by Eden Darry
Rachel shook her head. “I’m shagging a paediatrician. Probably the closest I’ll get to children.”
“She’s not a long-term possibility?”
“No. She’s great and she has magic fingers but—”
“Sorry, sorry,” Fin interrupted, pushing open the door. “We need more juice.”
“If they wet the bed you’re cleaning it up,” Sadie said.
“Finola Claiborne. How are you?” Rachel was beginning to slur her words. “Don’t I get a kiss?”
Fin leaned down and pecked her on the cheek from behind. To Sadie, she did a driving mime followed by a drinking one and raised her eyebrow in question.
“Rachel’s staying with us tonight.”
“Like hell I am,” she said.
“You aren’t driving.”
“I’ll get a cab.”
“It’ll cost a fortune.”
“I have a considerable disposable income,” she shot back and Fin laughed.
“If she doesn’t want to stay, babe, let her call a cab.”
Fin poured out two glasses of juice, then watered them down. “Okay, have fun, ladies.”
And then she was gone.
“Why won’t you stay?” Sadie asked.
Rachel huffed. “Fine. I’ll stay. Happy now?”
“Yes.”
They opened another bottle of wine, and Sadie knew she’d regret it in the morning, but she was having such a nice time.
“So, tell me.” Rachel leaned across the table on her elbows which nearly slipped. “Are you serious about staying here? Because I’m hearing rumours out of your old chambers.”
Sadie sipped her wine and pursed her lips. “What rumours?”
“They’re going to offer you your old job back, with a raise.”
Sadie didn’t know what to say. Part of her was thrilled, and the other part didn’t want anything to do with it. “How do you know this?”
Rachel shrugged. “A little bird I’m fucking told me.”
“The paediatrician?” Sadie was confused.
Rachel waved her hand dismissively. “No, not her. Philippa Monaghan.”
“She’s into women?” Sadie hadn’t known that about her. Then, why would she?
“I think you’re focusing on the wrong part of the story,” Rachel said.
“I’m not going back there. I can’t.”
Sadie remembered that night, stepping out of the door, feeling someone come up fast behind her, and then—
Rachel reached across and held her hand. “Shit, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up. Are you okay? Are you going to have a panic attack?”
“Give me a second,” Sadie managed to get out. She forced herself to take measured deep breaths. After a moment, she felt better. She had a healthy swallow of wine. “I’m okay now.”
“Good. I really am sorry—”
Sadie held up her hand. “It’s not your fault. I have been thinking about going back to work, a lot actually. But it won’t be there and probably a different field altogether. I’m thinking about practicing family law.”
“Why?” Rachel asked, stunned.
Sadie grinned. “I think it has something to do with the attack. I feel like I want to help people.”
“You do. You get them out of prison sentences.”
“People who deserve it. People who can’t afford the kind of legal assistance we provide. I know what it’s like to be a victim, to feel helpless.”
Rachel studied her for a moment. She was drunk, but her eyes were still sharp. She had always been able to read Sadie like a book. “Okay, I think I understand. I suppose someone has to help the great unwashed.”
Sadie laughed and threw the cork at her friend. “Such a snob.”
* * *
Sadie and Rachel had moved into the front reception to carry on drinking. Fin stayed where she was. The kids had fallen asleep in front of the TV, and she was content to leave them there amongst their duvets and cushions.
She picked up Nathaniel Cushion’s diary and opened it to where she’d left it last. She had to admit, it was pretty dry and mostly talked about the building of the house. She flicked through, noting that Cushion got through quite a few more builders before the work was completed and never explained why, though he hinted that he didn’t want anyone knowing about the exact layout, which seemed odd to Fin.
She was about to put it back down, bored, when she found an entry that made her blood run cold. He talked about wanting to hire a maid:
She should not be from the area or have much in the way of family and friends. No one must miss her.
Fin skipped through several more pages until she came to another journal entry.
She screams so loudly. I am relieved there are no neighbours nearby. Last night she screamed for almost half an hour without stopping. In the end I was forced to turn on the gas.
What the fuck was this? Some kind of joke? It must be a windup, Fin thought. She picked up her phone and brought up the internet. She typed in Nathaniel Cushion and got a couple of hits. Fin clicked on the first link, and the first thing she saw was a grainy photograph. The man staring back at her could have been Uncle Finlay. Her hand shook and saliva filled her mouth. Fin thought she might be sick.
She forced herself to read the article beneath. One of the kids groaned from under the duvet but she barely registered it.
According to the article, Nathaniel Cushion had been a con man. He was involved in a bit of bodysnatching—not uncommon for the time—and insurance fraud. He’d been arrested and hanged in 1937 when one of his scams caught up with him. The article said one of his associates went missing in unusual circumstances and later turned up dead. Cushion had claimed on an insurance policy he took out on the man several months before. At the same time, he’d sold a cadaver to a London surgeon, that turned out to be the same associate.
When police went to his house, they found evidence he had used the basement to prepare cadavers for sale to doctors. They suspected he might have killed others for insurance money but found no evidence to confirm it. They also couldn’t find any evidence to prove he murdered his wife and two of his children. Cushion told friends and neighbours they sailed to America the previous year, though no sign of them was found on any ship manifest or at customs in New York. Cushion was survived by one adult son, Finlay. It was believed Finlay changed his name after the scandal.
The second link contained much of the same information, only expanding slightly on the theory that Nathaniel Cushion was a serial killer. Once he was arrested, Cushion never spoke again despite numerous attempts by newspapers and the police to interview him.
This was his house then. Fin looked around at the beautiful detail in the cornicing and the ornate fireplace. How could someone like that design such a lovely home? Or was it just her who thought it was lovely? Sadie didn’t like it. Liam didn’t like it either. Perhaps she’d been drawn here because this monster was a relative? She dismissed the thought immediately as stupid. It was coincidence there was family resemblance to Cushion. And the recurrence of names…well, that must be coincidence too. It was impossible she was related to him and living in his house.
Wasn’t it? Yes. Even if it was true, what difference did it make? Nathaniel Cushion was long dead and wouldn’t be bothering them. She couldn’t go back to Uncle Finlay and ask about it because she was lucky to get away from him the last time without signing her soul away.
One thing she was certain of: Sadie mustn’t know. She felt strongly—instinctively—that Sadie must never know about Nathaniel Cushion and his connection with their house. For the first time, Sadie was actually spending time at home and allowing Fin to concentrate on her business without having to worry about who would pick the kids up if she took on that extra job. Fin was enjoying being able to focus on her own needs for once, and if Sadie got a whiff of something creepy going on, she’d up sticks and move them back to London. She’d go straight back to work as a barrister, and everything would go back the
way it was.
Fin picked up the journal and put it on the bookcase, making sure to hide it amongst a couple of other books so it would be inconspicuous. Satisfied, she switched off the lights and went to bed.
Chapter Twenty-one
As Rachel told her she would, Sadie got a phone call from her old chambers a few days later offering her old job back. She declined.
“We’re okay for money for a while longer,” Fin told her. The weather was cool and they’d lit a fire in the wood burner. The children were tucked up in bed, and the evening stretched out in front of them. Sadie supposed now was as good a time as any to tell Fin about her plans.
“I am ready to go back to work,” she said, swirling the red wine around her glass. Fin lay with her head in Sadie’s lap and opened her eyes to look up.
“What, now?”
“Well, not this minute, but yes. I started looking today.” She sifted Fin’s blond strands though her fingers. She loved Fin’s hair. “I registered with a recruitment agency.”
Fin sat up and reached for her wine on the coffee table. “Right. Thanks for checking it with me first.”
Sadie worked to hold on to her temper. “I wasn’t aware I needed your permission.”
“Don’t do that.” Fin turned to look at her. She seemed angry. “You know what I meant. Sorry I don’t have the wide and varied vocabulary you do. I meant you didn’t discuss it with me.”
“You always knew I wanted to go back to work. What would we have discussed?”
“Whether it was the right time? Lance Sherry hasn’t even gone to trial yet. And things have been so up in the air. I’m getting more customers, so we aren’t strapped for money.”
“You’re worried about me, then? Is that why you don’t want me to go back to work?”
Fin shrugged, drank more wine. “I just don’t know why you’re in such a rush.”
“I’ve been off for nearly six months. I’m going stir crazy. I love the children but—”
“But you want to go back the way things were. My job coming second. Me picking them up from school, me putting them to bed, while you work sixty hour weeks again. Yeah, that sounds great.”
“Why are you being so argumentative?”
Fin didn’t answer her. Instead she got up and put more wood on the fire even though it didn’t need it. Sadie was confused by the whole conversation. Fin had always been supportive of her career, and vice versa. She had been acting differently the last few days. She wasn’t sleeping well and was up before even Lucy. She looked tired and was losing weight.
Sadie went over to where she still stood, staring into the fire. She snaked her arms around Fin from behind and kissed her neck. “I’m sorry if you feel like I ambushed you. I honestly thought you knew I wanted to go back to work. We can talk about it if you like. About your reservations.”
Fin sighed and Sadie felt her body relax. “No, you’re right. I’m being an arsehole. Of course you should go back to work. I just…”
“What?” Sadie asked softly.
“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.” Fin pulled out of the embrace and went back to the sofa. “I’m just tired. Let’s watch a film or something.” She picked up the remote and turned on the television.
Typical Fin. She always shut down like this. Sometimes, Sadie could push and coax it out of her. She sensed now wasn’t that time.
She sat down next to Fin and poured them more wine, studied her wife’s profile in the light of the television. Fin’s jaw was tensed, her lips pressed in a tight line. Something was bothering her. Sadie wanted to talk about why she felt like her career was sidelined. She had never meant to make her feel that way. It would have to wait until Fin was in a more relaxed state, because she wasn’t in the mood to discuss anything, and they’d end up rowing instead. She tried to concentrate on the film.
* * *
Fin sat up. She was soaked with sweat and it was hard to breathe. Sadie was asleep beside her and Fin was relieved. These dreams were getting worse. Every night now, she dreamed Lance Sherry was in her kitchen, and every night she walked away from the house to see her family posing with him like the photo in the basement. What the fuck was going on? It didn’t make any sense at all.
As she lay back down, she heard a scream. Liam.
Fin threw off the covers and raced down the stairs and along the hall to his room. He was sitting up in bed and soaked in sweat, just as she’d been a few moments ago.
Fin sat down beside him and pulled him into her arms. “You’re dreaming, Liam. It’s just a dream. Wake up now.” She shook him gently and his eyes popped open. Fin sensed Sadie in the doorway. “Liam? Liam can you see me?” He continued to stare vacantly at her.
Fin turned to talk to Sadie, but she wasn’t there. Instead, it was Nathaniel Cushion, and he was dressed in a dirty white coat—like a doctor. He held a scalpel.
Fin looked back to Liam, and that was when she realized it wasn’t sweat he was soaked in. It was blood. He was dead. The man had already been in here. Lucy. Fin laid Liam back onto the sheets and turned. Cushion was closer now. He looked down at her and smiled. He shook his head and placed one finger over his lips. He held the knife above his head and Fin knew he meant to kill her too. She didn’t care, though. Liam was dead and she didn’t care.
Fin gasped and came awake. She sat bolt upright and dragged a shaking hand through her hair. It was dripping wet. Liam.
She threw off the covers and hurried out of the room.
Liam was in his bed and very much alive. She felt relief wash over her. She put her hand on his chest and was comforted by the steady rise and fall.
Fin watched him for a while. He opened his eyes and found hers. He had that faraway look which told her he was still asleep, but when he spoke he sounded very much awake.
“You don’t have to kill us,” he muttered. His eyes closed, and he rolled onto his side.
Fin was dumfounded. It was on the tip of her tongue to say, It isn’t me, it’s him that kills you. She didn’t know where that thought came from—it sounded so alien in her head. And the thought placed the action in the future. As if it was something she was going to do.
She just needed a proper night’s sleep, that was all. If she could just get to sleep, she knew she would feel better. One night without those dreams. Fin stood and wearily headed back to bed.
Chapter Twenty-two
Fin buttered her toast and took a bite. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Sadie watching her. After her dream last night, she hadn’t been able to go back to sleep. She’d been in the workshop since four. She guessed that was the plus side—she was ahead of schedule with work.
Fin yawned and realized Lucy was talking to her. “Sorry, sweetheart, what was that?”
“Koosh wants you to play with us.”
“Koosh? Oh, that’s your imag—” Sadie kicked her under the table. “Your friend.”
Lucy nodded and swallowed another mouthful of cereal. “He woked me up last night. You won’t hurt us, will you, Mama?”
Fin dropped her toast. She was aware Liam was watching her with interest, as if the same question was in his head. She looked between the two of them.
“Of course Mama wouldn’t ever hurt either of you,” Sadie spoke up.
“Luce, who is this Koosh?” Fin asked.
“He’s bad,” Liam said.
“No, he’s not. He’s my friend,” Lucy said.
“He’s not even real.”
“Liam. Enough,” Sadie said.
Fin looked at her son and shivered, remembering her nightmare.
She quickly gulped down her coffee and stood. “I need to get to work.”
She felt Sadie’s eyes boring into her. “Do you have to go now? You look so tired.”
“I’m fine.” She grabbed a piece of toast.
“Maybe you could come back for a nap after lunch?”
“Nope. Too busy. That kid from town is coming up today.”
She sensed Sadie was about t
o say something else, when there was a knock at the kitchen door. Saved by the bell.
Fin pulled it open and Floyd Dodson was standing there. He was eighteen, six feet two, and built like a string bean. He was pretty in that way some boys were before they fully reached maturity. He reminded her of Liam. Floyd looked innocent and struck her as a bit vulnerable. But he was strong and, from what she’d seen the other day, a hard worker too.
“Morning, Floyd.”
“Hello, Mrs. Claiborne.”
“I told you, call me Fin.” She moved away from the door and gestured to her family inside. “That’s my wife, Sadie, and those are our kids, Liam and Lucy. Kids, say hello to Floyd.”
“Hello, Floyd,” they said in unison.
“Do you want to get a cup of tea or coffee before we go?”
He shook his head. “No, thanks. I don’t like hot drinks.”
Sadie stood and came to the door. “We’ve got juice. Do you want to come in?”
Floyd hopped from one foot to the other, his brow furrowed. “No, thank you. I don’t want to come in.”
Fin raised her eyebrows at Sadie. “Let’s go then.” She took her jacket off the hook and stepped outside. Sadie touched her shoulder.
“Lunch is at twelve. Floyd, do you like pasta?”
Floyd scrunched his brow again and held up a clear plastic lunchbox. “My mum made my lunch already.” His eyes landed on something behind them, in the house. He gulped and his eyes bugged out. Fin turned but only saw the kids eating their breakfast. For some reason, her thoughts went to Nathaniel Cushion. She didn’t know why.
“Let’s go, Floyd,” she said.
As she closed the kitchen door, she heard Lucy say, “Koosh is here,” in an excited voice.
They walked in companionable silence down to the workshop.
“Can I trust you with a secret?” Fin asked Floyd.
“I think so. Yes,” Floyd answered.
“I’ve got a surprise for the kids. It’s a playset and I need help putting it up.”