The Island House

by Amanda Brittany

  And now the sea is quite deep and I’m standing up, as it swirls around me, making me wobble. The rain is getting heavier, bouncing on my head, making it hurt. I can’t see through my goggles so I pull them off, yelping as the strap gets caught in my hair.

  I still can’t see Daddy, so I try to walk back to the island, pushing my hands through the water that’s getting deeper and deeper and deeper. I slip and slide on the sand, and my head goes under the sea. Water shoots up my nose, and when I come back up, I cough and cough and cough.

  ‘Aunt Verity,’ I scream, scared now. I’ve forgotten how to swim. It’s too hard. ‘Aunt Verity, help!’

  I try not to cry. I try to be brave. I try to swim. Daddy will be proud of me if I swim. But I can’t see Flynn House or Daddy’s cottage, or which way to go. The rain is bouncing and bouncing and bouncing on the water, on my head.

  I try to put my feet back down on the sand, and step, one, two, three, and whoosh – the sea lifts me up and I’m moving and moving, and I don’t know where I am, and I cry and I cry, and the rain stings my face. ‘Daddy, Aunt Verity.’ And I cough and I cough, because the water is in my nose and in my mouth and in my ears.

  Daddy doesn’t care about me.

  And then I feel someone taking my hand …

  *

  ‘Tiger, Tiger.’ It’s Aunt Verity. Her voice is all funny. High and screechy, like when I don’t put my toys away but worse, and she’s crying, and pressing down on my chest over and over and over and it really hurts. Water bursts from my mouth like a fountain, and I cough again. I look up at her. Her hair is all wet, and hanging over her face, and her eyes look red and sore.

  ‘Oh. Tiger,’ she cries, lifting me off the sand, and she holds me so tight in her arms, wrapping me in a big, grey beach towel. And I’m so glad I’m here with her. But I’m so sad because there’s no sign of Daddy.

  ‘Oh, Tiger, my darling,’ Aunt Verity says. ‘I thought I’d lost you forever.’

  *

  ‘You can stay here, Tiger,’ Aunt Verity says the next day. She’s looking in her bag, mixing up the things inside, trying to find her car keys. ‘You’re still not completely well after yesterday.’ She lifts out her keys, jiggles them, and zips up her bag.

  I’m not sure if I want to be in the house on my own. It’s never happened before, and it’s a very big house, and sometimes I think there might be ghosts living here with us.

  But then I think of my puppet friends. They’ll take care of me while Aunt Verity is away. And it’s better than going to Tesco. I don’t like Tesco very much.

  Aunt Verity has to go shopping when the tide is out, so she’s in a big rush and is all flappy, and her cheeks are red. She kisses my head three times; she’s been doing that a lot since I nearly drowned. ‘Be good though, won’t you, Tiger?’ she says, as she races out of the kitchen.

  ‘I will,’ I say, following her into the hallway, holding my cuddly tiger by the tail. I’m wearing my slippers that are like fluffy rabbits, so I can’t walk as fast as her. She waves and disappears through the front door. I wave too.

  I stand by the big glass doors in the lounge, watching her car zoom along the sand like a racing car, before I take the key from the secret place.

  I head through the hallway, running my hand over the gold wallpaper – it’s not real gold – in fact, it’s peeling off in places – and up the stairs.

  I’m panting by the time I get to the attic room because I’ve been counting all the steps, and my slippers are a bit heavy.

  I unlock the red door, and push it open.

  ‘Hello,’ I say as I go inside. And the puppets all say hello back to me.

  *

  I’ve been playing for some time, when I hear a noise outside the red door. Footsteps, I think. I worry it might be a ghost, or Aunt Verity and that she’ll be cross I’m in here, so I tell the puppets to be quiet. ‘Shh,’ I say, pressing my finger on my lip as I climb into Grandpa’s magic box with my cuddly tiger.

  The door to the attic squeaks open, and I curl up like a hedgehog, making myself invisible.

  Chapter 35

  Halloween Weekend 2019

  Alice

  Somewhere outside of Alice’s nightmare a door swings open. She tries to escape the vivid dream, screaming into the void as she’s dragged up the stairs towards the red door, away from everything she knows. She’s only a child, gripping a toy tiger in her small fists, her eyes sore, her cheeks raw from crying – Help me. Help me. Suddenly her father takes her in his arms and holds her close. She feels tiny against his chest as he runs, blood on his shirt.

  A woman’s voice echoes, ‘Don’t go, Hugh. Please don’t leave.’

  Leon

  An orange flicker fights for life in some of the swinging lanterns that fringe the slope leading from Flynn Hotel down to the sea. Some have given up, no longer guiding the way. Light radiates from the house too, but visibility is poor. Leon huddles his arms around himself, as he makes his way towards the sea.

  Quick footsteps startle him. He turns, heart thudding, eyes roaming the area. There’s movement in the shadows. Someone is here, watching him.

  More footsteps. Moving away.

  ‘Lori?’ he calls, hearing the tremble in his voice. ‘Is that you? Gabriela?’ He shudders, turns, heads in the opposite direction towards the jetty at speed.

  He stands by the sea, his eyes flicking over the distant coastline. It’s mainly in darkness, lights dotted here and there. It’s about a mile to the mainland. Not far. The sea is choppy and restless, but it’s doable. He swam the English Channel for charity a few years back. This short distance will only take half an hour at most. He’ll be there and back with help within the hour.

  He hates how upset Alice is. But if she stays in the room with Faith and Christine – keeps the door locked, bolted – she’ll be safe. Won’t she?

  He strips down to his boxers and T-shirt, his eyes drifting towards the rocks where they found Alice’s dress. He squints, returns his gaze to the shoreline, trying to focus on his imminent swim. He dips his toe into the frothy waves that beat a path up the rocks and cobbles.

  ‘Shit!’ The sea is bloody freezing.

  Goose pimples rise on his arms, and a chill shudders down his back. He takes a deep breath, about to wade in, when he hears someone coming up behind him. He swings round, his eyes zigzagging across the darkness, dipping into the shadows. There’s nobody here.

  ‘Man up,’ he tells himself, turning back to the sea, making his way in, the freezing water covering his ankles. You’re imagining things.

  The strike on the back of his head is excruciating. The sea rises up to greet him within seconds. Water seeps into his nose, his mouth.

  ‘Christ,’ he mumbles, before everything goes black.

  Alice

  Alice wakes with a start, beads of sweat on her forehead, unsure how long she’s been asleep. She rubs her gritty eyes, hauls herself to her feet, the book she was attempting to read earlier landing with a thud face down on the floor. She listens, her body trembling. The house is deathly quiet.

  A scan of the room tells her Christine and Faith have gone. She looks towards the open door, ventures across the floor, hands pressed against her chest, heart pounding.

  ‘Hello!’ she calls, poking her head out into the hallway to the left, to the right. The glow from inside the room casts shadows, but it’s too dark to see clearly – the wall lights on the landing are out. A shiver tickles her spine. ‘Faith? Christine?’

  She stands for a moment; they’d agreed to stay in the room until Leon could get help, hadn’t they? Why have they taken off without waking her?

  ‘Faith? Christine?’ she calls once more.

  Despite a voice in her head crying out for her to go back in the room, lock the door, slide across the bolt, she steps out, and heads towards the staircase, her heart thudding.

  Someone’s there, at the foot of the stairs, propped against the banister, legs twisted out of shape – so still.

&
nbsp; ‘Christine!’ Alice races down towards her, sees the red circles painted on her cheeks, the addition of a bow tie at her throat. She crouches down, takes hold of her hands. ‘Christine, Christine.’

  The woman stirs, opens her eyes.

  ‘Christine, thank God. What happened?’

  ‘Pushed,’ Christine whispers. ‘So much pain.’ She swallows hard. ‘Said I was a bully.’ A tear rolls down her cheek, drips off her chin. ‘Said …’

  ‘Who said? Who did this?’

  ‘Said I deserved to be punished. Said we all do.’

  ‘Who, Christine?’ Alice squeezes the woman’s hands, her eyes flashing from Christine’s pale, distorted face, to her surroundings. ‘Who the hell did this?’

  Christine’s eyelids fall over her eyes, her head tilts back. ‘No, no, no,’ Alice cries, searching the woman’s wrist for a pulse – she’s no expert – but she can’t find one, however hard she tries.

  She rises, rubs her clammy palms on her top, as she spins around, eyes searching. Where’s Faith? Lori? Gabriela?

  After a moment, she races back up the stairs, and along the corridor. Once inside her room, she pulls the bolt across, turns, and leans against the door, trying to catch her breath, fighting back tears.

  Eventually, she heads over to the window, her heartbeat refusing to slow. Guilt rising. Could she have done more to help Christine?

  She narrows her eyes, and peers closer to the glass, feeling sure she can see someone making their way down the hill towards the jetty. She blinks, and they disappear into the shadows. She moves her gaze to the sea. There are no flashing blue lights of a police boat. No sign of Leon.

  She returns to the bed, sits down on the edge, and presses her fingers deep into her temples. Whatever happens now, she has to stay here until daylight. It’s the only place she is safe.

  Leon

  ‘Leon. Leon. You OK?’

  He hears the panicked voice infiltrating his dream, the broken sound of English. His head throbs; eyelids, like lead, seal his eyes. He doesn’t want to fully wake, to face reality. He wants to return to the spellbinding dream he was having, where the sun beamed down on him and Alice, as they strolled hand in hand along the river – deeply in love. The dream felt so real. He wants to go back there, where it’s safe. He wants to go back there with Alice.

  He attempts to lift his head, and groans. He’s lying on a hard floor, a scratchy blanket covering him.

  ‘Leon. You awake? Please.’

  Gabriela?

  The smell in the air is comforting, the warm orangey tang of wood, the sweet earthy smell of soil. He has to open his eyes, he knows that, but it’s like lifting weights. He has never been good at weight lifting. Give him a swimming pool and his body has the kind of strength that can go on forever. Except … his mind jumps to the awful memory. He was about to swim for help, wasn’t he?

  ‘Gabriela?’ His voice is weak. He barely recognises it as his own.

  ‘Tak! Tak!’ She grabs his hand, hers small yet strong.

  He manages to peel open his eyes, but his vision is blurred, takes a few moments to focus, to see flickering candles highlighting garden tools, buckets, bags of soil, a sack over the window – a small rowing boat propped against the wall. A boat! If he could gather his strength, this could be their way out of this nightmare.

  He’s sure they are in the shed where Mitch found the boat oars earlier. Gabriela is kneeling beside him, her long dark hair falling over her young, pale face, her heavily made-up eyes sticky and smudged. She releases his hand.

  He shivers, cold, his T-shirt and boxers soaked through. Pain slams into his head. He cries out as he eases up to a sitting position, and props himself against the shed wall. The blanket drops from his shoulders, settling around his waist.

  ‘Someone hit you,’ Gabriela says, and it’s clear she knows more English than she let on earlier. ‘I hide you.’

  His mind jumps to Alice. He left her in the house, insisting she would be safe. Fear surges through him.

  Gabriela’s piercing blue eyes flick towards the closed door. Two bolts are pulled across it. Her hands twist in her lap. ‘I hide here for now. Waiting. Then I hear you cry out. I …’

  ‘You saved me,’ he says, wincing as he moves.

  ‘Tak. I save you.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

  ‘We have to get to Alice,’ he says, unsure how much she understands. ‘Save her too.’

  ‘Nie. We wait. For now.’

  Leon pulls himself to his feet, wincing in pain, his head throbbing, his legs like jelly. ‘Help isn’t coming, Gabriela.’ He makes his way to the door. ‘We have to get to Alice.’

  ‘Nie!’ Gabriela yells, as he pulls back one of the bolts.

  He yanks across the second bolt his hand shaking, opens the door, and staggers into the damp darkness. He turns to ask her to come too, to help him, but she slams the door.

  ‘Idiota,’ she cries from inside the shed, the loud scraping of the bolts locking him out, jolting the silence. ‘Glupi idiota.’

  He pulls on his jeans, picks up his coat, and shrugs it on as he staggers up the hill towards the hotel. But he’s struggling; everything spins around him, spiralling like a macabre merry-go-round. Concussion. His legs go from under him, his vision blurs, and he tumbles sideways into the bushes, lands on the wet grass. He’s no use to Alice. He’s no bloody use to the woman he loves.

  Alice

  A loud anxious knock on the bedroom door invades the silence. Alice’s body stiffens. She’s locked herself in. Bolted the door. She’s safe. If she ignores it, they’ll go away.

  Another rap on the door. Alice clenches her fists.

  ‘Help! Let me in for Christ’s sake.’

  ‘Faith?’ Alice jumps to her feet, approaches the door.

  ‘Leave me alone!’ Faith screams. She’s being attacked. ‘Oh God. Leave me alone. Alice! Please! Help me!’

  ‘I’m coming.’ She pulls back the bolt. Unlocks the door, and throws it open. ‘Faith?’ But the hallway is deathly silent. ‘Faith?’

  She peers down the dark hallway, narrowing her eyes. ‘Faith?’ The door to Faith and Mitch’s room stands open.

  Alice edges her way along the corridor, close to the wall, until she gets to their room. ‘Faith?’ she whispers, pushing the door open further, glancing over her shoulder, before stepping inside. ‘Are you in there?’

  The sharp wave of nausea as the sight of Mitch, and the stench of vomit, catches her unawares. He’s on the floor; propped against the bed, legs out in front of him, back straight, arms rigid by his side. Red circles are painted on his chalk-pale cheeks, and his ponytail has been cut off, his hair oiled back from his face. His eyes are wide open – staring. Like Christine and Dane, he’s wearing a bow tie. Alice moves her gaze to a half-empty brandy bottle standing on the bedside table. The churning nausea in her stomach won’t subside – she must get out of this room. But her legs won’t move, her eyes are back on Mitch. Mitch is dead. The Winslows are dead. Christine is dead. Everyone else has disappeared. She covers her mouth, heaving as she stumbles from the room.

  ‘Alice!’ Faith cries, her voice receding up the staircase. ‘Help me, Alice. Oh God, please …’

  Alice rushes from the room towards the sound of her friend’s terrified voice. She reaches the bottom of the stairs, looks up into the semi-darkness. ‘Faith?’ She takes the stairs slowly, her heart thudding. ‘Faith? Where are you?’

  A scream comes from high above her – the attic room?

  She continues up the stairs until she reaches the second floor. Makes her way past Gabriela’s room towards the staircase that leads to the attic. Above her, the red door stands open, a light escaping from inside. She takes the steps slowly – one, two, three, four, five …

  ‘A-lice.’ The voice is chilling, and coming from inside the room. ‘A-lice.’

  ‘Hello?’ She pushes open the door. ‘Faith is that you?’

>   ‘A-lice … A-lice.’

  A chill trails through her body, her heartbeat bouncing off her ribcage. She peers around the door, and catches sight of two ventriloquist puppets. One of them is the creepy thing she found on her bed hours ago, the other a raggedy, faded doll with wool for hair and freckles. They both have teacups in front of them, and a plate – a fairy cake on each.

  There’s a setting for one more.

  Chapter 36

  1994

  Tiger

  ‘Tiger, is that you?’

  It’s Daddy. I lift the lid. Spring out like a jack-in-the-box. I’m so pleased to see him, even though I shouldn’t be here in the attic room behind the red door. It’s OK, Daddy never tells me off. But he’s not looking at me; he’s staring at the puppets, his face all wonky.

  ‘Oh God,’ he cries.

  ‘Daddy?’ I climb out of the box and take hold of his hand. Look up at him. ‘What are you doing here?’

  Daddy pulls his hand away from me, and crouches down in front of Rosie. His cheeks are bright pink, his eyes really big.

  ‘Do you like the puppets, Daddy?’ I say, and he turns and stares at me for a long time. I can’t decide if he’s sad. His face is all funny. ‘This is Paulo and Ralfie and Rosie.’ I smile my biggest smile, trying to make Daddy happy. ‘They are my puppet friends.’ I clap my hands and spin around. I’m excited because Daddy is here in the big house, here with me. Excited he’s meeting my puppet friends. I just want him to be happy too. Please be happy, Daddy.

  He reaches forward, moving closer to Rosie, and takes hold of both her hands. ‘What’s your name, sweetheart?’ he says to her, in his softest voice. ‘Where did you come from, little one?’

  But Rosie doesn’t answer. She doesn’t know Daddy at all.

  ‘I told you,’ I say. ‘This is Rosie and she is my puppet and my best friend.’

  He looks at me, then back at Rosie. ‘Does Aunt Verity know about Rosie, Tiger? Does she know she’s here?’

  ‘Of course she does.’ I nod three times. ‘She comes up here lots of times.’