Sacrifice (Sulham Close Part 1)

by Lisa C Hinsley

  The house was dark, the moonlight only penetrated so far. Remembering something she’d seen earlier, Louisa felt around on the bookshelves until her hand wrapped around the rubber casing of a torch. With a trembling hand, pointed it at the floor and turned it on. The beam wasn’t too bright. Bonus. Nobody came jumping out of the shadows. She began her search.

  Kellie wasn’t quite a hoarder, but she came close. Counters were cluttered with that silly New Age stuff she seemed to love so much. Beads, necklaces, candles, crystals, books on idiotic theories about finding your inner peace, so well-read they needed replacing, and other hippy rubbish littered the surfaces. Louisa rifled the kitchen, opening drawers, cabinets, even checking through the overstuffed bookshelves, but no remote. Back in the hall there had been a small table. She went back through, but this surface was surprisingly clear. A small drawer held only a pen and pad of paper.

  “If I had a remote to the gate where would I keep it?” she muttered as she stepped into the living room. After the clutter of the kitchen she was surprised to find a minimalistic room. A sofa, a chair and a television was the extent of the furnishings. Maybe Kellie was wise to what Louisa might do and had taken the remote with her. Louisa twitched the curtains, checking to make sure Kellie wasn’t on her way back. If she was going to get away without being caught, she’d have to forget the remote and go.

  She stood in the kitchen by the back door scanning the surfaces one last time. Dammit, Mark wasn’t going to be pleased with her. After putting the torch back where she’d found it, she stepped out into the night and quietly closed the door behind her.

  Beyond Kellie’s house an expanse of lawn led up to a thicket of rhododendron bushes. Behind that the wall separated them from the woods. The brick wall was cool on her back as she leaned against it and tried to work out what to do. The back gardens were open to each other, with no real cover before the line of trees. To her left stood the whitewashed farmhouse, and the direction she needed to head.

  She had to look casual, like she belonged. Just one of the neighbors taking a walk. She straightened, threw her shoulders back, and stepped out onto the lawn. Keeping her feet under control was hard. She wanted to run, to bolt for the shadows, and get out from under the harsh glow of the full moon. One step at a time, halfway across the grass now. She didn’t dare to glance back, who knows what she’d find. Maybe a face would be at a window, or the silhouette of someone hanging from a noose.

  No fences or hedges separated the properties. Louisa tensed at the exposure of her position, three-quarters of the way to the thicket, nothing else within her vision moving. Her breath quickened.

  Three more steps, she thought. Don’t run, don’t run when you’re so close. She half-expected someone to yell out, “Get back here!”

  But then she was at the thicket. Dead leaves and twigs carpeted the ground; small prickly shrubs grew in between the rhododendrons while oaks and chestnut trees loomed from the other side of the wall. Louisa collapsed against an enormous thick trunk, the tree long dead, and surveyed the house she’d left behind. Kellie had gone next door, and the downstairs lights blazed out of the windows, not a single curtain drawn. She involuntarily put a hand to her mouth and stifled a gasp. The old man, Harold, paced past in what might be the living room. Had he turned once, and caught sight of her movements across the lawn…? Her hand slipped from her face to her heart, feeling the hard knocks beneath her ribs. Then down to her tummy where the baby kicked and struggled. “Please be still, Little Feet,” she whispered. “You don’t want Mummy to be sick.”

  Louisa picked her way over a fallen sapling; she was far enough into the thicket to be hidden now. Happy she would be hard to spot, she made her way through the scrub, passing the farmhouse and along to the end of the stretch of grass. Pete’s car was still missing from the drive of his house. Louisa took this as a good sign, things seemed to be going her way. She gave two superstitious knocks on a nearby branch. They should leave before he got back, she decided. Pack Mark’s rucksack full of food and some of those new clothes the wardrobe was full of. Take a few things to sell, and run.

  From where she was hidden, the brick wall surrounding the little garden concealed most of the cottage. Staying hidden in the bushes, she continued on her sheltered path. Her face lit up when the gate came into view, and she broke from the cover of the thicket. The handle was stiff. Mark had made it look easy earlier. She struggled with the latch, snatching nervous glances around to be sure she was still alone. She’d have to find another way in, she thought, just as the metal parted with the rust that held it in place, and the gate creaked open. With a grateful sigh, Louisa slipped within the safety of the cottage’s garden.

  Mark appeared at the back door the second time she knocked.

  “Babe!” he grabbed her and pulled her inside. Mark locked the door and tugged a long curtain across the doorway, only pausing to plant a kiss on her lips. “Thought you were never coming.”

  “Kellie took ages with me, and then I had to wait to escape the house. She’ll never know I’m gone,” Louisa said, and gave him a hug.

  “Thought they’d taken you back to Reading.” He nuzzled his nose into the crook of her neck. “I missed you.”

  “Couldn’t drag me so far away from you… oh, the baby’s kicking.” She grabbed his hands and placed them on her belly. “Have you started packing?”

  “Not yet. I’ve been thinking.” Mark led her into the living room, and collapsed on one of the sofas, head in hands. “If Pete really does run this program – and the letter makes me think it’s real – I’m not so sure I can clean myself up if we go. Not without help. And besides, Pete’ll make sure I’ve a job in a year. How else is a guy like me supposed to get a break like that?”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me. It’s a set up!”

  “No, no… I’ve got a sixth sense going about this. A good feeling. The body in the bathroom is a horrible fluke.” He took the letter from his pocket. “Look at it. He’s helped all these men. I would be a much better father dry. And a year away is not nearly as bad as being a bad father for all of his life.”

  Louisa shook her head, eyes on the paper. What if he was right? It would be like ripping up a winning lottery ticket. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe it.” She thought for a moment. “Is this Billy’s writing?”

  Mark took the paper from her and shrugged.

  “Pete could have faked all the signatures. To make you feel more at ease.” Louisa lowered herself down onto the sofa, next to Mark, and stifled a yawn.

  “Been a long day, hasn’t it, babe.” Mark stood up. “Did you find a remote for the gate?”

  “No.” Louisa pulled the curtain aside to see if the gate had miraculously opened. It hadn’t. “I searched everywhere, but it wasn’t there. My guess is she took it with her when she went over to Harold’s.” She let the curtain drop back into place. “Will you please pack? We’ll figure out how to clean you up by ourselves. Please?” Louisa knelt on the floor in front of Mark and took his hands.

  He stared back at her for a moment, then let out a long sigh. “Okay, fine. You win. First light we’ll make our escape.”

  Louisa nodded. “I’m sorry. But everything about this place is wrong. Even you said your spider senses were tingling.” An image of the body, the hand ready to drop to the floor, flashed before her eyes.

  Mark bent down and pressed his lips softly against the side of her cheek. “First light.” He took her hands, and kissed them each on the palm. “I am yours.”

  “And you are mine,” Louisa echoed, her eyes on his. If the world exploded, if all life came to an end, so long as she had Mark, and his eyes to gaze into, everything would be good, she thought.

  “Come on.” Mark pulled her out from the grasp of the sofa. “I found a hot water bottle and put it in the bed already.”

  “We can’t risk getting comfy.”

  “But I’m not letting you go cold, either. Try and get a little bit of sleep before we leave.”

/>   Louisa allowed him to lead her to the bedroom.

  “Obviously I couldn’t find any pajamas for you, but I think this’ll do.” Mark opened up one of the two cupboard doors and pulled out a pair of sweat pants and a large t-shirt.

  “Did you find out what was making the noises?” Louisa asked, eyeing the second cupboard warily.

  “I’m sure it was the wind,” Mark said. He stared at the door for a moment “I’ve searched three times now. Nothing’s inside, just white walls.”

  “Strange,” she said, clutching the clothes to her chest.

  Louisa dressed, suppressing another yawn as she pulled the shirt over her head, and stretched it over her distended stomach. Mark waited under the covers. He patted the bed and blew her a kiss. She climbed in beside him, nestling up against his body. For the first time in months, she was so warm, locked in a house – and yet nervous flutters filled her stomach. “You sure we shouldn’t go now? Between us we can get me over that gate, I’m sure of it.”

  “I’ve been watching the other houses on the yard. The lights are on everywhere. We’d have to wait until they all settle down for the night. Besides, trying to get you over that gate would be too dangerous. Imagine if you slipped at the top and impaled yourself on one of the spikes?”

  Louisa tried to wipe the negative thoughts from her mind. Enjoy the here and now. Enjoy Mark and his warm arms around her belly. Enjoy the hot water bottle in the small of her back, and the soft mattress underneath. And believe, pray, Pete wouldn’t shop Mark to the police. The baby kicked as her eyelids drooped.

  “I am yours,” Mark whispered, and her world went black.

  Chapter 9

  Pete thrust hard into Serafina. Again and again, so her breasts jiggled beneath him. Tan nipples swung in and out of view, rubbing against his chest as he bore down on the Polack. A wave of pleasure flooded his body, and he stiffened, shoving himself deep inside her. The woman remained silent the entire time, her legs loose over the edge of the bed. She had tilted her face to the side, to stare off at the wall.

  The last of his cum pumped into the Polack, but before climbing off the woman he studied the sharp cut of her cheek bones, the slender curve of her neck. Her breasts parted wide in the middle, yet still remained pert. Bitable. Pete ran his tongue over his lips, resisting the urge. Her screams would escape the thick walls of the hotel room. Instead, he traced the tip of his finger over her skin. Sera’s eyes were on his now, wide brown eyes filled with fear. His dick twitched, still inside her. The fright coming off her was sexy, turning him on all over again, stiffening him. The clock on the wall said eleven-thirty. No time for a third fuck.

  A rivulet of sweat trickled down the side of her face and towards her collarbone. Pete traced the damp path, found another on the opposite side of her head, and followed that with a finger from his other hand. Slowly his fingertips swirled in towards her neck. There was more than a hint of worry in her eyes now. He nursed the terror, wrapping both hands around her slim neck. He gripped for a few seconds. Long enough for her chest to try and expand, instead fluttering against his stomach. The woman showed more life in those moments than she had since they entered the hotel room. Her arms, previously spread out at her sides, sprang up and beat his back. Her knees flew up and jammed against the sides of his buttocks. And the slightest breath of a scream squeezed past his grip.

  “Oh, you don’t want to do that,” Pete said.

  Her eyes widened almost until it seemed they would pop. Made him think of a deer he hit the winter before, how it froze on the road, its eyes fixed on the lights before the bumper of his car struck. He was her light.

  “The giver of life, the taker of life,” he whispered, his mouth close to her ear. Then he relaxed his grip, and let out a laugh. “Unfair.” He was hard again, throbbing stiff and ready to go. He jabbed into her a couple of times, his eyes on the clock as the seconds ticked by. “Thanks,” he said, and climbed off her.

  Pete went straight into the bathroom and into the shower, washing the woman from his skin, thinking of midnight, thinking of the sacrifice.

  Serafina lay almost as he’d left her. Still naked, she’d drawn her legs up, her arms wrapped around herself. Pete dressed quickly, checking his reflection before grabbing his money clip off the table. He peeled a dozen or so twenty pound notes from the wad, placing them with the keycard. “Rooms paid up.” He glanced at her for a reaction. But she remained still, her eyes vacant. “Sleep tight, gorgeous,” he said, and left.

  Chapter 10

  “Quarter to twelve.” Kellie turned away from the clock on the wall. The sound of the pendulum echoed; tick tock, tick tock, deepening until the resonance of the passage of time filled the room. Resisting the urge to put her hands to ears, knowing muffling would do nothing to stop the beat.

  Tick.

  Tock.

  Nothing moved on the yard. The lights were off in the cottage. The sacrifice had gone to bed not long before. Now that corner of the yard was dark, black. Wouldn’t be long now. The screams. Seemed like she’d been hearing screams all her life. Dozens of years of death. Probably more, Kellie didn’t want to count, to account for the scores of murders she had been party to.

  “Fourteen minutes,” Harold said.

  Kellie acknowledged him with a nod, and forced herself away from the window. She joined him on the sofa, leaning up against him, taking his hand in her own, and holding on so tight her knuckles turned white.

  They sat in silence. Harold had locked Eloise in the upstairs bedroom. She’d been ‘having a moment’, and when Harold closed the door, Kelli had caught sight of Eloise pacing back and forth. She might be looking for her mother, her son. People long dead and gone. Creepy though, Kellie didn’t like to stay, made her feel like a peeping Tom, witnessing someone else’s self-destructing world.

  The screeching of tires made them both start. They hurried to the window. Pete’s car tore into the yard and came to a standstill up against the side of Sulham Farm. Pete climbed out of the car.

  “Oh yes!” he yelled and punched the air. He straightened his suit and marched up to his front door. Pete slammed the door almost at the same time the sound of smashing glass came from the other side of the house.

  “Bloody hell, was that Eloise?” Harold said and strode towards the door.

  Kellie went after him. She tried to keep up, barreling into him as she pushed past the door and into the kitchen. Harold had stopped just inside the room as he surveyed the damage.

  “Can’t be Eloise,” Harold said. “She’s locked in.”

  There was a large hole in the French doors. Shards of glass coated the tiles. A wooden chair lay discarded among the shattered remains of the windowpane. Kellie approached the gap and stared outside.

  “Eloise?” Harold turned and ran back through the house, taking the stairs two at a time as he called her name.

  Kellie picked her way over the shards, and into the shadows of the back garden.

  “Eloise?” she called. She stood still, scanning the dark and soaking in the image before her, trying to pick up movement in the bushes or something moving over the lawns. The old woman should be easy to spot, with her long white hair.

  Kellie was looking in the wrong direction. Eloise pulled the black woolen hat down, tucking any stray strands of hair inside, and backed up, moving deep within the cover of the thicket. When Eloise was sure she’d not been seen, she crept through the trees and towards the last house on the yard, away from the cottage. A cloud passed over the moon, and the shadows in the bushes deepened until Eloise was almost moving blind through the plants. She needed to remember, not forget why she was here. Amelia and Sean needed to know, and no one else was going to tell them. It was time to do something.

  Eloise stopped and rubbed at her temples. The information inside her calcified brain cells threatened to disappear into the fog. She turned so Sulham Farm came into her view. Between Kellie’s house and the farmhouse a small gap gave her a partial view of the cottage. Information
flooded back into her brain, all the things she needed to say. Holding onto the thoughts best she could, she worked her way through the bushes once more until the last house on the yard was opposite.

  Before Eloise made a break from the cover of the trees, she turned to see which way Kellie was heading. Harold was beside her now, and both had their backs to her. He should move in with that woman, she thought. They’re always together. At least make it a proper arrangement.

  She didn’t own dark clothing, and had borrowed a pair of Harold’s black sweat pant bottoms, rolled at the waist to try and keep them up. She grabbed the wad of fabric with one hand, and dashed out onto the grass, her old bones crying out in pain.

  Running to the house seemed to take forever. She ran with her eyes on Kellie and Harold. They’re going to turn around, she thought.

  Her heart pounded as they started moving towards the cottage, separating so Harold could search for her around the other side of Sulham Farm. For a second, Kellie cocked her head.

  Don’t! Eloise screamed in her mind.

  As Kellie spun around, Eloise fell up against the house, and out of view. The old woman panted and gasped for breath. Keeping herself tucked out of view, she knocked gently on the back door. She shouldn’t make too much noise. What if Kellie had spotted her, and was on her way to Amelia’s right now? She grabbed the handle and tugged, but it didn’t turn.

  A light flared in the kitchen, the door handle turned under her hand, and Eloise fell into the house.

  Amelia was dressed in pajamas, her hair was pulled into a short ponytail, her face free of makeup. The skin around her eyes was puffy and red, and as Eloise pushed past, she dabbed her eyes with an already damp tissue.

  “Hide me!” Eloise whispered and ran to the hallway. “Sean?” she called.

  She listened to the sound of footsteps on the floor above her, and then on the stairs.