The branches of the firs whispered ‘welcome home’ over the top of my head as their needles rippled in the soft evening breeze. They told me I must carry on with my journey; they would keep me company. I mustn’t be frightened.
I walked along, my shadow lengthening, and as I walked, I remembered.
***
It was morning and Cassie couldn’t find her mermaid doll. Despite it being there last night, Myrtle had vanished from her bed. From the sound she was making, you would have thought her world was coming to an end.
Gil’s blonde hair was ruffled and there was a soft glow at the tips of his hollow cheekbones. He was simultaneously begging the girl to eat toast and marmite soldiers whilst tying her soft hair into a French plait.
Gil closed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose. “Em, would you be a sweetheart and have another scout around to see if you can find it? I’m never going to get her to school at this rate.”
I sipped my coffee. I had sacrificed my spoonful of cream and sugar to show Gil how cosmopolitan I was, but without them, the drink tasted of liquid charcoal and was making my empty stomach recoil. Gil opened his eyes wide, his soft mouth downturned at the sides. He was beautiful even when pushed to the edge of his patience. Cassie batted another piece of toast onto the floor. “Pretty please.”
I got to my feet and stretched, my spine giving a satisfactory click. “Cassie – you know what?”
The little girl immediately stopped her wailing and looked at me. Direct conversation with me was unusual; a novelty worth quietening down for.
“Do you know what day it is today?” I asked.
Cassie hiccupped and sniffed in rapid succession. Her big eyes were bright, her dark lashes glistening with tears. Cassie gave a small shake of her head. Behind her, I saw the tip of Gil’s tongue poking out whilst his brow furrowed as he ducked down to wrestle with the hair at the nape of her neck.
I folded my arms. “It’s a full moon tonight and, if you don’t shut up and do what Gil tells you to, the real Myrtle will hear about it.” I tapped my foot against the polished oak floor. Cassie’s full lips were parted. “And,” I continued, “if she does, she will be sure to stay on the bottom of the lake to avoid having to listen to your horrid caterwauling. Mermaids hate loud noises.”
“Is the real mermaid going to be on top of the lake tonight?” asked Cassie, her voice a whisper.
Gil’s expression turned into a quizzical rebuke, but I knew he was relieved that the noise had stopped. He smiled to himself as he managed to tighten the elastic around his neat braiding.
I shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not, but right now just you concentrate on helping Gil get you ready for school. Mermaids also like good behaviour.”
Gil winked at me. “Thanks, Em.” He turned to Cassie. “Right, pickle. Your super kind sister is going to have another search for Mini Myrtle whilst you get some of these toast soldiers inside your tummy. Okay?”
Cassie nodded, her eyes now locked onto the slice of lake visible through the window.
I went into the kitchen where Cookie, real name Marigold Mogford, was busy sweeping the slate floor tiles. She whistled a tuneless melody under her breath. The faint whiff of smoked fish hung in the air despite a large pot of chicken stock bubbling on the stove. Daddy must have caught the early train to London – no one else ate kippers for breakfast except him. Cookie smiled at me, momentarily erasing the criss-cross lines which grooved the puckered skin above her wide upper lip. After the breakfast shift was over, Cookie was free to go. It was her day off and she didn’t have to be back until eleven o’ clock the next morning. Her routine was the same every week. She went into town to get her hair rinsed then set into fat, sausage roll curls. After that she met up with her friends, Clara and Maud for a pasty and a half pint of stout before catching the number 22 bus to the bingo hall on the outskirts of town.
“Gilbert’s in charge of heating up the supper tonight,” said Cookie. “You’re having beef and ale pie followed by, your favourite, Bakewell Tart and custard.” I groaned. Since falling in love, I had been trying to lose a bit of puppy fat in order to fit into more of Mummy’s designer clothes. But Cookie didn’t see the point of having five a day unless boiled or stewed until all the nutrients had seeped out of them. She had cooked for the Buchanan family for several generations and her repertoire consisted of good, hearty English fare all doused with lashings of lard and blankets of salt.
The only good thing about supper was that I was allowed to eat it in the dining room with the grown-ups rather than with Cassie at four o’clock in the kitchen. That had been Gil’s idea.
“Thanks, Cookie,” I said. “By the way, I don’t suppose you’ve seen Myrtle.”
She shook her head. “Already had a good search. Have you had enough toast?” she added pointing at the slabs of thick-crusted bread stepping out of the bread bin. I nodded, hoping Cookie couldn’t hear the coffee sloshing around my empty insides.
I wandered along the dark corridor and into the playroom. In a former life this was the reception room for visiting merchants to stand and wait until they were summonsed into the master’s study. It was long and narrow, dominated by a huge mullioned window; a pot of gerberas wilting in the centre of the sill. There was a bookshelf in one corner with a bright, miniature oven positioned in front of it, plastic food spilling from its surface. At the other end of the room there was a whiteboard set on an easel with scatter cushions underneath.
And there, as clear as anything, was Myrtle, sitting on the ledge next to the marker pens and a block eraser.
I grinned and went over to get her; Gil would be pleased. Above Myrtle’s head, in an enormous black ink love heart, was written:
“Be at the boat house ten o’clock sharp.”
I traced the words with my finger, picked up the doll, and stalked out of the playroom. I was floating. This was the day my life would change forever.
“You star,” said Gil as I put the doll onto Cassie’s lap. The little girl buried her face in the mermaid’s woollen hair.
“Where was it?” he asked.
I couldn’t look at him; the wave of emotion rushing through me was too much and I thought I would faint. “In the playroom. Next to the notice board.”
Gil slapped his forehead. “So obvious. Why didn’t I look there?”
He knew I had seen his command to me and he knew I would obey. He turned to Cassie. “Right – teeth, then we’re done.”
A quarter of an hour later Cassie and her mermaid backpack were bundled into the rear of his VW Golf. “Do you want a lift to school?” he asked, strapping Cassie into her booster seat. She kicked her feet and tiny L.E.D. lights on the bottom of her shoes flashed. “I’ve got to go to the shops to pick up a few bits for later so it’s no problem.”
“No,” I said, smiling. “I’m going to cycle. It’s such a beautiful morning.”
“Oh! Okay. Good for you. It’s certainly shaping up to be a gorgeous day. Have you got much going on at school?”
I couldn’t stop grinning. I shook my head.
“Well, have a good one and I’ll see you later.”
I waved them off. Cassie held up Myrtle’s velvety arm and flapped it at me. After the car had disappeared from sight, I ran around to the side of the house into a brick courtyard. This part of the grounds was a mishmash of sheds, lean-tos and cars. In the old days it had been used as the tradesman’s entrance. I pushed open the door of a small, stone building and sat on the wide shelf, next to a sack of potatoes. I kicked my toes against the chest freezer and waited. After about ten minutes I heard Cookie slam the back door shut and start up the engine on her Mini.
I was left with nothing but birdsong and the gentle hum of the freezer.
I was alone.
I went into the house and straight up to Mummy’s dressing-room wondering what one wore to a romantic coffee morning. I chose a tweed pencil skirt which wouldn’t quite meet at the top, silk blouse and patent court shoes. I threw a string
of pearls around my neck, put on a thick layer of make-up and sprayed myself with a perfume which smelt of chocolate and freesias.
It was only half past eight. I had acres of time to spare.
I decided that I may as well take a book and go and wait for him at the agreed rendezvous point.
The boat house was situated to the left of the mansion. To get there I had to pick my way between the neat rows of vegetables, taking a right turn through a gravelled, privet corridor until I reached the edge of a meadow which led down to the lake. I marvelled how the colour of the water matched my mood; dark and mysterious.
The wooden building was perched upon a timber shelf and it reminded me of something plucked from a folk story; the ideal place for the huntsman to take Snow White. I climbed up the steep, creosote-soaked steps and opened the door to the building. I glanced around to check no one was watching then shut myself inside, my nostrils filling with the aroma of churned mud and pondweed.
The boat house consisted of a ground floor leading up to an open mezzanine layer. The lower deck was furnished with a couple of fold-up chairs and upon a dusty shelf, which ran along one wall, there sat a couple of cobweb-crusted, candle lanterns. A circular table draped with a white linen cloth stood in the middle of the room and a bottle of wine, two glasses and a carton of strawberries rested upon it. A vase had been positioned alongside and it overflowed with forget-me-nots; my favourite.
I lifted my gaze towards the mezzanine floor and spied that the mattress had been covered with a couple of soft, fleece blankets. Petals were dotted upon the pillows.
My body was glowing. He must have been up very early to get all of this ready for me.
I imagined myself lying on top of the covers. Naked. My head thrown back to reveal the soft scoop of my neckline.
I flushed with embarrassment.
There was a loud creak as the door in the far corner of the room swung open. Surely he wasn’t here already, hiding in the store cupboard. I hurried over and peeked my head inside, but there was nothing there apart from a multitude of engines, broken rudders and old cushions. I wrinkled my nose as I spied Daddy’s extensive fishing equipment all nailed to a warped wooden board; sharp scissors, hooks and feathers hanging from it. A patch of sunlight filtered through a gap at the bottom of the small door which led from the store cupboard and out onto the jetty. It was the place where Cassie had spent many an hour, lying on the blistered planks staring into the water for a glimpse of Myrtle.
Now that we were officially lovers I began the task of planning his first sighting of me in this new guise. Should I be sitting at the table reading or perhaps lying under the covers of the bed waiting for him? Once again, I blushed at the thought of my awakened desires. It must be wine and conversation first. I rehearsed what I was going to say in my head. First, I would ask him something about his journey into school before bringing up the topic of Myrtle. Next, I would laugh and tell him how clever he was to contrive for me to go into the playroom and read his message. Then, unable to contain his desires any longer, he would sweep me into his arms and carry me up to bed.
I heard someone on the steps. I scuttled off into the room at the back with a mind to surprise him. I decided I would slink out of the shadows and put my palms over his eyes. He would startle, laugh then turn and kiss me. The pit of my stomach was churning, and my body quivered with the anticipation of his lips upon mine. I flattened myself against the wooden panels and listened to the lapping of water against the stilts and the knocking of the rowing boats beneath my feet. Later, after he had ravished me, I would suggest we take a turn around the lake. I would ask him to make me a crown of forget-me-nots, after all, I was his Lady of the Lake and he must do as I commanded.
His footsteps were heavy. Swift. There was loud creaking as he ran up the stairs to the bedroom. This was followed by a flurry of activity and the thump of shoes being flung to the ground, the jingle of a discarded belt.
I was holding my breath. I thought I would melt into the floorboards. I hadn’t realised his passion for me was so strong. I knew I had to go to him and give him what he desired.
Suddenly the front door slammed shut again. My palm froze around the door handle. We had been caught. But instead of a cry of indignation I heard a whoop of laughter followed by feet stampeding up the stairs.
I tried to shut out the declarations of love and the moans of ecstasy, but it was no good and within minutes my entire world dissolved into a puddle of tears around my feet.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Lily
Frank pulled me up by my armpits and dragged me back into my wooden prison, hurling me like a rag doll into the corner of the empty room. He slammed the door which led out onto the jetty, muffling Grace’s lament.
My head was buzzing with questions about the skeleton from the lake.
Grace’s extraordinary distress coupled with Frank’s lack of surprise suggested they knew exactly who the bones belonged to. There was no mention of calling the police. I shifted my bedraggled body into a sitting position and lifted my bound wrists over my knees, hugging them towards my chest. Water puddled around me and my clothes stuck to my skin, chilling my flesh and making my teeth chatter.
Frank stood in the opposite corner of the room and leant against the wall, staring down at me with his silver eyes now set alight by streaks of rosy light which pierced the panelling. A sheen of sweat glistened at his temples and damp patches had spread under his arms. He was ruffled. After his breath regained its regular wheeze, he tipped his head on one side and his mouth twitched as though he was unable to get the words out.
That’s when I realised; we weren’t alone.
Out of the corner of my eye I could see another person; a tall man with long blonde hair and golden skin, but the moment I turned to look, he vanished. My body flooded with warmth and calm.
“Why are you grinning like a lunatic?” Frank clapped his fat hands together to get my attention. “Cassie. Look at me and understand this: you belong to me. From now on you will answer to me and only me.” He took a step forwards and smiled, showing his horrible coffee-stained teeth.
“And…” he paused, “…if you are a good little girl and do as I say, I will let you come and live with me in my cottage. How would you like that?” His voice had softened to a whisper, but it carried an icy undertone which made me shiver. He took yet another stride closer and with much grunting sat down opposite me, his joints clicking. “I didn’t want to keep you here.” His stale breath flooded my cheeks and made me recoil. He paused and picked at a sliver of skin next to his thumbnail. “Nothing like a bit of tough love to make one more pliable, hey?” He expelled another great puff of sour breath. “But I needed to be sure you weren’t going to make any fuss about your new circumstances. You see, unless you remain hidden here, away from the real world, people will soon discover who you are and unfortunately, they will also realise what you have done.” He shook his head. “You will go to prison for a very long time and, as for your sister, well, she will end up in the loony bin for the rest of her life. But,” he held up a hand, “as long as you are quiet and stay within the grounds of my cottage, we won’t have any problems and I will be able to take care of you once more.” He smiled and chucked me under my chin. “How’s about I put you back on your meds? Would you like that? We could even double the dose.”
Say no, said a voice inside my mind.
I shook my head.
“No!” He gave a throaty chuckle. “But don’t they make you feel numb? Don’t they shut out all the horrors of your pathetic world? Be kind to yourself, Cassie. They make you forget and that’s what I want you to do – forget.” He reached into his pocket and picked out a silvery packet of pills which he clawed. He leaned over so that his face was level with mine; speckles of saliva glistened on his lips.
Frank’s breathing deepened as the air whistled from his nostrils. With a swift movement he reached out and grabbed my finger, squeezing it between his index finger and thumb. The sk
in on the back of my hands puckered and my mouth went dry. “Dearest, you must be a good girl for your Uncle Frank.”
I turned my head away.
“What’s this insolent behaviour?” he spat, his fingers pressing down on mine, squeezing my bones together. Suddenly he pulled his hand away.
I kept my gaze upon the wall.
There was a rustling sound as he pushed a couple of pills through their foil backing. Then he grabbed hold of my chin and tilted my head, so I was forced to stare straight into his eyes. With a grin, he pinched my nose and forced my mouth open, placing the tablets onto my tongue. I pushed them above my top front teeth, tucking them behind my upper lip and then gave a theatrical gulp. A loud shriek from outside made Frank curse and get back to his feet. Immediately his face was turned I spat the pills out and watched them tumble between the slats of wood into the dark water below.
The strange sensation that I wasn’t alone rushed through my body and filled me with confidence. A new thought rang inside my mind like a tolling bell. The words settled on my tongue and, before I knew it, they had emerged from my mouth; broken and stilted, but all mine.
“I - know - what - you - did.”
Frank, his palm around the door handle, stood still for a few seconds then turned back to me. A snarl curled at one corner of his mouth. “Well, well, well. So, it appears you have got a voice after all. That certainly makes things more interesting. We’ll let that be our little secret for the time being.” He blew me a kiss. “Sweet dreams.”
I curled myself into a foetal position and faced the wall, keeping my eyes shut tight as I feigned a deep sleep. In half an hour they both entered the room and there was the shuffle and scrape of something being dragged along the floor. A blanket was thrown over me. “Don’t want her catching a chill,” muttered Frank. “Think of the inconvenience another dead body would cause.”
The Cry of the Lake Page 16