by R. H. Dixon
‘What’s the catch?’ I asked, intrigued yet wary.
‘There isn’t one,’ Ralfie said. ‘All you have to do is visit us down here once in a while and feed us.’
Jonesy flicked his tongue across his bottom lip. ‘So what do you say, princess?’
My mind was whirring with the possibilities. And with doubts. ‘I’ll need to think about it,’ I said, stunned by how readily I was considering their offer. But I was a new mother and Alice’s future was worth it, and it wasn’t as though Uncle Dorchester didn’t owe us that much.
I made my way back up the cellar stairs and once I’d reached the top I’d made up my mind.
‘Okay,’ I said, turning to face them again. ‘I’ll come back down after Alice’s feed, you can show me where the money is.’
Ralfie clapped his hands together and Jonesy grinned, winking at me.
‘But there’s one condition to all of this,’ I said, balling my fists and resting them on my hips, trying to convey a display of authority.
Jonesy’s eyes narrowed and the smirk faded from his face. ‘And what would that be?’
‘That you stay the hell away from Alice. I don’t want you talking to her or looking at her. In fact I don’t even want you to utter her name, okay?’
Jonesy and Ralfie both guffawed. Jonesy made a sign of the cross on his chest and said, ‘Absolutely. Cross my heart.’
I left them in the dingy cellar and once I was back in the hallway I could hear Alice crying, the hungry, helpless call of a newborn that no mother can ignore, so I scurried up the stairs, two steps at a time. As I neared the top her crying ceased. My heart sank. The silence denoted wrongness. I raced along the landing and barged into the bedroom. Standing next to the cot was a young man with dark hair. He was cradling Alice to his chest while he made soothing shushing noises at her.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ I screamed, feeling both terrified and outraged. ‘Put her down. Now!’
The man looked up at me and regarded me, his eyes feline-yellow.
I gasped.
He put an index finger to his lips. ‘Don’t worry,’ he whispered. ‘I won’t harm her, I just wanted to help.’
I hurried forward and snatched Alice from him and held her close to me. All the while I couldn’t take my eyes off his. The yellowness of his irises were exactly like Jonesy’s and Ralfie’s.
‘Are you one of them?’ I asked.
He smiled sadly and shook his head. ‘Not exactly.’
‘Then who are you?’
He stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and said, ‘Ridley. My name’s Ridley.’
I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. ‘Ridley? That’s the name I had chosen for a boy.’
‘I know. It’s a nice choice.’ He smiled, his teeth straight and white. ‘That’s why it’s my name.’
‘But…I don’t get it.’
‘I’m yours, Dempsey. You created me.’
‘You mean you are like Jonesy and Ralfie?’
‘No. They were borne of your uncle, I’m nothing like them.’
‘So, are you saying that you’re here because I killed Uncle Dorchester? Are you a demon who’s come to torment me because of what I did? Because I’m evil.’
Ridley put his hands on my shoulders. They were strong and sturdy. He was as real as anybody I’d ever met, certainly no figment of my imagination. He gently lifted my chin with his fingers and looked into my eyes. ‘No, Dempsey, you’re a lot of things but you’re not evil. You have more guilt than one person can bear, that’s all.’
‘Ah.’ I bit my lip, contemplating what he was saying. ‘So you’re my guilty conscience?’
He cocked his eyebrow and smiled good-humouredly. ‘I suppose in a roundabout kind of way, yes, you could say that. But I prefer to be called Ridley.’
Ridley then held onto me for hours, allowing me to cry freely against him. He made a pact that he’d stay with me forever. He’s everything I ever wanted in a man and in the two years following Uncle Dorchester’s death he’s stayed true to his word. We’ve lived as best friends and lovers, and I know for a fact he’ll stick with me till the day I die.
As for Jonesy and Ralfie, I never go into the cellar anymore. Ridley goes to play dominoes with them instead, and he takes food down for them too. All three of them dine together. Jonesy and Ralfie rarely wander up from the cellar, and although Ridley can wander freely all around the house he can never leave it, so when I go out and about, taking Alice to the playground and to the shops, I pretend to be a single mother, even though I’m not. It’s just much easier that way. I’m not quite sure what will happen once Alice starts talking properly or when she starts going to school – Ridley and I will have to cross that bridge, together, when we come to it - because other people wouldn’t believe in Ridley like I do. They’d be quick to call me delusional and label me with psychiatric terms. They’d shake their heads and talk about me behind my back and, worse still, try to take Alice away from me. But I won’t let that happen. Not ever. It’s me, Alice and Ridley all the way.
And then, of course, by next summer there’ll be four of us.
I just found out this morning that I’m pregnant with Ridley’s baby.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
R. H. Dixon is a horror enthusiast who, when not escaping into the fantastical realms of fiction, lives in the northeast of England with her husband and two whippets.
When reading and writing she enjoys exploring the darknesses and weaknesses within the human psyche, and she loves good strong characters that are flawed and put through their paces. Her favourite authors include: Shirley Jackson, John Ajvide Lindqvist, Joe Hill, Susan Hill and Ramsey Campbell.
www.rhdixon.com