“Vanessa. Go to your room at once. This is no place for a child. Hurry along, do as you are told.” Sandy’s cheeks held two spots of red. Anger and fatigue caused her to sound harsher than necessary or intended.
Shocked by Sandy’s tone, Vanessa turned immediately and fled to the sanctuary of her bedroom where she flung herself onto the mattress, just as exhausted as the other members of the household yet intrigued and rather scared by her grandmother’s words. She didn’t want to go downstairs as the doctor would still be there, smoking cigars with Daddy and talking about dreary illnesses and nasty Granny.
Instead, Vanessa dragged the eiderdown over her body and closed her eyes, thinking it best to sleep for a while in case the resident lunatic had them up all night again. Until fatigue claimed her, Vanessa fumed at being called a child when she was almost sixteen for goodness sake, and then pored over the rambling of Phyllis and as her eyes drooped, tried to make sense of it all and piece together the clues, worry filling her heart.
Meanwhile, down the hall another storm was brewing and unbeknown to Vanessa, scary Granny was gearing up for her final hurrah, quite determined not to go without a fight.
The Demon
The grandfather clock in the hall chimed three, each booming strike resounding along the darkened corridors of Tenley. Well used to the sound by now, the residents were not woken from their slumbers apart from two – Phyllis and the demon. The latter had waited until it knew everyone was sound asleep and the nurse had finally retired to her room, then an hour later it deftly opened the bedroom door and stepped barefoot into the hall. The shadows held no fear for the demon. It had walked these corridors for years during the night, listening at doors, restlessly wandering the rooms, unable to sleep and in need of entertainment. That night though, it had a job to do.
Ear to the wood, listen and wait, turn the handle slowly then push the door quickly otherwise it creaks, repeat and then watch. There she was, sleeping soundly, her vicious tongue silent for once. The demon considered waking its prey because perhaps it would be more fun, if the old woman were to look into the eyes of her tormentor for the last time. But this wasn’t a place for theatrics, or regrets, it had to be done before she had a chance to speak out, cast doubt or even make them believe.
The demon, stealth like, took the spare pillow that lay at the side of the old woman’s head and clutching it tightly moved around the bed. Tilting its head to the side, the demon took one last look at Phyllis in her breathing state because the next time it saw her, the bitter old bag would be dead and they would all be free of her presence, secrets safe. Taking a breath, the demon bore down, squashing the pillow over the sleeping woman’s face who, despite her fragility and years, struggled somewhat, but not for long. Once her limbs ceased kicking and flaying and the twitching stopped, the pillow was removed.
Sighing deeply, waiting a moment to ensure that the job was done, the demon allowed itself a moment of congratulations and a satisfied smile before calmly walking back around the bed and replacing the pillow. After straightening the deceased’s hair and nightdress that had become disorderly during the struggle, smoothing the bed covers and resisting the urge to linger and savour its act of revenge, the demon retraced its steps.
Ear to the wood, listen and wait, turn the handle slowly then pull the door quickly. Stepping back into the shadowed hallway, the demon made its way back to bed and there it waited until morning, knowing the danger had been averted. Phyllis was gone.
Sandy
Something was afoot. The atmosphere at Tenley had shifted. It had been a slow creep, nothing dramatic or particularly noticeable but there was definitely trouble brewing, Sandy could feel it. Since the timely death of Phyllis and once the very short period of mourning was over, everyone just carried on as normal… as normal as one could in a house riddled with depravity and debauchery. But at least for a while it felt like they could all breathe, no more treading on shells or sleepless nights.
Sandy unscrewed the lid of a new bottle of gin and settled on her bed, pouring a generous shot then taking a gulp before resting her head on the pillow where she dissembled the past, looking for clues. The previous four years hadn’t all been plain sailing and the days shortly after the nurse found Phyllis dead had been rather fraught. Vanessa obsessed about the funeral, and then there was Georgie, pretending to give a stuff about lilies and coffins and the wake while Kenneth hid himself away in his study, faking grief. Sandy, on the other hand, was torn between rejoicing and the fear of discovery.
In the midst of making plans to flee should her thievery be uncovered, she found herself praising the Lord who once again had come through, just when she needed him. Sighing contentedly, Sandy took another swig and then poured some more gin, the alcohol was beginning to numb her tense body, allowing her to relax, think clearly.
It happened so quickly, those last few minutes with Phyllis were a blur and how Sandy had berated herself later, first for losing her temper with Vanessa and then not staying put when the doctor and nurse came rushing back into the room.
Sandy had seen it before at the retirement home when those on death’s door found their second wind and for a few minutes, became lucid, spoke coherently and made themselves understood for the first time in ages. When Sandy turned to face Phyllis, a second after ordering Vanessa to her room, the old woman gasped then shrunk back into her pillow, button eyes filled with horror and realisation, recognition even. As Phyllis began to speak then screech, Sandy’s blood ran cold with every word, unable to silence or calm the hysterical woman.
“It’s you.” Phyllis once again raised a pointed finger at Sandy, her hand trembled as she spoke yet her eyes never left that of her victim. “I know who you are. I see it now… it’s in the eyes. How could I have not noticed before, how could we all have missed it?”
“Missed what, Phyllis? Please don’t alarm yourself again otherwise I will have to bring the doctor, just rest, close your eyes.” The calmness of Sandy’s voice belied the panic that was mounting inside as she pulled the covers over Phyllis, trying hard to remain in control.
“The eyes, they are the same as the brat’s, sly and devious, and the smile… Yes, in some ways you are so similar, like mother and daughter. Dear God, that’s exactly what you are.”
“Phyllis, you must stop this nonsense right now. What if Vanessa hears you? The child will be distressed so please, hold your tongue. You’re confused by your medication and tired so I beg you, sleep.”
“I will do no such thing… not when there is an imposter in our midst, devils and demons everywhere hiding in plain sight, waiting to strike and kill us all. What do you want from us, what do you want…?” Phyllis was trying to sit and her voice whilst weak was raised in pitch and determined to be heard, silencing Sandy before she could protest. “And I’ve seen you, oh yes… I recognise you now, you’re the thief who takes my jewels, the demon who creeps in here to steal my belongings. Dear God, Tenley is riddled with evil. Kenneth, Kenneth, help me, Kenneth…” Phyllis sagged onto the pillows, consumed by anger and fear, the confusion that swirled through her brain fought hard, desperate to hold on to her senses, making one last attempt at untangling a jumble of thoughts and images.
Hearing footsteps and voices drawing close, Sandy had no other option than to run to the door and feign concern, praying with every step that Phyllis would descend into total delirium and that way, the doctor would sedate her, properly this time.
Sandy found herself dismissed from the room, allowing the doctor and nurse to deal with Phyllis and in the meantime, Georgie went to check on Vanessa who she found in tears, woken from sleep once again by her monstrous grandmother. As Sandy listened at the door, she could hear Vanessa recounting the wicked words she’d heard Phyllis utter.
No doubt Georgie hadn’t been amused to hear herself described as an evil whore who’d taken Phyllis prisoner, more so that Vanessa was terrified because a demon had come to Tenley to kill her because she was a bastard who’d stained the famil
y name. While Georgie soothed Vanessa who sobbed and hiccupped about secrets and lies, fraudsters and priests, Sandy felt so weary, of everything. How she longed to comfort her child but as usual, Georgie was the one Vanessa turned to, and it hurt, a real physical pain.
Sighing, Sandy gave up and submitted to fatigue, not caring if anyone had eaten or her duties had been fulfilled. She’d had enough of the Tenleys for one day and they could look after themselves, or starve and drink themselves into oblivion for all she cared.
Hours later, Sandy knelt by her bed, praying so hard that her fingers ached from clasping them together, her eyes screwed and brows furrowed in concentration, lips twitching as she begged the Lord to help her, show her the way, or silence Phyllis. From behind closed eyelids, Sandy saw her life falling apart and the facade she’d created crumbling. It was only a matter of time and her secrets would be revealed by that poisonous old woman, she would be branded a thief and Georgie, who was sharp as a knife, would put two and two together.
In the darkness, Sandy continued to pray that the Lord would forgive her for stealing from Phyllis but she had so much old tat lying about that it was impossible for anyone to keep track of it, especially if it disappeared in dribs and drabs. God knew that the theft was in aid of a good cause because Sandy had to be prepared for the day she could reveal herself to Vanessa, who she was convinced would fall into her arms once the truth was told. The much-anticipated revelation was scheduled in Sandy’s mind for Vanessa’s coming of age at twenty-one, Vanessa would be able to make her own mind up about her future. It was entirely possible that if she chose her real mother, Kenneth might disown or disinherit and without a doubt, Sandy would be instantly dismissed from service. That was why she needed a nest egg, to provide for her and Vanessa, come the day.
The mere thought of yet another birthday caused the wound in Sandy’s heart to ache because with every year, even before she arrived at Tenley, the 22nd November brought with it such bittersweet memories. In truth, watching Vanessa rip open her presents every year had been harder than the six years they’d spent apart. Sandy would relive the day of her birth and imagine what she was doing and who with. Now she knew. At Tenley, Sandy managed to hold back the tears, saving them for bedtime but she did at least get a hug.
Physical contact was kept to a minimum between Sandy and Vanessa after all, what reason did the chief-cook-and-bottle-washer have to embrace the mistress of the house. On birthdays it was different. Sandy left giving Vanessa her gift until bedtime when the hullaballoo had died down. It had become their special tradition. Vanessa always appreciated one last present which she rewarded with a hug. Sandy waited all year for it.
The stumbling block in her master plan, the thing that ruined the images of the momentous day when Sandy would reveal all, was the genuine love Vanessa had for Georgie. Surprisingly and much to Sandy’s annoyance, the feeling was mutual so somewhere along the line, the Lord would need to rid the world of Georgie. She was the one thing that truly stood in Sandy’s way. It was unfathomable how one so shallow and vain, and deeply flawed as Georgie could love an ugly duckling like Vanessa, because that’s what she was.
Despite all Sandy’s attempts to restrict the child’s calorific intake, she was thwarted at every turn by Georgie and as she grew, taller and widthways, Vanessa resembled more and more the rapist. Sandy knew that a mother should love her child no matter what, but she just couldn’t, not in the way Georgie did.
Vanessa was becoming more spoilt, was without aim, lacking in moral guidance and as far as Sandy was concerned an ignorant atheist. Had she been brought up correctly, in a God-fearing home, Sandy was convinced that Vanessa would be unrecognisable to the one who waddled around the house, growing more conceited and lazy by the day. The blame for this lay firmly at the feet of Kenneth who was weak and Georgie who was unfit to look after herself, never mind a child.
Sometimes, just watching them together brought on such terrible rage that it caused Sandy’s body to tremble. How often had she spied on Georgie and Vanessa who were so free with hugs and caresses? The heart-warming tableau still rankled, that of a child who yearned for a mother’s love and the unlikely stranger who just walked right in and claimed that role, her role, Sandy’s.
When she was younger, Vanessa would lie on the sofa next to Georgie who, too idle to read for herself would enlist the child. While the love-thief smoked and rested her bloodshot eyes, Vanessa would recite poetry from one of Kenneth’s first editions or read fairy stories. Their favourite past-time, one where Georgie made a bit of effort, was spent re-enacting plays. They would spend hours with Pygmalion and The Rivals, Eliza Doolittle and Mrs Malaprop being Georgie’s characters of choice.
Nowadays, Vanessa was far too fat to snuggle in the crook of Georgie’s arm like when she was young, so instead, took a position on the floor. Georgie would listen and stroke Vanessa’s raven curls as she read from the newspaper, or they would share a joke about the gossip columns and listen to music. They even had a special song.
But that was by the by, and as much as Vanessa’s personality and physical appearance pained Sandy, she was resolute in her mission and would, one day take back what was hers. The list of commandments Sandy had broken and the sins she committed did not cause concern. The good Lord was on her side and he always forgave sinners, even if they coveted and stole, were riddled with envy, succumbed to greed and wished people dead.
Having faith absolved Sandy of many things, like the fact she had collated an album by removing photographs from the leather-bound book in the library, then rearranging those that remained. Nobody looked at them anyway, especially those of Daphne and Vanessa’s early years. Now, Sandy had a photographic history of her own, from the day they stole her baby girl. Pride of place was the grainy black and white image, Sandy’s most precious possession, of her and Vanessa at the home just days after her birth. The photograph, whilst being something to cling to was another element of the torture she and the other girls had endured. It was a dangling carrot, a taste of happiness that was always beyond your reach like the soft wool of your baby’s going away outfit. Since her arrival at Tenley, Sandy had taken snapshots of her own and added them to the pilfered ones so to anyone who looked, the album would appear to be that of a single mother who had brought up her child alone.
Tired from praying and wandering aimlessly in the boggy past, and with sore and aching knees, slowly and stiffly, Sandy crawled into bed where despite her exhaustion, found she was unable to sleep. She was too wired by worry yet too weary to listen on the landing for hints that Kenneth and Georgie were aware of her indiscretions, or check on Phyllis who Sandy hoped was sedated and silent.
Instead she would wait in the darkness for the Lord to reach out; he always came through in the end. After all, amongst her many failings, patience remained her strongest virtue. The clock ticked and the house fell silent. Wispy clouds skimmed a silvery moon that was suspended in an onyx sky that shrouded Tenley in darkness and under its roof, Sandy waited for divine intervention.
The next morning, as she filled the kettle with water and then lifted the copper frying pan off the hook, Sandy was startled by the nurse who bounded into the kitchen, her face ashen as she trembled and told of her grim discovery. It was so hard for Sandy not to smile and feign surprise. She certainly didn’t feel sorrow, none at all. The only emotion that registered in Sandy, as the nurse shot off to ring the doctor and wake the living Tenleys, was gratitude.
During the night, the Lord had answered just as she knew he would, she had been saved. Placing the pan back on the hook, realising she wouldn’t have to cook breakfast, instead taking cups and saucers from the shelf, Sandy whispered to herself, “Praise the Lord, God is good.”
Next came the farce that was the funeral, where Vanessa refused to attend and was, in Sandy’s opinion, pandered to by Georgie who put the tears and recurring nightmares down to the trauma of Daphne’s death. Sandy had it on good authority from Cookie who came in to help with the wake, that
on the morning of Daphne’s funeral when six-year-old Vanessa spotted her grandmother and the other leading women mourners in dark veils, all hell broke loose because the child thought they were black ghosts. Vanessa became hysterical, Phyllis slapped her legs and according to Cookie, Kenneth looked like he wanted to slap Phyllis.
Georgie, as always was made aware of the past by faithful Cookie and then insisted Vanessa be spared the ordeal once again, and as with most things, got her way. With Phyllis six feet under, Kenneth’s title and inheritance secured, Georgie was left to rule the roost in any manner she saw fit.
When Vanessa turned sixteen and decisions had to be made regarding her education, Georgie’s grip on her stepdaughter tightened even further. In all areas of Vanessa’s life Sandy felt impotent and was resigned, however reluctantly, to being her loyal servant. It therefore came as a shock when for once she and Georgie actually agreed on something.
Sandy’s role at Tenley was to maintain the smooth running of the house and step into the breach when Georgie and Kenneth nipped up to London. It was therefore imperative that Vanessa remained at Tenley until she was at least eighteen otherwise Sandy’s services might be dispensed with.
When she wasn’t at school or with her small circle of false friends, Vanessa had no hobbies and similarly, no idea what she wanted to do with her life. She wasn’t very bright, which irked Sandy greatly, despite her genes and one-to-one extra schooling. Kenneth had suggested a spell abroad at a finishing school which was met with tears from Vanessa and a scowl from Georgie. Eventually they settled on her becoming an assistant in the estate office where from ten till four on weekdays she answered the phone and typed letters, very, very slowly.
The Secrets of Tenley House Page 18
