The Island House

by Amanda Brittany

  ‘Lori’s lost her phone too.’ Faith’s voice sounds far away. ‘Which makes it a bit odd, don’t you think?’ Alice pulls her gaze away from the woman, back to her friend who is still talking. ‘Mind you, with this lighting it’s easy to lose things, I guess.’

  ‘Have you reported it?’ Alice asks.

  ‘Well, I’ve told Christine on reception. I hate not having it. It’s amazing how many times I reach for it.’

  Alice glances over her shoulder. ‘I better go and order some food, before Leon gets hangry and chews his arm off.’

  ‘Leon’s with you?’ She sounds surprised, her eyes widening. ‘Are you guys back together? You never said.’

  ‘No. No, we’re not together, just good friends, that’s all.’ She isn’t sure that’s how she really feels, but for now it is all Faith needs to know. ‘I would have told you if it was anything more, honestly.’

  ‘It’s fine, no worries.’ She places her hand on Alice’s arm. ‘I couldn’t be happier if you two make a go of it.’ She looks over her shoulder, and points towards a booth. ‘We’ll be over there once you’ve eaten.’

  Leon is sitting by the window in the deserted restaurant. A candle flickers on the table in front of him. He looks up from the menu as Alice approaches. ‘I can barely see this,’ he says with a laugh. ‘But can just about make out burger and chips, so I’ll go with that.’

  Alice sits down, but before she can tell him she’s seen Faith and Mitch, Christine appears. ‘Can I get you guys anything to drink?’

  ‘A small red wine please.’ Alice scans the menu quickly, trying to decide what to eat, so she doesn’t delay things any longer.

  ‘Lager,’ Leon says. ‘Cheers.’

  ‘And I’ll have fish and chips, please.’

  ‘Burger for me,’ Leon says.

  ‘Is that the portrait?’ Leon says, as Christine walks away.

  Alice looks to where Leon is pointing, her hands flying to her mouth. ‘Oh my God.’ It hangs under a picture-light on the other side of the restaurant. In seconds she’s on her feet, dashing between the empty tables. She stops in front of it, stares up at the man in the picture, her heart thudding. She sees her father’s unusual eyes, his sharp nose. This man in the picture is much younger than her father was, but it’s him. It has to be. The resemblance is uncanny. She gazes up at it for some time, emotions rising, before making her way back to Leon, who is shoving his phone into his pocket. ‘Everything OK?’ she says, sitting down.

  ‘Yeah. Just work. I pulled a sickie to come here – not sure they’re convinced. It’s OK; there are plenty of stand-ins at the pool.’

  ‘I hope I haven’t got you in any trouble.’ Leon loves his job; she would hate him to lose it on her account.

  ‘It’ll be fine.’ He nods towards the portrait. ‘So, what are your thoughts?’

  She gazes across the room. ‘It looks so like my dad.’ Her voice cracks. ‘One blue eye and one green is so rare.’ She turns, glances at their blurred reflections in the window beside them, and back to Leon. ‘But why would it be here?’

  ‘It may not be him. People look alike sometimes.’ Leon’s tone is comforting. He reaches across the table, laces his fingers with hers. ‘In fact, I saw a bloke in Tesco once who was a dead ringer for Daniel Radcliffe. I came over all Harry Potter fanboy, but it wasn’t him.’ He pulls a fake sad face.

  ‘How do you know?’ She tries to play along. ‘It could have been.’

  He shakes his head. ‘I asked him to sign my cornflakes.’

  ‘And?’ Her lips curl into a smile.

  ‘He signed the box Colin Crumpet. Plus, he had five kids in tow.’

  She laughs, knowing he’s probably made up the story to lighten the mood. He pushes a straying hair from her cheek with his free hand. ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ His humorous tone has vanished. ‘We can head back to Whitby if you want.’

  She takes a deep breath. ‘I’m fine,’ she says, though feels far from it. ‘You’re right, people look similar all the time.’

  ‘You might even enjoy the break. It might be good to spend some time together.’

  ‘Yes,’ she says, meaning it – relieved he’s here with her. ‘It will.’

  Chapter 13

  1979

  Verity

  ‘You’re a very good girl, Verity Flynn.’ Verity placed her palm against the bathroom mirror, splayed her chubby fingers, and leant forward, closer to her reflection. ‘You are a very good girl, Verity Flynn.’

  This was something she often did. Talked to her reflection. Told herself she was good, because nobody else was going to. Certainly not her father, or the stream of nannies he employed to take care of her and Hugh.

  Felix Flynn had brought Verity and Hugh to Flynn House in 1970, aged two and three. Adopting the brother and sister as a gift for his bored wife and stage assistant, Ann Marie Flynn, who hadn’t wanted to ruin her exquisite body by carrying children of her own. It was amazing what you could buy if you had enough money and contacts.

  Dolls, that’s what the children had been initially; dolls for Ann Marie to play with. Dolls she would hand to a nanny when she grew tired of them.

  When Ann Marie died of an accidental overdose in 1972, the children became an inconvenience to Felix. Verity learnt early on to keep out of her father’s way. Hugh, on the other hand, was full of mischief as a young child. He got in Felix’s way, desperate for his father’s attention. But Felix had no time for the boy, would grit his teeth, clench his fists, intent on stamping out the bright light that shone inside Hugh, leaving him in darkness.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  Verity looked away from her twelve-year-old reflection, and up at the ceiling. Hugh was in the attic room again. Locked in the box. Felix would leave him up there for hours sometimes.

  The box had been used on stage to give the illusion that Felix was cutting his assistant into three equal pieces. Hugh was petrified of it, certain he was going to be chopped up by their father. It didn’t matter how many times Verity told him it was only a magic trick, he never would believe her.

  ‘Wait right there, Hugh,’ Verity yelled like she was a superhero, ‘I’m on my way.’ She dashed from the bathroom, and into the hallway, picking up her diary en route, and shoving it under her arm. ‘Here I come.’ She couldn’t get into the attic, of course, it was always locked, but she could talk to her brother through the red door, be there to comfort him – tell him stories until their awful father let him out.

  ‘Where are you off to in such a hurry?’

  She turned to see the latest in a long line of nannies. This one was Nanny Bell. She was younger than some of the others, but still had that sharp, spiteful tone that Felix liked so much in his employees, which Verity hated, and Hugh feared.

  ‘Nowhere.’

  ‘You’re going nowhere in a hurry?’ Nanny Bell pressed her lips together so they almost disappeared, sucked inside her pretty face. ‘What’s that under your arm?’

  ‘It’s none of your business, quite frankly.’ She wasn’t about to tell this woman she’s been writing about her. Telling her pages how wicked she was.

  Nanny Bell’s dress was turquoise linen and calf-length, and her tights were sheer. Her shoes shone shiny black, and had small, thick heels. Old-fashioned. Her make-up was thick, heavy.

  Verity folded her arms across her chest. She wasn’t afraid of this woman. She wasn’t afraid of anything anymore. There was nothing Nanny Bell could do that hadn’t been done before. She was numb.

  ‘Well, that’s where you are wrong, Verity Flynn. Your business is always my business. Your father has made me responsible for you. I’m in charge.’

  Verity laughed, a cold chilling laugh, which she could see Nanny Bell didn’t like. She saw her body quiver.

  Verity looked up the stairs towards the attic room, and back at Nanny Bell. ‘Why does my father put Hugh up there all the time?’

  ‘Hugh is a mischievous child – you know that. It’s for his own good.’

&n
bsp; Verity stepped towards Nanny Bell. ‘Is it really, though?’

  The woman stepped backwards in her shiny shoes. ‘That’s what I said.’ Her firm voice cracked. ‘If he wasn’t so naughty.’

  ‘But he isn’t naughty. He’s never naughty. Felix Flynn is just being cruel, and you could stop that if you wanted to.’ Verity stared for some moments, and even though Nanny Bell didn’t respond there was something in her eyes. Fear? Was she afraid of Felix too? ‘I heard you with Daddy last night,’ Verity continued. ‘Were you having sex with my father?’

  The woman’s cheeks pinked, and her body twitched. She turned from Verity’s gaze. ‘Of course not.’

  ‘You are a disgusting woman, Nanny Bell.’ She placed a finger against her cheek. ‘You make me feel quite sick.’

  ‘And you are a truly horrible child, Verity Flynn.’

  ‘No.’ Verity shook her head. ‘I am a good girl.’ She looked again up the stairs. ‘Have you got the key to the attic room? I would like to let my brother out.’

  ‘Only your father has the key.’ Her eyes were back on Verity. ‘You know that. And even if I knew where it was, I would never go against your father’s instructions.’

  ‘Are you afraid of him?’ Verity looked about her. ‘Why don’t you leave? Can’t you feel how sad this place is? How desperately, desperately sad?’

  ‘Go to your room, Verity. If your father catches you wandering about the hallways, he’ll be angry.’

  ‘If I could get away from here, I would run and run and run. But I can’t leave Hugh. You can, though, and yet you stay.’

  ‘I need this job. The experience.’

  ‘And you’ve fallen for my awful father?’

  ‘No. No, I haven’t. You have it all wrong.’ Nanny Bell’s voice cracked another morsel.

  Verity smiled. Had she broken Nanny Bell? ‘This isn’t experience. This. This place.’ She looked about her once more, not moving. ‘It’s extreme torture. It’s hell.’

  Nanny Bell turned, and walked away without another word, sashaying down the hallway. Verity felt sure she’d broken her. But it wouldn’t matter. Nanny Bell may leave, but another would replace her.

  Chapter 14

  Halloween Weekend 2019

  Alice

  Alice stares out of the window at the rain, Leon beside her on a long, cushioned bench, thoughts of the portrait whirring around her head.

  Faith is at the bar getting drinks, while Mitch holds court from a chair on the other side of the table, his broad body upright and rigid, his voice low and husky as he tells Leon about LARPing.

  Alice turns to face Mitch. She knows what LARPing is. Faith told her about Mitch’s obsession with live-action role-play.

  ‘I love it,’ he says now. ‘Makes me feel like a real man.’ His hair is down this evening, resting on his shoulders, and there’s still that arrogance about him Alice doesn’t like.

  ‘We did a Hobbit battle back in August,’ Mitch goes on. ‘I played Thorin.’

  ‘Thorin?’

  ‘The lead dwarf.’

  The irony that he’s so tall doesn’t go unnoticed on Alice.

  Mitch picks up his glass with his yellowing fingers, and drains the remnants of his brandy. ‘I was meant to take part in a zombie battle this weekend, but I didn’t mind missing it for Faith … and all of this.’ He looks about him, seeming impressed by the surroundings.

  Alice looks over at Faith who is filling a tray with glasses. She can’t help wonder, not for the first time, what she’s sees in this man.

  The conversation moves on, and Leon, pushing his fingers through his fair hair, tells Mitch that he’s a fantasy writer, hoping to be published one day.

  Their words fade, as Alice’s mind drifts, searching for memories. She’s never been able to recall anything further back than the age of six or seven – not helped by her father’s silence on the subject, but now she feels sure this place holds the key to unlocking the secrets of her past – her father’s past. Yet there’s something inside of her that’s crying out to leave things be – not to go on.

  ‘That was hard work,’ Faith says, tugging Alice from her thoughts, approaching with drinks clanking on a silver tray. Clearly struggling to walk in her heels. ‘The girl behind the bar is barely old enough to serve us, and doesn’t speak a word of English. Eastern European I think. And she’s a right grumpy cow too.’ She puts the tray down, and turns to a woman coming up behind her. ‘Guys, meet Lori.’

  It’s the woman who was sitting by the fire earlier reading Alice’s father’s book. ‘She was pretty bored on her own,’ Faith goes on. ‘So I invited her to join us. Hope that’s cool with everyone.’

  They chorus greetings, followed by a round of introductions. The woman grabs a stool, and, folding her flowing satin dress under her, sits down next to Alice, picks up a glass of Prosecco from the tray of drinks, and takes a sip.

  ‘Faith said you lost your phone,’ Alice says, as a conversation breaker, taking in, once more, the woman’s mane of dark hair draped over one shoulder, her sharp nose, her dark eyes. She’s attractive, slim, like an ageing film star.

  Lori takes another sip of her drink, and nods. ‘It’s a mystery, really. I left my cell on the table when I went to the bathroom last night, and when I got back it was gone.’ She’s softly spoken, American, with a confident air. ‘I shouldn’t have left it unattended, I suppose. But you really don’t expect anyone to take it in a place like this.’

  ‘You’re from the US,’ Alice says.

  Lori smiles, teeth white, lips plump, as though she may have had work done. ‘What gave it away?’

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to—’

  ‘It’s fine. I lived in LA for thirty years, but I’m originally from this area. I moved back here a couple of years ago.’

  ‘Have you mentioned your phone to Christine?’ Faith interrupts, picking up her pint of lager, taking a gulp.

  ‘Yes, I have. And I’ve reported it to the phone company too, using the hotel’s landline. But there’s not much else I can do until I get home. You?’

  ‘Same.’ Faith looks about her, as though searching for a kleptomaniac amongst them.

  Alice follows Faith’s gaze. A couple in their late twenties sit on a velvet sofa, laughing too loudly, a champagne bucket in front of them, as though celebrating.

  ‘You should be like me, Lori,’ Mitch says with a sniff. ‘I’ve never had a mobile phone in my life – or should I say cell?’ He leans forward, taps his nose. ‘Got some inside info years back that they fry your brain. Never looked back.’ He lifts his chin and smirks, as though everyone around him is stupid.

  Lori takes another sip of her drink. ‘Is it what you expected?’ she says, moving her eyes from Mitch to look again at Alice.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘This place.’ Her gaze roams the room. ‘Is it what you imagined it would be like?’

  Alice shrugs. ‘I’m not sure what I was expecting, if I’m honest. I guess it’s like the photos on the website and Instagram, so yes, I suppose so. It’s certainly atmospheric.’

  ‘Mmm.’ She leans close to Alice’s ear. ‘It’s changed out of all recognition.’ She smiles, puts down her glass, and looks at her delicate gold watch. ‘Cameron Patterson should be over soon, shouldn’t he? I believe he’s going to do his talk and tour. I’m very much looking forward to it.’ She strokes her mane of hair, as though it’s a pet. ‘I wonder how much will be truth, and how much fantasy.’

  ‘You think he’ll make things up?’

  Lori shrugs. ‘Possibly. The truth about this place is far too dark.’

  Alice opens her mouth to question her further. How does she know about the hotel’s history? But Faith leans across the table. ‘Have you met him?’

  ‘Who? The mysterious Cameron Patterson?’ Lori shakes her head. ‘No, not yet.’

  ‘I have,’ Faith says. ‘He’s rather gorgeous.’

  ‘Faith!’ Mitch stares at her, eyes fired, arms folded across his broad body. ‘
Christ’s sake! Way to make me look an idiot.’

  ‘I never meant to.’ Faith tugs at the hem of her dress, stares at him for a long moment. Nobody speaks, all clearly feeling awkward about the man’s outburst.

  Finally Faith takes hold of his hand. ‘You know you’re the only man for me, Mitch,’ she says, and kisses his cheek. But there’s a sudden rigidness about her, as though being near him makes her anxious.

  Alice shuffles in her seat, wants to shake her friend, tell her to dump Mitch, but she keeps quiet. Faith must see something in him Alice can’t – although going by the expression on her face, she may be coming round to Alice’s way of thinking.

  ‘Can everyone who would like to take part in the tour gather in reception now.’ It’s Christine, standing by the door of the bar holding a clipboard, running her fingers through her dark, cropped hair. ‘The tour of Flynn Hotel is about to begin.’

  Chapter 15

  1981

  Verity

  Nanny Bell held on to her job at Flynn House, despite Verity’s efforts to have her despatched from the island. Her father lusted after her, that was the problem, and Nanny Bell seemed to go along with it. Though Verity couldn’t be sure she enjoyed his advances. The whole sordid show made Verity feel positively sick.

  Today was Nanny Bell’s day off. She would spend the night with her mother on the mainland, and return by midday the following day. This was when their father was meant to take care of Verity and Hugh, though of course he never did. In fact, as Verity stood at the window, pressing her fingers so hard on the glass that the tips bleached, she realised she desperately wanted Nanny Bell to stay. At least there was hope with this woman who was yet to reach her twentieth birthday. Hope that she may just see how abused Verity and Hugh were, and do something. But Nanny Bell continued on her way across the sand, her bag draped over her shoulder, her dark hair pinned up into a neat and tidy bun. She had a confident walk, Verity thought – a bit like Princess Diana.