by L C Kincaide
The baby grand gleamed under the glare of the potlights in the center of the high-ceilinged room.
“Something is going on.” Carrie said from the doorway pointing at her instrument.
John stepped inside and didn’t understand what she meant.
“It wasn’t the first time.” She said turning her eyes to him. “I didn’t say anything because I thought it was a fluke, but it wasn’t.”
John approached the piano with the crudely wrapped duct tape holding back the keylid. The large lid too was firmly in place over the body. His eyes narrowed at the strange sight. What was happening here?
He turned to Carrie. “Did you do that?”
She nodded, her gaze fixed on the keyboard. “I had to. It would have broken my fingers.”
“I don’t understand…”
“I was playing, and it started to vibrate. Then the lid came down, just slammed down over the keyboard.” Her breath caught in her throat. “If I’d still been playing, my fingers would have been crushed! Then the rest of it crashed down!”
John rushed back to her side and took her in his arms. At last, she was crying and not staring ahead like a zombie.
“I thought I was safe! That it was only happening here, but it was the same thing all over again — I felt it shake and that’s when the strings went.” She said between sobs. “It’s happening, isn’t it? It’s not over!”
The Everdon curse having played a defining role in their lives, they both understood perfectly well the meaning behind “it”.
“We don’t know that.” He held her closer.
“I’m scared.” She turned large wet eyes to him.
“Let’s get out of here.” He switched off the light casting the suspect piano into darkness and closed the door firmly.
“Has anything like this happened anywhere else?”
Carrie shook her head. “Only that one time in there.” She pointed down the hallway. “Then I duct taped it to be on the safe side. After that, the lid came down.”
“But you weren’t hurt.”
“No. Just scared out of my mind.”
He tried to make sense of it. If the events were restricted to the piano, then Carrie should be all right. He hoped he was right.
“Whatever is happening, you’ll be safe here. Keep away from it for now, and I’ll see if I can figure out what this is all about.”
“Promise?”
“I’ll stay here with you until mom and dad get back so you won’t be alone.”
Carrie offered a tired though grateful smile. “I’m going to bed.” She turned and, still wearing her coat and heels, trudged up the curving staircase.
John raked a hand through his hair. Was it possible it wasn’t over? But how? It was almost a year, only days away from the anniversary of them being released from the Everdon curse. Elinor had assured them all. Yet, he was reluctant to dismiss what was happening to his sister as only a fluke. A fluke was the same out of tune key on both pianos, not potentially crippling events. He remembered his video camera and dashed out to the car to retrieve it. Maybe if he took a closer look, he would see something. It was a long shot, but that’s all he had to go on.
~*~
“Nothing’s broken.” The medic pronounced her body sound. “You’ll have a couple of bumps and bruises, otherwise, you’ll be okay.” He returned his instruments to his case. “You’re very lucky someone was there to catch you.” He met her eyes and smiled.
“Thanks.” Grace said, but what she was thinking was, who the hell shoved her off the ramp.
Jealousy among models was nothing new. Everybody was insecure. She glanced around at girls in various states of undress and makeup, who gaped back at her. Beyond the curtain, music blared and lights flashed. Unless someone died, the show went on. Grace’s anger simmered just below the surface at her humiliating fall. Bollocks! Even as she toppled and sprawled over whoever she landed on, the damned cameras captured every moment. There really was no shame in this business. She can look forward to seeing those awkward photos in the rags before long. They’re probably going viral on the Internet already. When she got her hands on the miserable cow who did this…
She hadn’t tripped nor slipped up. It wasn’t her first run on platforms. Maybe it was time she gave it up entirely. Dad would be relieved after the horror of the current fiasco died down. All those sordid images of Lady Grace Langstone sprawled at the foot of a fashion runway with her knickers showing — heavens! — was she wearing a pair? She made a quick mental check and sagged with relief.
The last of the girls strutted backstage. Grace eyed them all with equal suspicion, most of them averting their gaze. Superstition played a significant role in the business and nobody wanted to have what happened to her befall them next by association. It would be a challenge to root her out, but she would, the bitch can count on it!
She fumbled with her lighter, realizing her hands were trembling and called for a runner.
“I want to see a tape of the show. Find one.”
The girl, eager to please though flustered by the request, dashed off.
While waiting, Grace peeled off the outfit and tossed it onto a rack and shrugged into her robe. She squinted at her reflection through a haze of smoke, her expression fixed and forbidding in the illuminated mirror. She wasn’t even supposed to be here! It was true, the road to hell was indeed paved with good intentions. Bollocks to that!
A discreet cough diverted her attention. The assistant had returned with a Goth-like creature bearing a video cam.
“Thanks.”
The runner, disappointed to not see more of what was about to happen, backed away.
“Can you show me the part where I was pushed?”
He looked at her quizzically and rewound the video from the end and froze it on the frame where she stepped out on the ramp.
“Just press the play button here.” He lisped around a tongue stud and handed her the camera.
She pressed the button and watched herself in miniature come strutting out, long limbed, graceful and self-assured. Several paces behind her was the culprit. Eyes squinting, she peered as she made her way to the head and pause, then pitch forward. As the kid was filming, he caught one of the gels and the light flared for a moment, but that was all. The girl, still a good three steps away, stood frozen, her hands clapped over her mouth. It can’t be!
“Can you enlarge this and slow it down?” She asked, not believing what she saw.
“Sure.” He fidgeted and handed it to her.
Again, she watched the same ten seconds of her life replay with no change. Maybe he recorded it from the wrong angle? Why was the girl so far off? And if it wasn’t she, then who was it, for it had to be someone. She felt it, a pressure against her back. There was no denying it. The young man with the spiked hair, numerous piercings and black kohl-rimmed eyes observed her with interest.
“Did you see who pushed me?” She asked and returned his camera.
“Push you? No. You just sort of tipped over.” Had his eyebrows not been shaved off, they would have arched in surprise.
“Thanks.” She waved him off and turned to her reflection lighting another cigarette. If this kept up, she’d become a two-packs-a-day girl. What the bloody hell was happening?
~*~
John turned on the desktop and plugged in the cam. Whatever there was to see, he wanted it on a large screen.
What Carrie had described defied anything normal, and they had both witnessed their share of the unusual. Why was it affecting Carrie and not him nor anyone else? — but how would he know if someone else was experiencing strange occurrences? Until tonight, he had no idea anything was amiss, Carrie having kept it all to herself. Only Emma had shared her troubles with him, but they were nothing new. She admitted to having experienced the ni
ghtmares for the past several months and she had good reason for it.
The camcorder connected, he clicked on the icon and played it from the moment Carrie stepped on stage. According to the video, it was only she at the piano in a spotlight, no one else around, and nothing falling down. She played beautifully, he admitted, enjoying the piece, then he leaned closer. He reversed the clip and watched again, and to be sure re-viewed it a third time. He muttered under his breath. What the hell was he looking at?
His cellphone vibrated on the desk.
~*~
“Grace, it’s your father.”
She recognized his name on the screen and grinned. Of course it is. He really had no inclination for anything technological.
“Hello, daddy.” She answered brightly. He couldn’t possibly know about her mishap yet!
“It’s about Robert. There’s been an accident.” He said tersely.
“An accident? Is he all right? What happened?”
“It was an automobile accident. He’s just come out of the Emergency Room. The Doctor says he will recover.”
“Where are you? I’m coming down.”
She dashed out into the drizzling night and hailed a taxi. “London Bridge Hospital.” She fumbled in her voluminous satchel for a cigarette then changed her mind.
“Daddy!”
Theo Langstone, who was seated in a grape club chair rose with effort when Grace entered the waiting room throwing herself into her father’s arms.
“Have you heard anything more? How is Robert? Are you all right?”
No one else was about.
“Chloe is with him now. She was in the car when it happened.”
“Good God! Was she hurt?”
Theo shook his head, his complexion an unhealthy pallor in the fluorescent glare. “No, not a scratch. Only Robert, but not too bad, thank heavens! He has a concussion. The doctor says he will make a full recovery, but he must rest.”
“What happened there?” He asked noticing a bruise at her hairline.
Grace pushed her hair over it. “It’s nothing.”
He sat down heavily.
“Why don’t you go home, daddy? I’m here now, and you need your rest. There’s no more you can do here. And if anything happens, I’ll call you straight away.”
He smiled wanly. “I can’t help but think about George…”
Of course. Robert’s twin, the brother they had lost in a car crash.
“But Robert is all right. It wasn’t all that serious. And Chloe wasn’t hurt at all. You said so yourself. It was just an accident.”
He looked at her with wary eyes.
“Please, daddy. Go, get some rest. We’ll come back for a visit tomorrow, and if the doctor lets me see him, I will report everything to you before then.”
At last, he rose with resignation, and she walked with him and saw that he was safely deposited into a taxi and on his way home. She rubbed her arms in the damp chill. Both she and Robert hurt only hours apart. Was it a coincidence? She turned back to the building. She needed to see Robert and get an account from him before she let loose her rising panic.
~*~
“Are you going to be okay?” Emma lost count of how many times she had asked the question. And like each time before, Elinor’s reply was the same; a resigned, yes followed by a prolonged sigh.
With conflicting emotions, she hovered over her mother. “I’ll stay if you want me to.” She offered again, guilt stealing over her because she’d rather go home to her own bed.
“No. Go on home. I’m going to retire and you should too.”
“Okay. I’ll be back in the morning.”
Elinor rose to her feet and held on to the back of the chair for support. Family matters were exhausting at the best of times.
Emma drove home worried and distracted. What if Robert’s accident was no accident, but whatever was happening now? She didn’t say, but mum was surely thinking the same thing. The question remained — why? Nearly a year had gone by without incident, not counting her own crappy, nightmare-infused sleep. Had the car wreck happened after the Weekend, then it would make more sense, but before? That made no sense at all. What had Robert to do with any of it? Given a bit of luck, tomorrow, they would have more answers than questions. Too weary to do anymore, Emma went straight to bed.
FRIDAY
~*~
From the corner of her eye, she saw Robert, beside him his sister Grace. Emma didn’t recognize where they were, and as she struggled to remember, Carrie joined them. Were they back at the manor? Nobody was dressed in costume, but all of them being together suggested something important was happening, except she had no idea what it was. To her surprise, Godfrey and Frances Ruskin arrived to stand alongside their daughter, Carrie. Strange that John wasn’t there with the rest of the family.
Emma observed them from a distance, present, yet oddly detached. She didn’t see any walls — were they outside? Possibly, but nothing suggested they were anywhere in particular except in a barren landscape devoid of vegetation and landmarks. Then it occurred to her they were all on a rooftop. Why were they gathered so close to the edge?
They turned to face her and horrified, Emma watched helpless as one by one, they toppled over the side, their eyes never leaving hers.
She jolted awake to her own screams. Clutching the rumpled sheet, she gasped for air trying to catch her breath, her heart pounding. The bedside clock pulsed red as it always did following these nightmares. She rolled over and curled under the covers to warm herself and stop the tremors that wracked her body.
This was by far worse than anything she had dreamt, and more terrifying were the particular people in it. What did it mean? She bore no guilt where they were concerned, not yet anyway. Of the group, only Robert had suffered an accident. At least that she knew of. Why had she dreamt of all of them disappearing over the edge — dying, if she were to be specific? But there were no answers and no one she could tell this to, with the possible exception of John. At least, he hadn’t been part of the nightmare, nor mum and Matthew. But maybe tonight they will be.
Defeated, she padded to the bathroom and turned the tap in the shower. When it was steamy, she stepped in and warmed up.
A pot of coffee later, she spent an hour staring out the window as the pre-dawn horizon brightened, waiting for a reasonable time to return to Elinor’s condo.
The ringing cellphone jolted Emma awake. She blinked for a moment, surprised to have fallen asleep on the couch.
“Emma. It’s John.”
“John. It’s good to hear from you.” She raised herself up on her side, worry already creeping in. “Everything Okay?”
“I was wondering the same about you.”
“Well, to be honest I slept like… not great.”
“I’m sorry about that.” He paused. “Something’s going on. I’d rather tell you in person, but…”
She sat upright, her pulse quickening. “What is it?” She asked, fearing something horrible had happened.
“Last night Carrie had a bad experience at her recital…”
“Oh, God…”
“No, it isn’t anything that bad, she isn’t hurt. It was more… weird than anything else.”
“Weird?”
“I made a recording. I’d like you to see it, but look at it on your laptop, the phone screen isn’t big enough. I’ve tried to make sense of it, but I can’t. I thought maybe you could.”
“Sure. I’ll have a look. But are you okay?”
“Yes. Fine.” He paused uncertain whether he should tell her.
“Something else happened, didn’t it?”
“Well, yes, but it’s not really anything serious.”
“Tell me.”
“My parents called last night. They�
�re coming back on the next flight.”
“Why? It seems pretty sudden. What changed their minds?”
“Their balloon crashed soon after takeoff, apparently a downdraft brought it down. They weren’t very high yet, and nobody was hurt, just a bit scared.”
“Thank God for that.” She said. “But they think it’s more than wind, don’t they?”
“I can’t say. Mom didn’t say much, but you know how they are, and it is coming up to the anniversary.”
“It is. But almost a whole year has gone by with nothing happening until now.”
“Except to you. How is it with the nightmares? Still as bad?”
Worse, but how could he help it? “I was better for a couple of nights then last night it started up again.”
“I’m sorry if this adds to your worries.”
“It’s not your fault.” She said. It’s mine.
“You know what, don’t bother with the video. I’ll come down in a day or so and we can talk…”
“John, there’s more. Robert’s been in an accident. He crashed the car, but he wasn’t too badly hurt.”
She listened to the silence at the other end.
“What the hell is going on?”
Emma was ready to cry. “I don’t know, but when I do, you’ll be the first to know. I’m heading over to mum’s. She’s pretty freaked out about Robert. I should be there when she hears from your folks if they haven’t called her already.”
“Okay, but be careful. I’ll see you soon.”
“Sure.” Emma tapped off before he heard her sniffling.
Her Inbox indicated his email. Might as well see what he meant. She opened her laptop and clicked on the attachment with bated breath. The video clip started with a view of a stage, the single grand piano taking center stage before a red velvet curtain. Then Carrie stepped out in a sexy little dress and kick-ass heels, poised and smiling at the audience, far from the prim Edwardian Miss as she saw her last. Emma grinned in spite of herself.
