shook his head. ‘You don’t need to invent ghosts to drum up trade,’ he said politely. ‘The food speaks for itself. Best meal I’ve had in years.’
Libby feigned indignation. ‘Well, thank you, and here I was, imagining I’d fed you well all these years.’
Rolling his eyes to the sky, Dave groaned, ‘Keep your mouth shut, Dave, before you put your foot in it.’
Libby laughed. ‘I’ll forgive you, but only because it’s my birthday and you’ve done me proud.’
The man envied their closeness. ‘They call her the Seeker,’ he said.
Dave turned. ‘I’m sorry, what did you say?’
‘The one who haunts the lanes hereabouts – a lovely young thing. Some say she’s bad, others that she’s a figment of the imagination.’ The rush of cold air made him shiver.
Libby didn’t believe in ghosts. ‘We’ve had such a lovely time.’ That was no lie. ‘I’m sure we’ll be back.’ That was a lie. Come back here? Not likely. The meal was wonderful, the restaurant charming, and the evening had been a dream, but for him. Watching. Making her feel uncomfortable.
In spite of herself, she was intrigued. Quietly regarding him, she thought what a strange little thing he was, with pale, quick hands, small, busy eyes and a slow, hollow smile that turned her stomach. And now here he was, sending them on their way with talk of lovely young ghosts and hauntings. Inwardly she cringed. It took all sorts, she mused, and he was one of the oddest.
Sensing her hostility, he turned to Dave. ‘Tell the taxi driver to mind how he goes, sir. Everything else aside, the lanes round here can really be treacherous in the dark.’
‘I can believe it,’ Dave answered. The inn was far from the main road and the lanes were narrow and little used, with deep dark ditches either side. ‘It’s like no man’s land out here.’ Drawing the cool night air in through his nose, he blew it out in a long, noisy sigh. ‘The countryside hereabouts is very beautiful. Too isolated for me, though.’
‘It is off the beaten track,’ the man agreed, ‘but I’m used to it now, used to the quiet days and busy nights, and sharing my back garden with all manner of wild creatures.’ A kind of childish wonder enveloped his shrewish features. ‘All my life I lived in the city of London. Born and bred within the sound of Bow Bells. I thought I could never live anywhere else.’
Libby was astonished. He didn’t seem like the type to set his roots deep in the countryside. She had him pegged as a man who might prefer to skulk around houses, peering in through the windows, hoping to catch some poor unsuspecting woman in a state of undress.
Suddenly embarrassed, he went on with a burst of pride, ‘I’ve poured everything into this old place, and now it’s all I have.’ He put out his arms as though embracing his empire.
Over three hundred years old, with dark, timbered gables and warm, glowing lights in every leaded window, the inn made a charming sight. In its prime, it had attracted many a weary traveller looking for a place to sleep. Now they flocked here looking for cuisine second to none, and never went away disappointed.
An old black taxi turned into the inn’s car park. ‘Here’s our chauffeur-driven limousine,’ Libby joked. Relief flooded through her. She would be glad to see the back of this place.
‘It really was a wonderful meal.’ Dave shook the little man by the hand. Like Libby, he didn’t much care for the fellow but it cost nothing to be polite. ‘Time to go,’ he said. ‘We’ve a long drive ahead.’
‘Of course.’ Shifting his gaze to the waiting driver, the innkeeper added ominously, ‘Go carefully now.’ Stepping back, he watched them closely, like a cat eyeing a mouse at its mercy.
Feeling the night air sharp against his face, Dave glanced anxiously at the sombre sky. ‘Looks like rain.’ Even as he spoke, the raindrops spattered on to the porch roof, creating a weird and rhythmic melody. ‘Better make a run for the car.’
The man’s voice pursued them. ‘They say she’s lovely, with sad eyes and a smile you won’t forget.’
Pretending not to have heard, Dave took Libby by the hand. Hurrying her towards the car, he muttered, ‘For God’s sake, let’s get out of here. That fellow gives me the creeps.’
Libby was surprised. ‘I thought it was just me,’ she remarked. ‘I didn’t think you’d taken a dislike to him as well.’
‘All this talk of girls and haunting. I don’t want him spoiling your birthday treat, that’s all.’ But it was more than that. Deep down, he felt restless. Uneasy, as though someone was following him.
He swung round abruptly, half expecting to see a shadowy figure. ‘Jesus!’ A rise of warm sweat moistened the palms of his hands. ‘I could have sworn there was someone there.’
Libby was startled. ‘It’s the wind in the trees.’ She glanced nervously about. ‘I expect there’s a storm brewing.’ It’s this place, she thought, and that awful little man.
‘You could be right, sweetheart.’ His smile put her at ease, but it didn’t quiet the turmoil in his guts. Somehow, that weirdo back there had got to him.
From the doorway, the ‘weirdo’ watched. With a rush of pleasure, he wondered how those two innocents would cope when the awful things began to happen. If experience had taught him right, they would happen soon. And without warning.
Lurking in the shadows, lost in disquieting thoughts, he didn’t hear the woman sidle up. ‘Who are they?’ she asked, and he, startled, swung round.
‘For God’s sake, Ida, don’t do that!’ When he began trembling as he did now, it was hard to calm himself. ‘Sneaking up like that, you frightened the bloody life out of me.’ His glance flickered to the open door and beyond, into the dining room. Thank God, he thought. No one had heard. No one had seen. They were all too busy. ‘All too wrapped up in their own pathetic little lives.’
The woman inclined her head to one side. ‘What did you say?’ It was so irritating when he mumbled.
‘Never mind. I want to know what you’re doing here.’ He could hardly tear his eyes away from the diners. He hated their smiles and their laughter. He hated the way they took it all for granted; put a meal in front of them and they hardly noticed it. What did they know of the pain and effort that had gone into such creations? What did they care?
The woman’s eyes followed his gaze. She had learned to read his every thought. ‘You feed these people and you take their money,’ she said. ‘You smile and fawn over them, and yet you loathe them.’ There was uncharacteristic kindness in her manner. ‘You shouldn’t hate them, Larry. It wasn’t their fault. Any more than it was yours or mine.’
For one brief moment he felt ashamed. She knew him too well, damn her eyes, and she was right. Strangers they may be, but he resented them all the same. ‘I asked you what you were doing here.’
Remaining in the shadows, the woman answered, her voice weary, ‘I had to get out of the house, that’s all.’ She sighed. ‘He’s being difficult. He’s always difficult before Eileen comes to visit.’ Impatient, she lit a cigarette. To hell with him, she thought. To hell with them all.
‘Sack her then. Get somebody else.’
‘You know he won’t tolerate anyone else. Have you forgotten? We’ve already had three. None of them lasted more than a week. Eileen makes him smile. She’s good for him, and her rates don’t cripple us – not like the others.’ In the half-light she drew on the cigarette, blowing smoke rings with surprising skill. The smoke spiralled upwards, merged into a perfect sphere, then evaporated in the cold night air.
‘You stink of tobacco!’
‘And you stink of greasy chips.’
The look he gave her was murderous.
‘I’m not getting rid of Eileen, so don’t start on me,’ she warned. ‘If it wasn’t for her, I’d go out of my mind.’ Defiantly, she sucked on the cigarette, savouring the moment, before releasing the acrid blue smoke. ‘You see, it isn’t only your father who needs her. I need her too.’
Her whole life was a lie but her need for friendship was real. There was little comf
ort for her here. Tony Fellowes was a burden. Larry even more so. The past drove her on and the future was an empty, desolate place. Sometimes, in the night, in the dark when she couldn’t sleep and memories played in her tortured mind, the fear was like a physical thing, weighing her down until she could hardly breathe. In the morning it began again, the purpose, the goal she had set herself. Sometimes, when it became too much, she was tempted to turn her back on them all and find a life of her own.
But then she would remember. And there was no going back.
Larry suddenly grabbed her by the wrist. ‘I hope you’re not getting too pally with her. After all, it wouldn’t do if she was to worm her way into your confidence, would it now?’
Shaking herself free, Ida snapped at him, ‘Don’t worry. I’m always careful, you know that. I’ve never said a word out of turn, and I never will.’
‘What about Father? Does she ever question him?’
‘No! And even if she did, how could he tell her?’ Besides, Tony knew nothing. That was a pity, she thought bitterly. He should be haunted by the awful things he had done. ‘You know I love you both,’ she lied. ‘I’ve always done the best for you, haven’t I?’
Regarding her for a moment, Larry felt a wave of compassion. ‘I know,’ he acknowledged, ‘and I don’t mean to be spiteful.’ Laying his hands on her shoulders, he kissed her tenderly. ‘You’d better get back. You shouldn’t leave him alone with her.’
‘I know. It’s just that sometimes I wish… oh dear God, I wish…’ She bowed her head, unable to go on. There it was again, that irrepressible urge to run away. But it was a foolish, treacherous notion. Besides, there was nowhere to run. If she knew anything with a degree of certainty, it was that when her task here was done, she would end her miserable life. That was as it should be. Since the day she had given herself to this man, her life had been dedicated to one purpose. Soon, her task would be accomplished. After that, there was nothing.
‘Get back to him, Ida. Hurry, please.’
As always, she reassured him. ‘You mustn’t worry, my love.’ The words stuck in her throat. She could still taste his kiss on her lips, like a poison, slowly killing her. Yet she continued to smile, her voice soft and caressing. ‘I’ll keep him safe,’ she promised. ‘Trust me.’
Seeker, The Page 1