Lonely House

by Collins, James

  ‘I’m not listening,’ Pete says. ‘Drover, what are we doing? You coming?’

  ‘You see,’ Pam says, ‘the thing is, I’ve remembered where I’ve seen Liam Lamb before, haven’t I, Liam? Drover? Unnamed suspect number three-two-four-eight?’

  ‘Shut it,’ Drover grunts.

  ‘Has he told you about his past?’ she keeps on at Pete. ‘How long have you known him?’

  ‘Since school.’

  ‘Before or after he was inside?’

  ‘I know he’s done some bad things lady, but that’s because of the people he was with, that’s all.’

  ‘Told you everything, has he?’

  Pete can see that Drover is slowly starting to stand upright again, but it’s taking a while for him to recover from whatever she did to him. Pete is worried now, worried that they might not be able to stand up to this woman. She’s got this nasty schoolteacher tone in her voice and Pete doesn’t like that.

  ‘Did he tell you, for example,’ she says, ‘that he was taken in for breaking and entering once before?’

  ‘It was the travellers, it was one of them,’ Pete says, defensively. ‘He was the one who really did it but Drover took the blame for him ‘cos the man’s wife was going to have a baby.’

  Pam laughs. ‘He told you that, did he? And you fell for it.’

  ‘Please be quiet,’ Pete says. ‘Yes, he did, and, yes, I do.’

  ‘And the time he got dragged in for, what was it?’ She turns to Drover and it looks like she’s making sure he is still down and not creeping up behind her. She steps behind the chair so she is protected. ‘What was that other time I saw you dragged into the station, three-two-four-eight? Drunk and… No, it was ABH, wasn’t it?’

  ‘It was a fight,’ Drover says.

  ‘And it wasn’t his fault,’ Pete puts in. ‘He told me about that too. No secrets, see?’

  ‘How romantic.’

  ‘I knew about it. He was protecting some other boy, like he protected me at school.’

  ‘He’s been lying to you,’ Pam says.

  ‘No, he don’t do that.’ Pete swallows. The gun is getting heavy in his hands. ‘He won’t lie to me.’

  ‘He’s been lying to you.’

  ‘He’s not like that, he’s like me. Lying is wrong.’ Pete is confused. Drover wouldn’t lie to him.

  ‘It wasn’t a fight,’ she says, and folds her arms. ‘He beat up some children to steal their money and while he was doing it he cut one of them badly.’

  ‘Crap,’ Drover says. ‘Don’t listen to her, Pete. Give us those keys, missus.’

  ‘He was taken in and formally charged with causing actual bodily harm to a lad who was, what was it? Fourteen? And you were eighteen, was it? Wasn’t one of them a girl?’

  ‘No, he never did that,’ Pete insists. ‘Did you, Drover?’

  ‘Got off with it, of course. Just as he got off with the breaking and entering, which was him, by the way. It wasn’t some noble act to help a fellow diddycoy. It was him.’

  ‘Don’t call him that.’

  ‘Had some of his gypsy mates threaten the right magistrate, the right brief, sorted it. They stick together, people like that.’

  ‘Please don’t say these things.’

  ‘Yeah, shut your mouth, lady.’ Drover sounds like he’s got his wind back, Pete thinks. That’s good.

  ‘Come on, Drover, let’s go. We can walk.’

  ‘No, we have to leave in the car,’ says Drover. ‘We will be safe in the car.’

  ‘No,’ Lily says, and Pete sees she is sitting up and paying attention now, her eyes alert. ‘Don’t listen to Pam. Pam’s not what she likes to think she is.’

  ‘Keep quiet girl.’ Pam strides across to Lily and raises her hand to strike her.

  ‘Don’t!’ Pete shouts, and Pam must remember he’s got the gun because she stops, and just stands there, hand raised, shaking with anger. He feels his palms getting sweaty.

  Her daughter smiles up at her, unflinching. ‘She even told fibs to her own mum and dad, telling them she was going through college to be a police woman. They believed her. They even paid for it, everything they had. She never did, though. She just thinks she did. She’s crazy.’

  Pete is thinking that’s a horrible thing to have done, to lie to your mum and dad like that. He knows he is right to hate anyone who tells tales and cheats, so he feels better about holding this gun and pointing it towards the woman.

  Pam turns back to face him. Her expression hasn’t changed, she still looks cross. She ignores her daughter to the same extent as the girl takes no notice of her. She lowers her hand and smiles at Pete, then nods towards Drover.

  ‘You won’t be safe,’ Pam says. ‘Not with this criminal.’

  ‘He’s no criminal,’ Pete fires back. ‘He didn’t do nothing wrong.’

  ‘Are you going to lie some more, diddycoy?’ Pam snarls and throws a look to Drover. ‘Are you going to let your fool go on believing you are who you’ve been telling him you are? Why do you do that? What do you get out of keeping him at your coattails? You screwing him or something?’

  ‘Shut the fuck up, woman,’ Drover says, scowling at her.

  ‘I wonder, do you let him tag along for when you want something to fuck? Is that it?’

  ‘Don’t say that!’ Pete stamps his foot.

  The gun has dropped lower. It’s getting really heavy and his hand is slipping on the barrel now, but he is not going to let go of it. This woman is making him so angry with the things he is saying that he really wants to pull the trigger. He shuffles the gun back up into his shoulder and runs his finger up and down the trigger. He is sweating so much that it glides easily. He can tell that Pam has noticed, her pokey little eyes just watched his finger going up and down. She’s starting to look a bit worried. Good.

  ‘Or what, then?’ she says, and she’s looking back at Drover now. ‘Perhaps you get off on lying to dimwits, perhaps you just like having your own flunky who does whatever you say; some power thing. I expect you’re training him up to break into houses and slash teenagers with knives.

  ‘He didn’t do that!’

  ‘It must be some big ego trip, having someone even thicker than yourself to tag along with you. It makes you look intelligent does it?’

  Drover has had enough. He yells and runs towards her. He is there in a second but she must have anticipated him. She’s got an arm out, hits him in the chest, knocks him back, she’s got a foot that kicks out, catches him between the legs, he’s down again within a second and Pete realises he’s let the gun drop right down. It is no longer pointing at Pam. She turns back to him, not even slightly out of breath. She is ice cold and calm.

  ‘Sorry, Pete, but it’s true. He has been lying to you.’

  Pete just shakes his head. He wants to put the gun down and go and help Drover, but then she will get the gun. Drover needs him but there’s nothing he can do. And he’s also scared; scared about what’s going on, what he saw outside, what has happened to the man they shot, what has happened to Myles. There are two other people in the house and he doesn’t know where they are, or if they are okay. They might need his help.

  But what scares him most is that what this woman has been saying about Drover might be true. What if Drover has been lying to him? What if he doesn’t really like him? I mean, Pete thinks, he was nasty to me earlier and he hurt my throat in the hall just a little while ago.

  ‘Ask him,’ Pam says. ‘Ask him to tell you the truth. Has he lied to you all these years? Ask him why he is your friend. I mean, Peter, does he even like you? Why would someone like him want to hang out with someone like you?’

  ‘Because he is my friend’ he says, loudly, and he realises he is crying. But that’s okay. He doesn’t care about that. All he cares about is
Drover, and Pete doesn’t want her to say anything else bad about him.

  ‘Really?’ But she won’t give up. ‘And would a friend lie to you like he has? Would a friend really do that?’

  ‘He looks after me.’

  ‘Look at me, Pete, look at me.’

  Reluctantly, he does, and she has taken a step towards him.

  ‘I work for the police, I do not lie. I am like you. I don’t lie. It’s wrong, isn’t it? Yes, you know it is. You’ve been brought up as a good boy, I can tell that. You know what is right and wrong and you are right, like I am right. And he, this boy here, he is wrong. Wrong for you. Wrong for us right now. He’s lied to you since you’ve known him and he is lying to you now. He wants the keys so he can drive away on his own. He wants the gun so he can be safe. He wants the money for himself. He doesn’t want you. He uses you, Peter, that’s all. He uses you.’

  Tears are streaming down Pete’s cheeks. She sounds so reasonable now, so sincere. He can see Drover on his knees on the ground. He is not fighting back. He’s not reacting when she calls him a burglar and a diddycoy. He didn’t fight back when she said he’d hurt someone. Maybe he has been lying to Pete all this time. Maybe Drover isn’t his friend.

  ‘Give me the gun,’ Pam says, and it’s almost a whisper now. ‘And I’ll look after us all. I need the gun, Pete, we don’t have much time left.’

  ‘Drover?’ Pete says. He sniffs. ‘What shall I do?’

  ‘Think for yourself,’ Pam says, and takes another step towards him. He lets her. ‘Trust me, Pete, I know what I am doing. I’m a mother, aren’t I? Like your mother, I want what’s best for you.’

  ‘I don’t have a mother.’

  But she sounds like a mother would sound. She’s a woman and she is offering him comfort. He’s not had a woman do that before.

  ‘I didn’t know, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,’ she says, kindly. ‘I meant that I can take care of you. We’re in a bit of danger here, Pete, and I know the way out. He doesn’t. He might say he does but that’s because he lies to people.’

  She is out of focus and distorted through his tears. He can’t see the room properly. He can’t see Drover any more. He can’t see Lily, and he can’t wipe his eyes. They sting, tears run into his nose as he sniffs. They trickle into the corner of his mouth. He can’t see but he can hear. She is speaking calmly. Pete lets her sympathetic tone wash over him and comfort him. He’s making a fool of himself because he is crying, but this woman doesn’t care about that. She is going to help him even though he is weak and crying.

  ‘I truly am sorry, Peter,’ she says, softly, holding out a hand for the gun. ‘But Drover is no good for you.’

  ‘No!’ Pete screams. He brings the gun up, aims it at her, and fires.

  The trigger goes all the way back. He feels the tension, he hears the click of the pin.

  But nothing happens.

  Just a dull click and then, for a second, silence in the room. It’s long enough for Pete to hear Drover gasp and it’s just long enough for him to open his eyes and wipe them. He sees Pam laughing.

  ‘Oh, dear,’ she says, smiling broadly.

  But her smile vanishes in an instant as, from upstairs, comes the most frightening sound that Pete has ever heard.

  Twenty

  THE PAIN IN DROVER’S GROIN is forgotten the instant the noises start. At first he is aware that there is something shrieking outside, like a high wind cutting through wires. Then the sound becomes fuller, growing into a discord with many notes, too close and too sharp to be tuneful. Then he feels the floor vibrating, he feels the ground shaking with the sound, the vibrations travelling up from the foundations of the house, through the floor, through the carpet and into his legs. It travels upwards, churning his guts and then vibrates in his chest so hard that he can hardly breathe. He stands up, clutching at anything for support while trying to work out what this noise is.

  He sees Pete turn, face the door and back away. He sees Pam move fast to behind her chair, also facing the door. He sees Lily pull her feet up under her and sit back, smiling and looking as though she can’t wait to see whatever is going to come through that door.

  By the time Drover is on his feet, his heart thumping wildly, the sounds have changed. Suddenly quieter, the vibrations gone, it’s like whatever was screaming outside is now humming; still off key, still discordant, and still shrill, but no longer in a rage.

  Now the rage is taking place upstairs.

  Drover hears a man’s scream. It can only be Myles. He hears ‘No!’ yelled in horror and then a great cry of pain. With it comes the sound of something heavy crashing against the floor above.

  ‘The cartridges!’ Pam shouts. ‘Where are the cartridges?’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Pete says, and Drover can hear that he is terrified. He realises that Pete has left them in the boot of the car where he put them. Pete is now standing next to Drover. Drover can smell his sweat.

  ‘Don’t worry, Pete, I’m with you,’ Drover says.

  ‘Where are the fucking cartridges?’ Pam spins around and faces the boys.

  ‘In the car,’ Drover says.

  ‘Get them.’

  Again from upstairs the sound of a scream and this time there is a low, bestial roar with it, then the sound of someone lurching unevenly but quickly along the floor. This is followed by the ominous sound of slow heavy steps following. There’s a high whimpering, sobbing sound with one set of steps, and a low rumbling, grunting sound from the other. Outside the unearthly sounds of wailing continue.

  ‘I’m not going out there,’ Drover shouts back.

  ‘What is it?’ Pete is squeezing in beside Drover, trying to get behind him.

  ‘It’s what he started,’ Pam says, and points at Drover. ‘Go and get the ammunition, quick.’

  ‘Fuck off, lady.’

  The sound of something crashing to the ground again, a man’s scream of agony followed by a gut-wrenching ‘Help me!’ Followed by the sound of someone falling down the stairs, uneven, thumping, grunting, and another low snarl from above.

  ‘Quick!’ shouts Pam.

  Drover takes the gun from Pete; at least it is some kind of security.

  Lily starts laughing crazily, clapping her hands together, her eyes wide with excitement.

  Pam drags the armchair with her, her back as close to the wall as she can get, the chair her only protection.

  ‘Help me!’ Myles in the hallway.

  A huge crash from upstairs shakes the light fitting, followed by a roar. The sound from outside the house intensifies. It thickens as threads in many pitches coming together from all around meet and pulsate.

  The door handle rattles. Someone thumps on the door.

  ‘Please.’ Myles’ voice is weaker.

  Pete takes a step forward, Drover holds him back.

  Something starts scratching at the window. Screeching of sharp things on glass, thin, brittle thorns, or knives, or something, thinks Drover. Those things out there are trying to get in. What are they? He pulls Pete behind him and clutches the gun in both hands.

  An inhuman scream from upstairs somewhere.

  The sounds of the front door locks being undone, the chain unhooked, the door flying open - Myles escaping - immediately followed by the sounds of someone heavy thumping down the stairs and heading outside.

  There is a roar from right outside the window and then all sound stops.

  The silence, sudden and surprising, is more terrifying than what’s just gone before. Drover looks at Pam, her face is ashen and she is concentrating, listening, giving nothing away. He looks at Lily; she’s wide eyed with excitement. Mad bitch.

  And then everyone looks at the door as the handle rattles again.

  The door opens.

 
Myles stands in the hallway, a mess of blood and ripped skin. One side of his face is missing, an eye hangs loose. He has one arm up, holding himself up against the door frame, the other hangs ripped and broken at his side, torn from its socket it clings on by threads of flesh. His clothes are bloody, shredded, and some of his teeth are missing.

  He stares into the room as if he doesn’t understand what he is seeing and then staggers back towards the open front door.

  ‘No!’ Pete shouts, and Drover feels him trying to get past.

  ‘Stay there, Pete,’ Drover says.

  He takes two steps towards the door and stops, looks to the window. No sounds, but he can hear his heart thumping in his ears. He feels his stomach churning over at the sickening sight lurching about in the hall.

  Myles slowly turns to face the forest. Confused, he doesn’t know what to do. Numbed with shock, it’s as if he can’t figure out whether to go back outside or stay in the house. He looks back at Drover with eyes already dead, trying to figure out who he is, and then he takes a step towards the front door.

  ‘No!’ Drover shouts, and runs into the hall.

  Whatever did that to Myles upstairs is now out there. He gets a hand on the door and senses a presence, big and dark, just beyond the light spilling out to the porch. He feels vulnerable. He smells the stench of something decaying, hears the sounds of laboured breathing, and knows he is being watched. Drover feels eyes on him but cannot turn to look. He doesn’t want to see what’s out there.

  But whatever it is, it is drawing his thoughts from him. It’s like time has stopped, everything is standing still. He is in this glass tube that runs from him to the darkness. Beyond the glass is the forest-filled night, but that doesn’t matter now. The tube is starting to fill up with all the sad things he has ever known. He can see a woman, behind her a church, lots of gold and statues, and there is sad music playing on an organ. The woman is handing him over to someone. Rough hands, unfamiliar smells, and a great, overpowering sense of loss. Drover feels a lump in his throat and tears behind his eyes. He sees a young couple walking away, sees their backs only. They don’t look at him. He sees mud and dirt, and feels pain, across his back, between his legs, in his head. His tears flow and he feels sick. A hard lump of nausea wells up in his gut and he feels it rise up through his body and come pouring out of his mouth and into the tube ahead of him. It is waist deep in a jumble of words. Every lie, everything he has done wrong, every bad thought he has had has been pulled out from deep inside him and is writhing around on the ground outside the house. He wants to cry like he’s never cried before.