Lamplight

by Benjamin Appleby-Dean

  He rang off before Amy could apologise any further. She felt awful, but when she looked at Jessica huddled in the corner Amy told herself she hadn't any alternative. With Jack gone, there was no-one else to look out for her.

  She stepped gingerly onto the floor and longed for a shower. Jessica stirred, and Amy crouched beside her and stroked the top of her head, soothing her back to sleep, whispering "I'll only be a minute." Sunlight was slowly forcing its way into the room despite Jessica's best efforts of the night before, and Amy could see her friend's tangled hair half-covering her face, Jessica's mouth curled up as if she were concentrating.

  Moved by sudden impulse, she kissed Jessica on the forehead. The other girl stirred but didn't wake, and clawed at thin air with her fingers. Amy pulled away, guilt tugging at her chest, and crept around the edge of the bedroom door and out onto the landing.

  She didn't dare turn any lights on until she found the bathroom. Amy was almost afraid to pull the light switch there too, haunted by Jessica's sheer panic of the night before, but soon lost herself in soap and steam.

  Amy stole a towel off the bathroom radiator, and tried not think about who might have used it before. Her hair was as vivid green as yesterday, but wouldn't dry properly and kept spiking up at weird angles, and her dress was crumbled and bedraggled.

  She had a change of clothes in her bag, back in Jessica's room. Amy wrapped herself in the towel and tiptoed back across the landing, hoping the other girl was somehow still asleep. However, turning the door handle brought alarmed scuffling noises from the other side, and a weight pressed against the panels of the door, forcing Amy to call out "It's okay, it's me," before Jessica would let her in.

  Jessica was on her feet and wouldn't stop pacing, but she let Amy leave the door open a little. "Hi," she said, speaking to the wall as much as to Amy. "Good morning. You're not dressed."

  "Um, I'm about to be." Amy pointed to her bag, caught off balance.

  "Don't worry, I won't look." Jessica giggled, and it sounded forced. "Not even if you want me to."

  "Maybe you should shower," Amy said, looking hopefully at Jessica's matted hair and streaky face. To her surprise, the other girl nodded.

  "I suppose, maybe." Jessica peered around the corner of the door then pulled herself back, shaking, hands across her face.

  "Turn the bathroom light off please," she hissed, one hand locking onto Amy's wrist. It hurt. "Please."

  "Ow, just–” Amy struggled to free herself, "– okay, but the window'll still be there, won't–”

  "Sunlight's safe." Jessica let go again, hugging herself. She looked at Amy properly, and her eyes were much too wide, her pupils enormous in the dark. "I think it's safe. He – he only came when it was dark outside."

  "Um, right." Clutching the towel around herself, Amy darted down the passageway and turned the bathroom light off, hearing the hum of the fan die with it. The house felt all the emptier.

  Jessica followed her, taking each step along the landing as if it were her first. She paused at the bathroom doorway, one hand on the door, and turned and smiled at Amy – a real smile rather than a fake doll-smile, embarrassed and open.

  "I didn't really say thank you properly did I? So thanks for being here today."

  "You're welcome–” Amy began to say, but the door cut her off. She stayed outside for a second, but heard nothing beyond the rustle of fabric and the rush of water. All normal.

  On the way back she checked Jack's room just in case, but it was as empty as expected.

  By the time the water stopped, Amy had made sure she was dressed, and was startled to hear her name being called from the bathroom. She emerged to see Jessica's head poking around the door, damp hair obscuring most of her face.

  "I, I think you took my towel." Jessica hid the rest of her face behind the doorpost.

  "Oh, sorry." Amy ran to get it from the bedroom, offered it to what she could see of Jessica "I'm really sorry, I forgot to bring one."

  Jessica let the damp towel dangle from her hand. "Erm, I hate to ask but could you maybe get me a new one? They're just over there in the cupboard."

  Amy went where she pointed, finding a boiler and shelves behind what she'd assumed was another bedroom door. She handed the towel over with her eyes half-covered, just in case, and realised to her horror she was blushing.

  "Thanks again." Jessica giggled but it was still that fake-giggle and Amy's heart fell. For a few moments everything had seemed so awkwardly normal, as if not only the terror but that thing at the pub had never happened.

  The pub.

  Jessica had banged her head.

  Was that where all the stuff about lights and Jack had come from?

  She needed to talk to Cordelia now more than ever. Amy left Jessica to dry off and headed back into the bedroom. She didn't dare ring but texting should be safe.

  There were two messages attached to her blog, both anonymous. One last night and one today. Amy read through them and didn't feel the usual spike of weakness but something else, a growing anger. She had more important things to be bothered about than some loser on the internet.

  Some loser she knew. Someone who was up all hours, who had been in the pub that night. Amy almost felt she had it, but there wasn't time for that now. She found Cordelia's number and messaged: "Hi, my friend's not as bad today BUT still acting weird. Can you still come over?"

  No immediate answer, so she needed to keep her phone silent but keep an eye on it. Jessica might ask why, so Amy needed an excuse. The hateful anon was right on one thing – she hadn't blogged since last night, and though it was hard to type anything properly in this darkened room she should update something. Show people she was still alive. Show her mystery tormentor that they weren't getting to her at all.

  Posting anything about Jessica was out of the question, so Amy flicked back through her phone for anything else she could use and found that other photo from yesterday, the strange footprints from outside Jessica's kitchen door. That would do. She posted it, with a note saying: "Has anyone else seen this before? I can't work out what animal did it."

  Normality, that was the really important thing today. Keep Jessica grounded until Cordelia got in touch.

  Amy heard the bathroom door open again, and soft footsteps coming down the landing. Jessica materialised, her tall figure barely covered by the towel. Amy could see her eyes darting left and right into the corners of the room, checking nothing had changed.

  "I'll, um, get out of your way," Amy said, heading for the door when Jessica stopped her with one hand, leaving the towel dangerously unsupported.

  "I'm–” she broke off, swallowed. "I'd really rather you stayed. I didn't like being alone in there."

  Inside, Amy felt like crying. This wasn't fair.

  "If you really want," she said, stumbling on the words. Jessica gave her another embarrassed smile, and Amy tried to respond in kind before turning her back and staring resolutely into the corner, waiting for the whole thing to be over.

  The sounds of creaking fabric and rustling straps seemed hours-long. Amy tried to make conversation as she studied the wallpaper, but Jessica seemed entirely taken up with dressing and gave only short replies.

  It was so dark, even with the sunlight attacking the window full-force. Amy wondered if she dare ask about taking the blankets down, but that would mean turning around and she couldn't cope with that. Even the sounds Jessica made while changing were setting off fireworks inside her head and she hated herself for it, vile selfish Amy thinking about that at a time like this, had she learned nothing?

  "It's safe." Jessica's voice sounded close to normal, and Amy spun around so fast she nearly overbalanced. Jessica had put herself in top and jeans, was pulling her phone out of the jeans pocket and turning it on.

  "You look nice." The words came out of Amy before she could stop them.

  "Thank you." Jessica didn't look up. Her hair was still everywhere and she wasn't wearing any makeup, but there was once again something unsha
kable about her that made it only more attractive. Amy gulped, and clenched her fist, driving nails into her palm. Enough.

  "Oh, I like your hair. I forgot to say." Jessica gave her the briefest of smiles before going back to fiddling with the phone in her hand. Amy didn't know what to say to that, and was still struggling for words when Jessica yelped and dropped the phone.

  "What is it?" Amy ran across the room and Jessica clung to her, shaking.

  "It's them again." Her voice wobbled like a broken guitar, and her fingers dug into Amy's back.

  Amy couldn't free herself for several seconds, and had to half-hold Jessica even then while she bent to check the phone. There were a couple of anonymous messages on the screen and at first Amy thought she understood, but there were baffling rather than bullying, one saying "I'm STILL sitting here. Where'd you go?" and the other "Hey it's dark I don't know what's happening but I'm still sorry"

  "It's him," Jessica breathed, and she sounded as fearful as the night before. "It's Jack. He's still downstairs."

  "Wait, what?" Amy didn't understand. "I thought you said you found his phone yesterday?"

  Jessica's body was quivering against hers, bare shoulders under Amy's fingers –

  – stop. Stop.

  "I did but I don't know." Jessica began to cry. "It must be him, whatever he is. He knows I'm here."

  "How could he send those without a phone?" Amy was irritated at herself and her distraction more than at Jessica, but it couldn't help but show in her voice.

  "Who else would? How would they know?"

  Something else was bothering Amy about the messages. They seemed to have been written by two different people – the pacing wasn't the same at all, and she said as much.

  "It doesn't matter at least one of them's him, why won't you listen?" Jessica pulled away from Amy, words spilling out of her like water.

  "Look," Amy started to say. She tried moving forward but Jessica backed away until she was up against the window. "I'll go downstairs and check, how about that?"

  "You can't, it isn't safe." Jessica's voice was rising in pitch and her hands were tugging on the ends of her hair.

  "I won't turn any lights on, okay?" Amy thought how silly that sounded but it seemed to reassure Jessica, who let go of her hair again and sat down heavily on the bed.

  "I'll be right back," Amy told her and left the room, making sure to shut the door.

  Halfway down the stairs, her phone rang. Cordelia.

  "Hello. I'm free later this morning, if you're sure it's that serious?"

  "I can't get her to come downstairs," Amy whispered, hoping her footsteps would mask the conversation.

  "Very well. Where are you?" Amy gave her the address, and Cordelia rang off with "I'll be there in about an hour. Try not to push her until then."

  Amy was about to put her phone away, keep heading to the kitchen, when she saw a couple of updates. People were commenting on her blog – something rare at any time, let alone this early.

  Jenny was first, saying "hey amy whered you see those please call me"

  Tom – of all people – was the other, saying "we need to talk but not here"

  Why those two? What did they both know?

  The kitchen was far enough from Jessica's room that she wouldn't be overheard. Amy walked down the stairs, across the hall, and was about to go into the dark room when she stopped and reminded herself. Jessica's fear wasn't hers, and nothing had come at her in the bathroom with the light on. She couldn't give in that easily.

  Fumbling around the edge of the door, Amy found the kitchen light-switch and pressed it firmly up.

  Jenny woke in sweat and heat and skin, a prison of damp blankets and a cage of arms. Harry had spooned himself around her during the night, and she almost resorted to elbowing him in the ribs.

  They were long minutes, those in the warm morning. The stiller Jenny lay and the more she tried to sleep, the worse she prickled and shifted and longed to move. She began to resent Harry, to hate him for outstaying what little use he'd had.

  After what had to be an hour or more he groaned, burrowing his bristly chin into her shoulder so it scratched her, and finally awoke.

  "Morning," said Harry, sounded wearily pleased with himself. Jenny made herself smile, and finally wriggled free of his arm.

  "Sleep well?" she said, knowing he had.

  "Yeah, did you?" Harry stroked her cheek, and Jenny stared at him. Last night he'd seemed like an escape, but in the dawn light she could make out every scab and spot. He didn't belong.

  "I did," she lied, and snuggled up to him. Starting fights wouldn't get rid of Harry any quicker, but if she played it right –

  Jenny held herself there for a couple of painful minutes, then pretended to notice the time. "Shit, I've got to get to work."

  "You do?" Harry sounded as though he was halfway back to sleep, and Jenny had no intention of letting that happen.

  "I'm really sorry," she said, finally breaking free and sitting up, "but I'm going to have to kick you out." Jenny tried to make that last bit sound light and jokey, but if Harry didn't move in the next thirty seconds she was going to lose it.

  Thankfully he did, sitting up and rubbing his legs. Jenny couldn't bring herself to kiss him, so she patted him on the arm and headed for the shower.

  Jenny checked her phone as she towelled herself off, flitting through peoples' lives. She tried to linger in the bathroom as long as possible, forcing Harry to get himself dressed, and when she finally headed back he was half-covered in shirt and jeans, rummaging around in the floor to find his socks.

  "Can I see you later?" he asked in that harsh voice, and despite herself Jenny shivered a little. The sound of him was the same even if the sight wasn't, and she could feel a little of last night coursing through her veins.

  "Leave me your number." She offered her phone. "I'll text you when my shift's over."

  After that it took only minutes to bundle him out the door. Jenny was finally alone and strode around her flat and kicked her heels, luxuriating in space. She didn't have work for hours yet, and the morning stretched unblemished before her.

  Most of the people she knew were blanks today, nothing posted or done yet. Jenny gave her phone one last look while she dressed, and saw that Amy had uploaded a picture. She opened it up to look.

  Footprints. Pointed like the marks at Hazel's, like the prints outside the bedroom last night where the light had come on and the policewoman had –

  – something. Jenny didn't want to put words to whatever she'd sensed. She could feel normality falling away from her shard by shard until she stood on the edge of a precipice, something wrong growing beneath the patterns of life no matter how she tried to drown it with men or music –

  – it wasn't just her. She couldn't have imagined it. First Hazel then Jack and they were linked, joined, part and parcel of the same creeping blackness. She should tell the police –

  – she'd tried the police the police had done nothing they were as fragile as anyone –

  – she needed to talk to Amy. No matter what had been said yesterday. Jenny needed to share the inside of her head before it burst.

  She commented, telling Amy to call her. Text wouldn't do for this.

  Jenny should have finished dressing after that, done her makeup, styled her hair. Instead she sat staring at the phone screen. Seconds crawled by.

  The phone trilled. Not Amy but that little moron Tom adding a comment of his own. What did he know? All Tom had seen of the world – as far as Jenny knew – was his own sofa and the local pubs.

  But if he did know something about the marks then that compounded it. Three people couldn't all be imagining things even if they did all know each other.

  Trilling. Phone ringing. Amy's name on the screen.

  "Hello?" Amy sounded nervous, as if she expected to be shouted at.

  "Hi." The phone was shaking in Jenny's hands. "So how're you?"

  "I'm not really okay." Words were coming from Amy wit
h the wrong pauses between them, as if she had to think about each one. "I just – I think I saw something, I don't know. Just this second I mean."

  "What're you on about?" Jenny had meant to ask about those prints upfront, but there was panic hiding under Amy's voice.

  "I'm – I'm at Jessica's, and, and, and she said Jack came back last night so I went to the kitchen to see." All those words came out as a block, and Jenny could hear Amy struggling for breath. "She said I shouldn't touch the light, but I turned it on and–”

  There was a pause.

  "And what?" Jenny demanded, her stomach beginning to sink. "What did you see?"

  "I don't – don't really know," Amy faltered. "I only saw a shadow, and then – then I turned the light back off and shut the door and I'm – I'm right outside now and I can't hear anything but I know it's still there."

  The words stuck with Jenny as if she already knew them. Her legs went weak under her, and she had to stagger to the bed and sit down.

  "Those prints." Her voice had become a croak. "Where did you find them?"

  "Um, outside the kitchen door." Amy sounded bewildered. "Last night. Why?"

  "I found some the same," Jenny said, "out-outside Hazel's window." She was picking up Amy's stammer, why was she doing that she never talked like that her voice was her strength. She needed control back, needed to fight this thing. "Let's meet up. I don't like what's going on, and I don't think you should be there by yourself." That was better, pushing her weakness onto the other.

  "I've got to – got to meet someone here," said Amy, "and I can't leave Jessica on her own, not with that, that, that in there. She won't come out of the house and it's not safe."

  "What if I come over there?" Jenny didn't have time to waste, and when Amy refused that too she stood up from the bed again, trembling with anger and adrenalin. "So when? We need to meet over this, can't you see that?"

  "What about Tom?" All Amy seemed to do was come up with excuses. "He wanted to talk about those marks too, didn't you see?"

  "Fine, I'll talk to him. When will you be free?" Jenny glared at her phone as if Amy could see her through it.