The Silent Touch of Shadows

by Christina Courtenay

  Melissa sighed. ‘I hate being ill,’ she muttered, and leaned back to let the softness of the chair envelop her. Dorothy was right, she was a very bad patient. Russ, who was lying in front of the fire, raised his head and gave her a sympathetic look.

  The old timbers of the house creaked from time to time and the occasional gust of wind whistled down the chimney, but nothing else moved. Melissa could hear humming and the distant clatter of cooking utensils from the kitchen, but the noise seemed far away. A sense of unreality stole over her, and she was lulled into sleep.

  Without warning, Russ suddenly shot up and growled furiously in the direction of the wall opposite Melissa’s chair. His hackles were up and he performed a series of little angry jumps while keeping his eyes firmly glued to the wall.

  Melissa blinked. ‘What’s the matter with you?’ She rubbed at sleep-heavy eyes and stared after him as, claws scrabbling on the slippery floorboards, he bolted for the door into the hall. She turned back to see what could have made the little dog act in such a strange manner and froze.

  There was a face on the wall and it was staring at her.

  The hair on the back of her neck stood on end and a vice began to close around her throat. She couldn’t breathe, and although she wanted to scream, she found it impossible. She tried, but only a pitiful whimper emerged. Squeezing her eyes shut, she regained the use of her lungs, although only for small, painful gasps of air.

  ‘Oh, my God,’ she whispered. Was she really so ill she was conjuring up faces on the wall? But wait, Russ must have seen it, too.

  She raised her eyelids just a fraction. The face was still there, and this time he smiled at her. She drew in another rasping breath and opened her eyes fully. Sheer terror kept her rooted to her seat and her eyes riveted to the strange image.

  It was a he, no doubt about it. He had an incredibly masculine face, although it was framed by long, blond hair. It slowly came into focus, as if an invisible lens was adjusting the picture and Melissa found herself gazing into a pair of ice-blue eyes that seemed strangely familiar. She noticed a long scar down the left-hand cheek, which made him look slightly piratical and that was when she made the connection. He’s the man in my dreams!

  She wondered fleetingly if she’d gone to sleep and was dreaming now, but somehow she knew that wasn’t the case. The vivid eyes blinked and she exhaled slowly to calm herself.

  ‘No, this can’t be happening,’ she breathed, but his smile widened as if to prove her wrong.

  Little by little, she felt the terror ebb out of her and curiosity took over. How was this possible? Another brief attempt at closing her eyes to make him go away didn’t result in any change. The man’s face remained and his lips moved as if he was talking to her, although she couldn’t hear anything.

  Melissa began to wonder if someone was playing a trick on her. She looked around for a possible source for the image on the wall, but couldn’t find anything obvious. There was no one else in the room, and no logical place in which a tape recorder or film camera could have been hidden. The smooth plaster wall would be an ideal place to project an image onto, but in that case, there should have been a beam of light emanating from somewhere. There wasn’t.

  ‘Impossible,’ she muttered and returned her stare to the man’s face.

  All of a sudden her body began to tingle and her head felt as if someone was stuffing it full of cotton wool. A strange groping sensation spread inside her, little tentacles searching, questing. Melissa shook her head and blinked several times. What is happening to me?

  Unaccountably, the fear she’d felt before was dispersing and it was replaced by something else. A burgeoning warmth, the niggling sensation that she knew this man, liked him even. She tried to shake her head once more, but this time it didn’t obey her. In fact, none of her limbs moved at her command, but appeared to be guided by some other force, a force that wasn’t of her making.

  She had no choice but to stare at the man. His smile suddenly made her go weak at the knees, despite sitting down, and as if in a trance she felt her body lean forward to catch his words. There was an urgency compelling her to listen, and she became frustrated when at first she couldn’t make out what he was saying. Slowly, however, his voice grew louder and began to echo inside her head until she could hear him clearly.

  ‘Sweeting. Help me, please!’ His voice was a caress, flowing over her softly, causing her breathing to become laboured.

  Feelings of love for the man exploded inside her, taking her by surprise. She couldn’t understand why she should feel anything for him at all, but the warm love flowed through her as if she had no control over her emotions whatsoever.

  At the same time little tendrils of fear crept up her spine, but she realised that it wasn’t fear of him, but for him. She didn’t want to lose him. The urge to cry was overwhelming and she desperately wanted to tell him of her love, but the words stuck in her throat. In agony, she clenched her fists and his voice receded. The pain helped her regain control over her limbs momentarily, but then the voice rang out once more inside her head.

  ‘Please, my sweet …’ The force within her returned with a vengeance, slamming into her gut. A yearning for him went through her, stronger than anything she’d ever experienced before. She drew in a ragged breath. She wanted this man, more than anything.

  When his features began to fade, Melissa panicked and found she could move once more. ‘No, wait! Why are you saying that?’ she cried, erupting from her chair and stumbling towards the opposite wall. ‘Don’t go yet. Please, tell me who you are.’

  She heard a chuckle, a rich vibrant sound that made her body sing with the remembrance of pleasure, and then came a faint reply. ‘Roger, sweeting. Help me …’ The face faded away completely as Melissa reached out to touch the wall. Her fingers encountered only cold, hard plaster and an unbelievable sadness welled up inside her.

  She was shaking so badly she could hear the charms on her bracelet jangling and she stood for a long time leaning her forehead against the wall. The alien force inside her seeped away slowly, leaving her with huge tears rolling down her cheeks unheeded. It wasn’t until Dorothy came bustling into the room some time later that she came out of her stupour.

  ‘Ah, you’re up and about. Are you feeling any better? The soup will be ready in …’ Dorothy stopped short as she noticed Melissa’s distraught expression. ‘Why, what’s the matter?’

  ‘A ghost, Dorothy,’ Melissa whispered. ‘I saw the ghost.’

  There was a slight hesitation before Dorothy replied. ‘You saw it?’

  ‘Him, it was a he. Definitely.’

  ‘Really? You know, you don’t look at all well, my dear. Let me fetch you a cup of tea. Some aspirin, perhaps?’

  Melissa frowned. Dorothy didn’t seem to be taking this at all seriously and she wanted to shake the old lady to make her understand. ‘I’m not making this up. I’m not that ill,’ she insisted.

  ‘No, no, of course not, but do sit down or you’re going to get worse. Let me fetch you a hot drink and you’ll feel much better.’

  ‘Dorothy, I …’ But her aunt had already left the room and Melissa was left to grind her teeth in frustration. ‘I am not going crazy,’ she whispered to no one in particular.

  But deep inside she was beginning to wonder.

  The bout of flu lasted for nearly a week, and Melissa was sure it was the worst one she’d ever suffered. It left her feeling low and listless and she thanked her lucky stars that Dorothy was around to help. The old lady took care of all the cooking and washing, and even helped Jolie with her homework.

  ‘It’s really kind of you,’ Melissa said. ‘Although I’m sure Jolie can manage on her own.’

  ‘It’s no bother and I’ve noticed she gets it done faster with a bit of encouragement.’

  Melissa could see Dorothy enjoyed being needed, so she didn’t protest too much, only thanked her again. Indeed, after the first few weeks at Ashleigh, she’d more or less given up even thinking about re
nting a place for herself and Jolie. Dorothy had made them so welcome and seemed supremely happy to have them living with her. It seemed pointless and churlish to move out just for the sake of wanting to be independent. The phrase ‘cutting your nose off to spite your face’ came to mind and Melissa was pragmatic enough to accept that they were fine as they were.

  The only drawback was the fact that she continued to be plagued by unsettling dreams and vague feelings of disquiet. Even though the ghostly face hadn’t hurt her in any way, the experience had frightened her badly and it wasn’t something she wanted to go through again. She took to glancing over her shoulder whenever she had to walk anywhere in the house alone and jumped at the slightest sound. Although she berated herself and tried to reason away this nervous reaction, she couldn’t help it.

  ‘This is ridiculous,’ she muttered on more than one occasion. Had anyone asked her previously whether she even believed in ghosts, she would have laughed, but now … How could she doubt her own eyes?

  Far more unsettling than merely seeing the ghostly face was the fact that her body was gripped by a yearning for the man that was almost painful. She was sure he was the same man as the one in her dreams; there could be no mistaking him. The dreams of him became a nightly occurrence, ever-more sensuous. Every time she woke up, it was to find her body in a state of turmoil and longing, such as she had never known before.

  Was it possible to imagine something to the extent that it turned into a hallucination? she wondered. Melissa didn’t know, but whenever she closed her eyes she could still hear the caressing voice and she found it utterly frightening that she didn’t want it to go away. She wanted to listen to this Roger forever.

  Melissa prided herself on being an intelligent, rational woman, but she began to wonder if the difficult times she’d suffered recently had affected her more than she had thought. Could the dreams and the face on the wall simply be a figment of her imagination, a reaction perhaps to the trauma of divorce? Since Steve had walked out on her, she hadn’t had the slightest desire to meet other men, let alone sleep with one. Instead, she concentrated on her work and Jolie. Steve was still the only man she wanted, or so she’d thought. It therefore seemed plausible that her mind should come up with a dream substitute, a perfect man who would never betray her, would never leave or disappoint her.

  No matter how much she mulled this over, she couldn’t come to any other conclusions and it weighed heavily on her mind. As the days went by, however, and no more spectres appeared, she began to calm down and the turmoil lessened somewhat. Always practical, she determined to wait and see whether it happened again.

  ‘Melissa, telephone for you.’

  Dorothy’s voice summoned Melissa out of yet another reverie concerning the ghost and she shook herself mentally. She really must stop thinking about it, it wasn’t healthy.

  ‘Coming.’ She rushed down the stairs and arrived by the phone slightly breathless. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Melissa, it’s me, Steve.’

  ‘Oh, hi.’ She hadn’t heard his voice for weeks now and her heart performed a little extra tattoo, although she refused to allow herself to think he was calling because he’d realised his mistake at last. That would have been tempting fate. She was also determined not to let him know she was pining for him, so she made her voice slightly sarcastic. ‘To what do I owe this pleasure?’

  ‘I’m just calling to let you know I won’t be paying maintenance much longer.’

  ‘You what?’ Melissa’s voice rose to a squeak, all her good intentions to stay calm when speaking to him forgotten. ‘What do you mean? You can’t just stop paying when you feel like it. Jolie is your daughter, too.’

  ‘I know that, but now you’re living the high life in a grand mansion, I’m sure you don’t need my paltry contribution. I checked it out the other day; it’s quite the little palace, isn’t it? It’s all right for some.’

  ‘Grand mansion? Palace? Are you mad? This isn’t my house and we’re only staying here until we find a cottage of our own. A very small cottage. I told you!’ Melissa decided Steve didn’t need to know that she’d stopped looking for one. It was beside the point. Frustration made her voice rise to a much higher pitch than she’d intended, but he didn’t take any notice.

  ‘Yeah, yeah, and pigs might fly,’ he sneered. ‘You think I was born yesterday? I know as well as you do that you don’t have any other relatives, so that house will probably go to you as soon as the old lady snuffs it. It’s just a question of time. I saw her pottering round the garden, looked pretty frail to me.’

  ‘Don’t you dare talk about Dorothy like that! She’s only seventy-two and in excellent health.’

  ‘Whatever. The fact is, I can’t afford to pay any longer. Me and Daisy are having another baby soon and Daze wants us to get married. Although not until after she’s recovered from the birth and all that.’

  Melissa leaned her back against the wall and slid downwards until her backside connected with the floor. She felt as if someone had just punched her guts into smithereens and a sudden tightening in her throat prevented her from breathing.

  ‘Melissa? Are you there?’ Steve sounded impatient. ‘I haven’t got all day.’

  ‘Yes.’ The word came out as a whisper, but it was all she was capable of. Her mind was grappling with the concept of Steve having another child with his current girlfriend and wanting to marry the woman. All that after he’d told Melissa he hated being tied down and didn’t want any more children. How much more tied down could he get? One love-child he could have walked away from, especially since he’d confessed he wasn’t even sure it was his, but two? She swallowed past the heavy lump in her throat.

  ‘I just wanted to tell you so you don’t make a big fuss. You don’t have a leg to stand on,’ Steve said.

  Righteous anger filled Melissa to the exclusion of all else and her powers of speech returned. ‘No, you listen to me, you scumbag. I don’t have a single penny more than I did before I moved into this house and I can prove it. Jolie is your daughter and, unless you want her to grow up deprived of everything a child her age should have, you’d better keep paying. I don’t care how many other kids you have, that’s your problem. Jolie is still half yours and you owe her! You’ll be hearing from my solicitor.’

  She slammed the phone down, then burst into tears. They were mostly tears of anger and frustration. She had finally allowed herself to feel financially secure, since she wasn’t paying the exorbitant London rents any longer, but now it seemed she was back to square one. Hiring an expensive solicitor was the last thing she wanted, and because she and Steve only had an informal agreement regarding the maintenance payment it could also turn into a lengthy business if the matter had to go to court.

  And how could she ever prove whether Steve could genuinely afford to pay the amount he was sending her at the moment? He was a self-employed IT consultant. She knew for a fact he didn’t declare even half of his earnings, so anyone investigating his affairs might come to the conclusion that he earned very little. It was infuriating.

  Mixed in with her anger was a feeling of utter despair. The money was important, but even worse to her mind was the fact that Steve was marrying someone else, having children with someone else. He really wasn’t coming back. Ever.

  It was time to face the truth, but how could she when it hurt so badly?

  Melissa definitely couldn’t afford to be ill now so, despite the lingering effects of the flu, she went back to work in between heated discussions with a local solicitor recommended by Dorothy.

  ‘I agree your ex-husband is in the wrong,’ he told her, ‘but you will have to fight every step of the way and it will cost more money, I’m afraid.’

  Money she didn’t have. This only made her more determined, however, and she fought off the tiredness, ignored her sore nose and went off to do as much research as she could.

  It was a relief when Saturday came and she was able to take some time off to go shopping in the nearest town to Ashleigh. T
he little High Street was crowded and Melissa was jostled several times as she made her way up the steep hill, but she didn’t mind. She worked her way down her shopping list and was almost sorry when she reached the last item, bread.

  In the window of the bakery, there was a beautiful three-tiered wedding cake, decorated with a profusion of pink roses and white swirls of icing. Melissa paused to have a look at it before entering the shop. It was vaguely similar to the one she and Steve had shared at their wedding, all those years ago, and it brought back memories. She’d been so young and naive and actually believed she was marrying the perfect man. What a fool I was!

  Perhaps she and Steve hadn’t been right for each other, only she’d been too immature to realise it at the time? No, they had both been in love, she was sure of it. The doubts came later. And the harsh words. She shook her head impatiently. She mustn’t let herself brood over it. The past was over and done with and, judging by his recent behaviour, he really wasn’t worth pining over. With a sigh, she turned towards the entrance of the bakery.

  The bell above the door jingled and a man stepped out of the shop, holding the door politely for her to enter. Melissa looked up with a smile to thank him for his courtesy, and stopped dead, the smile fading from her lips.

  ‘Oh, my God!’ she gasped. Suddenly her head felt very light and there was a buzzing noise in her ears. She couldn’t breathe properly; a vice closed around her chest, squeezing hard. As if in a dream, she felt her hands go limp and heard the dull thud when the various carrier bags hit the pavement. In slow-motion, she followed them downwards and heard herself cry out. The startled man began to disappear rapidly from her vision as a pinprick of darkness grew ever larger. She was only vaguely aware of him swearing softly. In the next instant everything turned black.

  ‘Bloody hell!’

  Jake dropped the bag of doughnuts he’d just bought as he caught the woman’s crumpling body at the last minute. He didn’t have a chance to do anything about her shopping bags and could only hope they didn’t contain anything fragile.