Whisper

by Michael Bray

  They sounded furious.

  18. REVELATIONS

  MRS. BRIGGS WALKED UP the gravel car park to the Old Oak, panting as she breathed in the fresh, invigorating autumn air. It was a Sunday, and as had been the case for the last hundred years, the pub was closed all day. Pulling her fur coat tighter around her neck, she waddled past the main customer entrance to the recessed door at the rear of the building and knocked sharply twice. She waited, breathing heavily and peering out from under her wool hat. The door opened and Will stared at her as he stood, arms folded and a half-smoked cigarette hanging limply from his bottom lip.

  “I wondered when you might show up,” he said, regarding her coldly and without welcome.

  “You and I need to have words young William. We knew this would happen again eventually.”

  Will shook his head. “I told you last time, and I’ll say it again. Keep me out of it.”

  “I would rather we discussed this inside.”

  “You aren’t welcome here, Anne. Please, just go home.”

  She didn’t reply, or make any effort to leave. She simply waited and watched him with a small half smile etched onto her wrinkled lips.

  “You’d better come in,” Will said with a sigh as he stepped aside.

  “Thank you,” she said, sweeping past him and leaving the spicy, overpowering scent of her perfume behind as he closed the door.

  “You remember the way. Straight up the steps,” he said as he closed the door.

  Mrs. Briggs nodded curtly, and began to ascend slowly, dragging her massive frame while the floorboards groaned in protest.

  “Do be a dear and fix me a drink,” she said over her shoulder.

  “The bar is closed.”

  She paused on the steps, and half-turned towards him. “I think under the circumstances, we can forget the old traditions. Come on, William. Your father never begrudged me the odd tipple.”

  He sighed and shook his head slowly. “ It’s only ten in the morning. Isn’t it a little early?”

  “Not for what we have to discuss it isn’t.”

  Will looked at her, and she met his gaze.

  “Go on up. I’ll bring the drinks,” he sighed.

  “There’s a good lad. Make mine a double will you?”

  He glared at her but she only smiled. He broke eye contact, and headed through to the bar.

  “Good lad,” she said, continuing breathlessly on her way.

  ***

  Burbain Hospital was in stark contrast to the rest of the sleepy town of Oakwell. A modern building of steel and glass it serviced not only Oakwell and Westland, but also the city of Blackhill. At any one time, it could house over six hundred patients and boasted some of the best healthcare in the country.

  Steve was in a private room and Melody sat beside him holding his hand. Wires and electrodes snaked out of his body to a vast array of machinery, constantly monitoring his condition. His heart had stopped three times on the way to the hospital and, combined with his severe hypothermia, he was lucky to be alive. His condition was now stable, but he was sleeping, and Melody knew that for her part she had been incredibly lucky, somehow escaping injury-free.

  She looked at her sleeping husband and stroked his hair, realising just how close they had both come to dying. The door opened softly and a slim, blonde-haired doctor walked into the room. He set his clipboard down on the small table by the door and checked the monitoring equipment.

  “You should be resting,” he said, looking at Melody kindly. She offered a weak smile.

  “I can’t sleep. I’m too worried. I thought he was dead.”

  The doctor smiled; the expression looked slick and well-practiced.

  “Well let me reassure you that the worst of this is over. I’m Doctor Davies. And don’t worry, he’s in safe hands. He actually has you to thank for saving his life.”

  Melody shrugged and stroked Steve’s hair. “I still don’t know why he was out there.”

  “Does your husband have a history of sleepwalking?” the doctor asked.

  Melody shook her head. “No. Not for as long as I’ve known him. I can’t imagine him walking out there in the cold without waking up.”

  “Oh you might be surprised. People do all kinds of things when they sleepwalk. We had a case once where a man drove his car whilst somnambulant and crashed into a tree. On another occasion, a woman didn’t know why she was gaining weight. She had been cooking and eating in her sleep.”

  “Really? Is that true or are you just telling me this to stop me from worrying?”

  “It’s all absolutely true. It’s actually fairly common. Don’t be so alarmed, you did a fantastic job, and even though all the machinery hooked up to him looks intimidating, he’s over the worst now. He just needs some rest.”

  “I was worried about brain damage.”

  Davies shook his head and offered another reassuring smile.

  “No danger of that. His neurological signs are as expected. We’ll keep him under observation for a few days, and then he can go home.”

  “That’s great. Thank you, doctor.”

  “That’s why we’re here,” he said with a smile. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m okay, just a little tired.”

  “Well maybe you should get some rest, especially under the circumstances.”

  “What do you mean?” Melody frowned.

  The doctor’s smile slightly and he picked up his clipboard.

  “I’ll have one of my colleagues come and speak to you soon.”

  “No,” Melody said, standing and looking him in the eye. “What is it? What’s wrong with me?”

  “I’m sorry, it’s not my place to discuss this with you.”

  “I’m giving you permission to tell me. What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong with you,” he said softly, “you’re pregnant.”

  It was a rare occasion that Melody was left speechless. However, as the magnitude of Davies’ words sunk in, she sat back slowly in the chair.

  “I’m sorry you found out this way. We picked it up during your examination.”

  “Are you certain? Could it be a mistake?”

  Davies shook his head.

  “ No. It’s confirmed.”

  “But… how could I have not known?”

  “It happens,” he shrugged. “Morning sickness and cravings aren’t an exact science. Not everybody gets them.”

  She frowned and shook her head.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, waiting patiently in the way only those who practice medicine seem able to do.

  “Yes… no. I don’t really know.”

  “We have people you can speak to. I could have one of the nurses come by and make an appointment if you like?”

  “No, no that’s okay. I just need some time to process this, that’s all.”

  “I understand. I’m sorry for breaking it to you in such a ham-fisted way.”

  “No that’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

  He smiled, but she could still see how awkward and uncomfortable his error had made him. He crossed to the door, opening it softly.

  “Well, I’ll leave you two alone.”

  “Wait,” Melody blurted, wishing she didn’t sound so sharp and desperate.

  “Yes?”

  “When I jumped into the water… is there any chance that I might have done any damage…?”

  “No, none at all,” he said, giving her a reassuring smile. “The paramedics said you were in remarkable shape considering the time exposed and the temperature of the water. You were lucky. Both of you.”

  She glanced at Steve, who was still blissfully sleeping.

  “I don’t feel so lucky.”

  “You’ve been through a trauma, and it’s been a long night. Try to get some rest. Things will feel better later, once you and your husband have had time to talk.”

  She nodded. He was right, and now that she thought about it, she was tired. Exhausted, in fact.

  “I
guess so. Is it okay if I sleep here?”

  The doctor shifted awkwardly. “I’m afraid you can’t. Hospital policy.”

  “Oh,” she said, unable to hide her disappointment.

  “Why don’t you go home and get some sleep? Tomorrow you can come back refreshed.”

  “Yes, I suppose that makes sense. Thank you, Doctor Davies.”

  “No thanks needed. You take care, okay?”

  “Yes. Yes, I will. Thank you.”

  The doctor left and closed the door, leaving Melody alone with her thoughts. She held her hands to her stomach, unable to see any evidence that she was carrying a child. Her skin was still flat and smooth. She realised that had she known she was pregnant before the accident, then she was quite sure she wouldn’t have leapt so haphazardly into the water after Steve, and if that had happened, she would now be a widow. The weight of the stress that had been building over the last few weeks suddenly hit her. She felt isolated and alone, regretting her impatience with Steve and her narrow-minded stubbornness.

  They had discussed the idea of having children but hadn’t made a decision either way on it, and so for the duration of their relationship had been careful. However, she knew that contraception wasn’t absolutely foolproof, and it seemed that they’d been part of that tiny percentage of couples where despite the care they’d taken, had found themselves with a child on the way. That alone was a huge life-changing event, but combined with her concerns over her husband’s mental well-being, the strange harassment messages and her suspicions about some of the local townsfolk, made any decision all the more important.

  It was all too much to think about, and with a shallow sigh, she stood and crossed the room, pausing by the door to look at Steve. Despite everything, she loved him, and that was enough to make her determined to get through whatever issues would come from recent events. She closed the door softly and headed home.

  19. SECRETS

  WILL’S APARTMENT SCREAMED BACHELOR. He had lived above The Old Oak for over twenty years, and although he’d had short-term relationships with a few women, things had never quite worked out for him. The signs were everywhere, from the single coaster on the table, to the tray containing last night’s microwave meal for one, discarded on the floor beside the armchair that showed significantly more wear and tear than the rest of the furniture.

  Mrs. Briggs sat on the sofa, hands placed palms- down on her knees. She watched Will coolly, and then took a sip of her gin and tonic. “You know why I’m here, don’t you, William?”

  Will sat in his chair; he looked awkward and uncomfortable and couldn’t help but fidget. “I can guess,” he said gruffly, “but I told you last time that I wouldn’t be a part of it. Not anymore.”

  “That’s not for you to decide, William. You know that.”

  “I can’t do this anymore. It’s already ruined my life. I’m done.”

  Mrs. Briggs took another sip of her drink, and then sat back and offered a narrow smile. “Must we always go through this? Do you think any of us wanted this?”

  “They seem like nice people,” he spat, quickly composing himself and repeating the statement with deliberate calm. “They seem like nice people.”

  “I agree, and I’m sure they are. However, you know as well as I do that we cannot interfere.”

  The old woman looked at William, her eyes bright with ancient knowledge. She leaned close and the light shifted on her face, giving her features a ghastly sunken appearance.

  “They will be fine, as long as they leave it in place,” she said, the smile growing on her face, yet still without humour.

  “And what if they don’t? How much more do I have to sacrifice? Hasn’t my family name suffered enough?”

  “Whatever it takes. Just like your father did. He knew the consequences of the mess your grandfather made. You should, too.”

  Will shook his head slowly. “Don’t you think I’ve suffered enough?”

  “Ah, haven’t we all?” Mrs. Briggs said, shrugging her shoulders for emphasis. “But the fact remains that we have to hold our silence.”

  “I don’t see why I should pick up the pieces for the actions of my ancestors yet again!”

  “It’s the way it has to be William.”

  “Keep your preaching to yourself. You have as much blood on your hands as I do.”

  “William, I don’t like it, but this is the way it’s always been. We took precautions this time; they’ll be fine…”

  “Only if it works!”he said, glaring at his guest. “What if you’re wrong?”

  “I… I don’t know…”

  Mrs. Briggs looked flustered, and greedily gulped down the rest of her drink. She exhaled and there was a heavy silence before she spoke again. “I understand that this makes you uncomfortable William. I really do, but we’ve been here before. We can’t blame ourselves for this. You would do well to keep that in mind.”

  “Oh, I think we can,” Will said sharply. “I think we are as much to blame as anyone. And every time someone moves into that damn house, and we don’t do anything about it….” He trailed off and lowered his gaze to the floor.

  “Things will be different this time. We took precautions; they are protected.”

  Will looked up at Mrs. Briggs, his eyes pleading as he nervously chewed his lip.

  “And the question still stands. What if it doesn’t work?”

  “It will,” Mrs. Briggs said, but she sounded uncertain, and Will straightened in his chair.

  “You don’t know either way what will happen, do you?”

  She said nothing, and was condemned by her silence.

  “Can’t we at least warn them, give them half a chance if they should decide to… interact with them?”

  “It’s not our place. Besides which, it’s too risky, not just for us but for the community. That’s the important thing here.”

  Will stood quickly, pointing an accusatory finger at Mrs. Briggs. “I refuse to live like this anymore. If you won’t say anything to them, then I will.”

  “You can’t!” she shrieked, lurching to her feet and nudging the table, sending her empty glass onto its side where it rolled in a lazy circle.

  “You can’t do that,” she repeated softly.

  “Annie,” Will said calmly “listen to you, listen to us. How long can we keep this up? Eventually word will get out and you, me and everyone else involved is going to pay for what we’ve done.”

  “I know,” sighed Mrs. Briggs, and she suddenly seemed tired and drained as she flopped down onto the sofa. She eyed the spilled glass wistfully and then picked it up and set it right. Will watched her carefully, but remained silent.

  “William, I understand how you feel, and perhaps you are right, but we can’t tell them too much. Let me speak to the girl, I can at least tell her about the cross in the tree, and how important it is to leave it there.”

  “No. Giving them some old wives’ tale about something that may not even work isn’t good enough. We need to do what’s right and tell them to go, to leave whilst they still can.”

  “As long as the cross isn’t removed, then they’ll be safe.”

  “So you keep saying. But let’s assume you’re right about it protecting them. It still doesn’t answer the question of what happens if they find it? Worse than that, what happens if they move it?”

  “I don’t know,” she said softly. “I just don’t know.”

  “And that’s exactly why we have to tell them.”

  “William,” Mrs. Briggs said, suddenly looking old and exhausted, “that’s exactly why we can’t.”

  ***

  Melody drove down the narrow, single lane road in silence. She had watched the sky grow from dark purple to a pale, hazy blue as the night became day and, as she neared Hope House, she realised just how tired she was. The car rocked and bounced over the uneven road surface, but she barely noticed. She glanced to the empty passenger seat, the seat where Steve should have been sitting.

  She wished he was the
re with her, but at the same time reminded herself that at least he was alive, that the outcome could have been much worse. She brought the car to a halt outside her home, and looked out of the window.

  The building looked ominous and intimidating, and for the first time saw beyond her initial sense of wonder and amazement. She rested her head on the steering wheel, Steve’s manic ramblings about the voices in the woods reverberating and swirling in her mind. She hadn’t believed it, but for some reason, it nagged at her. Steve was normally so level-headed and down to earth, that for him to be convinced there was something out of the ordinary was strange enough, but there were also the very real things that had been happening to them, too.

  The dreams, the threatening text messages, and the way that things she had put in a specific place moved to somewhere else of their own accord, and although it was possible that she could have moved them without realising, she was pretty sure she hadn’t. On top of that, there was the inexplicable terror as she’d stood at the top of the stairs, certain that there was something in the dark below watching her. It had bothered her so much, that she had almost convinced herself that there was some kind of presence in the house and had felt compelled to run, or go back and lock herself in the bedroom. Of course if she’d done so, then Steve would have drowned in the river, leaving Melody widowed instead of simply tired and cranky. None of it made sense to her.

  She got out of the car and walked slowly to the house, struck by how cold and uninviting it appeared now. Perhaps it was just a trick of the light, or her own admittedly high-stress levels, but something felt different to her, but she didn’t know what it was.