by H E Joyce
‘Oh, well, some coffee, perhaps?’
‘No, please...carry on with your meal.
‘What brings you out tonight, Mike?’ George said, retaking his seat at the table.
‘It’s a long story.’
‘Well you just sit down and warm yourself and you can tell us all about it, dear,’ Blanche said, leading him over to the fire. ’Now come along, you’re worrying me, what’s going on?’
Michael perched on the edge of an armchair and leaned towards the fire, warming his hands. ‘I’m afraid you’re not going to like it, Blanche.’
‘Let me be the judge of that,’ she said, joining George at the table.
‘Well, Laura’s thrown me out, for tonight at least.’
‘Why? What on earth’s happened? Did you two have a row?’
‘It’s a little more serious that just a row, Blanche,’ he said, pausing to choose his words. ‘There’s no easy way of saying this, but I’ve been… I’ve been having an affair. Oh, it’s over now, but it all came out, and…’
‘Oh Michael,’ she said, the disappointment clear in her voice. ’How could you do that to Laura? You of all people.’
Michael bowed his head, resting it in his hands. The room seemed to be pressing against him and the nausea rose again in his stomach. He felt terrible.
‘I’m ashamed of you,’ she said quietly. ‘Very ashamed.’
‘Me too,’ he mumbled.
George didn’t say a word but solemn faced, picked up his knife and fork.
‘But why, Michael? Laura’s such a lovely girl.’
‘I tried to finish it, but…’
‘Well it doesn’t sound like you tried hard enough. That poor girl.’
‘I haven’t given up yet, Blanche. I intend to make it right between us. Look, maybe I should go,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry.’
‘Well where are you going to stay?’
‘I don’t know, at the office I guess.’
Blanche sighed. ‘You can’t sleep in your office. That’s ridiculous. I’ll make a bed up for you, and you can stay here for the night.’
‘No.’ He stood up. ‘I can’t expect you to put me up, it wouldn’t be right.’
‘Nonsense. We’re your friends. But you make sure you put things right with Laura tomorrow, you hear? I knew there was something bothering her, I just knew it.’
He wandered over to the window. ‘I don’t deserve her, Blanche, I know that.’
‘This… this affair, it’s definitely over is it?’
‘It’s over, yes.’
‘Well then,’ she said. ‘It’s not too late to save your marriage, is it?’
He turned to her and attempted a smile. ‘I really hope not.’
‘Of course it isn’t. It’ll take a while for you to regain her trust, and who could blame her, but you can do it if you put a mind to it.’ She rested her fork on the side of her plate. ‘Michael, do you mind me asking who…’
‘Blanche! That’s enough,’ George said suddenly. ‘Give the man a...’
‘It’s fine George, honestly,’ Michael interrupted. Beth Anderson.’
‘Well.’ Blanche sat back in her chair and folded her arms. ‘I knew you had a little thing going with her for a while, but then you broke up when you met Laura and...’
Michael looked at the floor. Somehow, admitting all this made it sound a million times worse.
‘Oh, Michael. Please tell me you actually broke up with her.’
‘I tried to, believe me; I tried. Anyway, that’s only half of the story. I didn’t know any of this myself until a couple of days ago you understand, but by all accounts, Beth isn’t all she seems. She appears to be the daughter of Laura’s late husband. Worse still; she apparently has a history of mental problems. She’s been calling Laura, threatening her, that sort of thing. She’s dangerous.’
‘Why on earth would she threaten Laura?’
‘That’s where it becomes complicated.’ Michael walked over to the table. ‘What I’m going to tell you now mustn’t go any further. Laura’s done nothing wrong, but you know how it is in a small town like this, people jump to conclusions, and more often than not, the wrong ones.’
‘You have my word, and George’s, doesn’t he dear?’ she said, turning to her husband.
‘Yes, absolutely,’ said George, suddenly intrigued.
‘Well, as I said, Laura has done nothing to be ashamed of; it was purely in self-defence. Her husband was a brute and a drunk, you see. He beat her up pretty bad one night; he would almost certainly have killed her. Anyway, she used the only way she had of stopping him – she shot him. He died. She was acquitted; there was never any question of her carrying out such a thing without due cause.’
‘Oh my lord,’ gasped Blanche, ‘the poor girl.’
‘Anyway, we think that Beth followed Laura to Brooksville with the sole intention of getting revenge for her father. Laura never even knew she existed until now. So you see, it’s a mess; a god awful mess.’
‘Sound’s like this Beth woman has been playing you for a fool, son,’ said George.
‘Yeah, she has. And wrecked my marriage in the process.’
‘Well, we don’t know that, do we? Give Laura time, she’ll come round.’
‘Maybe. Anyway, there it is in all its lurid detail.’
‘You call her in the morning. Tell her you’re sorry – and mean it!’ Blanche said. ‘Now, why don’t you ...’
Suddenly, they were plunged into darkness. As George stood and flicked the light switch on and off, muttering under his breath, Michael looked out at the street. The power to the entire town and all around the bay was out. With a sigh, George groped around in the dimming glow from the fire, finding his way by touch and from memory, until he found a number of torches, candles and matches, which had been laid out on a dresser in preparation for the storm.
The small private crafts and the fishing boats were being tossed around like matchwood; one yacht was already listing badly and sinking. The cliff below Brooksville Heights was barely visible.
‘I hope Laura’s okay,’ Michael said quietly. The thought of her in the house without him was bad enough. But in the dark?
‘Why don’t you give her a call now,’ Blanche said. ‘If nothing else, it’ll show you’re worried about her.’
‘I will,’ he said, picking up the phone. He jabbed his finger a couple of times on the call button, then gave up. ‘It’s dead; the phones are out too.’ He sighed. ‘I should go up there.’
‘You can’t Michael, not in this storm; it’s too dangerous,’ said Blanche.
‘I’m going, Blanche, I have to.’
Twenty
‘Well, I guess it’s just the three of us tomorrow. I have no idea what I’m going to say to Jody when he finds Michael isn’t here in the morning,’ said Laura, as she and Sally continued preparing for the Thanksgiving lunch.
‘I wouldn’t worry too much; kids are pretty resilient.
‘Yes, I envy that.’
‘How are you feeling now? Any better?’
‘No, not much, I think I’m still in shock. I still can’t take it in.’
‘That’s only natural, but it’s better that you found out.’
Laura nodded, trying not to think about how long it may have gone on for had she not hired Frank. ‘I just wish I understood why. I mean, is there something wrong with me?’
‘Don’t start blaming yourself, Laura, there’s only one person at fault here.’
‘Yes, I know, but I can’t believe how stupid I’ve been all this time. I mean, who wouldn’t know their husband was having an affair? Anyone else would have seen the signs long ago, but not me, oh no.’
‘Why would you have? No one would expect their husband to be having an affair three months after getting married, and he’s been doing it behind your back all along. It’s not as if there was a sudden change in his behaviour.
Sally was right; she knew that. Even so...
T
he lights flickered off and on momentarily; stayed on for a second or two, flickered again, and then stayed off.
‘Well that’s all we need,’ Laura said. ‘The storm must have knocked out the power lines.’
‘Maybe it’ll come back on soon.’
‘I wouldn’t bet on it.’ She felt her way around the kitchen, familiar with every inch, until she located the cupboard, which she had stocked up with spare batteries, candles and a storm lamp the week before. She pulled some flashlights out and put them on the work surface, switching one on and directing it towards Sally.
‘Glad you came?’ Laura asked, half grinning at her sister.
‘Thrilled! She paused for a moment. ‘Seriously though, I’m glad to be here with you. On top of everything else, I can’t imagine how you would have felt being in this rambling old house on your own in the dark.’
‘I’m glad you’re here too, I really am. Anyway, it looks like we might be having lunch on our laps by the fire tomorrow. I’ll light this storm lamp.’
‘Shall I pour us some wine?’
‘Now that’s what I call a good idea,’ Laura said. ‘I’ll be back in a moment, I’m just going to check on Jody.’
‘Okay, Red or white?’
‘Red would be wonderful.’
By the beam of a flashlight, Laura went up the stairs and crept into Jody’s room. Although the wind was howling like a thousand banshees outside, and a ghostly high pitched whistle was blowing through the tiny gaps of the old wooden sash window frames that rattled wildly, he appeared to be sleeping quite soundly. She tip-toed over to his bed, pulled the Spiderman cover up around him and stroked his hair. He shifted a little as she did so, but didn’t wake.
It wasn’t until she was about to leave his room that he called her.
‘Mom?’
‘Yes sweetheart,’ she said, returning and kneeling by his bedside.
‘Can you turn the light back on in the hall? It’s too dark.’
‘I know it is, but the power’s out darling. I’ll leave this flashlight by your bed, how about that?’
He nodded. ‘Can you stay until I go back to sleep? I don’t like the storm.’
‘Sure, you bet I will.’
‘I don’t like the sound the wind makes, Mom.’
‘I know,’ she said, kissing his cheek. ‘But we’re quite safe.’
‘You swear?’
‘I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die.’
Sally sipped her wine and peered out of the kitchen window at the unremitting forks of lightening that filled the sky and momentarily illuminated the otherwise pitch-black landscape. Earlier she had spotted a transistor radio on the kitchen counter and switched it on; it was already tuned into a local station. The reception was broken but she could just make out reports about the storm hitting a wide area and causing widespread damage and disruption. There were already unconfirmed reports of a couple of deaths.
As she listened to the reports, occasionally taking a drink of her wine, she thought she heard a knock at the door. At first she dismissed it. There was so much noise created by the wind, it was most likely to be debris battering the house or the door rattling, but then she heard it again. It seemed different, a more regular, rhythmic sound. Although unlikely in such a storm, it crossed her mind that if someone was there, the only person it was likely to be was Michael, or perhaps Frank Doyle returning.
Sally put her glass of wine down and went to the hall. She listened for the knocking again, standing by the door for several moments, but nothing more came. It seemed as if the wind had been playing tricks. Nevertheless, putting her face close to the door, she called out: ‘Is anyone there?’ There was no answer. By pulling and pushing at the door, she tried to imitate the sound she believed she had heard, but it was in no way similar.
She unlocked the latch, and leaving the door chain in place, opened the door a few inches. Through the darkness, she could see nothing, no one on the porch; she shone her flashlight through the gap, but still there was no sign of anyone present. Curious, she released the chain and cautiously opened the door and a gust of wind grabbed it with such force that it blew inwards. For just a moment she was distracted as she lost her grip on the door, but a moment was all it took.
The slat of white painted wood, about three feet in length that had once been part of the porch came from nowhere, but parallel with Sally’s head. The wood hit her so hard it smashed into two pieces on contact. Sally was barely conscious; she lay on the floor moaning, her head bleeding, as she was dragged unceremoniously by her legs to the basement door, and then tossed brutally down the stairs. There was no feeling of remorse, no emotion of any kind from her attacker; Sally had simply got in the way.
Jody eventually fell asleep; he had fought to keep his eyes open but couldn’t any longer. Laura left the flashlight by his bed as she had promised, and without any light, gingerly made her way across the landing and down the stairs. The howl of the wind and the cracks of lightening seemed to be coming at more regular intervals, and worryingly close.
As she felt her away along the hallway to the kitchen, it appeared the storm lamp had gone out; there was no light at all, not even a glow from a flashlight, and apart from the sound of the raging storm there seemed to be an unnatural silence about the place.
‘Sally?’ she said, almost at the kitchen door. There was only silence.
She felt her way around the kitchen to where she knew she had laid the spare flashlights, found one and switched it on. She instantly screamed and fell backwards as, in a split second, she saw a figure standing in front of her. It was not Sally, but the face of someone her brain had instantly recognised. She fell to the floor, scrabbling for the flashlight she had dropped, and her heart thumped in blind panic as she called out for Sally again.
The woman, as if to heighten the fear in her prey, didn’t speak and didn’t move, but stood in the darkness, relishing every moment of anguish she was causing, prolonging Laura’s agony as long as possible. Laura sobbed uncontrollably, eventually huddling on the floor and in a corner, her body trembling with fear.
Occasionally the bright flashes of lightning gave Laura a momentary glimpse of the woman. She looked hideous, her lank, wet hair sticking to her face, running make-up smearing across it, as she stood grinning with a look of insanity. Laura tried to regain some sort of composure, controlling her breathing, lowering her heart rate as best she could before finally finding the courage to speak.
‘Victoria, what do you want? Please, just talk to me.’
‘What do you want to talk about, Laura?’ came her voice out of the darkness.
Laura paused. ‘Where is…’
‘Your sister? I’m afraid she’s rather dead right now.’
‘No! Please God, no! Laura cried.
‘Stop your whimpering, you’re pathetic.’
‘How did you know she’s my sister?’ Laura asked through her tears.
‘I know everything about you, Laura, probably more than you know about yourself. I’ve made it my business to know. Oh, and by the way, your detective friend is dead too, so don’t expect anyone to come to your rescue. It’s not gonna happen.’
Laura bit down on her lip. ‘Why? What have I done to you? What have they ever done to you?’ she sobbed.
‘I think it’s time we had some light, don’t you?’ the woman said, igniting the storm lamp. ‘There, that’s better, now I can see you. Now get up.’
Laura slid her back up a kitchen cupboard until she was upright. She could see the long knife, its blade covered in blood. ‘It was you that made all those calls wasn’t it? The wreath, it was you. Why, Victoria? I was trying to help you.’ Laura paused before attempting to make a sudden dash for the door, but her path was blocked. ‘I want to see my sister, where is she?’ she said, now with some confidence and authority in her voice.
‘Uh uh, I’m afraid not.’ She pointed the knife at her. ‘Oh, and please, stop calling me that. She’s served her purpose, but now she’s gone.
You can call me Beth now.’
‘My God, of course!’ Laura considered the revelation before speaking again, more to herself than to the woman. ‘Of course,’ she said, ‘I’ve been a fool, I should have seen the signs.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘You’re ill, Beth, you need professional help.’
She laughed. ‘Maybe that’s true, but it’s not going to help you.’
‘Please,’ Laura said, trying to hold Beth’s stare, ‘let’s talk about this.’
‘There’s nothing to talk about. You murdered my father and you have to pay.’
‘I didn’t murder him! He was attacking me! I had no choice, he would have killed me.’
‘You took him from me,’ she spat, stabbing the knife deep into the wooden kitchen surface, twisting it around tensely as she spoke.
‘I know, and I’m so sorry about that. You have no idea how sorry I am.’
‘Sorry? You’re sorry?’ she said, moving ever closer. Laura backed away slowly, taking care not to make any sudden movements.
Beth, confident that she had the situation fully under her control, placed the knife down and picked up a full glass of wine. She drank it all with one gulp, never taking her eyes away from Laura.
‘I’m sorry, was that yours,’ she said sarcastically. Laura didn’t respond. ‘Where’s my little brother? Asleep I suppose.’
‘Don’t you dare touch him,’ Laura hissed.
‘Don’t worry yourself, Laura, I’m not going to hurt Jody. He’s going to live with Michael and me. It’s going to be wonderful, just the three of us.’
‘That’s not going to happen.
‘Oh, you’re so wrong. It will happen. Michael loves me, you see, and once you’re out of the way, we’re going to be happy together. But not until I’ve had my fun with you, of course.’
Laura didn’t flinch. ‘If you’re going to kill me, why not just get it over with. You have the knife and I have nothing, so come on, kill me if that’s what you want.’
Beth smiled. ‘Calm down, Laura, there’s no hurry, no one’s coming to your rescue. I told you, I want to have some fun, and I want to see you suffer. Don’t you think I could have killed you whenever I wanted to? Of course I could have. There have been countless times I could have killed you. No, now we’re just going to have a cosy little chat until I’m ready and you’re going to realise how it feels to have everything taken from you.’ Beth filled the glass with wine again and also another one, handing it to Laura. ‘Drink up, Laura,’ she said, ‘a toast to, now let me think… Yes! Of course, a toast to happy families. Oh, and let’s not forget of course – to your forthcoming death.