by Dan Scottow
She smiles.
The doctor says goodbye, heading out the front to his car. Lucy follows.
‘Doctor,’ she calls. He turns to face her.
‘I don’t think she is well.’
He purses his lips.
‘I’m afraid I can’t speak to you about a patient.’
He slides his key into the lock, opening the door.
‘She wasn’t being entirely honest with you there. Despite what she may have told you, this isn’t an isolated incident. Her behaviour has been getting increasingly… worrying.’
‘In what way?’
‘She thinks she is seeing ghosts for a start. She has terrible mood swings. Seems confused a lot of the time, forgetful. Her speech is slurred. She barely manages to dress herself most days. I could go on. And I’m fairly sure that tonight was a full-on psychotic episode. She thought she had bugs crawling under her skin, for Christ’s sake.’
He pauses, letting out a long breath.
‘Hmm, that is worrisome. I tell you what, ask her to come into the surgery to see me tomorrow. If she calls first thing in the morning, I’ll make sure I can fit her in. I’ll look into it… give her a full check-up, run some bloods, see if there’s something going on behind the scenes.’
She nods, and the doctor smiles sympathetically. He pulls a card out of his jacket pocket.
‘If you’re worried, or anything happens, call me. My mobile is on there.’
He climbs into his car, and Lucy watches his red tail lights fade to pinpoints through the woods. She storms back into the house. Diana is still sitting on the sofa, staring into space.
‘What the hell was that?’
The woman gazes at her vacantly.
‘Why lie to the doctor? He was here to help. What’s the point of him coming all the way out here to see you if you’re not going to be honest with him?’
Diana exhales, rolling her eyes.
‘I’m fine, Lucy… it was an episode. Nothing more, nothing less. I need sleep, that’s all.’
‘Diana, that was not lack of sleep. That was… terrifying.’
The woman stands, picking up her stick.
‘I’m tired. I don’t want to discuss this any further. I’m going to bed. Goodnight.’
She limps slowly into the hall, crossing to her room. Lucy hears the door click shut.
52
Diana
Tossing three pills into her mouth, she undresses, climbing under her blanket, leaning her cane against the bedside table. She flicks off the lamp, throwing the room into darkness. The moon is hidden behind thick cloud tonight. She stares into space, trying not to remember.
But each time she closes her eyes, she hears the buzzing. She sees the bugs crawling on her; in her.
She shudders. She doesn’t feel her usual wave of euphoria as the sleeping pills kick in. She feels… wired. The sliver of light at the bottom of her door from the hall is extinguished, and she hears Lucy pad slowly up the stairs. A tap runs. More footsteps. She can almost follow the girl’s movement across the ceiling with her eyes.
Eventually, she drifts away. Her dreams bring her no peace, though, as she conjures slimy black creatures crawling out of the loch, trying to devour her with razor-sharp teeth.
Something wakes her.
She must have been sleeping for a while, as she is drenched in sweat, fringe plastered to her forehead.
Her arms ache. The pit of her elbow where she has been bitten is itchy and sore. She attempts to reach her hand across to scratch it but realises with horror that she is unable to move. She manages to turn her face slightly from side to side, but the rest of her body is paralysed.
She hears… breathing. Definite, slow and laboured. Coming from somewhere within her room. She tries to call out but can’t. She is utterly helpless. Raising her head slightly from her pillow, she looks towards the corner.
A dark mass lingers, upright, beside the dresser.
She can’t bring herself to look away. As she grows more accustomed to the light, she is positive there is somebody standing there.
Watching her.
The shape moves, and she screws her eyes shut tight. Doesn’t dare open them. Footsteps pad across the room. Her bedroom door creaks. Too afraid to even breathe, she waits. After a few agonising minutes, she musters the courage to look.
The figure is gone. Her door wide open. She is alone once more.
And then the strangest feeling washes over her.
She feels like the bed is swallowing her up, like she’s sinking down into the mattress, as if it’s made of cotton wool… soft, it envelops her. She felt it before, a week or so ago, but not as extreme. She’s falling deep down, but she can see she isn’t moving. She hears an owl hoot from the garden. It echoes in her ears. It’s the strangest sensation. She can almost picture the sound as it stretches out through a long, endless tunnel ahead of her. Repeating, over and over. Her eyes roll back in her head, and she spins out into oblivion.
53
Diana
Morning comes, and although she has slept, she doesn’t feel rested. Her body aches. But at least she can move.
She sits up, seeing her cane leaning against the dresser beside the door which is now closed. Her eyes dart to the bedside table where she was sure she had left it.
Sighing, she pulls herself out of bed, making the painful journey across the floor for her stick. This is happening far too frequently these days… she’s never been so careless with it before.
As she dresses without showering, she pauses, remembering the figure in her room. No point telling Lucy, she thinks, she already believes me to be insane.
She doesn’t even brush her teeth. Heads into the hall. Richard’s door is open as she passes. He is sitting with his back to the window, staring out towards her. She smiles as she continues to the kitchen. A pot of fresh coffee sits on the counter. She sees Lucy pass the window, heading around the side of the house. She turns, waving as she sees Diana, who returns the gesture.
She fills a mug, raising it to her mouth. She sniffs. It smells burnt. The pungent aroma assaults her nostrils; her senses seem heightened today. Grimacing, she pours the contents into the sink, heading back out to the hall. But as she passes Richard’s room, she stops. The door, which only moments earlier she is sure had been wide open, is now closed. She opens it. Richard still sits in the same position. Nothing untoward. The curtains sway in the breeze from an open window.
Was it open before? She can’t remember. Can’t picture it.
Doubting herself, she steps inside, scouring the space. It’s empty, of course. Crossing to the window, she peers out. She can’t see Lucy anymore. She leans through, looking to the sides, but the girl is nowhere to be seen.
She turns, making her way back out to the hall. Taking a few paces towards her bathroom, she pauses briefly. A sound from above. Crying. Soft, but definite. She stands at the foot of the stairs.
‘Lucy?’ she calls. ‘Is something wrong?’
It continues, growing louder, more desperate.
‘Lucy!’
No reply. Diana looks around. Tilting her head, she gazes through the kitchen door out towards the loch. She can’t see anybody in the garden. Lucy must have come in through the living room and gone upstairs. She calls again. Still no answer. The sobbing continues. Tortured, anguished. The sound almost breaks Diana’s heart.
She places a foot on the bottom step. Grasping the bannister, she heaves her weight up, quickly wedging her stick down onto solid ground. A sharp pain radiates up her leg, through her hip. She winces, sucking in air. The crying drones on.
‘Lucy, I’m coming up!’
She pulls herself further, grabbing whatever she can, holding tight on to the balustrade. Sweat beads across her forehead. It comes from every pore, trickling down her back. Her hands are clammy, slippery on the smooth varnished wood. The noise is growing louder. Not just because she is getting closer. It’s changing from a sob to a wail. It echoes through the space
.
‘Lucy?’
Still nothing. She’s more than halfway. She wants to puke. Pausing briefly, she can see Lucy’s bedroom door now. It’s closed. Swallowing down saliva, and a hint of bile, she continues slowly.
In agony, she reaches the top, steadying herself on the posts. She lets out a long breath, her entire body trembles. She sways, takes a tiny step backwards, but catches the bannister with a trembling hand, righting herself. She moves away from the edge, limping towards the door, pressing her ear against it. The girl inside is screaming now.
Manic, desperate wailing.
Diana knocks.
‘Lucy, what’s wrong?’
She touches the knob. It’s slippery in her wet palm.
Pushing the door, it creaks slowly open.
‘I’m coming in!’ she calls.
Silence.
The room is empty. A pile of clean laundry is folded neatly on the edge of the bed. Bottles of cosmetics arranged tidily on the dressing table. A rucksack hangs over the back of the chair. Diana narrows her eyes, shaking her head. She steps inside, checking behind the door. Nobody.
She shivers, despite the warm day, and returns to the ground floor. It’s always easier going down. By the time she reaches the hall she is quite exhausted. She rounds the corner, looking towards the kitchen. Her heart pounds. Richard’s door is closed once more.
She hurries towards it, pushing it. It begins to swing, but halfway it stops. Something pushes back hard, and it slams closed, almost knocking Diana over. She grabs the handle, trying to open it again.
The same thing happens. She steps back, staring ahead.
‘Lucy?’ she shouts through the panels.
The latch clicks and the door begins to creak very slowly inwards.
Diana’s fingers tingle. A sense of unease floods over her. Suddenly terrified, she doesn’t want to see whatever is on the other side. She grabs the handle, this time pulling it hard closed. Something inside does the opposite. She is screaming now, trying to keep the door shut, but the force inside is yanking. It wobbles, opens a crack, but she manages to keep pulling it shut.
Tears stream down her face. She’s dropped her stick and grips with both hands, but her limited strength is waning.
Everything feels suddenly still, but she doesn’t dare let go. She falls to her knees, keeps pulling.
‘Diana?’
A voice behind her. She whips her head around, staring behind her, eyes bulging.
‘Lucy! There’s someone in there!’
The girl marches to the door, pushing Diana aside. She shoves the door hard. It swings open, banging against the wardrobe inside.
Richard sits in his wheelchair, staring out towards them. Same as before. Window open.
Nobody else in the room.
They both back away, stepping into the kitchen, gasping as a figure steps in through the back door.
Diana screams.
‘What on earth is going on?’ Mylo shouts.
‘Mylo! What are you doing here?’ Lucy sighs, heart thumping.
‘I swung by to see if things were okay… after… you know. I heard screaming as I pulled up. Is everything all right?’
Lucy eyes him cautiously, frowning. Diana is watching him too, a curious expression on her face.
‘We’re fine. Diana had a bit of a scare, that’s all.’
Diana scratches at her temple, and Lucy crosses the kitchen. Touching his elbow lightly, she eases Mylo back into the garden.
‘What’s going on?’ he whispers as they step outside.
‘How long have you been here?’ Lucy spits.
‘Not long. I heard Diana screaming as I approached the pier. What’s with the animosity? I thought you may need some help.’
She glares at him, shaking her head.
‘Thanks for the concern. But we’re fine. I don’t mean to be rude, but can you go? I need to get her sorted.’
He looks crestfallen but does as she asks. She watches him trudge across the lawn. Starting the engine, he steers the boat away without looking back.
54
Lucy
‘He’s gone. Now… what was that all about, Diana?’
‘Didn’t you hear the wailing? That’s what took me upstairs in the first place.’ Diana stares at Lucy.
‘I didn’t hear anything, apart from you screaming.’
‘There was crying coming from your room. Believe me, I wouldn’t attempt a journey up the stairs for nothing! I thought you were hurt. Then when I got in there, it was empty. I came back downstairs, and Richard’s door was closed again. I knew something was up because I’d already opened it once.’
Lucy sighs, looking towards the ceiling. She counts silently in her head.
‘I think we should call the doctor.’
‘No! This was real! You must believe me.’
‘With all due respect, you thought the bugs were real yesterday.’
Diana’s cheeks colour as she glances away.
‘I’m not mad.’
‘And I’m not suggesting you are. Maybe a little confused, that’s all.’
‘I know what happened. There was somebody in that room trying to get out. I did not imagine it.’
‘There’s nobody in there. Only Richard.’
Diana pulls a face, swatting at the air with her hand.
‘Just because you can’t see them, does not mean there is nobody there. That’s what she wants you to think. She wants you to believe I’m mad. Don’t you see?’
Lucy doesn’t respond. She doesn’t want to get into another discussion about ghosts.
‘Who was here with you earlier?’
‘When?’
‘When I waved at you from the garden.’
‘Nobody. I was alone.’
‘No, there was somebody standing right behind you.’
Diana’s face becomes ashen.
‘There, you see! I assure you I was here by myself. So how do you explain that?’
Lucy runs a hand through her hair, letting out a breath.
‘Must have been a reflection or something.’
‘Why will you not believe what all the evidence is clearly pointing to?’
‘Because it’s ridiculous, that’s why.’ She pauses. ‘Can you call the doctor, please? He was insistent that you should do it today.’
‘Yes, okay. If only I can prove to you that I am quite sane.’
She hobbles through to the living room. Lucy stands in the doorway, arms folded. She watches as Diana picks up the phone, dialling.
‘Yes, hello, it’s Diana Davenport. I’d like to make an appointment to see Doctor Miller, please.’
She waits, tapping her foot. She gives her name and date of birth.
‘That should be fine, I’ll make a note of it. Thank you.’
She replaces the receiver, turning to Lucy.
‘Nothing available until a week on Friday.’
Lucy narrows her eyes.
‘He assured me he would fit you in today.’
‘They must be busier than he anticipated. It’s usually manic up there. It’s the only surgery for miles.’
Lucy tuts, walking away. She heads into the utility room to finish folding laundry. She has already re-hoovered up all the mess that Diana emptied onto the floor yesterday. As she folds a towel, a strange feeling washes over her. She turns, glancing around the space, thinking Diana must have followed her in, but she is alone.
She crosses to the door, poking her head through. Diana isn’t in the kitchen either. She frowns. Approaching the window, she slowly runs her eyes along the horizon.
‘Get a grip,’ she whispers to herself, shaking her head. She returns to the washing, but she can’t shake the feeling that she is being watched.
55
Diana
The girl seemed to buy the charade on the phone. Of course, Diana had simply dialled a random selection of numbers. She had absolutely no intention of going to visit the doctor.
The events in Richa
rd’s room were real.
She accepts that she did not have bugs crawling under her skin. She realises in the light of a new day that it was some sort of hallucination, brought on by her exhausted state, no doubt. But she is sure. Today’s events really happened. It felt different. Even now, thinking about it in a calm state… she shudders. Of course, Lucy believes she is bonkers. Won’t even entertain the idea that it’s not all in Diana’s mind. She must have got quite a scare yesterday. It’s only natural that she is sceptical. She’s looking out for her. Being kind. And poor Mylo… Diana cringes inwardly as she thinks about him witnessing her episode.
She raises her hand to her plait subconsciously. It feels messy, tangled. She heads to the bathroom, pulling the strands loose. She stands staring in the mirror, hardly recognising the apparition that glares back at her with dark-circled eyes. She pulls her hair loose, separating the braid, and taking a brush from the cabinet, she smooths the kinks out, sighing.
Dividing her long mane into three bunches, she begins to plait, pulling tightly. Once satisfied, she ties the elastic band from her wrist around the end, and heads to the kitchen, as Lucy emerges from the utility room carrying a pile of laundry. She places the items onto the worktop and starts to fold them into neat piles. Her eyes dart up towards Diana, who stands in the doorway.
‘How long ago did your daughter disappear?’ she asks, as she stacks towels on top of each other.
Diana takes a few slow breaths before she answers.
‘It’s been years now.’
‘Do you mind me asking about her?’
‘No. I like talking about her.’ She smiles, crossing to a chair, and lowering herself down.
Lucy flicks the kettle on.
‘Tea?’ she offers.
‘Please.’
Diana stares out to the garden. A group of swifts dart about, landing among the branches of the old eponymous willow tree.
