by K. L. Slater
‘I’m living on my nerves with the odd things that keep happening and . . .’
‘Yes?’
‘I met with Sophie’s sister, the woman who lived here with her daughter. She’s convinced Dr Marsden drove her to the brink of insanity.’
I bite my lip. I’ve probably said too much, after all Lily has lived here for many years and I don’t want her to think it’s a reflection on her.
‘The poor woman sounds distressed. I didn’t have much to do with the young woman and her child but I got the impression, and please don’t think ill of me for saying so, that she was troubled before she even arrived here.’
I nod, wanting to believe Linda is wrong in her assumptions, but I can’t do that. My own experiences here correlate with a lot of what Linda says happened to Sophie.
‘It’s fine you know, to say you’re not coping too well. I’ve been there.’
The inference of her words isn’t lost on me. Lily obviously thinks I’m struggling mentally.
‘I recognise the signs of anxiety,’ she says softly. ‘I’ve been there, too.’
‘You have?’ Lily seems so confident, so level-headed and sorted.
‘Oh yes. There was a time a few years ago, when my husband left me and – I still feel awkward about saying this but I will because it’s true – I fell apart; lost my job, my home, and I very nearly lost my mind.’
‘No!’ I whisper.
‘I know what it’s like to live on the edge of paranoia and fear. It’s not a nice place to be.’
I glance at her face and for the briefest moment I see the wound of her hurt laid bare, like cutting into a cooked piece of meat to find it’s still raw inside.
I sit quietly, unsure what to say. She seems to think the problem here lies with me, not with the Marsdens.
‘You look so . . . afraid. Actually you look terrified. I don’t want to intrude, but is there anything you want to talk about?’ She lowers her eyes and touches me lightly on the shoulder. ‘This place can get you down. I’m more aware of the influence of certain people than you think.’
She means the Marsdens now, she must do. It’s painfully obvious they don’t like having her around and now I’m beginning to see why. She’s unimpressed by Dr Marsden and Audrey when everyone else here seems to look up to them.
She folds her hands in her lap and looks at me. ‘Tell me what you were like as a child, growing up.’
‘Quiet but confident, I suppose,’ I say, thinking back. ‘I had . . . a difficult time, but I always remember a sort of strength inside that got me through.’
Lily nods. ‘And you stayed that way throughout adulthood?’
‘Basically, yes. I’ve always tried to tackle any problems head on, look at things logically. Until now.’
‘What about now? What’s bothering you, Freya?’
I hesitate. What if I open up to Lily and she tells Dr Marsden and Audrey? Despite what he’s done for me, I just don’t know if I trust him any more. The irony is that I still can’t put my finger on exactly why. But he holds the power over my tenancy here.
She looks at me, seeming to read my mind. ‘Whatever you say is strictly just between us.’ She smiles, holding up her little finger. ‘Pinky promise. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’m not really flavour of the month around here anyway.’
Of course, I had noticed the way the other residents don’t seem to want Lily around, how Audrey reacted a touch frostily when I said we were going downstairs to Lily’s for tea and cake. And even how they all went quiet that day in the garden when Lily came down to join us.
So I tell her. I tell her about the noises I hear when I’m alone, the feeling that someone has been in the apartment, and I tell her about just now how sure I was that I heard a little girl crying in Skye’s room.
And then I ask her point-blank about Sophie and Melissa.
‘I was abroad for the whole time they were here. I did hear talk about it from the residents, but they don’t include me in their little gatherings.’ Lily sighs. ‘All I know is that there was an accident . . . but I don’t think it happened here at Adder House. Michael is an interfering old so-and-so, but I can assure you, Freya, he is quite harmless, as is Audrey.’ She looks me straight in the eye. ‘I think someone has spun you quite a tale.’
I let out a long sigh, unable to contain the relief that floods through me. I don’t know why I didn’t just confide in Lily in the first place.
Still, the mere thought of living in this apartment used to give me joy, but now I feel sick as soon as I approach the front door of Adder House. There’s lots of stuff making me feel uncomfortable here, not just what Linda has told me.
‘Listen. Why don’t I look after Skye this evening? You can bring her to me when you pick her up from school and we might bake, or test each other on the names of garden birds while you run yourself a nice bath, light a scented candle.’ Lily squeezes my hand. ‘There’s nothing wrong here, Freya, you’re just a little stressed out. That’s all.’
I open my mouth to say ‘thanks, but no thanks’ and then I stop. The thought of a few hours when I can just get my head together sounds wonderful. I can decide exactly when I’m going to speak to the Marsdens and leave with Skye.
‘Well, only if you’re sure,’ I say. ‘That would be perfect, thank you.’
‘That’s settled then.’ She smiles. ‘Oh, and keep away from the Marsdens, too. Those two should have a public health warning stamped on their foreheads. I don’t even want to think what goes on in that apartment between them.’
I wonder if she knows about their obvious marital ‘arrangements’.
‘I suppose what they do in their own marriage is their business,’ I say, hoping I’m conveying that I’m fully aware of their liberal arrangements.
‘Heavens, I hope you’re wrong, or it’s even worse than I imagined!’ Lily laughs out loud. ‘The Marsdens aren’t married, my dear . . . they’re brother and sister.’
44
When Lily finally leaves my apartment, I can’t stop her words echoing in my head.
They’re brother and sister. Brother and sister!
But Dr Marsden had referred to Audrey as his wife on several occasions . . . hadn’t he? When Skye and I arrived at Adder House for the very first viewing, he’d said, ‘my wife isn’t here’. Or had he said simply, ‘Mrs Marsden isn’t here’, and I’ve happily filled in all the blanks myself?
Can I trust my judgement at all any more? Sometimes I wonder.
On the way out to pick Skye up from school, someone calls my name. I look across the road to see Mark Sutton waving at me.
‘Don’t suppose you fancy catching up over a drink tonight?’ It’s a casual-enough invite. He saunters out on to the pavement, his ripped jeans and tousled hair somehow looking fresh and attractive at the end of the day. ‘I know a little pub ten minutes’ walk away from here that’s nice and quiet, if you could get someone to watch Skye for a couple of hours.’
I think about my bath and candle and the fact that I’ve already arranged for Lily to have Skye. But I think Mark’s level-headed opinion on whether there’s really anything to worry about here would be more valuable even than my planned relaxation.
‘Thanks, I’d love to.’ I smile.
‘Call for you about seven then?’ he says cheekily like we’re still at school.
My day finally seems to have picked up, but then my heart sinks when Miss Perkins calls me over in the playground at the end of the day.
‘Skye has unnerved one or two of her classmates by claiming she saw someone taking photographs from the school fence. Apparently, she said it just before home time yesterday. We’ve already had a few parents calling the school office, concerned if there is a prowler.’
‘She hasn’t mentioned it to me,’ I say, genuinely shocked. ‘I’ll ask her about it.’
Miss Perkins nods. ‘Thank you. When I asked her to describe what she’d seen, she denied saying anything and claimed the other children were tellin
g lies.’ The teacher pulls a little apologetic face for having said it. ‘But it appears most of the class heard her saying it.’
I feel like I don’t know what’s got into my daughter, lately. She seems to be acting completely out of character.
I run Skye a quick bath before she goes down to Lily’s and I jump in the separate shower. When I get out, she’s singing and pouring water into plastic cups, pretending to make cocktails.
Just as I’d hoped, she’s feeling more relaxed.
‘Miss Perkins mentioned you’d seen someone taking photographs at the school fence, sweetie?’
Skye throws me a sly glance and nods. ‘I did,’ she says simply.
‘Were they taking photographs of different children?’
‘No, just of me and the children I was watching play.’
‘You were watching them play?’ I grin. ‘I hope you were playing with them, too.’ Skye shrugs and her expression darkens a touch. ‘This person . . . what did they look like?’
‘I couldn’t see,’ she says matter-of-factly. ‘They had on a hat and coat and scarf . . . oh, and gloves, too.’
‘Whoever it was must’ve been sweltering in July!’ But Skye doesn’t smile. ‘Was it a man or woman?’
‘I don’t know,’ she says quickly. ‘I couldn’t tell.’
I nod and hold up the towel so she can step out into it.
As I wrap her up and hold her close, I ask myself the question: could there have been someone taking photographs of my daughter outside school?
As with so many other things here, I just don’t know what to believe.
Mark takes me to a traditional pub called The Britannia, tucked away just off Kensington High Street, and about a fifteen-minute walk from Adder House. It’s not busy and within a few minutes, he’s back from the bar with our drinks and puts them on the table.
‘OK, there’s something I need to tell you first off,’ he says, biting his bottom lip. ‘Somebody’s trying to cause trouble, get me off the job.’
‘What?’ I hold my breath, dreading what he’s about to say.
‘Someone’s complained to the people who own the house I’m renovating.’ He gives a bitter laugh. ‘Apparently I’ve been slandering people, swearing in the street and throwing rubble in people’s gardens.’
‘Who’s complained?’ Even as I ask, I know the answer.
‘Mr Hertz won’t say but he’s warned me he’ll have to let me go if the complaints continue as he doesn’t want any bad blood amongst his neighbours.’
‘That’s so unfair.’ I can feel my face burning. ‘Did you tell him it was all lies?’
‘Course. He’d be a fool to put me off the job six weeks away from completion anyway, and he knows it. But I suppose he felt he had to say something.’
‘Mark, I feel awful. It’s obvious the Marsdens at Adder House are behind the complaint.’
He shrugs. ‘I’m not losing sleep over it but I just wanted you to be aware.’
I’m mortified. I should never have mentioned my source to Dr Marsden when I first raised the subject of the previous tenants.
‘Come on then, let’s hear what else has been happening at the house of horrors.’ Mark grins, upbeat again. Then he sees my serious expression. ‘I’m sorry, Freya. I’m only trying to lighten things up, but I can tell you’re worried.’
‘You’re going to think I’m crazy,’ I say, taking a sip of the red wine and savouring its deep fruitiness on my tongue.
‘Look, if you’re crazy, then there’s no hope for me either. Just tell me what’s been happening and then I’ll give you my honest opinion.’
Before I can think how to best phrase all the craziness, my worries and fears come tumbling out. I tell Mark about the flies, the repositioned furniture and toys, Skye’s ripped painting, the noises, the child crying . . . when I’ve finished, it feels like I just had an hour’s therapy session.
‘Blimey.’ Mark puts down his beer. ‘I’d heard that place was creepy but some of this stuff is seriously messed up. No wonder you’re worried.’
‘But don’t you see, it’s also just small stuff that people can easily say I’ve imagined. And like Dr Marsden said, Sophie’s death actually had nothing to do with Adder House.’
‘They lived there, for God’s sake!’ Mark shakes his head.
He understands why I’ve been so worried. Maybe I’m not going crazy after all. I continue, eager to get his thoughts on the rest of it.
‘There’s other stuff that’s spooked me that they just play down; the flies weren’t there when Dr Marsden came upstairs, there was no crying child in Skye’s room when I opened the door, so again, the implication is I must be imagining it. The only person who takes me seriously there is Lily downstairs, and nobody seems to like her. I’m worried all this is unnerving for Skye and that’s why she’s having problems at school.’
‘Look, Freya, I’m no shrink but I can see you’re absolutely not crazy. You’re just not! It sounds to me like someone is taking the mickey and setting you up to look crazy.’ He is angry and it gives me strength.
‘But why? Why would anyone want to do this to us after inviting us to live there? It doesn’t make sense.’ I glance at him. ‘And anyway, how could someone set up insects and kids crying and all the other stuff? It’s like I’m channelling The Amityville Horror.’
Mark picks up his glass and takes a swig of beer, thinking for a moment. ‘Look, I don’t want to spook you, but there are ways and means of doing all sorts of covert stuff if you’ve got the right setup.’
I haven’t a clue what he’s talking about.
‘Take that house I’m working on, it’s one of four properties that stand together in a row, built at the same time. I’ve seen the original architectural plans and Adder House is one of those identical buildings. It’s just the façades that give them their individuality.’
I recall that the house Mark is working on is redbrick with ornate pillars and wrought-iron Juliet balconies where Adder House features classic white stucco. They do look like completely different houses, but still, I don’t see how it’s relevant.
‘As you know, I’ve been doing the refurb there for weeks, including all the structural alterations and a complete rewire. I know the fabric of that dwelling like the back of my hand which means I have the same detailed knowledge of all four properties.’ He hesitates as if he’s considering whether to say something.
‘And?’ I prompt him.
‘Well, let’s just say I know where I’d conceal certain covert devices if I needed to.’
Covert devices. He’s talking about secret electrical spyware, invisible eyes you don’t know are watching . . .
My blood runs icy in my veins as I’m hit with the full force of what he thinks might be happening inside our apartment . . . the camera above our door for starters. Thank goodness I got rid of it.
I look up, startled, aware he’s been talking while I’ve been distracted by my thoughts. ‘Sorry, what?’
‘I said, “If you can smuggle me into Adder House, I can soon find out exactly what’s happening in there.”’
45
Back on Palace Gate, I tap the code into the keypad, open the front door of Adder House, and close it softly behind me.
The foyer is bathed in a soft glow that emits from the lamp on the hall table.
Instead of cutting across the middle of the floor to the stairs as I usually would, I stick closely to the walls, past the Marsdens’ concealed apartment door, where I stop and root about in my bag, listening.
I can’t hear anything from in there, indeed the whole house is just as silent as ever.
I’m an hour earlier than the time I told Lily I’d be back, and I need to use that time well before I collect Skye from her apartment.
I text Mark, who I know is waiting just a short distance away at the Albert Memorial for my ‘all-clear’ message, before turning off the hall lamp so the foyer is lit only by streetlights filtering in through the coloured glass.
Quietly as I can, I unlatch the front door. Mark must have jogged down, because only a few minutes later he appears at the bottom of the steps and I hold open the door as he slips silently into Adder House with a heavy cloth toolbag he picked up from the house he’s working on a few doors down.
It occurs to me what a ridiculous situation I’ve inadvertently allowed here. Cheap rent or not, I’m a woman in my thirties, a mother, and I’m creeping about like a teenager to avoid being ‘found out’ for bringing a visitor back home!
Still, now is most definitely not the time to make a stand. It’s more important that the other residents are not aware of Mark’s presence while he carries out the various ‘checks’ we talked about in the pub.
I close the door softly behind him and click the latch, leading him to the stairs. We’re halfway up to the first floor when I hear the sound of Dr Marsden’s door unlocking.
I poke Mark to chivvy him faster up to the top of the stairs and then I grip his arm and press my finger to my lips.
Light floods down below us as the Marsdens’ apartment door opens.
‘Michael!’ Audrey’s irritated voice rings out. ‘The lamp in the hall is out again.’
A shuffling sound and then Dr Marsden sighs. ‘I only replaced the ruddy thing last week. I’ll go and get another bulb from the drawer, now.’
‘I’m sure I heard something out here.’ Audrey’s footfalls sound across the tiles in the foyer. Then a rattling. ‘The door’s secure. It must’ve been the wind.’
Her footsteps move back across and then stop at the bottom of the stairs.
‘Hello?’ Audrey calls out. I hear her step on to the first stair and my heartbeat jumps up into my throat, threatening to choke me. I take a step back and Mark’s hand steadies me. ‘Is anyone up there?’ Audrey calls.
‘Come back inside, dear, and I’ll sort the bulb out when the film has finished.’
‘I swear I can smell perfume in here,’ Audrey grumbles as their apartment door closes again, and I curse myself for using a liberal spray of Thierry Mugler Angel before I left to meet Mark at The Britannia.
