The Memory: A Gripping Psychological Thriller With a Heart-Stopping Twist

by Lucy Dawson

  ‘Agreed,’ says Tim. ‘Plus I don’t want the builders ambling through from one bit to the other whenever they want either. They can go round the back when they need to get something. This middle bit needs to feel like a home. As much as possible.’ He looks around him again doubtfully.

  ‘I think we can make it a lot nicer than it is now.’ I chew my lip, put my hands on my hips and look at the boxes again. ‘In fact, I wonder if we shouldn’t just slap some paint over the walls before we unpack? Do you think your mum and dad would mind if we stayed at theirs another couple of nights? Or at least if Rosie does? Just so we could work really hard on it for the next two days? I’m not talking a professional job, obviously – just a freshen up. It’s only three bedrooms and the bathroom in this bit – and I wouldn’t paint in Rosie’s room anyway, she’d be gutted to lose that tree – then down here it’s the dining room, two sitting rooms and kitchen. OK, so we can’t do all of it,’ I realise aloud. ‘But we could certainly do our room and at least one of the sitting rooms. That’d be enough to start with?’

  ‘And so it begins,’ says Tim. ‘You’ve hit organising mode. It was always going to happen.’

  I smile tiredly. ‘I think I’m just firing on adrenaline.’ It’s true, I feel slightly wired. I should have hit a wall by now yet I can’t quite seem to stop. It’s an odd, unsettled excitement. ‘Come on! Let’s go and decide on a colour.’ I reach out, take his hand and lead him up the dark stairs to the bedroom.

  Eleven

  Eve

  We all squash onto the front seat in Adam’s van, Isobel wedged between me on the left and Adam – who is driving – but she doesn’t say a word, until we pull up outside our new home.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me Timothy was coming back, that he was moving into our house?’ The aura around her is palpable; she’s positively shimmering with happiness – lit up from within. She looks at me, and Adam sits back, crossing his arms, and waits too.

  ‘Darling, it’s not our house any more,’ I remind her. ‘I wanted the right moment to tell you about Timothy because I knew it was going to upset you – and I was obviously right.’ Worriedly, I reach out to take her hand. ‘You can’t just walk into Fox Cottage any more, Izzie. How did you get in anyway?’

  She draws it back. ‘I wasn’t naughty. The front door was open and I heard him calling my name.’ She catches her breath. ‘So I went in and… he was just standing there, waiting for me.’

  Oh God. She’s constructed that out of him trying to help us look for her? An enchanted Disney moment all of her very own. ‘But Izzie, you shouldn’t have been there at all.’ I try to steer her off course. ‘Adam was getting the food and you just disappeared from the car. We were very frightened, weren’t we, Adam?’

  He nods. ‘I have to say I was, Iz.’

  ‘We didn’t know where you were.’

  She looks confused and immediately becomes anxious, starting to pick at her poor stubby nails, bitten back right to the quick.

  ‘Leave them, sweetest.’ I gently pull her hands apart. ‘You’ll make them so sore.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I just suddenly remembered I’d left some important things at home. That’s all. I went back to see if the new people would let me get them?’

  I remember the Ouija board under the floor. ‘You don’t need to worry about that now. We’ve talked about all of this before. None of that is real, Isobel. The only damage it can do is to your mind. Now, tell me! What did you see at the cinema? I bet I can guess—’ She frowns but I carry on quickly. ‘Paddington 2!’

  ‘Right first time!’ Adam interjects cheerfully.

  ‘Oh no! Not again!’ I force a laugh and Adam chuckles too. ‘Lucky it’s so good, eh, Iz? Hugh Grant is a revelation.’

  ‘I’m tired,’ she says suddenly, as Adam turns off the engine.

  ‘I’m sure you are. It’s been a big day.’ I climb out of the car and watch as Adam holds the door open for her, but when she emerges, she’s smiling again. She’s absolutely ablaze within, I can see it; I can feel the terrifying warmth of the happiness radiating from her. ‘You must be hungry, too?’

  She shakes her head. ‘I don’t want to eat anything. So this is where we live now?’ She looks at the house, and just for a moment, I’m released from thinking about the Vaughan family and turn my attention to the next challenge.

  ‘Yes, it is. Would you like to come in and have a look around? Tell me what you think? I’ll be interested to know.’

  I hold my breath as she drifts over the threshold in a daze, but at least she’s in. I open my mouth to tell her to take her shoes off now that we’ve actually got nice flooring, but instantly think better of it. I don’t want to make any mistakes or strike a single wrong note. Adam shoots me a look and I know he feels the tension too.

  ‘Oh hey, Iz! Look at this!’ he says conversationally as they walk into the sitting room. ‘The TV is set up already! The chairs are all organised. And there’s a little fire. You’ve worked hard, Eve,’ he says as I come in.

  ‘I wanted to get it looking nice.’ I smile wearily, suddenly realising how tired I am. Izzie doesn’t say anything; she doesn’t appear to be noticing any of it at all, although that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

  ‘Can I go up to my room now, please?’ she says absently.

  ‘Of course!’

  We troop right to the top of the house. I’m leading the way, Adam bringing up the rear – Izzie deliberately sandwiched between us to make her feel safer.

  ‘You’re up here.’ I stand to one side and let her walk in, watch her scan the room as her gaze settles on the closed door that leads to her en suite. ‘That’s right! You’ve got your own bathroom just like normal!’ I say quickly. ‘This whole floor is all for you!’

  ‘Wow, Izzie!’ Adam appears behind me. ‘Look at this! You’ve got so much space.’ He nods at the two skylights. ‘And you’ll still be able to watch the clouds.’ He mimes closing his open mouth, and I smile gratefully.

  ‘There are no birds,’ she says suddenly and points at the blank wall.

  ‘Not yet,’ I say quickly.

  ‘Maybe I could paint some for you this time?’ Adam offers and she gives the briefest of shrugs.

  Adam laughs. ‘Thanks very much! Maybe paint your own then!’

  ‘I just might,’ she says softly and then, to my huge surprise, she walks suddenly across the room and gives me a hug. ‘Thank you for doing this,’ she says. ‘I’m sorry I frightened you.’

  I am so overwhelmed I actually feel tears rush to my eyes. I cannot remember the last time she thanked me, unprompted, or offered me a hug. I allow myself the luxury of feeling her head lean against my shoulder for the briefest of moments, but it’s already too much for her and she’s pulling away from me, before I get the chance to mentally bank the simple joy of holding her in my arms.

  ‘I think she likes it, Adam!’ I remark, choked, to cover my emotion.

  ‘Who wouldn’t! It’s an amazing room!’ Adam says cheerfully.

  Every time I’ve asked him what’s happening with his own living situation, he’s brushed me off and told me he’s fine. I know he’s going to run out of friends’ sofas before too long. And then what? But I can’t worry about that now too. Not tonight. My head might explode if I try to fit something else in. It’s time for bed and some well-earned rest.

  But I’m premature. Izzie is peering at her chest of drawers in confusion, which I realise, too late, I have not shut properly.

  ‘Have you been in my things, Mum?’ she asks. Her voice is light, but a trained ear can hear it – a delicate string pulling so tight it might snap.

  ‘I haven’t been through them at all, Izzie, no,’ I say firmly, in an attempt to head her off at the pass. ‘I had to take the drawers out so that the removal men could lift them onto the van, but no one has looked through them. Let’s go downstairs and watch some TV while Adam gets those fish and chips!’ Again. ‘Do you mind going back, Adam?’

  But she is not liste
ning, she’s already opening the middle drawer, and Adam groans. She digs around inside the T-shirts and jumpers, then pulls out the Timothy box. She lifts the lid and rummages around in the contents, before, seemingly satisfied, starting to close it again, but then she hesitates and her eyes widen. She reaches in and scrabbles around urgently.

  ‘Where is the candle?’

  ‘What candle?’ I feign ignorance because I’ve just remembered I have no bloody idea where it is. I did pack it, didn’t I? It was on the bedpost.

  ‘Mum, please!’ She explodes suddenly. ‘You know what I’m talking about. Don’t treat me like I’m imagining things! Where is it? You didn’t light it again?’ She looks at me anxiously.

  ‘No, I didn’t!’ I try to sound annoyed. ‘Isobel, come along! Downstairs please.’

  ‘You did, didn’t you?’ She stares at me. ‘What were you thinking about when you lit it? This is very important, Mum. I know you don’t believe me, but it could be dangerous.’

  ‘Isobel Mary Parkes!’ I’m starting to lose it myself. ‘Darling, please, must we do this? The only dangerous thing about lighting a candle, is you doing it on your own, in your old bedroom. I didn’t want to have to talk to you about this now, but since it’s come up – I don’t want you using candles without my being there too. The whole house could burn down.’

  I watch Adam look at the floor and wait. He’s bracing for the train to hurtle through the barrier.

  But she is unusually calm. ‘I know you don’t believe in magic – but I do. Show me your hands!’ She reaches out and grabs my wrist tightly, her thumbs digging into one of my bruises. It hurts and I yelp; nonetheless she forces my palms over.

  ‘There,’ she says immediately, pointing at my cut and painfully throbbing thumb. I didn’t get round to putting another plaster back on.

  ‘It’s nothing. Just a cut!’

  ‘Did you keep it covered when you held the candle? Otherwise, you’ve basically just performed blood magic.’

  Blood magic? I could scream.

  ‘I didn’t bleed on anything and witchcraft is not real,’ I manage. ‘We’ve been over this. No more boards, no more chanting, summoning or spell casting. Please… please.’ My voice cracks but she looks at me defiantly.

  ‘This is your fault, Mum – not mine. If you hadn’t gone through my things it would still be in there. I need to go back and look for it now.’

  ‘To Fox Cottage?’ I exclaim. ‘For a bit of candle? You’re joking, right?’

  ‘It’s important. I won’t be able to sleep until I know it’s safe.’

  ‘OK – yes, I found it and yes, I burnt it – I burnt it to the end and I burnt that ridiculous board too!’ I lie, finally losing my rag. ‘It’s crazy, Isobel. You have got to stop this, do you understand? It’s unhealthy, dangerous thinking.’

  ‘You’re sure you burnt it out completely?’ she says, ignoring everything else I’ve just said.

  ‘Yes,’ I practically shriek. ‘I promise.’

  She nods with relief. ‘OK then. I really don’t want any food, thank you. I still feel sick after the popcorn and sweets earlier.’

  ‘But that was this morning. What have you eaten since then?’

  ‘We went back again after lunch and watched another movie,’ Adam says. ‘We’ve had loads to eat, honestly. It was a Valentine’s Day treat,’ he adds sadly. ‘I’ll say good night, Iz.’

  He comes over to kiss her and she deliberately twists her face so he only catches the back of her cheek and her hair. I look away, embarrassed for him.

  ‘I’ll see you downstairs, Eve,’ he says quietly.

  I nod and wait until he’s out of earshot before I turn back to her. ‘That wasn’t very kind.’

  ‘“People should never be forced into something they don’t want to do”,’ she repeats aloud the words I said to Paul Jones all those years ago, and I freeze, recognising them instantly.

  ‘Are you OK, Iz? Today has been very overwhelming, I think?’

  She goes and climbs onto her bed and hugs her knees to her chest. She looks about five years old. ‘No – it’s been good. I like it here!’ She smiles at me nervously, and I try to smile back at her, even though I know she is thinking about Timothy Vaughan again.

  ‘I can’t believe it, Mum!’ she whispers, confirming my fears. The ominous sense of wonder has crept back into her voice. ‘It worked!’

  I risk walking over to her bed, sitting down and reaching out to stroke her hair from her face, but she lets me. I’m afraid to ask – I know what the answer is going to be – but I must. ‘What worked, my love?’

  ‘I brought him back,’ she confides shyly and stares at the rose pattern on her bedspread, tracing the petals with her fingertip. ‘That’s partly what the candle was about.’

  I take a deep breath. I don’t want to do this, it would be so much easier not to, but it wouldn’t be kind. I wouldn’t be a good mother.

  ‘Isobel, that woman in the house with Timothy lives with him. She’s called Claire. He hasn’t come back for you, darling.’

  She looks down at the duvet, refusing to meet my eye.

  ‘Izzie, there’s something else,’ this is going to be the hardest bit, ‘he has a daughter now. She’s eight and she’s called Rosie.’

  ‘Oh!’ It’s the smallest sound of surprise. She closes her eyes, and thanks to Susannah’s poisonous vengeance, now I understand exactly why. I sit watching her, completely helpless to relieve the visible pain she is in, and it makes me want to hurt someone.

  ‘Timothy hasn’t come back because of anything you did, or think you made happen,’ I plough on. ‘He’s just… come back. I know how difficult this is going to be for you, Isobel, how much you love Timothy and how important he is to you – has been for such a long time now after what he did for you that day, but angel, he didn’t—’

  ‘Stop, Mum! Please!’ she interrupts fiercely. ‘Just stop. You’re wrong. You don’t understand.’

  But I do – I know what it is to love someone and not be able to be with them, of course I understand, my darling. I promise you. I reach out and tenderly stroke her hair again. ‘Mothers know everything.’

  I mean it to be a comfort, but she ducks away from my touch, clouding over and becoming so darkly furious that I falter. ‘No, you don’t.’

  It is a shock to suddenly realise that she hasn’t kept her secret from me because she was worried I’d be angry or think less of her – she simply didn’t want me to know. I feel really quite desolate as the penny drops. This is too much change for one day.

  ‘I don’t want my door locked tonight.’ She glares at me.

  I pointedly look down at my bruised wrists. ‘I’ll very happily give it a go if you think that you’ll be OK?’

  ‘I’m asleep,’ she says quickly. ‘I don’t mean to hurt you. I don’t know I’m doing it. I never remember doing it.’

  ‘I’m not having a go at you, Izzie.’ I stand up. ‘I just want you to stay safe, that’s all, but of course we don’t need to lock it if you don’t want to. Are you going to go to bed now?’

  She nods.

  ‘OK. I’ll go and get your water then.’ I hesitate. ‘You wouldn’t be asking me not to lock your door because actually you want to go back to Fox Cottage and look for this candle, would you?’

  She flushes guiltily. You see I do know, Izzie.

  ‘You said you’d burnt it down?’

  ‘I did.’ I wait, but she stays sullenly quiet. ‘Isobel?’

  ‘OK, OK! There are some other things there that I need to get!’ she confesses. ‘I have to. Well, I think I do. It’d probably be safer.’

  I want to collapse into an exhausted heap on the soft, new carpet. I would happily sleep there. ‘Isobel, you’re not going back tonight. They’d think it was very odd indeed if you did.’

  ‘Well, you go then, and I won’t have to!’

  ‘What can you have possibly left behind that could be so important, that I need to go back again?’ I gesture wildly. ‘
And I’m warning you, Isobel, if you say it’s anything to do with magic – blood or otherwise – witchcraft or any kind of spell at all, I’m going to get very cross indeed.’

  I march back downstairs to find Adam waiting in the kitchen for me. ‘I actually thought that seemed to go pretty well?’ he says as I yank out a chair from under the table to sit down, before adding soberly. ‘All things considered.’

  I rest my elbows on the table and pinch the bridge of my nose, eyes closed – like I’m praying – but I am in fact trying to calm myself down. ‘Well, apart from the fact I’ve got to go back to Fox Cottage to retrieve something inexplicable that she’s shoved up the chimney there, yes – it went fine,’ I retort, more acidly than I intend.

  He looks thrown. ‘What do you mean, she’s shoved something up the chimney?’

  My voice is suddenly thick with tears. ‘She made two poppets… dolls,’ I try to explain as Adam still looks blank. ‘I don’t want to say voodoo dolls, but apparently their purpose is to symbolise a particular person that you might want to… manipulate.’

  Adam stares at me, stunned.

  ‘I know, I know! That IS a voodoo doll, isn’t it?’ I try to exhale deeply to calm down, but even my breath is jagged with stress. ‘She made one of them out of an old T-shirt of his she had from when they were together and if that wasn’t mad enough, she’s consecrated it – I don’t even really know what that means – and performed a ritual that, among other measures, is apparently why he’s now come back to Fox Cottage. But now it’s worked, she wants the doll back in case it falls into the wrong hands and bad things happen.’

  Adam sits back in his chair.

  I look up at the ceiling. ‘This is too much. I don’t have the strength for this any more. I think it might have been OK if she and Timothy hadn’t actually got together that summer before he went to university. That was when everything stopped just being inside her head and he made her believe he felt exactly the same way about her.’