He paused suddenly, aware that there had been a movement under the trees in the distance. Narrowing his eyes to see better he ignored the quite irrational bolt of fear that had shot up his spine and slowly he began to move in that direction. He could see nothing now, but over to his right a blackbird shot up from the undergrowth pinking its alarm, and he could hear the piercing chitter of a wren that had also been disturbed. His skin was prickling anxiously as he moved, more cautiously now, in the direction of the noise.
A-dam …
It was a long time since he had heard that plaintive voice in his head. He clenched his fists in his pockets and forced himself to go on walking, pushing his way through the long grass now he was no longer on the path.
A-dam …
He stopped. He couldn’t see her. The light was dim beneath the gnarled old trees with their curtains of ivy and lichen. She could be anywhere. He realised suddenly that he was no longer looking for a cat, he was scanning the shadows for a slim young woman with long dark hair.
He moved on a few paces and stopped. He could see her. A shadow, no more, behind the trees.
‘Brid?’ His voice came out in a croak. ‘Brid, is that you?’
He frowned, squinting into the shade of the old tree at the far end of the orchard. It was larger than the others, and the grass there was shorter for some reason. ‘Brid?’ He couldn’t see her now. Where he had thought he saw the shape of a woman there was only flecked dancing sunlight as the breeze played with the apple boughs.
Behind him the gate creaked. Jane stood for a moment as she let herself into the orchard, her hand on the warm, lichen-covered wood. She was watching her husband intently. He had stopped in the dappled shade and was staring round as though to try and see something in the distance. She followed the direction of his glance and then began to move slowly forward. Under her arm was Philip’s shotgun.
Her sandals trod almost silently on the path, her skirt brushing through the grasses with a sound no louder than that of the wind. Adam did not hear her. He walked forward a few paces and stopped again, still staring. He could sense that there was something there, just out of sight. The birds had stopped singing, and then he heard once more the sudden alarm cry of the blackbird from the undergrowth. Was it calling because of him or because it had spotted something else out there in the shadows by the hedge? He moved on slowly and behind him Jane drew closer. When she saw him stop again she paused and raised the gun to her shoulder. Adam did not hear the click as she cocked it. He had spotted her now. A figure – a woman, standing beneath the old tree.
‘Brid?’
She couldn’t have heard him. His voice had come out as a croak, but she turned and just for an instant he saw her face before the ear-splitting bang erupted from right behind him.
There was a scream. For a moment he wasn’t sure what had happened. He spun round and found his wife standing beside him. ‘I got it!’ She was laughing hysterically. ‘I got it! The bloody thing! Serve it right!’ In her hands the barrel of the gun was still smoking.
Adam stood for a moment, transfixed with shock, then he turned and raced for the trees. ‘Brid?’ He reached the spot were he had seen the figure and he stopped, looking round wildly. ‘Brid?’ There was a patch of blood on the moss under the tree. Kneeling, he touched it with a finger.
He turned to Jane who had followed him, the gun outstretched in front of her as though ready to shoot again. ‘Be careful, it will be dangerous if I’ve only wounded it,’ she called. She stopped beside him. ‘Where is it?’
‘It?’ Adam looked up at her from his knees. He was shaking. ‘It? You shot at a woman, for Christ’s sake!’
‘A woman?’ Jane laughed again. ‘Don’t be so silly. It was a cat. It was a vicious wildcat, Adam. I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have wanted to hurt it, but it attacked me. It could have killed me! It was dangerous, Adam!’
‘It was a woman.’ He stared round blindly, still on his knees. ‘I saw her.’
Jane looked down at him, her face set. ‘It wasn’t her, Adam. I saw it clearly. It was a cat. It must have run into the undergrowth.’ She was scrutinising the hedge. ‘We’ll have to be careful. It’s wounded now. It will be more vicious than ever if it’s cornered.’ She lowered the heavy gun and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘I wouldn’t have shot a person, Adam, you know that. You must have imagined you saw her.’
He was climbing to his feet, still looking round in every direction. ‘Are you sure?’ He rounded on her suddenly. ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t have shot her? You’re jealous of her, you always have been!’
‘Adam!’ She looked at him, aghast.
But he had turned and was striding away from her back towards the house.
13
They barely spoke on the way home. Adam drove fast and viciously, pushing the car as though it were an enemy, his face set in hard, uncompromising lines. From time to time Jane looked at him as she sat beside him but she did not speak. It seemed to her that they had said all they were ever going to say to one another in the attic bedroom at the farm after she had shot at the cat. After he had found the blood on the grass Adam had spent hours searching the orchard, and then the surrounding countryside, staying out until long after it was dark. The next morning he had gone out again as soon as it was light but not before he and Jane had had the worst quarrel of their long marriage.
‘Adam, I’m sorry,’ she had cried at last. ‘What else can I say? I was afraid. I hate her.’ That last sentence had come out as a long wailing cry before she threw herself down on the bed and buried her face in the pillows. They both knew they were not talking about a cat.
Adam had looked down at her, his face set, then abruptly he had turned on his heel and left the bedroom. When he had returned, Jane was asleep.
Liza did not query their decision to go back to St Albans early. The atmosphere between the two had become unbearable and Adam was beyond reason. ‘You can’t blame her,’ she said to him in a whisper as they stood for a moment outside the kitchen door after supper. ‘For God’s sake, Adam, she was viciously attacked.’
‘Jane might have killed her!’ Adam was fumbling in a crumpled packet for a cigarette. ‘She might be badly hurt.’
‘We know she’s not, Adam.’ She tried to keep her voice even. ‘We would have found something –’ A cat? A woman? ‘ – if she was badly hurt. She’s run off somewhere into the woods. She’ll be fine.’ She tried to lighten her comment with a smile. ‘Here I am as bad as you calling her “she”. We don’t know it was a she. It might just have been a wildcat. That’s all. Or a feral cat from the farm up the pitch. We don’t know it was Brid, Adam. How can we? How could it have been? That’s totally ludicrous and we both know it.’
‘Do we?’ He turned and fixed her with an angry stare. ‘Do we know anything at all?’
They had not discussed it again, and the following day the Craigs had packed their belongings, left a note for Calum and Juliette and left the farm. ‘Drive carefully.’ Liza had reached up to kiss Adam on the cheek. ‘It will all turn out all right, you’ll see.’
‘Will it?’ He gave her a peck in return. ‘I wonder.’
It was late when they turned into their street and drew up outside the house. Adam switched off the engine and sat for a moment, staring out of the windscreen. Then he reached to open the car door, stiff after the long drive.
‘Wait.’ Jane’s voice was husky.
‘What is it?’ He turned and looked at her.
‘Please, don’t let’s go on like this. I’ve said I’m sorry. Adam, the house is going to be so empty without Calum, please, don’t let us quarrel.’
‘I have no intention of quarrelling.’ Adam hauled himself out of the car. ‘As far as I’m concerned the matter is finished.’ He went round to the rear of the car and opened the boot. ‘Give me a hand with the cases and let’s get inside. That drive seems to get longer each time we do it.’ He pulled out a suitcase and a canvas grip and turned to walk up the path. Jane was following h
im with another case when he stopped in his tracks. Something had moved in the window upstairs.
‘There’s someone in the house!’
‘What?’ Jane stared wildly at the building, scanning the windows. Everything seemed as it should. ‘Burglars, you mean?’ Her voice had dropped to a whisper. She could feel her heart banging somewhere under her ribs.
He shrugged. Dropping the cases he moved on quietly, feeling in his pocket for his keys.
‘Be careful, Adam.’ Jane ran after him. ‘Shouldn’t we call the police?’
He shook his head. ‘Stay behind me.’ The front door was locked and the windows appeared as they had left them. There was no outward sign that there was anything wrong but he could feel a strange prickling at the back of his neck, the feeling that they were being watched.
‘Jane,’ he swung round on her, ‘go back to the car. Lock yourself inside.’
‘Why?’ She was staring round wildly. ‘I’m not leaving you. I’ll go next door and ring the police – ’
‘Go to the car.’ He caught her arm and spun her round. ‘Do as I say.’
And then she understood. ‘You think she’s there. You think it’s your girlfriend. Your cat friend! She’s beaten us home, is that it?’ Suddenly she was almost hysterical. ‘That’s it. Send Jane back to the car to sit out in the road all night, just so long as Brid is comfortable. No thank you!’ She snatched the house keys out of his hand and pushed past him. ‘No, Adam. This has gone far enough. I am not standing outside my own house whilst you pet your little friend inside and make sure she’s comfortable.’ Sobbing she ran up the path and with a shaking hand she put the key into the lock.
A pile of post sat on the hall table. Sarah must have come in to water the plants even though Jane had told her not to bother. She stopped. There was a strange smell in the house, a musky animal scent which made her feel suddenly very sick. She turned to Adam, her anger turning to fear. ‘She’s here!’ she whispered.
He nodded. ‘I wanted you to stay in the car because it’s safe,’ he murmured. ‘Please, Janie. Go outside.’
He had moved past her and quietly he tiptoed down the hall towards his study door. ‘Go. Please,’ he hissed over his shoulder. He pushed the door gently. The whole house was silent.
Jane did not move. She was staring after him, her mouth dry with fear. It was dusky in the study from the half-drawn curtains, and she could smell the heat. The sun had been beating on the glass windows all day and only in the evening had it gone round the side of the house leaving the room in the curtained shade.
In front of her Adam pushed the door open a little further and took a step over the threshold. ‘Brid?’ His voice was gentle. ‘Are you there?’
There was no sound and after a pause he took another step into the room. ‘Oh dear God!’ He threw the door back against the wall.
‘What is it?’ Jane followed him and stopped in the doorway.
The woman slumped onto the hearth rug had a small brass watering can still clutched in her hand. Nearby a pale pink cyclamen lay amidst the broken shards of its pot, its leaves and flowers already wilted and dying.
‘Sarah?’ Jane let out a sob. ‘Oh no! Is she …?’
‘Yes.’ Adam didn’t need to go any nearer to see the woman had been dead for several hours. ‘You’d better call the police, Jane.’ He knelt down on the rug but he didn’t touch her. He could already see the vicious cuts across the woman’s face and throat and the brown patches beneath her where her blood had soaked into the rug. ‘And then one of us is going to have to tell Robert.’
The house was empty. There had been no trace of any intruder, no sign of a window or door being forced; nothing had been stolen. The police noted that Jane had been attacked by some sort of cat during her stay in Wales but it was put down as being no more than a coincidence. They made the connection with the Brid who had escaped, the Brid who might be following Adam, but could take their investigation no further. Her trail had long ago gone cold. The verdict at the inquest was left open, but two days after it appeared in the paper Ivor Furness rang Adam.
‘May I come over? There are things we ought to talk about.’ He had seen the report and Adam’s name had caught his eye. ‘It was her, wasn’t it,’ he said soberly as they all sat outside in the evening sun.
Adam nodded. ‘I think it must have been.’
‘You and I are both doctors. Men of science. Sane. And you, Mrs Craig,’ Ivor turned a warm smile on his hostess. ‘Sane. Educated. Twentieth-century woman. None of us believes that a human being can turn itself into a cat, right?’
They all nodded.
‘Nor can she, for we are talking about a she, visit places as some kind of other being, whilst leaving her body in bed, or wherever.’ He was slowly packing the bowl of his pipe with tobacco. ‘You did not, I take it, mention any of our suspicions to the police?’
Adam shook his head. ‘It did not seem appropriate. They naturally thought of the Brid who escaped from hospital, but there was no evidence, nothing. They found no prints other than our own.’
‘I told them about the cat,’ Jane put in sharply. ‘I told them I had been attacked.’
‘And they thought it of no relevance as it had happened miles away. Quite.’ Ivor nodded slowly. ‘I am afraid we will always get that response. You are sure in your own minds, however, that this killing was done by Brid?’
Adam nodded slowly. He sighed. ‘I don’t understand it. Why would she do it? Poor Sarah, what had she done to make Brid angry?’ He shook his head in bewilderment. He and Jane had discussed moving house. At first it had seemed imperative. Now, they weren’t so sure. Poor Sarah had left no ghost and Brid would follow them wherever they went.
‘Robert is completely devastated. She was everything to him. They had no other family apart from each other.’ Jane found herself sobbing suddenly, her antagonism towards Sarah forgotten. She reached out for Adam’s hand.
Ivor frowned. He struck a match and held it while the flame steadied. ‘I am so sorry for you both, as well as that poor woman and her husband. What a mess. As the focus for Brid’s attention you are in an unenviable position.’ The match went out and he stared at it for a moment before tossing it over the wall of the terrace onto the rose bed. ‘Brid does not have the social restraints of a normal person,’ he went on thoughtfully, speaking half to himself. ‘She is an attractive woman and is undoubtedly very charming when she wants to be, but there is a psychopathic personality there. She acts as she feels at the moment without conscience or remorse, and her background appears to have taught her the use of unrestrained violence. Fascinating.’ He shook his head again and withdrew another match from his matchbox. ‘The question is, did she come here in person, for real, or was it merely a visit in her dream state?’ He looked from one to the other for a moment before striking the match and holding it over the bowl of his pipe. ‘And if in a dream state, where was she – the corporeal Brid – as it were? And if she can murder while she is in fact elsewhere, how can you two protect yourselves from her in the future?’
There was a long silence. Ivor was staring across the garden, his gaze fixed unseeing on Adam’s cherished roses. ‘I wish I’d had the chance to investigate her more while she was in hospital.’
‘I wish you had, too.’ Adam spoke with feeling. He had reached out to take Jane’s hand as he saw the implication of the other man’s statement sinking in.
Jane had gone very white. ‘She would never hurt Adam. It is me she wants to kill. Do you think she saw poor Sarah and thought she was me?’ She bit her lip, trying to keep her panic under control.
Ivor shrugged. ‘I would have thought a woman with powers such as we are presupposing would be able to distinguish between two different people. Oh, my dear, I’m sorry.’ He stood up suddenly and put his arm round Jane’s shoulders. ‘I am not being reassuring.’
At the unexpected show of sympathy and warmth she felt tears well into her eyes again. ‘I’m so scared.’
‘Of cour
se you are.’ He glanced at Adam, surprised that he was not supporting his wife, but Adam was lost in thought.
‘Dr Craig!’ His voice was sharper than he intended. ‘We discussed Brid as she was as a girl. Did she show signs of abstraction then? Did she seem violent? Irrational?’
Adam nodded slowly. ‘Oh yes. She had a temper.’ He pictured her suddenly standing by the waterfall, her naked body silhouetted against the rock. ‘And I thought, even as a somewhat naïve schoolboy, that she was irrational in her approach to life.’
‘But you never suspected that she had come from another place?’
‘Another planet, you mean?’ Adam gave a humourless laugh.
‘Another age.’
‘No.’ He shook his head vehemently. ‘No, that never occurred to me. Brid was real enough, believe me. There was nothing ghostly about that young lady.’ He gave a deep sigh. ‘I cannot believe that you and I are having this conversation! There must be a rational explanation for what Brid has done. It seems to me that there is a sleight of hand going on here. She makes us believe she is in two places at once, and we in our credulity –’ without realising it, he looked at Jane for a moment – ‘fall for it. We assume the extraordinary and look for mystery when the ordinary would do. She seems to move around quickly. Perhaps she is just good at getting lifts. You assume she was in a hospital bed while she was somewhere else. Perhaps she had slipped out, leaving pillows or something in bed to look as though she were still there. After all she found it easy enough to leave after Nurse Wilkins was murdered. By coincidence a cat came into this house once or twice at a relevant moment. A cat attacked my wife in Wales. On neither occasion was there proof that it was anything other than a real cat.’ Was he being disingenuous? He paused for a moment uncomfortably. ‘To make the assumption that Brid and the cat are the same and that she is capable of time travel and remanifesting herself in different places is to my mind ludicrous. It just isn’t possible. The only doubt is whether this person is my Brid or a lookalike, possibly her daughter, or, maybe,’ he looked up suddenly, ‘two people, mother and daughter, engaged on the same quest.’
On the Edge of Darkness Page 32