On the Edge of Darkness

by Barbara Erskine

  ‘Jane, you have to stay. You can’t go back to him.’ Liza put her hands on Jane’s shoulders. ‘I mean it. You won’t be safe there. He’s gone mad.’

  ‘I have to go back. It’s my home. He’s my husband.’ Jane sat down abruptly. She had been asleep when Liza finally drove home in the early hours of the morning, but the sound of the car turning into the gate had woken her from a light, troubled sleep. Neither Phil nor Beth seemed to have heard her.

  Jane poked the fire into life and curled up on the sofa. ‘I am not going to allow that, that …’ Words failed her for a moment. ‘That harpy to steal my husband. She’s not even real!’

  ‘She’s real enough.’ Liza cupped her hands around a mug of hot tea and subsided onto a cushion, warming herself before the flames. ‘And I don’t have to tell you how dangerous she is.’

  ‘So, are you telling me never to go home again? To abandon Adam to her? To let her have everything?’

  Liza, staring deep into the fire, did not answer for a moment. ‘No, I don’t mean that. I just think we have to work something out. We have to be sure what we’re doing. She’s dangerous, Janie. At least you’re safe here.’

  ‘Am I?’ Jane hauled a cushion onto her knee and hugged it defensively. ‘I seem to remember none of us was safe here. It was in the same bedroom I’m in now that she attacked me and gave me these scars.’ She pointed at her shoulder.

  Liza fell silent. ‘I wish Meryn were here,’ she said at last. ‘He helped us before.’

  ‘Where is he?’

  Liza shrugged. ‘They say he’s gone to Scotland. The house is closed up. He’s done it before – disappeared for long periods, then come back again as though he’d never been away. It didn’t matter then. He was there when I needed him.’ Her eyes filled suddenly with tears. He didn’t even know that Julie was dead.

  ‘Liza, I’m sorry.’

  Liza shook her head. ‘Take no notice of me. I’m exhausted.’

  ‘And I’m being incredibly selfish making you stay up to talk to me when you’ve driven for about ten hours without stopping, and all for my sake.’ Jane stood up, full of resolve. ‘Listen, go to bed. We’ll talk in the morning.’ Crouching, she put her arms round Liza suddenly and hugged her. ‘You’re a true friend. Don’t let Adam come between us.’

  ‘He won’t.’ Liza rose wearily to her feet. ‘Somehow we’ll defeat Brid, Jane, I promise. We’ll get Adam back for you. Somehow.’

  15

  Meryn was standing in the shelter of the trees looking out towards the stone. The decision to come here had been made high in the Andes where the air was thin and the barriers between the planes were paper fine. He stared round and nodded with satisfaction. He had been right to come to Scotland now. The high peaks in the distance were covered in a fresh layer of snow, blinding white against the intense azure of the sky, and the air crackled with cold energy. Thoughtfully he waited, his eyes on the serpent picked out in glittering frost amongst the other engravings on the face of the slab. Broichan was near. He could feel the coiled energy, the intelligence, the power of the rage and frustration and the absolute danger of the man.

  He waited unmoving, drawing a cloak of darkness around him, letting the silence of the mountains sink into his very bones. Near him a squirrel sat stripping the scales from a pine cone oblivious of the man standing unmoving in the shadows of the trees. Suddenly it sat up. It remained completely still for a second, then dropping the cone it raced up into the top branches with a sharp cough of alarm, leaving a flurry of tiny tracks and the fluffed up snow where its tail had for a moment flicked along the ground. Meryn tensed. He could feel him closer now. Broichan knew he was there. He could sense the man’s suspicion, feel the strength of his vigilance and the gathering fury of his displeasure.

  Imperceptibly he shifted his gaze towards the mirror on the stone. Was that the key to Brid’s dexterity with time?

  There was a distant rumble of thunder and he frowned. The sky was cloudless. Then he understood. Broichan had sent a warning shot across his bows as his attention wavered. He smiled quietly to himself as he walked out of the trees and onto the rocky plateau to stand near the stone. ‘One to you, my friend,’ he muttered under his breath. ‘I must learn not to look away. You are not to be trusted, not for one minute.’

  Meryn …

  He stiffened. The voice came from far away, but it was not from the past, it was from home. Someone needed him in Wales. Liza.

  Lying in bed savouring the warmth under the blankets Liza stretched and smiled to herself. It would be frosty outside and the air would be fresh and cold and rich as milk. In a minute she would get up and have a bath and dress, then she would make breakfast for herself and Jane. She reached for the little clock by her bed and squinted at it. It had gone ten, but after the long two-way drive yesterday and the incredibly late night she was prepared to treat herself to a lie-in. She snuggled down again, her eyes on the bright blue of the sky above the trees outside. Phil had got up hours ago, no doubt, and by now would be ensconced in his studio. She had been careful not to wake him when she at last climbed into bed in the early hours of the morning, but he must have realised how late it was when she came in.

  He would have taken Beth to play school before he started work. His job this week – they took turns. After he had collected her at lunchtime he would probably stay in the studio till dark, and it would be their turn to look after her while they planned what to do next. She closed her eyes to focus better on what they should do. Adam was obviously under some sort of spell. He had acted like a man bewitched – not at all his usual rational self – and spells could be broken.

  Ten minutes later she realised that she could not lie there another second. All her tension and worry had returned. Getting up, she ran a bath; the water would soak away some of her exhaustion which, now she had left her bed, returned in full measure.

  It was not until she had run downstairs to the kitchen and opened the back door that she realised her car had gone from the yard. She stared for a moment, then she turned back inside and ran back upstairs.

  ‘Jane?’ She knocked on the spare room door and then threw it open. Jane’s clothes, her bag, her shoes, had all gone.

  Phil was standing in front of his easel lost in thought when she burst into his studio. Beside him the cooker timer, set to remind him to leave to fetch Beth home from school, ticked loudly on his bench.

  ‘Phil? Where’s Jane?’

  He turned to her thoughtfully, and it was a moment before he focused and registered her question. ‘I don’t know. Why?’

  ‘She’s gone. She’s taken my car, her things, everything.’

  ‘She’s probably gone home then.’

  ‘She can’t have. Phil, I saw her last night – no, it was this morning. Only a few hours ago. We talked. She can’t go back to Adam, not yet.’

  Phil walked over and put his arms around her. ‘What is it? What happened yesterday? I thought it couldn’t be good if you’d come straight back.’

  She told him and he listened without interruption. Only when she had finished did he ask, ‘Did you tell Jane all this?’

  She nodded.

  He shook his head. ‘She shouldn’t have gone back to him. Perhaps she hasn’t. Are you sure she didn’t leave a note?’

  She hadn’t looked. When she found it, all it said was: I’ll leave the car at the station. Sorry. Jane. It wasn’t until ten o’clock that night that she heard from Jane again. She was already in bed when the phone rang and, grabbing her dressing gown, she ran downstairs to the cold kitchen. Beth had long been asleep. There was no sign of Phil. He must still be out in the studio.

  ‘I’m sorry I ran away.’ She could hear from her voice that Jane had been crying. ‘I lay awake for hours thinking about what you’d told me, then I realised I was never going to fall asleep so I just got up and left. I wanted to talk to him.’ There was a long pause.

  ‘What is it, Janie? What’s happened?’

  ‘I thought if I ca
ught him at the surgery I could speak to him without the risk of her being there. I thought I could persuade him to see sense. But it wasn’t any good. He wouldn’t listen. He was rude to me in front of the receptionist. He walked out and drove home and when I got here he was already upstairs, and the door is locked. I wish I hadn’t come.’

  ‘Oh, Janie, I’m so sorry.’ Liza shivered. She moved to the full length of the phone cord which just allowed her to switch on the lamp on the dresser. Outside it was raining. She could hear the spatter of raindrops against the window.

  ‘He’s here. Upstairs. With her.’ Jane let out a small sob. ‘Liza, he doesn’t want me any more.’

  ‘Come back, Janie. Come back here. We want you.’ The warmth in Liza’s voice was genuine. ‘Listen, don’t stay there.’ She had been going to say that it wasn’t safe, but she bit back the words. What was the point in frightening Jane further?

  ‘I’ll come in the morning, maybe …’

  ‘Jane, you must.’

  ‘I can’t just leave without trying again.’ Her voice faded briefly, as though she had turned away from the receiver. ‘Hold on. I can hear footsteps. I think he’s coming downstairs. I’ll call you back tomorrow.’

  ‘Jane, don’t hang up – ’

  But it was too late. The phone had been slammed down.

  Liza stood for a moment looking at the receiver in her own hand, then slowly she replaced it on the rest. She was trying to picture the scene at the far end of the line.

  ‘Adam.’ Jane smiled in relief. ‘Are you all right?’

  He stared at her in silence for a full minute and she realised suddenly that he wasn’t focusing. His gaze was going straight through her as though she weren’t there.

  ‘Adam?’ she repeated, more timidly this time. ‘Can you hear me?’

  He looked as though he were asleep.

  ‘Adam?’ Cautiously she stepped forward and put her hand on his arm. ‘Adam, darling, can you hear me?’

  She glanced behind him at the door. The house was very quiet. All she could hear was the roar of the wind in the branches of the pear tree outside the window. ‘Adam, let’s go into the kitchen. It’s warmer in there.’

  He followed her obediently and quietly she shut the door and turned the key. Closing her eyes she took a deep breath.

  ‘There. Why not sit down while I put the kettle on?’ She busied herself at the tap, watching him out of the corner of her eye. He was still gazing into space, his actions those of a sleepwalker.

  Having switched on the kettle she sat down at the kitchen table next to him and took his hand. It was ice cold. Chafing it gently she smiled at him. ‘Perhaps we should put on the fire next door? It’s cold enough to snow, you know. There was a frost up at the farm last night.’ She bit her lip. She shouldn’t have mentioned the farm. But perhaps if she talked about Liza’s visit it would trigger some sort of reaction in him. ‘Adam, Liza was very upset by what happened here last night.’

  He said nothing. His eyes were still fixed on the middle distance.

  ‘It was dreadful to make her drive all the way back to Wales. She was exhausted.’

  He was listening, she realised suddenly. His eyes had re-focused and his attention had sharpened. She breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Adam, we have to talk about what’s happened. I’m not sure I understand –’ She broke off as he stood up abruptly, pushing the chair over onto the floor behind him.

  ‘Brid?’ He was looking at the door.

  Jane went white. She looked at the door too. The handle was moving gently up and down.

  ‘Adam, don’t let her in. You have to talk to me.’ She caught at his hand but he pushed it away.

  ‘Brid? Is that you?’ Striding quickly across the room he unlocked the door and pulled it open. The hallway was empty.

  Jane moved behind the table. ‘Is it her?’

  Adam peered up the stairs.

  ‘Don’t go, Adam.’ She was afraid. ‘Don’t go up there.’

  Adam shook his head. ‘I have to, Jane. If you don’t like it, you go.’

  ‘But this is my home, Adam.’ Her fear changed at last to anger. ‘I’m not going to leave! I’ve been hurt too. I’ve lost a son too. You’re not alone. But I face up to it. I’m coping with reality, not losing myself in a web of fantasy and perversion! If anyone is going, it should be you. You’re mad! Go on, get out!’ She was crying now, her voice almost hoarse from shouting.

  Adam turned away from her and walked out into the hall. ‘Do what you like.’ His voice had lost its power suddenly. Slowly, he began to climb the stairs.

  Jane spent the night locked in the kitchen. The next morning she waited until she heard Adam stirring, then she went and stood behind the door, her hand on the key. He was bound to come down for breakfast. When he did so she would let him in, slam the door shut behind him and lock it.

  But he didn’t come in. She heard his footsteps on the stairs; they moved across the hall to the front door. She heard it open, felt the draught sweep in under the kitchen door around her feet, and then she heard it bang again. Moments later she heard the distant sound of the car engine in the drive.

  She stood where she was, holding her breath, listening. The house was totally silent.

  It was half an hour before she plucked up the courage to look out into the hall. It was dark. The dull wet morning allowed very little light to seep through the small window beside the front entrance and the sitting room and study doors were closed. Her heart was thundering in her ears as she tiptoed to the foot of the stairs and looked up. Her spurt of anger the night before had been short-lived. It had been replaced by self-pity, by fear and by indignation in quick succession as she huddled at the table in the cold room, warming herself now and again by turning on the electric cooker and leaving the oven door open, an action which gave her a perverse pleasure in that she knew how furious Adam would be if he learned of such a blatant waste of money and heat.

  One by one she pushed open the ground floor doors and peered into each room in turn. All were empty. Then at last she plucked up courage to climb the stairs.

  It was the first time she had been in Calum’s room for many weeks. Once a month she would go in there to dust and vacuum, to sit on his bed and have a little cry, to touch his things and try to make the resolution to do something about it all, to resist making it into a shrine; then she would blow her nose and stand up and go out and close the door, thankfully to try and put it out of her mind for a while longer. She stood for a moment, looking round. No one had been in there, she was sure. Everything was exactly as it had been. There was no one else to go in there, apart from Adam. Mrs Freeling had left after the murder, too scared, she said, to stay in the house, and they had never had the heart to replace her. And now there was no need. With just her and Adam there was very little to do in the way of housework and she could get through what there was in no time at all.

  She went into their bedroom next – the room she now slept in alone. It was empty, the beds neatly made. Her eyes went automatically to the bedside table and suddenly she froze. The broken amulet which she had put defiantly back in its place had gone.

  She knew it didn’t work any more; she knew there was no point in it, but it was all she had to cling to. Frantically she ran to the table and stared down between the two beds. Kneeling, she looked under the bed covers, beneath the pillows and then over the rest of the room. There was no sign of it anywhere.

  ‘Oh, please God, let it be here!’ She looked again, throwing open drawers and cupboards, then spread her search wider to take in the bathroom and Calum’s room, where she had not looked inside the cupboards for months. In her panic she forgot to be sad, throwing football boots and a cricket bat out onto the carpet as she rummaged in the depths. But it was no use. Only then, at last, did she pluck up courage to go to the door of the spare room and rest her ear against the wood, listening. Inside there was total silence. Taking a deep breath she put her hand on the handle and turned it.

  The roo
m was in chaos. The bed was unmade and frowsty, the sheets strewn across the floor. A pile of Adam’s unwashed clothes lay spilling from a chair and there were streaks of dried blood upon the pillow.

  Jane felt sick. There was a feral smell in the air which made the small hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, but there was no sign of Brid or of any cat.

  Then she saw the amulet. It was lying on the floor, half covered by the trailing sheet. Stooping, she reached for it with a sigh of relief, then she gasped with horror. It had been snapped and twisted again beyond recognition, the rest of the branches broken off, the small coloured enamels crushed as if with a hammer. The crystal had gone. Carefully she gathered up all the broken pieces and looked down at them through a haze of tears. What use would it be to her now? Turning, she walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. Carrying it through to her own bedroom she sat down on the bed and laid the pieces on the clean fresh bedspread. The fury with which they had been torn apart was clear in every twisted fragment. ‘Oh Adam,’ she found herself sobbing the words out loud. ‘What have you let her do to you?’

  It was a long time before she pulled herself together and stood up. Half an hour later, she was in the waiting room at the surgery.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Craig.’ The face of Doreen Chambers, the new receptionist, was a picture of anxiety and embarrassment. ‘Dr Craig says he is too busy to see you.’

  They both glanced round at the empty room. The last patient had walked out of the door minutes before.

  ‘I see.’ Jane straightened her shoulders. ‘Doreen, would you be so kind as to step into the back office for a moment. I should hate you to get into trouble.’ She smiled, a small brittle lift of the mouth which left Doreen even more nervous.