Lamplight

by Benjamin Appleby-Dean

  He needed a gesture, something to visit with. Flowers seemed to fit with Jessica, and so Terry headed for the florists. He bought roses because you couldn't go wrong with those, and they were dripping with metaphors if you needed to come over deep all of a sudden. Covering all angles.

  He decided to drop by the college halfway through the afternoon just to check he hadn't missed any work that'd get him pulled up, and the receptionist stopped him on the way in.

  "Terry Martin?"

  "Yeah?" Terry was in a hurry, nearly didn't stop.

  "There's some people here to talk to you."

  Terry was confused for just long enough, and when the doors opened and the fluorescent jackets and peaked caps appeared it took his brain another couple of seconds to process – shit, police, what're they doing here – and by then he didn't have any easy way out.

  "Mr Terry Martin?" It was a policewoman this time. Everyone seemed set on saying his name today.

  "That's me." No point in denying it, Terry thought.

  "We'd like to ask you some questions, if you can spare us the time." She was an older woman, lines in her face and dye in her hair, and looked like she'd never laughed in her life. Terry wound himself up, crushed the flower stems in one hand so they soaked through the paper.

  "Am I under arrest?"

  "No, but we'd like to speak with you." There was a threat hiding under the officer's words and her eyes made it explicit – behave now or regret it later, they said.

  For once in his life, Terry behaved.

  Tom's message arrived about half an hour later, and Terry glared at it. He didn't know where that little prat was and right now he didn't care.

  From what the police had hinted, Tom was the one who'd given them his name. Thanks for that, Tom. When Terry got out of this interview there would be prices to pay all round.

  He still had the flowers. They sat beside him on the interview table. Terry hated to look silly, and the petals seemed to be mocking him.

  "So you broke up with Hazel Langford the week before she was reported missing?" It was that older woman talking, the same who'd brought him in here. Stripes on her arm, but Terry didn't know what rank they meant.

  "I've told you, that wasn't me, yeah?" Terry tried to keep his voice calm, but the same questions had been coming over and over, and it felt more like a formal interview than the friendly chat he'd been promised. He'd have left already if it wouldn't look suspicious as all hell. "Steven's her ex-boyfriend, Steven Trammel."

  "The same Steven you got into an argument with over Hazel." This officer had a voice like an electric drill. She'd wanted to see his phone and his social media profiles, and Terry had thought better to flaunt it in their faces and show everything rather than playing cagey. Besides, what did he have to hide?

  "Nope," Terry said, putting his phone away again. "That wasn't about her."

  "Then who was it about?"

  Sod Steven for making everything public, giving them access like this.

  "Some other girl." Even keeping her name private reinforced the feeling that she was his, undiscovered.

  "I see." The policewoman was staring over the top of her glasses, and Terry looked her straight back in the eyes. Let them sweat.

  They were only taking an interest because of that business a few years back. That girl in the park. Nothing to it then, nothing to it now.

  "Can I make a phone call?" Terry asked, holding his phone up to remind them how little control they had.

  "You don't need to–”

  Someone knocked at the door, interrupting the officer mid-sentence. She got up, exchanged whispers with the man on the other side. When he left, she turned back to Terry.

  "Do you mind us keeping you another few minutes, Mr Martin? Make all the calls you like."

  "Maybe I do mind." Terry got up from his seat.

  "Then I'll need your address." A notebook appeared in the policewoman's hand like a conjuring trick.

  "I said maybe, yeah?" Terry sat down again, bristling.

  "I'll be back with you shortly." She paused at the door, smiled. "Thanks for your co-operation, Terry."

  Terry tried to lean back in the chair, but it was hard plastic and stuck up in all the wrong places. It was getting warm in here, and he worried the flowers might wilt. Some fool he'd look turning up with them dead.

  He'd better try texting Jessica again. The later he arrived without warning the weirder it'd look, and Terry couldn't risk weird right now – he needed to look safe and sane and stable.

  He texted: "Was on my way over to see you, got held up. How're you feeling?"

  Nice and casual.

  The door opened, and the police officer came back into the room, but this time there were other people with her – younger men and women, both in uniform.

  "Hello again Terry," she said. "Did you finish your call?"

  "Didn't need it after all." Terry sat back upright, face blank.

  "You might in a minute," said the young man beside her, and Terry saw him smirk.

  "You're still not under arrest," said the older officer, cutting back across her colleague with a glare, "but there's something important we need to ask you, and you may want to seek advice before answering."

  Terry shrugged. If he showed any cracks now they'd get the edge they were after, and he'd be stuck here all the longer. "Fire away."

  "When did you last see Steven Trammel?"

  He hadn't been expecting this question. Terry stumbled, let the truth slip. "In the pub a couple of nights ago."

  "Not since then?"

  Terry shook his head. He had a premonition of disaster, and only his pride kept him sitting there.

  "I should tell you, Mr Martin – " it was the young woman speaking now, reading from paperwork, "– that Mr Trammel has just been reported missing by his housemate. He apparently didn't come home last night."

  "Might you know anything about that?" The older woman's eyes were bright with triumph.

  Jessica could feel the terrors starting to come back.

  It had been better this morning. Everything was better with sunlight outside, and with Amy there she'd not felt quite so vulnerable. For a few glorious moments before those texts arrived, she'd almost believed it was over. Like she was safe.

  She'd been wrong, of course. There was no safety anywhere, even in daylight.

  That other woman, Cordelia, had finally gone. Jessica hadn't liked her, had taken against her motherly manner and her brisk walk and her scepticism. She'd claimed to 'have experience in these matters', and Amy had trailed after her like a lost puppy, but the shadows were smarter than any of them and had kept themselves hidden in the corners.

  Now it was afternoon. Amy had gone, promising to return before nightfall, but Jessica could already see the light dimming round the edges of the covered window. She needed to drink, to eat, but even leaving this room didn't feel safe anymore – in here she'd killed all the lights. In here she was protected from them, from him.

  Jack.

  She hadn't meant to let his name back into her head in case the rest followed, but Jessica couldn't help it and started to cry.

  When things down South had turned sour and she'd escaped here, he hadn't asked any questions. He'd taken her side without needing to know, even against Mum and Dad, never judging, always looking out for her.

  Now he was gone and she didn't know why.

  Looking at the soft prison she'd made for herself, thinking of the ruin of her brother's smile, Jessica almost wished they would get it over with and take her. There was nothing left anymore. She was hollow, doll-faced.

  A message popped up on her phone, followed by the doorbell. Amy.

  Huddling into her dressing gown as if it were armour, Jessica scuttled downstairs and opened the catch, keeping herself as far from the door as possible. No streetlights yet, but they'd be on any minute.

  Amy's green hair and anxious face appeared round the edge of the door. "Hello." There were red marks under her eyes, an
d her voice was hoarse.

  "Hi." Jessica shut the front door after Amy and leaned on it, trying to keep her breathing under control.

  "I'm back now," Amy said, pointlessly.

  "What happened with Jenny?" Jessica had hated that girl once, but it didn't seem to matter now.

  "She, um, had to go to work." Amy wasn't telling all of it, but Jessica took another look at the darkening sky outside and realised there wasn't time.

  "Come on," she said, heading for the stairs.

  Amy hung back, staying by the door. "Wait – wait a moment."

  Jessica turned, clinging to the banister. She could feel the room beckoning her. "What is it?"

  "I just – " Amy paused, ran her hands over her face and rubbed her eyes. "I don't think you're safe here. There's something in–” and she pointed to the kitchen.

  "That's why we need to get upstairs." Jessica took another step to demonstrate.

  "No, we don't." There were tears hiding in Amy's voice, and she hid behind her hair. "Look, I don't think it's light that's dangerous. I think it's this house. Whatever happened to Jack happened here, and it'll happen to you if you don't get out."

  Her words brought a panic welling up in Jessica, who looked at the front door and thought of streetlights and dark corners and passing strangers. "I – I can't," she said, taking another step upstairs. "Not tonight."

  Amy still refused to follow. "Why don't you come over to mine," she said, "like we planned?"

  "Maybe tomorrow," Jessica said, and thought about Jack again and wobbled on the stairs. Her head was filling up with tears. "Please, just stick around for one more night. I'll come with you in the morning." Maybe she would. Maybe daylight was safe – the shadows it cast were softer, more natural. She wasn't sure, but she couldn't be alone again.

  "I've," Amy tripped on her words, "I've run out of clothes again. I've got work in the morning and I, I haven't eaten properly. I saw some – something in–”

  Jessica remembered she hadn't eaten either. There was water in the bathroom taps, but everything else was in the kitchen, and the kitchen wasn't safe.

  Tomorrow.

  "None of that matters," she said. "You can change and eat tomorrow morning, and I'll come over with you. Promise."

  Amy was still next to the door, and Jessica had a sudden urge to try and haul her up the stairs.

  "I – I can't," Amy said, and when she looked at the kitchen door Jessica knew why. "I'm really sorry."

  "I can't–” Jessica started to say as well, but admitting it was too much. All she knew was that Amy was slipping away, leaving her alone in the dark.

  She took a step back down the stairs, then another. Hall carpet under her bare feet. Jessica flexed her toes, made her tears go away, made herself smile at Amy.

  "Please, I'd really like you to stay."

  "I already told you–” Amy began to say, and Jessica took another step forward. She could do this. Keep smiling, let the doll-front take over.

  "It'll be better this time," she said. "It's always better when you're here. It won't be weird again – I won't hide in the corner any more, I'll sit with you."

  Amy bit her lip. "I don't know."

  "There's spare blankets in the cupboard, I'll make the bed up properly." Jessica was soaring ahead. Another step forward, and she and Amy were quite close now.

  Amy shook her green head, uncertainty growing on her face. "I can see what you're trying to do and I appreciate it, but–”

  "Then thank me by staying." One last step, and Jessica looked straight into Amy's worried eyes. Her facade was up, encased in perfect plaster.

  "Um." Amy had run out of excuses, just like Jessica expected. Time to push it.

  Jessica reached out and took hold of Amy's hair, twiddling it between her fingers the way she remembered doing that other night. Managed to keep the smile going. Let a little embarrassment into her voice, like seasoning a recipe. "We could – we could share the bed."

  Amy reddened, and pressed back against the door. Jessica could hear her nails on the surface of the wood. She looked back into Jessica's face for a long moment, mouth opening and closing, then twisted her head and pulled her hair free of Jessica's grasp.

  Jessica could feel the moment escape. "Wait, I didn't–” but Amy was already pushing sideways past her, going for the door handle.

  "How could you?" she asked. "How, how dare you?" The tears were no longer hiding, spilling down Amy's cheeks. "After everything you said the other night?"

  She'd broken it. "I didn't mean–”

  Amy was still flushed, but with anger now. "Yes you did! That's exactly what you meant. You're just trying to use me."

  Jessica let everything drop – the smile, the eyes, her composure. "Please don't–” she started to say and changed it when Amy's eyes hardened. "I only wanted to–”

  Amy wriggled free and got the door open. "To what? To mislead me? Laugh at me later? After everything I've done for you today."

  "Please," Jessica said again, with no more effect than last time. Her tears were coming back as well. "I can't be alone."

  "So I'll – I'll do as well as anyone? It doesn't matter if it's me or not as long as you've got company?" Amy hopped backwards out the door, face puffy and red and tear-streaked.

  "No, it does matter–” Jessica pushed towards the door but stopped in terror at the sight of streetlights. "I – I–” she tried to say and lost her words altogether, retreating back behind the door to darkness and safety.

  "Goodbye." With that word Amy was gone, footsteps echoing all the way down Campion.

  Jessica leaned against the door and slumped onto the ground, arms around her knees. She didn't care if it locked. Let someone come in, be they stranger or burglar or anyone – to be attacked would be better than being alone a night.

  She'd ruined it. Everyone was gone.

  Burying her face, Jessica tried to drown herself in tears.

  She'd gone back to the bedroom, because where else was there to go?

  All traces of sunlight had vanished, and the window was once more invisible under blankets. The door was shut, all the bulbs were gone, and Jessica was safe. Safe and alone, which didn't feel anything like safety.

  She sat on the bare mattress and hugged herself, rocking backwards and forwards. It gave her something to do. Tilt, creak. Tilk, creak.

  Sleeping was out of the question, not without someone to watch over her. Who knew what the light might try if she closed her eyes? She needed to be alert, ready.

  The darkness distorted her memory of the room, swelled it to a cavern and shrunk it to a shell. Jessica felt as if she were lost at sea, floating in a bubble. The wind outside could be the sound of waves.

  Adrift. Alone. Vulnerable.

  The shadows could come back at any time. Jack could come back at any time and what would she do?

  No she was safe, all light was locked away and dead and wouldn't get in ever she was safe.

  Jessica kept swaying backwards and forwards, wondering how many hours left until dawn.

  Tomorrow she'd get out of here. Get herself some food, some air, some daylight. Find some company, someone to watch her back. This house wasn't safe – Amy had said that just before and Jessica believed her. She could sense the blackness spilling out of the kitchen, the source of the shadows, cancerous growths in the bricks and mortar. Jack had been a symptom, a harbinger, not the whole of the thing – she realised that now.

  Jack.

  Had her big brother sat like this in the dark, terrified? Had he been alone?

  He must have been.

  There was no-one who could have been with him when –

  – whatever happened, happened.

  Too many blanks. Too little she knew, and as she stared into the blankness Jessica could feel her thoughts slipping away like smoke. It was hard to retain a sense of perspective, remember if she was sitting upright or flat on her back or suspended from the ceiling. The things she was seeing wouldn't change.


  What if they had already got to her and she didn't know it? Would she realise? Was this hopeless darkness what it was like when the shadows came?

  Jessica swayed, nearly fell over. Regained her balance and her senses.

  Her phone sounded. To her starved ears it was a thunderbolt.

  Terry. Terry again, badgering, stalking, hunting her down even after everything he and Steven had done between them. Hadn't she been clear enough? How much more obvious could she be than 'don't any of you ever talk to me again?'

  Jessica looked at the message again and thought about being alone in this room for eight more hours. Alone with the sounds of wind and the creaks of the house and the sure knowledge of shadows.

  Terry would come over if she asked. He'd come with demands and smirks and expectations, and she wouldn't be able to get rid of him again, but he'd come all the same.

  Jessica pictured the feel and the sound of him there on the bed with her. He'd snigger at her hatred of light if he stuck by it at all. He'd touch her and trap her and taste her, and that after he'd contrived to drag her all over the internet the day before.

  Better him than alone like this? She didn't know, but part of her longed to be used, to let someone else have to deal with the state of her. To empty her mind and become a thing again, a doll.

  Just like she'd been accused of using Amy.

  Jessica's stomach churned.

  Had she wanted Amy there? She was sure she had but didn't know if she'd needed more than company from the green-haired girl, if there had been truth behind her clumsy seductions. Amy was a mess in her head, tangles and complications and feelings she couldn't put words to.

  What did she want?

  Someone. Anyone. Here with her.

  But not Terry. She was hollow enough already.

  Jessica tried to delete the message, but it wouldn't go. The screen stayed stubbornly bright, the words glowing like fireflies.

  She tried again, and all the notifications came up to say it had been deleted but the message was still there. She tried to switch the phone off but that had frozen too, button unresponsive.

  The phone screen seemed ever brighter, blue glow lighting up fragments of the room.