Death Notes (A Phineas Fox Mystery)

by Sarah Rayne

  It was silly to take a step back from him – Jessica did not understand why she did that, or why she suddenly did not want to give him a hug or let him kiss her cheek as he always did. It was even sillier to think that when he put his arms around her he held on to her for longer than usual, and that he pressed her against him in a way Jess found embarrassing.

  He let her go, but he kept one arm round her, his free hand opening the sketchbook to see what she had been working on.

  ‘It’s very good,’ he said, looking at it. Jessica did not like to say she hated people to see a half-finished sketch, so she closed the book and put it in her pocket. ‘You’re such a clever girl. I wish I could see you more often – I seem to be missing too much of your growing-up years.’ His hand was still around her shoulders, the fingers digging into her skin. Jessica began to feel even more uneasy, and then Donal pulled her against him, so closely she could smell the masculine-skin scent of him. Soap and clean hair. It should have been pleasant and comforting and familiar, but it was none of these things.

  ‘And you’re almost grown up now, aren’t you,’ said Donal, in a strange, whispery voice. ‘Thirteen.’

  ‘Yes.’

  He smiled down at her. ‘That’s surely grown up enough to give me a proper kiss.’

  The kiss was not what Jessica was expecting. Usually, when Donal came to stay, there was a light kiss on the cheek for each of the aunts, and the same for Jess. But this was full on the lips, and when she gasped and flinched, Donal pulled her back and began to kiss her again. Jess struggled and tried to push him away.

  ‘Don’t fight me,’ said Donal, in the same muffled throaty voice. ‘It’s just a kiss. We’re both grown up enough for that. Let me kiss you properly.’

  It came again, the hard pressure of a mouth, this time forcing her lips open. Jessica tasted his breath, and gasped, pushing him away, wrapping her arms around her body in defence.

  ‘You’re shivering. Oh, don’t shiver, Jess. Come up to the house with me now. It’s where I’m going anyway. I saw Niall Drury in Dunleary’s shop – he’s grand company, that one, and we said we’d have a drink in O’Brien’s next time he’s here and I’m visiting. But he’s worried about a loose window catch up at the house, so he lent me a spare key to make sure it was all right until someone can see to it.’

  ‘Let’s just go home,’ said Jess, uncertainly. ‘The aunts will be wondering.’

  ‘I said I’d be a while. And I’ve always wanted to see Tromloy. It’s supposed to stand where the old Kilcarne Manor was, did you know that? Kilcarne Mainéar. I’ve seen the old parish records – a fine old place it must have been, but this cottage is all that’s left of it. I’d like to see it, wouldn’t you? And it’s perfectly above board – I told you Drury lent me the key, and he’s off back to London; he’s driving to Galway Airport after he’s collected some books for his daughter.’ He took her hand and started walking up the last few yards of the track towards the house. Jessica did not want to go with him, but it was difficult not to.

  ‘It’ll be an adventure,’ said Donal. He smiled at her. ‘We’ll be looking back at Kilcarne Manor and seeing are there any of its ghosts wandering around. But a secret adventure. Our secret.’

  He was already unlocking the front door. He still held Jess’s hand, and as he pushed the door open, his other arm came around her waist. His fingers brushed against her small, just-forming breast, and he drew in his breath sharply.

  Beyond the door was a small hall, with a carved blanket chest against one wall. The walls were creamy white, and there was a faint scent of peat, mingling pleasantly with the scent of old timbers and polish. Jessica would have liked the house very much if she had not been growing uneasier by the minute. When Donal closed the front door she felt shut in and frightened. But in a minute he would realize he was behaving strangely, and say he was sorry, and they would go home and everything would be all right.

  ‘I think the window with the loose catch is in here,’ said Donal, leading her into a long, low-ceilinged sitting room. There was a deep sofa with buttons, and at the far end was a window with criss-crossed strips of lead on it. A small table held a scattering of papers, as if Mr Drury had not had time, or could not be bothered, to tidy them away before leaving. In the window recess was a deep seat with padded cushions. Jessica had the thought that someone often curled up on the window-seat with a book and felt happy and safe. She did not feel safe, though.

  Mr Drury had left a little stack of peat turfs against the chimney breast, as if to have everything ready and welcoming for next time he and his wife were here. There were a few twists of paper and matches, as well. But the room was cold, and Jessica shivered.

  ‘Don’t shiver, Jessica. I’ll light a fire for us, shall I? Drury won’t mind and we’ll make sure it’s doused when we go.’

  ‘No, don’t do that – we’ll be going in a minute, won’t we—?’

  ‘Oh, yes, but it’d be nice to see the firelight. It’s a nice room, isn’t it? This was supposed to have been the housekeeper’s cottage, I think. Or maybe a bit of the servants’ wing. If it wasn’t actually attached to the manor, it’d be very close to it.’

  Jess was very frightened indeed by now, but Donal had already struck a match and was lighting the peat and the paper twists. At least he had had to let go of her hand to do that. She began to move to the door leading to the hall – in another minute she would pull it open and dart through, and once outside, she would run down the track as fast as she could, and she would not stop running until she was back home. She would be safe there. Donal would not behave so oddly – so frighteningly – in front of the aunts and Uncle Tormod.

  But he seized her hand again before she could get the door open, trapping her wrists together, and pulling her back into the room. His hands were hard and bony. Jess sobbed and kicked out, trying to drag her hands away, but he was too strong.

  The peat was starting to glow, lighting up the room, the warmth glinting on the windows. Donal’s hands were bruising her wrists, making it impossible to break free. He began to drag her closer to him – for a dreadful moment the fire’s heat fell on to her face and Jess thought he was pulling her straight on to the flames.

  But he pushed her towards the sofa, so forcefully that Jess fell back on to it. At once Donal flung himself down next to her, and began to run his hands up and down her body, sliding them under her sweater, and then up beneath her skirt. Jess thrust his hands away and tried to sit up, stammering that this was all wrong, they should not be doing any of this.

  ‘Please, Donal – please stop—’

  ‘I’ll stop in a minute,’ said Donal, in the same frightening whispery voice. ‘But I’ve wanted to do this for so long … And this house was empty and I had the key and the opportunity was too tempting … Let me just touch you – let me just feel … Oh, Jesus, I’ll have to do penance for this afterwards, I know it, but just for a few moments … Oh, God, that feels so good … I’ve dreamed of this for so long, Jessica—’

  Jess began sending up frantic, scrambled prayers. Please God, make him stop. I’ll do anything, God – I’ll do all the housework for the aunts, and I won’t be impatient with Uncle Tormod, and I’ll say my prayers every single night, kneeling down properly, I promise …

  Donal was half sobbing, half panting, and he was writhing against her so that Jess could feel the hard lump between his legs that men had and that must not be mentioned. He was almost crying by now, saying something about it being a mortal sin, but just this once it would be all right, and he would not hurt her.

  ‘It’ll be my sin, Jessica, my sin not yours, and I’ll do penance for it … But you’re so lovely, so smooth and innocent and sweet, and those big dark eyes … Let me have just this one time—’

  The fire was filling up the room with dancing redness – red was the colour of pain and of fear – Jess had not known that until now. But this was Donal, who was a priest, the aunts’ beloved Donal, Jess’s own cousin … Only it was somehow
not Donal any longer; it was as if something had taken him over, like in a horror film.

  But it was Donal’s hands that were thrusting between her legs, the fingers seeking and prodding. Jess fought to push him away, but it only seemed to make it worse, and she began to cry out.

  ‘Don’t scream, Jessica. There’s no one to hear anyway, no one for at least a mile, and I only want to … And you feel so good, and if you knew what it’s doing to me—’

  He was still holding her, but with his free hand he pulled her clothes away, tearing them in his frenzy, then reached down to the fastening of his trousers. Jessica had only the sketchiest knowledge of what men and women did in bed, other than the giggles and whispers at school, but she could feel something hard and hot thrusting between her legs and she knew Donal was trying to do the forbidden thing, the thing you were not supposed to do until you were married, but that people did anyway … But not with a priest, not with someone who was a cousin and who was someone you had known ever since you could remember and seemed like your brother. Not in a strange room with a fire that sent shadows like clutching hands across the walls …

  Donal began to sob and gasp, saying no one need ever know—

  ‘I’ll take the sin on my soul, Jessica … Oh Jesus, God—’

  The hard stick of hot flesh thrust all the way inside Jessica, impossibly deep, and it hurt, it hurt, it was more painful than she had thought anything ever could be. Donal was clutching her and writhing against her, and Jessica cried and struggled to push him away.

  ‘It’ll be very quick, Jessica, because I’m so very … And I know God will never forgive me, but I can’t help it, I can’t—’

  And then, just as Jessica thought she might faint or be sick, he suddenly cried out, ‘Christ, Jesus, I’m going to—’ and there was a final frenzied thrusting and a sudden hot wetness. The room spun around her head because the pain was splitting her open, and then incredibly and blessedly, it seemed to be over, and Donal had rolled off.

  Jessica lay absolutely still, not daring to move, hardly daring to breathe. She could hear him sobbing and gabbling prayers. When she finally dared to open her eyes she saw he was slumped against the sofa’s edge, half kneeling, his hands clasped, his whole body shuddering, rocking back and forwards. Tears streamed down his face.

  Jessica lay in a terrified huddle. The world had shrunk to this firelit room, with the glinting windows, and the sound of Donal’s sobbing. She did not dare move or make a sound in case he seized her again, but he did not. He stayed where he was, still gasping out prayers, occasionally wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

  In the end, moving very slowly, Jessica risked sitting up, and then she risked getting off the sofa. Donal did not seem to notice her. It took a long time to put her clothes back on because she was trembling so violently. Her under-things were torn because he had ripped them away, and there was a wetness between her legs – she saw with horror that there was blood, but she found her handkerchief and folded it to put there.

  It was not until she began to walk shakily to the door that Donal turned his head. He did not look directly at her, but in a low voice – a much more normal voice – he said, ‘Jessica, you must promise me you’ll never tell anyone about this.’

  Jess had no idea how to answer. She did not say the aunts would know something was wrong because she must look dreadful – tear-streaked and shivering, her arms bruised, and her skirt and pants torn. And there was the blood …

  She said, ‘I’m going home.’

  ‘No.’ His voice was suddenly sharper. ‘You’ll help me tidy this room before we leave,’ said Donal. ‘Drury and his wife won’t be back for weeks – Easter, I think he said, and he’ll be at the airport by now. But we have to leave everything as we found it—’ He broke off, and Jess saw he was staring at the dining table by the window, a startled look on his face. She turned her head to look, and for the first time saw that the papers on the table held two small folders, green and white. There was the outline of a shamrock, and the words Aer Lingus.

  ‘The bloody plane tickets back to London,’ said Donal, in a half-whisper. ‘The eejit’s forgotten them. God, he’ll have to come back for them – he could be here any minute.’ He bounded up from the sofa, and grabbed her arms.

  ‘Move fast,’ he said. ‘Set this room to rights. I’ll douse the fire. Then we’ll go home, and when we’re there, Jessica, you’ll remain quiet about what happened here, you understand that? And if you don’t remain quiet – if you tell anyone about this – you’ll be very sorry indeed.’ The cold frightening note was there again. ‘I could even see that you’re shut away,’ said Donal, his face so close that Jess could see the flecks of brown in his eyes. ‘I could do it, Jessica. Your mother wasn’t entirely sane, did you know that? “Oh, Catriona Cullen,” people said. “She was always more than a bit mad.” Tormod said it loudest of all, you know.’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’ But Jessica was remembering how Tormod sometimes looked if her mother was ever mentioned. A shuddering look, as if he might be seeing something repulsive.

  ‘It’s true,’ said Donal. ‘She’d most likely have ended up being shut away, except she ran away. So no one will be surprised if you turn out a bit mad. They’ll say, “like mother, like daughter”.’

  Jessica stared at him, terrified, not knowing how much of this to believe.

  ‘And remember, as well, that all kinds of unpleasant things can happen to foolish little girls who talk too much,’ said Donal. He pulled her closer to the glowing fire – so close that Jess felt the heat brushing her skin – then he pushed her hand down to the small fireguard. A peat turf broke apart and fierce heat belched out, searing Jess’s hand slightly. She gasped and managed to snatch her hand back.

  ‘So now, you’ll help me to tidy up this place, and you’ll do it very quickly in case Drury comes back for those plane tickets,’ said Donal.

  Jess was scared to do anything that might cause him to drag her over to the fire again so, moving shakily, trying not to notice the burning pain on her hand, she rearranged the sofa cushions, and dragged a small rug back into place in front of the hearth. Donal fetched a cup of water from the kitchen and flung it on to the peat. There was a hissing, and the warm glow faded.

  ‘All done. Now we can leave,’ said Donal. ‘And we’ll do so at once, before Drury can come back. I’ll drive us.’

  ‘I don’t want to be in the car with you. I’ll walk home.’

  ‘Not looking like that, you won’t. You’ll have half the village seeing you. For goodness’ sake, will you do something to make yourself a bit tidier. Then I’ll drive us back, and we’ll tell the aunts you fell over on the icy track. They’ll believe that.’ It came out sneeringly, and Jessica hated him all over again. ‘And remember,’ said Donal, ‘that if you say anything about what happened here, people will think you’re making up stories.’ The horrible, cruel other-Donal looked from behind his eyes, and he looked across at the fire. ‘Does your hand hurt where it got burned?’ he said. ‘The fire’s died down now, but it’s still hot enough to hurt even more than that. So let me hear you promise you won’t tell a living soul what happened here, or we’ll see just how hot that fire still is.’

  The room was silent and still – there was only the faint movement of the dying fire-glow on the white walls. She would have to promise, or he would drag her back to the fire. No one would rescue her – there was no one to hear her scream – that was what Donal had said.

  And then, incredibly and startlingly, there was someone. Jess was facing the window, and there was a sudden movement beyond it. A figure. Mr Drury coming back for the plane tickets? No, whoever this was, he was standing up against the window, looking in. The outline was slightly blurred by the old glass and the lead strips, and for a moment Jess could not bring it into focus. And then she saw the cheerful scarlet woollen scarf, and the untidy tumble of hair beneath the brim. The tramp. The man who had said she looked like a dryad under a tree. He had followed he
r up here. Had he seen what had happened? He had probably seen enough to guess.

  She gasped, and Donal whipped round, and saw the tramp also. The man stepped back at once, but Donal was already crossing the room, and dragging open the door. There was fury in his face, and a new terror washed over Jess. She ran after Donal, wanting to stop him, wanting to warn the tramp …

  But the tramp had already started down the track – Jess could see the flash of scarlet muffler between the hedges. It was all right, he was getting away. She did not want to go out there and risk meeting Donal again, but she could not stay here, so she pulled on her jacket, with the sketchpad still in the pocket, and went out. The door closed smoothly, with a little click as the lock fell into place.

  She still felt dizzy and slightly sick, but the cold air helped. Her hand was stinging and red from the fire, but it was not very much. Had the tramp got away? But as she reached the stone with Tromloy engraved on it, she saw him. He had almost reached the road, but he kept looking back to see if Donal was following him. Jessica wanted to shout to him not to do that, because it was slowing him down, and in another minute Donal would catch him up. And Donal could not risk the tramp telling anyone what he might have seen in Tromloy.

  She began to run. The track was rutted and narrow, and several times her foot slipped on a patch of ice, but each time she managed to keep her balance.

  She saw the car before either Donal or the tramp did. It was not coming very fast, and its indicator was flashing to signal that it was going to swing over on to the track. Mr Drury and his daughter coming back for the plane tickets. Donal saw the car, but the tramp did not, because he had turned to look back again. Jess shouted, and ran the rest of the way down the track to the road, but it was too late. The tramp had run straight into the path of the oncoming car. There was a loud screech of tyres as the car swerved violently, and in the same moment, Jess skidded on a patch of ice and fell against the grass verge. The world spun crazily around her, and a sickening pain sliced through her ankle. She bent over, gasping with the pain, aware of confusion and shouting all around her. Then came a soft whooshing sound and a flare of hot, hurting light shot into the air as the car’s petrol tank exploded. Jess threw up a hand instinctively to shield her face, and when she looked again, there was the outline of a figure against the sheet of fire, running towards the burning car.