The Uninvited

by Clive Harold

  Christ, what was that? Damn that bloody light... why was it suddenly so bright? It wasn't eye strain, it was brighter... where was it coming from, what the hell was happening here...? she must have dropped off for a minute, be imagining this ... the bedroom door must have blown open, letting in the glare from the hall... she should close it... get up and close it... get up, now... but wait... this felt ....... she wasn't lying down, was she?... no, she was upright, curled up, hunched forward, arms across her face, but sitting up now... she wasn't lying down any more, wasn't in bed lying down any more, she was sitting - but where? Drop her arms... she must drop her arms... look into the light, concentrate, focus, look around... she dropped her arms slowly to her side, instinctively shying away from the brightness of the light as she did so and peering sideways into the glare.

  Was she just sitting on the side of the bed, staring into the glare of the light in the hall with sleepy eyes? Surely she was. Her eyes were clearing now - or the light in front of her was dimming - and she could make out details, shapes in front of her. Yes, the light was dimming. She could see now. She could see clearly. But what? What was all this? What was this place? Where was she? She looked around nervously. This wasn't possible. It couldn't be. She shouldn't be here - she couldn't be here. She was at home, right now, she was at home. She was in bed. She was with Billy. She couldn't be here. She didn't belong here. What was this place? Who were these people? What did they want of her?

  A dream, this must be a dream. Mustn't it? Dear God, it must be... but how? How could it be, when it felt so real. Her nightdress - she was even wearing the right nightdress. She could still taste the cocoa she had been drinking and the cigarette she had been smoking. God help her, this was real, it was happening, she just knew it... She must concentrate, look hard around her...

  She was sitting on a bench, a long bench made out of what looked like white plastic moulded into the white plastic wall she was leaning against. The bench - and the wall - stretched away to her left in a wide semicircular shape. She was in a domed room. And at the end of the bench, at the end of the semi-circle, an enormous screen filling dotted with lights that seemed to be sequence... red... blue... yellow… red... blue... yellow... green. And who was that…? In front of the screen… a chair, there was

  a chair with a figure seated in it... a figure she could only see

  in silhouette against the myriad of flashing lights. And to the right of the screen, off to her right-hand side? Just a void, a black void - a shadow perhaps? And more silhouettes? No… wait... they were moving forward now, slowly, towards her and stopping, still shrouded in the half-light.

  the opposite wall,

  flashing silently in 2figures-she could make out two figures… the same height and shape and… identical, they looked identical ...two... women? They looked like women... women in what looked to be darkcoloured, matching sweaters and skirts ... and both with long dark hair... just standing, side by side, opposite her, across the expanse of white floor that divided them, just looking at her, out of the half-shadow, saying nothing, doing nothing...

  And further to her right, framed in shadow, the dim rectangular glow of an entrance, a doorway, a ramp leading down to what? She inched forward on the bench and leaned outwards try and make out the detail outside, the source of the dim light that was illuminating the entrance. A ramp? Yes, it was a ramp, leading down to... my God, a road, the main road, near Ripperstone Farm?

  Surely not? But yes, she could make it out clearly now it was that road, she recognised it immediately, eventhe dim glow that was somehow illuminating the portion of it that she could see… and now, what was this… more shapes? People… there were people approaching the ramp out of the darkness and mounting it... How many? .... ....... three... four... there were five and... wait... they were, yes, human - and all women, women like her. But who? Did she know them? She couldn't tell, not in the dimness of the light and from distance, however hard she strained to see. If only someone would call out - or perhaps she should? No, better not. But it was so quiet... She sat back, leaning against the wall again.

  God, who was that... someone, right next to her, next to her at her shoulder... one of the two men who had been looking at her from across the room but how? How had she got there? And now she was looking at her... closely... staring, just staring with those blinking eyes... blue eyes... clear blue eyes, like... the eyes Clinton and Rosa had described after those two mysterious visitors had called at the farm and tne hotel... and that high forehead, the same… and the sleeked back hair, though longer than either of them had described... maybe she was the woman of her species the sweater and the skirt seemed to make that clear... and the material, it was like the 'bluish tweed' of the suits of those other two visitors... yes, this must be the female equivalent, surely? Or - more likely, according to Paul's theory - a sort of specially contrived 'human-looking' illusion to make her, and the others, feel more at ease. A disguise? That wax complexion certainly didn't look real... What should she do? Those eyes, those clear, unblinking eyes gave nothing away and there was no facial expression to indicate what she -or it-felt... And herself? This was just too incredible, too fantastic -but frightening? No, she felt no fear – only fascination and wonderment.

  She needn't feel frightened. She knew that. But how? She just knew. The more the figure stared unblinkingly at her like that, the more she knew that fear was unnecessary. What had she to be frightened of? Had she been hurt? Had she ever been seriously hurt? No, of course not. What purpose would it have served to hurt her? And Billy - or the family - had they ever been hurt? Of course not. They had been frightened, maybe, but never harmed. It couldn't be helped if people were frightened by what they didn't understand, but if a little fear could lead to a greater understanding, then even that discomfort was worthwhile, wasn't it?

  No, she had no need to worry and, besides, she was going home now... Now? How? How could she be here and then suddenly be at home? She had to ask the figure... it was going now....standing... its shape silhouetted in the bright lights on the domed ceiling above... she had to squint up into the light to make it out, but even then it was hopeless... they were too bright... she'd have to shield her eyes against it, cross her arms across her eyes and then... Better, that was better - and the light seemed to be dimming now. And dimming. She could take her arms away and look now.

  Nothing. There was nothing in front of her... just the ghostly white shapes of her hands, lying on the pillow in front of her, picked out by the beam of light shining through the door from the hall outside. And Billy, the dim outline of Billy curled up in front of her. She closed her eyes and went to sleep. Smiling.

  TWELVE

  December 19th, 1977.

  Billy grunted and looked blearily around the room.

  Pauline was standing over him, smiling down at him, with a breakfast tray in her hands and a broad smile on her face.

  'Breakfast in bed for my lord and master,' she chuckled, 'wakey wakey, it's seven o'clock... Billy looked over his shoulder at the clock, on the table on her side of the bed, feeling totally disorientated. An early call so he could have breakfast in bed? What on earth was going on?

  He propped himself up groggily on his elbows and blinked up at her: 'Thanks, love. What have I done to deserve this?' 'Absolutely nothing,' she said, chuckling again and leaving the room briskly, 'so make the most of it. I can't stand here nattering, I've got the kids' breakfasts to make.'

  Then she was gone. He rearranged the tray more comfortably on his lap and savoured the sight in front of him. Eggs and bacon, sausage, tomatoes and even mushrooms. Toast and marmalade. A pot of tea instead of just a cup. He smiled to himself - then frowned. On a Monday morning? All this on a Monday morning? Very strange -especially as Pauline had to get off to work herself as well as making breakfast for the kids. Quite apart from all that, she'd been so shaken up by everything that happened the day before, he'd even planned to bring her tea in bed this morning and make the kids' breakfast, so that she
could have a bit of a lie-in. And now this? She was probably trying to put a brave face on things. Or - more likely she was relieved at the thought of their agreement to quit the farm.

  Good God, in the cold light of day he realised just what the move was going to entail and all the planning that would have to be done. Ripperstone Farm wasn't only their home, it was his livelihood. Trying to find another position as a tenant farmer wouldn't be easy. Then there were the kids and the problems involved in rearranging their education. It was certainly going to be a daunting task, but as they had both agreed the previous night, enough was enough. They had endured the phenomena - whatever they were -for very nearly a whole year, hoping that each time something happened it would be the last time. But it never was. More to the point, it had got worse.

  He finished his breakfast and pushed the tray away, leaning back against the headboard of the bed and lighting up a cigarette. There would be no real chance to talk to Pauline about moving plans this morning but he'd prolong his tea break at four o'clock that afternoon, when she had got back from work, and they could talk then, in peace and quiet. He could hear the kids clumping around, up and down stairs, in their normal morning panic to get off to school on time. How would they feel about moving, he wondered? It was true that they had been as shaken up as he and Pauline had been over what had happened the day before, but it was amazing how quickly' children got over that sort of thing. They had all made a lot of friends at school - and Clinton at his local job - and they wouldn't want to leave them all behind, but it was for their own good, as they would certainly appreciate...

  He put out his cigarette and swung out of bed. His early call would mean he could languish in a hot, relaxing bath for longer than normal, as well. He'd appreciate that luxury later on, for sure, what with all the guaranteed tensions the day promised. *

  Billy looked at his watch. Four o'clock. Great. Pauline would be back from work at any time and have the kettle on, and he certainly needed a cup of tea. He looked around him, surveying the scene around the paddock and making a mental check that he'd done everything that had to be done. Then he set off up the drive in the direction of the farm. He'd be glad to get into the warm. He couldn't understand why he was so cold. It was normally so uncannily still and warm around the farm buildings, but today - for the first time that winter - it had been windy and bitterly cold. Most odd of all was that the thermometer confirmed it was no colder than it had been for weeks. Not only that, but he'd been noticing all day long that the trees around the farm - and the sky overhead - were filled with birds. It was all very weird.

  He hurried into the house, discarded his hat, coat and boots in the hall and was soon huddled over the open fire in the front room. Pauline had heard him come in and was soon at his side with a mug of tea.

  'Kids in the kitchen?' he asked her.

  'That's right,' she nodded, 'I told 'em to stay put because we wanted to talk. You do want to talk, don't you, love?' Billy looked at her quizzically as he sipped his tea and savoured the warmth of it. She looked so bright-eyed and bubbly, considering what they were about to discuss. In fact, she looked more effervescent than he'd seen her looking for goodness knows how long. Compared to the sobbing helpless person whom he had consoled in this very room only the night before, it was a miraculous transformation.

  'Yes, love. Remember what we were discussing last night? We've got a lot of talking to do, I reckon...' He beckoned for her to sit down next to him, but she patted him on the shoulder instead and dismissed the idea.

  'Not now, love, but I'll tell you what - why don't we drive over to my parents in Milford Haven this evening with the kids, after supper, and we can pop out on our own during the evening for a drink and talk then?'

  He looked up at her, frowning now. 'But I thought...oh well, ok love, we'll do that, then...'

  She patted him on the shoulder again: 'Smashing. Now, you carry on getting yourself warm while I finish getting the kids' tea. . She swept out of the room.

  Billy gazed contemplatively into the fire. He couldn't understand it. Going to see her parents that night? She hadn't ventured further than the front door at night for months certainly not since winter had started and the evenings had drawn in so much earlier.

  He shrugged to himself. He was past trying to understand anything that happened around this place any more. One thing was certain, though. It should be an interesting evening. *

  Dale 13 miles.

  Billy sighed as he saw the familiar sign that heralded fact that they were nearly home. He'd been glad to get back. He'd had enough of this day. It had all been altogether too confusing. Pauline had been more chirpy and full of good humour that evening than she'd been for long time, and not in the least bit nervous of being out at night or even driving down this gloomy country lane where she had first been chased by that globe of light. At one point in the evening she had even invited her parents to come and visit them again at the farm and had assured them that 'everything was all right there now'. He determinded to talk to her about that, in private, when they got home. She had no right to make such unfounded assureancs especially in front of the children and particularly in view of the fact that they still had to break the news to them about leaving the farm. Or were they? That was something else... when he and Pauline had popped out a drink during the evening and he'd tried to discuss what they were going to do on that score, she'd dismissed the subject out of hand as though there was no problem at all any more. He just couldn't begin to understand it.

  'Mum?' The sound of Keiron's voice broke the silence and his train of thought. He was leaning over from the back seat, tugging at Pauline's sleeve.

  'Mum... look up there,' he was insisting, pointing between them, up into the sky in front of the car. Billy bit his lip. He felt inclined to tell Keiron to shut up, so frayed were his nerves, but he thought better of it. Such a sudden demand from Keiron in this particular place, at this particular time of night, would normally have reduced Pauline to a nervous wreck in view of what had happened here in the past. But not now, it seemed.

  'What is it, love?' she asked him calmly, half turning in her seat to see exactly where he was pointing. 'There, there, I can see it too,' Layann was now squealing, as she pushed her way forward between the front seats to get a better view, 'it's a light, a bright light, a yellow light - see it? Look, up there, moving really fast across the sky in front of us

  'Yes, yes, I see it now,' Pauline was saying, excitement registering in her voice but not, Billy noted, any sense of panic. He looked up into the sky himself, high over the gloomy outlines of the trees that bordered the road ahead - and then he saw it as well. Clearly distinguishable from the immobile, twinkling stars in the clear sky, a dizzyingly bright yellow spot of light was racing across the heavens. He slowed the car to a crawl.

  'What the hell is that?' he found himself muttering, 'shooting star? Comet? It's not an aeroplane, that's for sure...The words trailed away. As they watched, it suddenly stopped for an instant, shot vertically upwards at tremendous speed, stopped again and then sped off in the same direction as before.

  'See that, Dad, see that?' Keiron was insisting, tugging at him. Billy nodded. 'It's just like before, just like what we saw before, but higher up, isn't it, Mum?' he was saying excitedly. 'And it can't be any of those things you said, because comets and planes don't do that, do they? It can't be ball lightning, either, not behaving like that - nor a satellite...'

  Billy drew the car to a halt. Keiron was right. He was absolutely right. But hold on, what was this? The light had stopped again and seemed to be dropping out of the sky, growing brighter as it did so. Lower and lower... almost on the tree-silhouetted skyline... and now gone, as if into the trees.

  'What happened? Where did it go,' Keiron was demanding, 'into the trees? It must be near the farm, then. Mustn't it?' ‘Keiron’ Billy knew he should have told him to keep quiet earlier - he could hear the twins whispering nervously to one another and Clinton telling them not to worry. He glanced at
Pauline, in the seat next to him. She was looking puzzled, a little worried, but in no way panicky.

  'All right, love?' he asked her, nevertheless. 'Fine, fine - let's just get home...' she whispered to him, simultaneously reaching over and squeezing his hand. He put the car in gear and accelerated down the narrow lane to the turn-off to the farm. Within minutes they had reached it and were rumbling down the gravel track. On the right-hand side, just ahead, they could make out the lights of the farmhouse and beyond them, a little further down, the dim glow from the night lights around the cowsheds. Billy decelerated, slipped the car into neutral and it ground gently to a halt outside the house. They had all seen it, long before the car had come to a halt, but nobody had spoken.

  It was as though they had all expected it to be there. Waiting for them. Directly in front of them, glowing in the night sky, suspended motionless over the cowsheds was an enormous ball of bright orange light, with all the size and brilliance of the sun.

  Without saying a word, the family left the car - Pauline first, then Billy, then the children - and walked slowly down the gravel drive away from the car, past the house and into the gloomy yard outside the cowsheds, their heads craned to look at the glowing orb above them. There was no fear, no panic, no hesitancy as they made their way still closer to the object.

  It was Pauline who broke the trance-like silence first. 'Beautiful, isn't it?' she whispered. 'Isn't it the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?'