Blurred Lines: A box-set of reality bending supernatural fiction (Paranormal Tales from Wales Book 9)

by Michael Christopher Carter

  “So, do you regret moving here, Mum?” Elin asked.

  “No,” Glenda answered with convincing firmness, but then again softer, “no, not really”. The moistness of her eyes betrayed a deeper emotion.

  “You do! You’re actually afraid, aren’t you, Mum?”

  Glenda galvanised her stiff upper lip and blustered her assurances that she was fine. Elin thought it unlikely to be just the odd vibe in the hallway causing her mother to be this upset.

  “Has something happened?” she asked, trying to be sensitive but sounding interrogational. Glenda gathered the hem of her skirt and put it down again. With pursed lips, she glanced to the corners of the room, then to the floor before raising her head and meeting Elin’s gaze with the same steely stare.

  “No, of course not, cariad!”

  Elin wasn’t convinced, but before she had the chance to pursue her line of inquiry, Glenda leapt up briskly from the couch and announced she could hear Emyr home from the station with Alis. She left the room on the pretext of setting the table for dinner.

  When the tell-tale footsteps on shingle and the thump of the front door didn’t follow, Elin realised Alis and her dad weren’t home after all, and it was far too early.

  She didn’t have the energy to follow her mum and continue the interrogation, and she wouldn’t want to anyway. Noticing her own furrowed brow, she made an effort to relax her face, rubbing her temples to diffuse the tension. What could be going on? Glenda was such a strong minded woman. Elin shuddered. Whatever was troubling her, Elin hadn’t the strength to deal with.

  Struggling to get into the film they had talked through the start of, she found herself gazing into the blurring images on the screen, the sound washing meaninglessly over her. She fell asleep again into odd dreams that, on reflection, were heavily influenced by the background noise of the television.

  She awoke to the genuine return of her dad and sister, and the delicious smell of curry. She was surprised that after the unnerving conversation with her mother, on top of her glandular fever, she had an appetite to appreciate it. It must be the thrill of seeing her sister again after three months at university.

  The aroma of spices wafted down the hallway, past the lounge door on their journey to the dining room adjacent to the lounge. Her dad called out ‘hi,’ whilst Alis charged into the room, stopping from bowling her delicate sister over just in time. The pair threw their arms around one another, Alis with considerably more energy.

  “How are you?” she gushed. “Any better from that pesky glandular fever?” a sympathetic frown on her ruddy face. She’d always been a lot more robust than Elin. It was hard to tell they were sisters. Elin the far prettier of the two, but Alis attractive in a completely different way. She’d never had any trouble finding boyfriends, whereas Elin endured perpetually alone.

  “Meh..,” Elin shrugged. A distant call to come to the table was answered zealously by the incredible volume Alis could command from her mighty lungs.

  She aided her sister by taking her arm, but was more of a hindrance than a help.

  “Thanks, Alis, but I can walk! I even went into town and bought some Christmas presents today.”

  “Oh. Sorry, sis,” she said, letting go of her arm and skipping off through the door. I can’t imagine any oppressive ambience bothering her, Elin thought, curling her lip. Alis had a lot to be envious of, not least her robust health.

  Elin ran the gauntlet of the hall to get to the food. Having people home helped, but she still didn’t like it. When she slouched pitiably into the dining room, her mum and Alis were already seated and her dad stood serving the various dishes to their appropriate plates.

  “I got you a Korma again, bach. Is that okay?” It was a bit late to be worried as it already sat congealing on her plate next to a pile of colourful pilau rice, and a torn corner of peshwari naan. She smiled wanly and nodded as she heaved her chair out to sit down.

  As she looked across at Glenda, she gasped and shot a look to the other two, wondering if they’d noticed how awful she was looking. The robust colour gone from her cheeks, she appeared almost grey in the dim light of the dining room. Something must have happened to affect her so much.

  Maybe with her sister’s help (or maybe not!) she could make sensitive inquiries in the coming days. That’s if her own temperament could afford the patience of being subtle. Perhaps her dad might know.

  Over the course of the meal, Glenda thawed. It was impossible to remain trapped inside personal thoughts in the company of Alis. By the time she’d recounted every intricate detail of her courses, and how the lecturers all loved her, and how she was sure that one even fancied her, and how she did this amusing thing, and that amusing thing, and countless other amusing things, the quieter members of the Treharne family had no option but to enjoy the exuberance.

  When everyone finished eating, Alis demonstrated her usefulness by scraping the plates and carrying them through to the kitchen where Emyr loaded the dishwasher, leaving Elin and Glenda in uncomfortable silence.

  Glenda forced a smile, which Elin gratefully returned.

  “That film was rubbish,” she announced, attempting to start a non-threatening conversation. She wondered how long her mum had been so troubled. She hadn’t noticed, but then she’d been in no fit state.

  Guilt at the care she had demanded over the last few months pricked her. She knew her mum didn’t mind. She was probably grateful for the diversion, doing what she had trained her entire working life to do.

  She vowed to keep an eye on her mum, and Christmas was a great distraction. Close family time together was to be cherished. Her own poor health had taught her that.

  “Shall we go and warm up the telly,” Glenda invited. Not entirely serious; the television would function at full capacity straight away, but she couldn’t help but reference days of yore. Elin smiled and nodded, pushing her chair back and standing up.

  Before they’d chosen what to watch, Alis and Emyr re-joined them after their kitchen chores, Alis announcing she didn’t want to watch dreary television. Instead, she was keen on a game of charades. When that was universally declined, she suggested a variety of board and card games before declaring the rest of the family boring and then laughing the loudest at Christmas TV specials.

  Sometime early in the evening, Elin predictably fell back asleep. When she awoke with a stiff neck, she reluctantly bid her sister and her mum and dad goodnight and ventured into the cold dark hallway.

  She stood at the foot of the stairs, towering, foreboding and abrupt to her state of exhaustion. But the cloud of ire which daunted her arrival at the house earlier, appeared lighter now. Even that, it seemed, had succumbed to Alis’s vociferousness.

  Hauling herself up the first step beyond her reluctance, her bed awaited. She sighed. All she ever seemed to do was sleep. For weeks, she slept on the large couch in the lounge with a duvet, but it had been decided now she was improving, she should try to introduce more normality.

  Ignoring her discomfort on the eerie staircase she took another leaden-footed step. A heaviness sat on her shoulders dispersing as a violent shudder. Tears pricked her eyes as thoughts of her own fears combined with images of her mother’s wrought face prevented her carrying on.

  Not even halfway, she was unable to take another step. Turning round, she mooched back down to the lounge.

  “I’m feeling a lot more awake now,” she lied. “What are we doing?”

  What they were doing was listening with ever-waning interest to Alis’s university exploits. It wasn’t long before Glenda and Emyr declared bedtime and even Alis seemed happy enough to call it a night.

  With them all going upstairs, Elin managed to join them. Wresting back her duvet and crawling into bed, her head barely grazed the pillow before she fell into a deep, deep sleep.

  She woke late. The clock beside her bed pronounced the time to be one thirty. Breakfast and lunch had been slept through. A cold cup of tea on the bedside table showed someone had checked on h
er at least once. She smiled.

  The smile was short lived as memories of the gloomy hallway and last night’s dread came back like a slap in the face. Reaching out for the cold tea, she took a glug and considered moving.

  A stark recollection —not of the hallway, nor the anxious wringing hands of her mother—something else, just a flash. It was herself, standing beneath the streetlamp outside her old student house in Swansea. The image jolted her, and she spilled half the mug of tea on her lap. “Shit.” Relief she wasn’t burning was tempered by frustration. She swore again with a sigh. “Shit! The nightmares are back.”

  Frowning, she shook her head, dabbing away the spill with a wad of Kleenex. After several nights free of them, what had caused their return?

  Her thoughts were interrupted by a rap on the door. Then, a fresh steaming hot cup of tea arrived, carried by her boisterous little sister.

  “You’re awake! At last,” she grinned. “You better not sleep in like this tomorrow or I’m opening your presents!” Elin came out of her reverie enough to muster a smile.

  “You okay, Sis?” Alis asked, her brow puckered in concern. Elin shook herself back to reality.

  “Yes. I’m fine. Just a bad dream. A nightmare. I was trying to piece it together when you barged in.”

  “Sorry!” Alis decried with mock indignation. “I’ll take your lovely cup of tea away, shall I?”

  Elin giggled, grasping the hot mug and taking what she anticipated being a satisfying sip. It tasted awful. How anyone could get the simple art of pouring boiling water on a teabag so wrong was a mystery. Her eyes watered in her attempt to disguise wincing, whilst falsely proclaiming “delicious” with a grimacing smile on her face.

  “What was the nightmare about?”

  Elin shrugged, “I don’t rememeber.”

  With a grateful nod, Alis dropped the subject, glad she wouldn’t have to endure the absurd ramblings of someone else’s dream.

  Elin placed the revolting mug of tea on her bedside table beside the cold half-mug from earlier with an assured expression conveying her intention to drink it in a minute, so as not to cause offence.

  “Alis, what do you think of it here?” and added in response to Alis’s confused pout, “in this house?” Alis still didn’t get it. “I keep feeling really…” she paused to find the right word, “uncomfortable,” she settled on. “In the hall especially. And coming upstairs. Mum seems really bothered by it.”

  Alis’s expression shifted to one of seriousness at the mention of Glenda. “Mum’s bothered? About what?”

  “She hasn’t actually said. Just that she’s always hated the hallway, ever since her and Dad first looked around the house before they bought it.”

  “Really?” Alis protested. “She’s never said anything to me.”

  “She doesn’t see you much. I’ve been here for months and she only mentioned it yesterday. Since she has, the hallway is even more terrifying to me.” Alis’s face contorted into a disbelieving sneer. “I know you don’t believe in anything out of the ordinary, but that doesn’t change the fact I’m worried about Mum.” Alis nodded.

  “Maybe you should ask Dad if something strange has happened,” Elin continued. “He’s more likely to listen to you than me. You’re so level-headed.”

  Alis couldn’t disagree with the compliment. “Sure. I’ll ask. I doubt if Mum’s told him anything, but, if you’re worried…”

  Elin got dressed for her thrilling trip downstairs to flop unenergetically on the sofa yet again. She spent the day giving her sister present ideas.

  “Why have you left it so late?” Alis glared at her. “Sorry. I don’t mean to criticise… I just thought Bristol would have been a better bet than sleepy Llandovery!”

  “Yes. I’m sure you’re right,” she glowered. “But I didn’t, because I was too busy partaaaying.” She flicked her fingers rapidly, her contorted face breaking into a wide grin.

  “I could get you a book!” she gasped in excitement. Elin was as easy to read as a traffic sign. “Oh. I see. Maybe not. I don’t want to get one you’ve already bought for yourself!” They laughed together until Alis slapped her knee and stood up. “Well, this isn’t getting the baby bathed.” She grabbed her cardigan from the back of a chair and walked to the door.

  “See ya. Wouldn’t wanna be ya.”

  Elin watched through the window as her sister disappeared from view. “I’m sure it’s coat weather,” she tutted with a rueful smile. When moments later, Emyr burst in and panted, “Any idea what your mother might like for Christmas?” she burst out laughing.

  Venturing into the kitchen to ask Glenda if she needed help with the last minute baking, she choked at the flour cloud in the air. Her mother had decided perhaps they didn’t have quite adequate supply of mince pies after all. Who she expected to eat them wasn’t apparent. They hadn’t made many friends locally, especially those close enough to call in at Christmas.

  Careful to keep the conversation cheerful, she mentioned nothing about the house, or about her nightmares.

  When they finished baking and tidied away, they retired to the lounge with a traditional Christmas Eve glass of mulled wine. Footsteps crunched the shingle drive. Alis and Emyr popped their heads round the door and ordered them not to go into the study where the art of secret present wrapping would obviously be taking place.

  After Emyr came back with anxious requests for sellotape, gift tags and pens, the disorganised pair returned, grinning, with armfuls of untidy looking presents which they proceeded to place proudly beneath the Christmas tree.

  Glenda served, then replenished, mulled wine and mince pies to her clan slumped on the couch. Flopping in her favourite chair, she sighed, and finally relaxed. Christmas was here at last. They were all, the two sisters especially, ridiculously excited about tomorrow morning.

  “Do you think he’ll come?” Emyr asked.

  “Not if we don’t go to bed,” Glenda smiled.

  They hugged good night and retired to their rooms. Glenda had one more job to do. When the girls left, she snuck back to the lounge and filled the stockings on the mantle with sweets and little gifts procured since early September. Some were even January sales bargains!

  Emyr glugged down brandy and ate another mince pie in homage to years gone by when they used to leave the same out for Sion Corn/Santa Clause. He stopped short of nibbling a carrot.

  Unlike any Christmas before, Alis wasn’t first to wake. When she had been four years old, the family caught her with her own and Elin’s presents, all unwrapped, with her sitting in the middle of a huge pile of colourful paper!

  Whilst she had calmed with maturity, she still roused the rest of the household at an ungodly hour most years. Her absence in shaking her with excitement confirmed to Elin that she must be the only one awake.

  She’d woken in a panic having had what she was becoming aware was a recurring nightmare. It hadn’t been a particularly frightening dream. Much like her experience in her mum and dad’s hallway, it was more a feeling of anxiety. Something not right.

  The uncomfortable sensation in Erw Lon was ultimately her mum’s problem. It was for her to decide the cause and if there was anything she could do. Elin would find her own place to live as soon as she was well enough and it would all be behind her.

  This nightmare she kept having felt personal, but still no reason it should be anything to trouble her in her waking life. She hoped as she got better the nightmares would stop again. They didn’t make any sense.

  Whilst musing resentfully, her door burst open to an excited Alis bounding through in an Eyore dressing gown and Piglet slippers.

  “Let’s wake Mum and Dad!” she hissed. Elin looked scathingly at her as she swung her legs from her bed and placed her feet in some equally comical monster feet slippers.

  “You are nineteen years old, Alis Treharne!”

  Alis shrugged and pulled a face. “And your point is..?”

  Elin giggled as she pulled her boring, unadorned, pink f
lannelette dressing gown around her. “Nothing. Come on.”

  The two sisters skipped to their mum and dad’s bedroom across the landing, Elin with noticeably less energy than Alis, but she was sure she was getting better. Alis flung the door open to the bleary eyed couple sitting up in bed.

  “Six forty seven!” Emyr declared. “Quite reasonable for you two!”

  The family crept down the creaky stairs to the lounge with Alis leading the way.

  “He’s been,” she yelled upon seeing the bulging bounty hanging on the mantelpiece.

  They loved the thoughtful and intriguing little gifts their stockings bestowed. Puzzles, bookmarks and chocolate coins were thrilled at, then put aside so that presents to one another could be opened. Alis was particularly enamoured with her raunchy romance novel. Elin hoped it wouldn’t encourage in her sister any behaviour she would regret.

  A typical Christmas day with traditional Christmas Fayre finished with a full and sated family slumped in front of Christmas specials, wearing ridiculous paper hats. Before going to bed, Alis insisted on them playing some family favourite board games, which ended in the traditional huff as she failed to win every game. For someone so jolly, Alis could be quite the petulant brat if everything didn’t go her way.

  After the early start and rich food, the atmosphere at the Treharne’s suffered and it was decided to call it a day and go to bed.

  “Wake up Elin. Wake up!” She became dimly aware of her mum’s voice, and the sensation of her legs being shaken. Alis’s voice came next, and she was vigorously tapping her shoulder.

  “Wake up, Sis! You’re having a nightmare! Wake up!”

  Elin finally jolted awake to a pounding heart and a cold sweat. She flung her arms around her mum and burst into huge sobbing tears.

  As she racked with her distress, Glenda stroked her hand. “Come, come, cariad. You’re safe now. There, Elin bach. You let it all out.” She glanced at Alis. “Go and fetch some tea, please, bach.”