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

by Lucy Dawson

  ‘Glass of wine?’ Tony offers, getting up from the table where he’s reading the paper as I walk into the room. ‘There’s a rather nice Malbec open, or I can get some white from the big fridge if you’d prefer?’

  ‘Malbec sounds great, thank you.’ I look over at Tim who is leaning on the side, arms crossed, looking pensive. I get the feeling I’ve interrupted a conversation between the three of them. ‘How is your head?’

  ‘A bit better thanks,’ he says tiredly, closing his eyes for a second and rubbing his brow with his hand. ‘Dad was just telling me about the visitors you had at the house earlier. I’m so sorry, Claire. I don’t know what to say.’

  Ah, that explains the atmosphere. I shrug helplessly. ‘It was partly my own fault. I did shove Isobel away from Rosie in the shop earlier. It may well have hurt and upset her.’ I clear my throat awkwardly. ‘I suppose if I’m being objective I can see why her mother was angry.’

  ‘You pushed her?’ Tim looks surprised. ‘Mum just said in the shop all you did was tell Izzie to let go of Rosie, which is fair enough.’

  ‘It was barely an outstretched hand, never mind a push.’ Susannah doesn’t turn round but carries on energetically stirring. ‘The whole thing has been taken massively out of proportion.’ She puts the spoon down and licks her finger before reaching for the pepper. ‘One always likes the idea of doing risotto, but you forget what a faff it is.’ She adds another fierce twist of seasoning then steps back and wipes her brow as Tony reappears carrying my wine. ‘Ant, I’ll have some of that white, please, actually, while you’re out there.’

  Tony hands me my glass then salutes her. ‘Right away, memsaab.’

  ‘You probably can’t say that any more, dearest,’ she says archly.

  ‘I’ll say whatever the bloody hell I like in my own house,’ he replies amiably and disappears off to the fridge as I return to Tim.

  ‘In any case, I apologised to Isobel, in front of her mother,’ I confess. ‘I probably shouldn’t have let them in but I just didn’t want them standing outside making a scene.’

  ‘That was very sensible of you, Claire,’ Susannah says over her shoulder, having returned to stirring.

  ‘It was hard to know what to do for the best really,’ I continue. ‘One minute I was sat on the sofa looking at the stars and eyes on the ceiling beam, the next all Hell was breaking loose and I—’

  ‘Hang on. What stars and eyes on the beam?’ Tim interrupts.

  ‘There are loads of symbols on the beam in the sitting room.’ I take a sip of my wine. ‘They’re rather beautiful actually. A bit hippy, but—’

  Tim has straightened up completely. ‘What sort of stars? Five- or six-pointed?’

  I stare at him. ‘Just stars. That’s all. I can’t really remember to be honest. Events took over after that.’ I cross the room and sit down at the table.

  ‘I think I’d like to get the house blessed before we move in tomorrow,’ Tim blurts suddenly as Tony reappears in the doorway holding Susannah’s wine.

  ‘“Blessed”?’ Tony repeats in astonishment. ‘I thought we weren’t saying anything about all of that?’ He looks at me, confused.

  ‘I didn’t,’ I reply pointedly, as Tim simultaneously says: ‘about what?’

  Tony scowls, cross with himself at having made such a basic mistake and waves a dismissive hand as he sits back down and snatches up his paper. ‘Isobel Parkes had an ethereal moment, shall we say, at the house. Nothing but utter tosh.’

  ‘She became agitated, then quickly went ballistic,’ I’m forced to explain to Tim. ‘Her voice was all low and growly and she shouted at me to “get out” of the house, then she collapsed on the floor crying. Adam had to carry her out.’

  Tim’s eyes widen with fear. ‘That’s horrible. It’s lucky Adam was there to help, but whatever it was threatened you? I definitely want the house blessed now.’

  ‘Whatever it was? Christ, Susannah!’ Tony glowers over the top of the article he is clearly not reading at all. ‘This is what happens when you will insist on a Catholic school. Several years at the monk factory and the boy wants Father Whatsit-fiddly to flick some water about the place before he can so much as sleep there.’

  ‘Yes, thank you, Tony!’ Susannah snaps, lifting the pan off the hot plate. ‘We all know my beliefs are not important to you, but they are important to me.’

  ‘When it suits you,’ replies Tony shaking the pages out. ‘Cherry-picking the pomp and leaving out the nasty bits – in other words liking cathedrals and reflexively crossing yourself when you pass a hearse – does not a Catholic make.’

  ‘On the other hand, I’ve put up with ridiculous comments like that for years because I happen to believe in the sacrament of marriage. So, swings and roundabouts.’ She slams the pan down on the mat, wipes her hands on her apron and turns to Tim. ‘I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t perform a blessing at Fox Cottage. I think it’s a very nice idea, actually.’

  Tony simply snorts in disgust and turns the page.

  ‘I’ll call Father Mathew in the morning,’ Susannah says smoothly. ‘I’m sure he won’t have any objections to popping round. I know he’s having lunch with the Dicksons tomorrow, so I don’t see why he couldn’t come on to Fox Cottage after that.’

  ‘Thank you, Ma,’ says Tim looking relieved.

  ‘Sorry, can we hang on a sec.’ I put a hand up. ‘This is all getting a bit OTT, isn’t it?’

  ‘Thank goodness,’ murmurs Tony, turning the page. ‘A voice of reason at last.’

  ‘I don’t really want Rosie seeing a priest wandering around the place praying, on the day she moves in.’ I set my wine down carefully. ‘It would properly freak her out.’

  ‘Well, she doesn’t have to move in tomorrow?’ Tim reasons. ‘We could stay another night here, as originally planned?’

  ‘No, Tim, we couldn’t,’ I say firmly. ‘We need to get Rosie settled. She starts at her new school on Monday. She needs to know where she’s at. Also, we’ve got a huge amount of unpacking to do tomorrow; I’d rather we just got on with it. I mean – a blessing would be a nice extra to make it a happy place and all that – but it’s not exactly essential, is it?’

  ‘I’m genuinely not sure I want any of us to sleep there yet,’ Tim says quietly. ‘We need to make that house safe.’

  Safe? He really thinks that?

  In the moment of stunned silence that follows his extraordinary statement, we all hear it; the faint, eerie sound of a little sing-song voice calling ‘Mummmmy? Mummmmy?’ echoing down the draughty rectory corridors. Poor Tim looks as if he’s about to be sick. There’s even a sheen of light sweat on his forehead.

  ‘It’s Rosie. I promised I’d go and check on her and I haven’t.’ I get up quickly enough to make the chair scrape noisily on the flagstones, and Tim flinches at that too. He is a bag of nerves. Maybe he really has come down with something, but either way, he needs to take a moment.

  ‘Hold those thoughts,’ I say. ‘I’ll just check on Rosie and come right back.’

  I pad off down the corridor in my slippers, emerging back out into the draughty hall and jog up the wide staircase. How on earth Tim can have slept here as a child – and even now – with no problems, but wants to exorcise Fox Cottage, is completely beyond me. It’s just a house. One he had an upsetting séance in as a teenager with Adam and her, granted, but the building itself is no more than bricks and mortar. He must see that, surely? I make my way down to Rosie’s room, but when I stick my head round the door, her bed is empty.

  ‘Rosie?’ I go right into the room expecting to find her in front of the bookcase selecting something else to read, but she’s not there either. I frown and then jump so badly I almost hit the ceiling as a small hand is placed on my back. Spinning round I find Rosie standing there in her pyjamas.

  ‘Sorry, Mummy!’ she looks anxious. ‘I just went for a wee.’

  ‘Back into bed, you little monkey,’ I scold in relief, and she grins and jumps in under the covers
.

  ‘Two minutes,’ she says, ‘but will you really come back this time?’

  ‘I will, I promise.’ I cross my heart and blow her a kiss before heading back down to the kitchen. Perhaps I’m being unfair to Tim. This has even got to me a little bit. We all need to calm down.

  Susannah has dished up and they are all waiting for me in silence. I slip back into my place, and Susannah picks up her fork. ‘She’s all right?’

  ‘Absolutely fine,’ I confirm.

  We start to eat. Wishing I didn’t have to, but knowing I must, I return to the scene of the crime. ‘So, this exorcism you want to do…’

  Tim sets his fork down and looks at me.

  ‘Will you feel happier if we do it?’

  Tim clears his throat. ‘It’s not about me being happier. I wasn’t going to tell you this, but seeing as we’re getting everything out in the open, earlier on, when we arrived at Fox Cottage and went up to Rosie’s bedroom, there was an old newspaper cutting, right in the middle of the room, lying on the carpet. Now, I know it wasn’t there last night, because we moved everything out, didn’t we, to have a clear run for painting? Yes?’

  ‘Yes, OK.’ I take a sip of wine, slightly taken aback by his tone.

  ‘That newspaper clipping was of me as a child, taken after the shooting, so it’s what – nearly thirty years old? And you’re telling me that’s nothing to worry about, that it just turned up in the middle of the floor out of nowhere?’

  I chew more slowly. ‘Are you saying something put it there? I thought you wanted every lock in the house changed because you were worried someone was going to let themselves in – again.’ I take another forkful of rice. ‘She must have been very disappointed to find you weren’t there.’

  ‘“She”?’ It’s Tim’s turn to look bewildered. ‘I’m not talking about Isobel. I actually want all of the locks replaced and working so we can get out in an emergency, not to stop someone getting in.’

  An extremely uncomfortable silence follows. ‘Right,’ I say eventually, ‘so you don’t think this cutting on the carpet is Isobel playing silly games? Or to put it another way, illegally trespassing?’

  ‘The thing is, you have had the locks changed now,’ Susannah says soothingly. ‘She can’t get in any more – if we assume Claire is right. I’m certainly not sure you want to call the police just yet and mention trespassing, do you?’

  ‘Sorry.’ Tim holds up a hand suddenly. ‘I think I can hear Rosie again.’

  I sigh. ‘Hang on. I’ll be right back.’

  I retrace my steps on autopilot to her bedroom. Susannah’s right, everyone local will find out and hate me for persecuting poor, disturbed, beautiful Isobel if I call the police. Maybe it is better to wait and see what happens tonight, now that she will discover it’s impossible for her to get in and leave Tim any little gifts. Plus, I suppose it could have just as easily been Adam? He knew we weren’t there last night. He saw us leave – and he told us the French windows in the barn were rotten. Although I can’t see why he’d do something odd like put that cutting on the floor? What would be the point?

  Back in Rosie’s room I discover she’s fast sleep. So poor Tim is now even hearing things. Perhaps it would just be easier to let some priest perform a blessing, or whatever it is they do. I tuck the duvet round Rosie and creep back down. I can hear raised voices coming from the kitchen as I reach the bottom of the stairs and my heart sinks.

  ‘I’m not making anything up!’ Tim is insisting as I approach the doorway. I stop in the hall and listen carefully.

  ‘All I’m saying is that I didn’t actually see this piece of old newspaper,’ says Tony calmly. ‘How can I back you up to Claire when I didn’t see anything? I am concerned, however. You promised all of us that you were committed to this plan. Claire and Rosie have given everything up to move here, and I’ve paid out a not inconsiderable sum of money to make it all happen and put a roof over your heads. You’ve got to move into Fox Cottage, Timothy. If you really, absolutely must, get the place blessed, exorcised or whatever the hell it is – but then—’

  ‘I know you don’t believe me, Dad, but—’

  ‘For God’s sake!’ Tony bangs the table in frustration, making the knives and forks leap up and clatter back down. ‘It’s not about anyone’s beliefs, Catholic, agnostic or otherwise! It’s about a statement of fact! Nothing has happened at that house that doesn’t have a rational explanation. You’re in danger of starting to appear a little touched yourself, if you don’t mind my saying so. Time to get on with the job, hey?’

  I cough to show that I’m approaching and walk back into the room. ‘She’s asleep. Sorry to interrupt the meal with all this getting up and down. So,’ I take a deep breath, ‘we’re going to see how it goes tonight now the locks are changed, get Father Mathew in tomorrow too, get unpacked, take stock and hopefully sleep there, but if it’s OK by you, Susannah, we’ll play that by ear a little? There, everyone’s happy.’

  ‘That sounds like a plan.’ Susannah takes a sip of wine.

  ‘Thank you,’ Tim says, reaching out to take my hand and squeezing it tightly. ‘I do just have one other thing to say though? If that’s OK?’

  ‘Sure!’ I smile patiently and lean back in my chair. I’ve more or less completely given up on my food now anyway.

  ‘I just want you all to know – in case you were worried that I’m not committed to making this situation work – that I had a call from my agent earlier and I got that part I went for.’

  My mouth falls open and I sit up straight. ‘Oh my God! Why didn’t you say anything earlier?’

  ‘Because I’ve turned it down,’ Tim says looking straight at Tony. ‘I wanted to prove that I understand what I did with the money has consequences. The most important thing to me is my family. I’ve made a commitment to you and I won’t walk away from it.’

  ‘But if you’d talked to me about it, we could have made something work, I’m sure,’ I look at him bewildered.

  He shakes his head. ‘It would have meant filming on location for two months. I couldn’t have left you here, having dragged you away from home in the first place. It wouldn’t have been fair. It’s just the way it is. You’re more important.’

  ‘Well I think that’s very honourable of you, don’t you, Tony?’ says Susannah.

  ‘Very,’ says Tony. ‘Good man.’

  Tim nods and exhales heavily. He looks exhausted.

  ‘Strange hours your agent keeps, though,’ Tony remarks, wiping his mouth on his napkin. ‘Did they call you with this news once you were back here this evening then?’

  Tim frowns. ‘Yes. Why?’

  ‘I didn’t see you take a call today, that’s all.’

  ‘You’re saying I made this up, too?’ Tim’s voice is light but Susannah closes her eyes briefly before starting to clear the plates.

  Tony laughs. ‘Darling! Of course not. It’s more a remark on the state of the signal at Fox Cottage if anything. Why ever would I accuse you of making that up?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Tim gets to his feet. ‘To undercut the significance of what I’ve just said about sticking it out here? To make me look a twat? To suggest I’m lying again, like I’m lying about why I don’t want to move into the house, and finding that newspaper cutting on the floor… the same way I admit I lied about the money at first. You tell me.’ He pushes his chair in. ‘Thanks for tea, Mum. I’m just going to pop out for ten minutes.’ He bends and kisses my cheek. ‘I need some air; my head is going to explode and we’ve run out of paracetamol.’

  ‘We’ve got plenty of that here,’ says Tony. ‘Don’t be an arse, Tim. You don’t have to stomp off in a mood.’

  ‘We could actually use some more Calpol for Rosie, if you’re going to the chemist or a petrol station,’ I say. It’s not true – I’ve got two big bottles of it, but I can see he really does need an excuse to get away from here for ten minutes, just as I did earlier.

  He nods gratefully. ‘Will do. See you in a bit.’ He s
hoots his father one last look of sadness and disbelief, which breaks my heart a little, before walking from the room. Once he’s gone, Susannah turns and looks at Tony pointedly too. She doesn’t say anything at all, but it’s enough to trigger her husband.

  ‘So I suppose all of that is my fault then?’ Tony says crossly as we all hear the front door close. ‘I did not say he’d made it up about being offered the part. That, along with everything else he’s said tonight, is entirely a figment of his imagination.’ He stands up and grabs his wine. ‘I shall be in my study.’ He then stomps off, in a mood.

  Susannah stares into the middle distance for a moment before turning back to me, and smiling. ‘Would you like some more risotto, Claire?’

  I shake my head. ‘No, thank you, but it was delicious.’

  We lapse into silence but thankfully my phone bleeps with a text from Mel.

  Just to say I’m thinking of you and missing you. X

  ‘It’s Mel, my best friend, asking me to call her,’ I lie as I stare at the screen and get up. ‘Do you mind?’

  Susannah shakes her head absently, barely noticing as I leave the room. I ought to offer to help her clean up, but I just want to escape.

  I want to go home.

  Eighteen

  Eve

  Isobel has more or less stopped crying and is just lying on the sofa, eyes glazed as she watches the TV unseeingly, when there is a knock at the front door. Adam and I glance at each other. I go to get up but he holds out a hand. ‘I’ll go.’

  I’m so exhausted that I’m more than happy to let him.

  I try to stay relaxed and ignore the exchange of low male voices I can hear carrying up the hall. ‘Do you want a cup of tea, Izzie?’ I ask her calmly, but she’s sat up a little and is very still.