The House of Ashes

by Stuart Neville

  “Stop,” she said. “Don’t.”

  Esther ignored her. Ivan watched as she hurried past him on her way to the back hall, his face unreadable. She knew the back door was not locked; Mary and she had been able to walk out and in again with the ashes. Esther lifted the latch and pulled the door inward. It was heavy, its lower edge scraping on the stone floor.

  Cool air met her on the threshold. She glanced back over her shoulder. Through the door to the kitchen, she could see Ivan, still sitting, still watching. She stepped out into the yard, her soles clicking and scraping on the rough concrete, and felt chilled drops of rain on her skin. The sky had greyed, the world blanketed in a dim stillness. Chickens pecked at scattered grain all around, and their silence disturbed Esther. Where had all the noise gone? Drowned in the rushing river in her ears, she realised, and she swallowed as if that might clear them.

  She looked around the yard, flanked by stone outbuildings and barns. The cowshed directly in front of her. The gaps between the buildings had been sealed by wire and wooden fencing, some constructed with care, some crude and cobbled together. She walked deeper into the yard, turning in circles. Two cows stood in one of the outbuildings to the side, what might have been stables. Esther remembered the taste of warm, creamy milk, and she felt bile rise in her throat.

  Where to run?

  The only way she could see was the gate to the rear of the yard, held closed by a length of twine looped around a hook on the wall of the stable block. She crossed the yard to it, casting glances back towards the house as she went. Dark inside the back hall, the kitchen invisible beyond, but she knew Ivan watched her. She could feel his eyes on her back as sure as she could feel the ground beneath her feet.

  Esther reached for the twine that bound the gate closed. She picked at the knot around the hook, but it would not be undone. Cursing, she placed her right foot on one of the gate’s horizontal bars, her hands gripping the top, the knife handle pressed between her palm and the metal. She hoisted herself up and threw her left leg over, her foot finding purchase on the other side. Holding tight to the top bar, she slid her body over, the blade inches from her nose. As her weight carried her across, her left foot slipped, and she tumbled, her arms flailing. The ground rushed up to meet her, where the concrete crumbled into earth. Her shoulder rammed into a mix of mud and jagged stones, her hip hitting the concrete hard. She rolled away from the gate, crying out in pain and anger.

  As she fought to get back the wind that had been knocked out of her, she allowed herself a moment to stare up at the thick cloud above and feel the cold pinpricks of rain on her skin. But no more. She had to move. The knife had fallen not far from her right hand. She reached for it, then got to her hands and knees before pushing herself upright.

  One last time, Esther looked back towards the house. Now Ivan stood on the step, his hands in his pockets, as if this were any dull day. She turned back to the lane ahead of her. Clumps of coarse grass between two tracks gouged out of the earth by tractor tyres. Hoof divots pocked the ground, churned it to mud, leading to and from a large door in the side of the cowshed. Hedgerows either side, a barrier between her and the fields all around.

  Somewhere, not far away, she heard the diesel grumble of a tractor, the sound rising and falling as the engine worked. The others were around these fields, doing whatever work they did. She needed to find her way back to the road in front of the house, staying out of their sight. Panic churned beneath the surface of her mind, a monster beneath the waves, a shadow ready to break into the now. She had to keep it below or it would surely devour her.

  Esther moved along the lane, the mud sucking at her shoes, pulling her balance from under her. She tried to keep to the grassy channel in the middle, where the tractor’s tyres had not stripped the turf away. The ground was firmer here, and she was able to move faster, eyeing the fields as she went.

  Too late, she saw the tractor crest the rise up ahead and to her right. She ducked down to a crouch, the hedgerow between her and the driver, but she heard the engine rev and grow louder as it steered down towards her. Keeping low, she broke into a run, and had gone only a few steps before the mud pulled her left shoe loose, and soon the right was gone too. Her bare feet slipped in the mire, and she staggered, then fell onto her stomach, the knife held out in front of her. Somewhere behind her, the tractor’s engine rattled to its death, and a brittle silence fell over the lane.

  Even though she had sworn to herself that she no longer believed, Esther closed her eyes and said, “Please, God, please help me.”

  She clambered to her feet, got moving again, no longer concerned about keeping out of view. Holding to the grass, she pushed hard with her legs, her arms churning. She had no idea where the lane would lead her, but for now it was her only choice. A sweeping turn ahead, perhaps she could find a gap in the hedge and lose herself there. She rounded the corner and skidded to a halt, her feet sliding out from under her, landing on her back.

  A few feet in front of her, a dozen or more cattle blocked the lane, brown and white, stout barrel bodies, heavy on their feet. Startled by her appearance, the first few tried to back away, pushing against those behind. A low chorus of mooing and huffing, and a man’s voice above.

  “Easy, now, easy, easy.”

  George, the younger brother, came behind them, a long cane in his hand, swiping at the cows’ backsides. He froze when he saw Esther get back to her feet, alarm on his face.

  Esther hesitated, staring back, both of them locked in place for a moment before she spun around and sprinted in the opposite direction. Or she would have if not for the wall of a man whose chest she collided with. Once more, she fell back to the earth, winded. Thomas blocked what little sunlight the clouds allowed through, and she felt the deep chill of his shadow.

  “What’s all this, now?” he asked, his voice gentle.

  Esther went to raise her right hand, the knife’s handle gripped hard between her fingers, but his boot slammed down on her wrist, grinding it into the earth. She screamed as much from anger as from pain.

  “Whisht, now,” he said, reaching down to pluck the knife from her hand. “Settle yourself.”

  He brought the blade to her throat. She felt the cold of it beneath her jaw, the tip pressing into her skin. A hair more pressure and it would draw blood.

  “If you’re going to give us trouble,” Thomas said, “it’d be better to just put an end to it now. Save us all a lot of bother, wouldn’t it?”

  The mooing and shuffling of hooves grew, the cattle becoming agitated. They smelled her fear and wanted to flee, she could tell.

  “Just let me go,” Esther said. “Please, I’ll say nothing to—”

  Thomas lifted the blade from her throat, brought it to her eye, the flat of it against her cheek. She dared not blink.

  “You know,” he said, “if I blinded you, you could still be some use about the place. What do you think? I could take your eyes. I could take your tongue so you couldn’t talk back. How would that do you?”

  “Please, no,” Esther said, and her bladder ached for release.

  “Or are you going to behave yourself?”

  “Yes,” she said, her voice so whispery thin she couldn’t hear it herself. “Yes, I will, I promise.”

  “Right, then,” he said. “I’ll let you up, and you’ll go straight back to the house. Will you do that?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  He lifted his boot from her wrist and stepped back, reached a thick hand down to swallow hers. She allowed him to haul her up onto her feet.

  “Never try that again,” he said. “You know what I’ll do.”

  Esther couldn’t meet his gaze. She would break if she did.

  “Away you go.”

  Her arms at her sides, her head down, she stepped around him and began the walk back to the gate. She took her time, made sure of her footing. Somehow she knew that
if she fell now, it would set her mind loose and there would be no getting it back. She concentrated on the sensation of the grass blades beneath her soles, the stones, the bare earth, the mud. These things, the feel of them, kept her mind in place as she walked. She found her shoes on the way, pulled them from sodden ground, and carried them.

  When she reached the gate, it stood open, Ivan waiting. He watched her approach, face as expressionless as when she’d passed him on her way out to the yard.

  “Look at the state of you,” he said, no anger in his voice. “Go on and get yourself cleaned up. There’s work needs doing.”

  Esther did as she was told.

  18: Mary

  That was a terrible long night, so it was. Esther lay there all curled up, her hands over her head, while Mummy Noreen lit into her. Me and Mummy Joy stayed quiet, mostly, but I know Mummy Joy was angry too.

  Says Mummy Noreen, What were you thinking? You could’ve got us all killed. Are you mad in the head?

  Esther didn’t answer. She curled up tighter, so tight I thought she’d turn herself inside out. I wanted to go to her, but I couldn’t. Not with the Mummies watching.

  Mummy Noreen grabbed her shoulder and shook her. Says she, Do you know what could’ve happened today? Even if you’d got away, they would’ve wiped the rest of us out. Did you think about that?

  Esther pushed Mummy Noreen’s hand away.

  Says she, What else am I supposed to do? Just stay here and rot?

  You’re supposed to survive, says Mummy Noreen. We all are.

  Esther sat up, an awful fierce look on her face.

  For how long? Do we just wait for one of them to die? Or one of us? I won’t spend the rest of my life here. I need to find a way out.

  There is no way out, says Mummy Noreen. Do you think we haven’t tried? Me and Joy have both been where you are now. We both thought there was a way out. We were both wrong. And so are you.

  I don’t know why, but I couldn’t holt my whisht any longer, so I spake up.

  I want to get out, says I. I want to see the real world.

  Mummy Joy put her arms around me and pulled me close to her. Says she, Och, darling, I know you do. And some day you will, I promise.

  Says I, When?

  And Esther said it too. When?

  Some day, says Mummy Joy.

  Says Esther, What if some day never comes?

  Then at least we survive, says Mummy Noreen.

  Esther moved forward to the edge of her bed, staring at Mummy Noreen, her eyes all sparkling and hard.

  There’s a way, says she. I know there is. We just need to think and come up with a plan.

  I felt Mummy Joy’s arms get tighter around me.

  So you come up with a plan, says she. What if it goes wrong? What if someone gets left behind? What about this child? What do you think they’ll do to her?

  There was a hammering on the door up above, and Daddy Tam shouts down, Put that lamp out and get to bed.

  Mummy Joy helped me change into my nightdress and put me to bed, even though I could do it myself. She pulled the blanket up to my chin.

  Says she, Don’t you worry. We’ll keep you safe.

  She bent down and kissed my cheek, then she went to the lamp and blew it out. I listened to the creaks of the other beds as everyone settled down, then their breathing as they went to sleep. All except Esther. I could hear her on the other side of the room, even though she made no noise at all. I could feel her there, staring into the dark. I know, I used to do that too when I lived in the cellar. It was so black you knew wild things had to be hiding there, watching you. Those things, their eyes can see in the dark. They can see what you’re thinking, even if you hide under the blankets. They don’t mean you any hurt; they don’t care about you. They just watch.

  I woke up in the same dark that I fell asleep in. I don’t know how long I’d been away, but I’d been dreaming about walking free of that house. Just walking onto the road outside and away, walking until I reached the big city, and on until I came to the sea. It went on and on forever, the sea, as far as my eyes could reach. The city behind me, the beach under my feet, and the sea stretching away until it reached England and America and France and Africa and all those places that are on the other side of it.

  I had that moment when you wake and you think it might have been real, and you wish it was, you wish you could close your eyes and go back to that other place, but you know you can’t and it cuts you awful deep. I lay there still for a while, not knowing if my eyes were open or closed. Then I looked up to where I thought the door was, and I could see no light through the cracks, so I knew it was still the night-time.

  Dear knows what notion took me, but I pushed the blankets back and I sat up. The floor was terrible cold and damp under my feet and I shivered. I stood and took a step, making a picture in my head of where the beds were. The Mummies were snoring that soft way they did. That helped me find my way. I worked around their beds, feeling the edges of them with my fingertips. When I came around Mummy Noreen’s bed, I caught my toe on the leg of it, and I put my hand over my mouth to stop me guldering. I stayed still for as long as it took for the pain to dull. Then I felt my way over to Esther’s bed.

  I listened for a minute, and I could hear she was awake. I knew by her breathing.

  Says she, What is it?

  I said nothing. I pulled the blankets back and I got into the bed beside her. She went stiff when I cuddled into her back and pulled the blankets up around us both. I could smell her hair. It still smelled clean. I put my arm around her, and I felt her shoulders bunch up. Then she went loose and I heard her breathe out.

  Says she, What do you want?

  Says I, You’re my sister now.

  What?

  They’re my mummies, says I. You’re my sister.

  She didn’t say anything, but she put her hand on mine and helt it.

  Says I, Tell me a good thing about the outside. A thing you did.

  One time, says she, my mummy and daddy took me to the theatre. The Grand Opera House in Belfast. We went to a pantomime.

  Says I, A what?

  A pantomime, says she. It’s a special kind of play for children. It was Cinderella. Do you know that story?

  Aye, says I. Mummy Joy telt me it.

  It was that story, says she. There were lots of songs, and there was a big fat man dressed as a lady, and they threw sweets to the children. And in the interval, they sold ice cream. Have you ever had ice cream?

  No, says I.

  I had raspberry ripple. I remember I ate it so quick it made my head hurt. Then we stopped for fish and chips on the way home.

  Tell me about the seaside, says I.

  Says she, We used to go to Newcastle for our holidays. We’d spend all day on the beach if it was sunny, or we’d go to the amusements if it was raining. I loved going to the amusements. We used to stay in the Slieve Donard Hotel. They have a lovely restaurant there, and dances in the evenings. I got lemonade and sweets while my daddy drank beer. Then he and my mummy would dance. I wish he hadn’t done what he did. Everything would be all right if he hadn’t done that.

  I didn’t know what her daddy had done, and it didn’t feel right to ask. Instead, says I, I want to go to the seaside some day.

  I’ll take you, says she. When we get out of here, we can take the bus to Newcastle or Portrush or maybe Portstewart, it has the nicest beach of them all, and we’ll go paddling in the sea.

  Says I, Do you promise?

  I promise, says she. But we have to get out of here.

  We will, says I, and I hugged her tighter and she squeezed my hand.

  I closed my eyes and imagined a long beach that went on forever and ever. I imagined walking into the water. I imagined Esther was with me and us holding hands like we did in thon bed.

  And we fell asl
eep like that.

  When I woke up, I could see the light through the cracks in the door, still weak, so I knew it was early. The Mummies slept on, but me stirring must have woke Esther up. I heard her breathing change and I felt her body move the tiniest wee bit.

  Says I, I know how to do it.

  Says she, What?

  I know how we get out of here.

  She was wide awake now, I could tell. She turned so she faced me.

  Says she, How?

  Daddy George, says I.

  What do you mean?

  Daddy George, he’s the weakest one of them. He’s soft for Mummy Joy and me. Daddy George is the one. He’s the way out.

  19: Sara

  Sara went downstairs to the kitchen before six, the grinding weight of tiredness behind her eyes. A fog lingered there, clouding her mind. Perhaps she would try to sleep later, even if it was futile. Without thought, she went to the spot in front of the old fireplace, where the Aga now stood. She peered down at the stone floor.

  The red stains, returned.

  She would not clean them away again. They belonged here more than she did.

  As she turned away, a movement caught her eye. Through the open door to the back hall, where the past night’s darkness still remained. A vague form, like a child, watching. When she looked back, she saw nothing. Had seen nothing. Like there had been no girl in the river, no reaching scarlet ribbons.

  She needed coffee to sweep these figments from her vision. After two strong cupfuls, she forced herself to eat a bowl of dry cereal as she heard Damien moving about upstairs, drawers opening and closing, the shower running. A steaming mug waited for him when he came down, along with two slices of hot toast ready for the softened butter she’d placed in a dish. As he entered the kitchen, she tugged at the cuffs of the cardigan she wore over her pyjamas, keeping the still red, still angry, tracks on her arms hidden from his sight. He did not thank her for the breakfast she’d prepared for him, did not speak until he’d finished eating, when he pulled her phone from his pocket and set it on the worktop.