by Graham West
Mankind was still capable of great evil. Mosswood was testament to that. There were people who knew what had gone on all those years ago, and it was all coming back to haunt them.
***
Nicky Rosales sounded tired. “Jenny who?” she asked sleepily. “This isn’t a sales call is it? Cos I’m telling you right now—”
“It isn’t,” Jenny interrupted quickly. “I was at Mosswood—remember we brought your daughter back?”
“Oh God! Jenny. I’m sorry.”
Jenny laughed nervously. “Don’t worry. I’ve been told I sound like a cold caller before. Anyway, how are you? How’s Bailey?” Receiving no answer, Jenny prompted, “Mrs. Rosales?”
The reply came, but it was almost inaudible. “I’m still here.”
“Is everything okay?”
Nicky Rosales sobbed. “No, it’s not okay. It’s not. It’s really not. I can’t cope, Jenny. I can’t cope!”
The woman was hysterical, her anguish tangible.
“What’s wrong, Mrs. Rosales? Is it Bailey?”
More silence. Jenny waited a moment before pressing any further. “What’s happened?” Panic rose through Jenny’s chest. “Please tell me. I want to help.”
Nicky Rosales choked on her words. “Bailey took her own life. She’s dead, Jenny. Bailey’s dead!”
***
Alex had eaten little that day. He’d called Maddy and suggested they meet for a burger; she’d agreed and his stomach had been flipping since, although he wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe he really was falling in love and had finally found someone who would love him back. But then he’d thought Danni loved him, in those early days, and that hadn’t worked out so well. This time, he would play it cool. If Maddy wanted to spend some time with her mates, then that was fine. He didn’t need to keep checking and asking how she was.
The burger place was busier today. The weekend brought out the families, although the kids tended to be older, mostly pre-teens waiting to spread their wings. Soon, they would be there with their friends, eyeing up people they fancied.
Maddy arrived, wearing the same hooded top but this time Alex detected the faintest traces of eye shadow and maybe a little foundation as well.
“It must be weird working in that place when there’s no one around,” she remarked, sucking a strawberry milkshake through a long multicoloured straw. “I’d hate it. A deserted hotel? God, I’d think I was in a Stephen King novel!”
Alex laughed. “What? The Shining?”
Maddy nodded. “That film scares the crap out of me.”
“It’s that corridor with those twins standing at the end,” he said. “Maybe we could watch it sometime? You know, together?”
Maddy’s eyes lit up. “I’d love that! Can I come to your place? Is that allowed?”
Alex nodded. The occasional guest wouldn’t be a problem, particularly as the building was almost empty. “We could always watch it in the hotel!” he said, reaching out and grabbing Maddy’s hand. She wasn’t watching and screamed in fright, then covered her mouth and apologised to the family at the next table.
“I scare easily,” she explained unnecessarily. “So you’ll have to walk me back home after the movie.”
“Of course. I’d do that anyway.”
Maddy smiled, then looked at him quizzically. “Are you sure you want to watch it with me? I thought you didn’t like ghost stuff.”
“I don’t generally, but The Shining is a classic. And I wouldn’t describe it as a ghost film as such.”
Alex hadn’t wanted to tell her the way he was feeling and how he’d have watched anything as long as she was there with him, but Maddy seemed to read his thoughts.
“I meant what I said the other day,” she said, serious all of a sudden. “If this does go further—you and me—”
“I promise,” he said tenderly. “I won’t hurt you.”
Chapter Forty-Six
Dennis Blakely stared down at the bowl of chicken soup steaming on the table before him. The news had left him shaken, and Penny had pretty much ordered him to eat something. She was playing mother again, and her matriarchal concern was pissing him off. Right now, he wanted to be left alone to get his head around what Jenny had told him.
The statistics would reveal that Bailey Rosales was just another kid who had taken her own life, and those who were paid to pore over those statistics would reach their own conclusions as to why so many young people had committed suicide over the past few years. It was true, Bailey didn’t have many friends, and her mother would be the first to admit she had issues, but in the days that followed her return home from Mosswood, she had become detached and uncooperative.
They had been on a trip to town, a mother-and-daughter bonding day. Nicky had promised Bailey some new trainers and a meal at the pizza place where she treated herself to a couple of glasses of wine. That was the only reason they took the train. It was mid-morning, and the platform was empty. Nicky had sat with her daughter on one of the brightly coloured benches, trying in vain to start some kind of conversation.
Bailey’s eyes were firmly fixed on something else. Something only she could see. As the train thundered towards them, Bailey Rosales walked to the edge of the platform, deaf to her mother’s words. “That’s the express, sweetheart—it’s not ours.” Then Nicky watched in horror as her thirteen-year-old girl stepped off the edge.
Nicky recalled little of the following few hours—she’d woken to find a circle of strangers looking down at her who’d helped her to her feet—but she would never forget the sight of the blanket that covered her daughter’s remains.
“I need to see Bailey,” she sobbed. “I need to see my baby.”
But they had shaken their heads and led her away.
“It was them,” Nicky had told Jenny. “It was them—whoever was in those woods. Bee told me she’d started the fire. and the whole thing tormented her.”
Blakely pushed away the bowl and looked up at his wife. “I need to speak to Reverend Francis,” he said. “He’s supposed to be a man of God. It’s about time he asked that bloke upstairs what the hell we’re supposed to do with this place now.”
***
It hadn’t taken Alex long to find The Shining on TV, and Maddy seemed keen to make a date out of the evening, insisting they bought pizza and a couple of bottles of wine. Alex had thought about condoms, just in case, but decided that even if they did get a little cosy, it would probably be down to the alcohol. If Maddy wanted him, he would rather she was completely sober and in charge of her emotions. Then he’d know it was for real.
Alex closed the blinds, killing the sunlight that streamed through the window, before pouring them both a glass of wine. They had decided to leave the pizza until the frozen face of Jack Nicholson stared back at them from the screen and the credits rolled.
The movie began. It had been at least six years since he’d watched the film—in those care-free days before Danni came along. Now Maddy was here, and if anyone could help repair his broken heart then it was her. She cupped her drink in her hands and glanced at him.
“Fancy watching Psycho some time?”
Another date, Alex thought. Did that mean things were going well?
“You’re really into all this stuff, aren’t you?” he joked. “Should I be scared?” Maddy smiled, but he saw something in her eyes—a kind of sadness. Or was it fear?
She turned, leaning back against him. “You gonna put your arm around me?”
Alex’s heart beat a little faster. Maddy was sure to feel it too. Thump, thump, thump. But maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.
Tentatively, he looped his arms around her.
“That’s better,” she whispered. “Now, bring on those creepy kids!”
***
It was Sunday night. She should have been at home watching something on Netflix with Jake, not in a hotel room, fifty miles away. How had everything gone so wrong?
Thankfully, Isaac was asleep. Jenny couldn’t have coped wi
th one of his episodes. The bed was comfortable enough, but she’d watched TV till three in the morning and slept fitfully until the bells of St. Jude’s had woken her.
It had been a long day, and she already felt guilty as hell for yelling at Isaac for spilling his drink. He’s just a baby—what the hell are you doing? she’d screamed at herself in her head, fighting back the tears and unable to stop. It wasn’t just about Jake or Kayla. It wasn’t even her father’s disappointment. All of that was bad enough, and now some kid she barely knew had thrown herself under a train.
Jenny wanted to push it from her mind, but that night in the forest had haunted her all day. She wished she’d called Nicky Rosales earlier. Maybe there was something she could have said to Bailey. Something that might have saved her life.
There was still no word from Jake. Perhaps it would be a good time to open that bottle Blakely had left in the minibar. Two champagne flutes stood on the oak table in front of the window: one for her, one for him. She popped the cork and poured a glass, sipping as she looked out over the grounds. A staff gardener was working on flower borders with a strimmer that sounded like a swarm of angry bees. The bells of St. Jude’s began to ring for the second time that day. Jenny gulped down the wine and refilled her glass, dreading what lay ahead. Tabwell’s past had returned, and those who had been wronged, whoever they were, would never be silenced by the church calling its parishioners to evening worship.
Chapter Forty-Seven
They were halfway through their second bottle of wine by the time the closing credits rolled. “That was such an amazing film,” Maddy drawled in her best American accent. “I know Stephen King didn’t like it, but it still rocks.”
Alex kissed her neck and Maddy giggled. The wine had gone to his head, but he wanted to stay in control. Making a move could ruin everything.
“Have you read the book?” he asked, trying not to slur his words.
“Yup. Three years ago.”
“Better than the film?”
“Dunno, really. There’s a lot more in the book. You get into the heads of the characters more.”
If he moved his hand a few inches, he’d be cupping her right breast. The temptation to do so was almost overwhelming, but the smell from the oven told him the pizza was ready.
“Saved by a hot and spicy,” he muttered, pulling himself away.
Maddy gave him a quizzical look.
“I’m starving,” he lied to cover himself as he opened the oven door, immediately recoiling from the blast of hot air. The pizza had been rescued just in time. “It’s hot, spicy…with a hint of charcoal.” He wafted the swirls of smoke away with a dishcloth.
Maddy laughed. “I’m sure it’s fine. I don’t mind a bit of well done. My mum pretty much burned everything.”
They found another movie on a satellite channel. Another spook. Three minutes in, Maddy turned to him. “Do you mind if we watch something else?”
Alex frowned. “I thought you liked this stuff.”
“I do. I just don’t want to watch this.”
“But we missed the start—we don’t even know what it is.”
“It’s a witch thing. It’s just a bit heavy.”
Alex flicked the remote and found some documentary on how to eat healthy. Maddy laughed. “We’ve just consumed a week’s worth of alcoholic units and calories in one night. Should we be watching this?”
The guy on TV was looking at the brand labels. “This tells us there are 146 calories—” he tapped his finger on the brightly coloured packaging “—so you’d be forgiven for thinking it’s talking about the whole meal.” He looked into the camera with fake concern. “But this says ‘per portion’, and how many portions are in this item?” He paused for effect. “Well, we have to find the answer on the back—and it’s four—four portions. So I have to ask, who are they supposed to be feeding? Lilliputians?”
Maddy gasped. “That’s 584 calories! Jesus!”
Alex recalled how his mother had always checked calories and had never been fooled by the labels. Maybe he had her to thank for the fact he was slim. Burgers had always been a weekend treat, and his parents had never subscribed to the fast food lifestyle. “I’ve eaten more junk in these last few days than I did in a month back home,” he said with a snigger. “You’re a bad influence!”
Maddy leaned back, finishing the last slice of pizza. She reached over and squeezed his hand. “I hope not,” she whispered. Her eyes darkened quite suddenly. “By the way, that boy who died in the fire—isn’t it the funeral tomorrow?”
Alex nodded. He detested funerals. His Uncle Peter died of cancer at the age of thirty-six, and he’d hated seeing his mother crying like that. But Blakely had made it clear that all the staff were expected to attend.
“What happened?” Maddy asked. “In the forest?”
God only knew if Liam Garret had been conscious as the flames licked around his body. Alex always managed to push the thought from his mind, but now he had to go through it all over again. “Why do you want to know?” he asked.
Maddy shrugged. “Well, I know about the fire, and I read about the park ranger who died. I just wondered how much you knew?”
Alex exhaled, pulling Maddy towards him, kissing her gently on the forehead. He couldn’t look her in the eye. Not while he told her how he had left his colleague in that cottage. Not while he told her what a coward he’d been. Whatever had met with them in that place was too strong for him—too strong for them—but he’d always wished he’d done more.
***
Kevin Taylor heard a rumbling from beneath his bed. He’d had two cans of lager and puked on the last mouthful. Now it felt like his belly was full of snakes. He’d had quite a few early nights recently, since the thing in the forest, but there was little chance of getting any sleep. He turned on the TV in the hope there would be something to occupy his mind. The picture was pretty shitty, compared to the sixty-inch plasma screen in the lounge, but it no longer mattered.
What the hell is that? The rumbling grew louder. Taylor swung his legs from the bed and went to stand but as his feet touched the floor, he let out a scream. Below him, the molten earth glowed, and the stench of sulphur hit his nostrils. He fell back onto the bed and let out another scream as he tumbled downwards.
It all seemed to happen in slow motion. The ceiling faded slowly into the distance as he dropped through twisted limbs and gnarled fingers that tore at his body, ripping the flesh from his torso. The cry died in his throat, drowned by the cacophony of mocking voices. Suddenly, he felt the arms beneath him, supporting his body as if he were no heavier than a small child. He saw nothing. Everything above was black, not even the tiniest chink of light penetrating the darkness.
We will not let you go, the voices chimed in unison. We will not rest!
He drifted, enveloped by the darkness, and a hand touched his chest, fingers moving slowly, tenderly, like a loving mother comforting her child, lulling him until suddenly razor-sharp nails dug deep, slicing through his ribcage like a knife through butter. He cried out a third time, his heart held in the icy grip of a cold claw as he felt himself falling once more. This time, there were no hands and no voices. Just the silence of death.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Blakely glanced nervously across the aisle of St. Mark’s, an Anglican church ten miles from Tabwell. The Garret family huddled together on a single row, three generations: the grandfather, the parents and a younger girl who might have been Liam’s sister. Maybe they were waiting until the boy was buried before they started asking questions.
Several young men dressed in army uniform sat a couple of rows back; they stood to attention as their colleagues carried a polished oak coffin through the doors. What remained of Liam Blakely didn’t know, but Mrs. Garret would never have had the chance to kiss the forehead of her dead son or sit by his side throughout the night, talking to him in hushed tones, praying he could hear every word.
If they were angry, they hid it well. There had been no
reproachful glances as he’d walked into the church with Penny on his arm. Mr. Garret had nodded, averting his eyes swiftly. The coffin was laid in front of the minister, who looked up from a large bible sitting on a wooden lectern. This, he casually informed them, was his third funeral in six days.
The minister had been quick to add that the others had passed away in their dotage. This was different. Liam was a young man, who had served his country and survived, only to die in a forest fire.
Reverend Stapes spoke slowly, welcoming the mourners, his dulcet tones echoing through the church. Blakely thought it might have been nice if his own father could have pulled himself away from the golf course in Portugal and shown his face rather than send a wreath to decorate the grave. That was typical of him. A boy may have died, but the world continued to turn, and while there was money to be made, Blakely Senior would never stop.
The congregation struggled through the opening hymn and listened dutifully as the minister delivered a potted history of Liam Garret’s brief life from the notes that lay on top of his bible. Stapes was an eloquent man and managed to sound as if he had actually known the boy, while Mrs. Garret remained stoic with no sign of tears as she placed a loving arm around her daughter’s shoulders.
Penny nudged him. “She’s a tough woman,” she whispered.
“You noticed that too?” he replied under his breath.
“The girl isn’t crying either.”
Blakely shrugged. His wife was adept at reading people, and she’d come to the conclusion there was something odd about that family. None of them showed any emotion. No tears, no tissues, their eyes fixed firmly upon the minister as he bought an unusually short service to a close.
***
Jenny checked her phone. She hated Monday mornings, even when she woke in a hotel room with a view and a swimming pool less than one hundred metres away. But she had also woken to a message from Kayla, who was planning on patching things up with Jake.
