by Cross,Amy
“You couldn't have stopped her.”
“But I could have made her see sense!”
He smiles. “And how long would you like to have kept her sequestered here in Shropley before letting her go? Another week? A month?”
“I don't know. Long enough to...”
My voice trails off as I realize that he's right. I never would have felt safe letting her go.
“She's old enough to make her own decisions,” he continues. “She's seen the worst the world has to offer, and she's understood that she mustn't let that hold her back. To be honest, I rather admire her optimism. She seems to be a very determined, very open-minded young lady.”
“The girls who were at the farm,” I reply, heading over to join him and then following him into the office. “You said something about them bothering the sheep?”
“Haven't you been reading the local paper?”
“I've barely had time to think.”
He sets his box down and turns to me. “And the police... I believe they were keen to talk to your daughter at one point?”
“Only as a precaution,” I reply, quickly setting him straight. “There was some talk that a third girl might have been trespassing up at Highbeam Farm that night, and naturally the police sought to check the whereabouts of anyone who matched the description. They were quite satisfied, though, that it couldn't have been Katie.”
“That's good. We wouldn't want her getting mixed up in all that nonsense. Still, those two girls from London are dead, and poor Joe O'Brien is going to face trial for murder.”
“They were from London?” I ask.
“The police finally identified them. Turns out they both worked at some kind of club or bar in the city. I don't remember the details but -”
“Knott's Court?” I stammer, before I have time to hold back.
“Maybe. I don't think I caught the name of the place. But from what I heard, the police still haven't worked out what brought them all the way out here to Shropley, or why they were trying to drain blood from Joe O'Brien's sheep. Still...” His voice trails off for a moment. “It's a horrible business. I know that what those girls were doing was wrong, but none of that gives O'Brien the right to go storming about in the middle of the night with a loaded gun. I suppose he was just sick of having his sheep tampered with. By all accounts, the girls had rather mutilated one of his animals during their previous visit.”
“Mutilated?”
He glances toward the door, almost as if he's worried about us being overheard.
“Do you remember those horrible signs that were painted on the door here?” he asks.
“Of course.”
“Well, it's pretty clear to me that they were linked. The police agreed, although it's not exactly the focus of their investigation. From what I can gather, it would seem that those two girls were rather heavily into some form of... I hesitate to call it worship. It's certainly no form of worship that I recognize.”
“You mean satanism?”
He nods.
For a moment, I think back to that day when I saw the two girls chatting and laughing with Katie. I've avoided dwelling too much on that unpleasant period before the hospitalization period, and I've managed to put most of my concerns to the back of my mind. I kept meaning to ask her how she knew those girls, but I suppose I was delaying the moment in case I didn't like the answer. Now that she's back in London, I doubt I shall find the right opportunity.
“You should probably know that people are talking,” Father Collins says suddenly.
I turn to him. “About what?”
“About Katie. There are a few suggestions that... Well, a couple of people think that perhaps they saw her out and about on the night when the two girls were shot. And apparently she was seen talking to them just a few hours earlier, out on the street near the store.”
He pauses, as if he's waiting for me to make some kind of admission.
“Then again,” he continues, “if the police are satisfied that she wasn't involved, I suppose that should be good enough for all of us. After all, the police are hardly like to lie about such things, are they?” He forces a nervous smile, and again he seems to be waiting for me to speak. “I have full faith in the police to investigate these things,” he adds finally, “and it certainly seems that they -”
“I must go,” I stammer suddenly, turning and hurrying out of the office.
“Winifred?” he calls after me. “Is anything the matter?”
“I have errands to run!” I reply, trying not to panic as I hurry along the aisle. “I'm sorry, I hate to rush out on you, but I have so much to do today!”
By the time I get out of the church and over to the gate, I feel as if I'm on the verge of passing out. I have terrible palpitations in my chest and I feel rather dizzy, and it takes a moment before I'm able to steady myself. Traffic rushes past on the main road, and I can't shake the feeling that perhaps I'm being observed. I look both ways, but everybody seems to be going about their daily business. I quickly tell myself to buckle up and to stop being so silly. If Katie can manage to go back to London, I can most certainly walk down the street in my own hometown.
Still, as I head to the store, I can't shake the fear that people all around me must be whispering, and that gossip is spreading. Perhaps everybody thinks that Katie was involved in what happened to those two strange girls, and perhaps their gossip will never end. Finally, reaching into my pocket, I pull out my phone and quickly start typing a message to Katie, just to make absolutely certain that she's still okay.
Deep down, in the pit of my stomach, I feel terribly worried about her. And that's a feeling that refuses to go away, no matter how much I tell myself to stop fretting. A moment later I hear a cawing sound, and I turn just in time to see that yet another crow is watching me, from the roof of the bakery. If I didn't know better, I'd swear that its beady black eyes are signaling some kind of warning.
Chapter Thirty-One
The Seventh Call
“I'm absolutely, positively, totally and utterly fine!” Katie says with a laugh, just as the video call's screen crackles briefly. “Mum, it's almost exactly twenty-four hours since I got on the bus. How much trouble do you really think I can be in after just a day?”
“Well -”
“Actually, don't answer that!”
She grabs a bottle of water and takes a swig.
Trying to calm my nerves, I sip some wine from my glass. It's so good to see Katie's face again, and to hear her voice, and to know that she's fine, but...
At the same time, I can't help thinking about the hundreds and hundreds of miles between us. Every single second, I have to fight the urge to beg her to come home, and I know I shall feel like this for quite some time. Still, the room behind her looks nice enough, and she seems genuinely relaxed. If I'm completely rational about this situation, I must admit that so far there seem to be no warning signs of further trouble.
I suppose I shall just have to trust her.
“It's weird, huh?” she asks after a moment.
“What is, darling?”
“Us, talking like this again.” She pauses, staring into the camera, and now her laugh has faded. “Sorry, it just reminds me of last time. I guess I should have realized the whole thing might feel weird.”
“If you want to come home, you -”
“Don't even think about finishing that sentence!” she says firmly. “Believe me, Mum, I'm already on a hair-trigger. But tomorrow I'm going to the school, and I'll see about signing up for classes again. I'm gonna really throw myself back into life and hope that I can swim instead of sinking. I mean, what are the odds of me accidentally running into another evil old man who kidnaps me and holds me in his basement?”
“He wasn't evil,” I reply instinctively.
“He was a fucking monster!” she snaps.
“He was just -”
“Don't defend him, Mum!”
“I know, but -”
“And I'm glad he's
dead!” she adds, before pausing for a moment. “Sorry, I didn't mean to say that, but it's true. It's been long enough now, I guess I can be honest. The day I heard that Timothy Ashford-Clarke had been killed in jail, I actually felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I know it's awful to feel that way, but I can't pretend. Monsters like him should be wiped from the face of the goddamn planet.”
She takes another sip from her bottle.
“And now,” she continues, “we should probably talk about something else.”
I watch as she opens a chocolate bar, and I can't help thinking that there's a new hint of steel and determination in my daughter. Perhaps she's tougher than I ever realized. After a moment, however, I'm distracted by the sight of a crane outside her bedroom window.
“Are you living on a construction site?” I ask, forcing a smile as I try to change the subject.
“Huh?”
She glances over her shoulder for a moment.
“Oh. No, that's just some work being done to the house opposite. Remodeling or something. There's only -”
Suddenly there's the sound of someone knocking on the door to Katie's room.
“I think I have to go,” she tells me, “I just -”
She turns and looks past the camera as the door creaks open. I can't see whoever enters the room, but I can hear a soft, muffled voice.
“I'm just talking to my mother,” Katie explains. “Can I come down in a couple of minutes?”
The muffled voice replies. I turn the volume up, hoping to catch what's being said, but all I really hear is a very muffled, very calm male voice.
“Sure,” Katie continues finally, with a faint smile. “I'll just wrap this up and -”
The voice interrupts her, talking for a good fifteen or twenty seconds, and then the door can be heard bumping shut again.
“Sorry,” Katie says, turning to look at me, “that was just one of my friends. I guess I can't spend my first night just sitting in my room. I'm gonna have to go and be social. Who'd be popular, huh?”
“What are you friends like?” I ask.
“They're cool. They're fun. I just have a lot to learn.”
“About what?”
“Nothing. You know what I mean.” She sounds a little unsettled now, and I can't help noticing that she seems poised to end the call. “Mum, I'll call back when I can, okay?”
“Tomorrow night?”
“That might be tricky. Don't fret if you don't hear from me for a few days, okay? Maybe Wednesday or Thursday, or the weekend...”
“I'd really rather speak to you sooner than that,” I tell her, bristling at the idea of her falling silent for so long. “Katie, can you call me tomorrow evening, even if it's just for a very brief chat? I'd very much like to see your face.”
“I can't promise,” she replies. “Sorry, Mum, it's just that there's so much to do here and I kinda feel rude if I come up to my room and hide from everyone. I promise I'll try to call you tomorrow, and I promise that at the very least I'll send you a text if I can't. We can figure something out, okay?”
“But if -”
“I hope you're not too lonely, rattling about in that old house all by yourself.”
I take a deep breath, struggling very much to stay calm. “I'm sure your friends won't mind being without you for a few minutes tomorrow night,” I tell her finally. “Please, Katie. A very brief call would mean the world to me. Try to understand, darling.”
“You have to understand too. It's not that easy. I'm always -”
Before she can finish, there's another knock at the door.
“Coming!” she calls out. “Mum, I have to go. I'm fine, I'll be in touch somehow tomorrow, and we'll speak very soon. Trust me, I'm having a ball here in London and I couldn't be happier. I made the right choice to come back.”
She leans forward and gives the camera a quick kiss.
“I love you, Mum.”
“I love you too, sweetheart, but you really must -”
Suddenly the call ends, and I'm left sitting alone on the sofa, staring at the screen. I reach out to call her back, just so that I can reiterate how important it is for her to speak to me again tomorrow, but finally I set my laptop aside and slump back against the sofa. I take a long sip of wine as I think of Katie having fun in the new house, and I try to focus on the positives. She looked happy and healthy just now, and she sounded optimistic for the future. I suppose I'm just some panicky, wary woman with little experience of the world, and I mustn't let my fears temper Katie's natural enthusiasm.
“She'll be fine,” I say out loud, for perhaps the tenth or even fifteenth time today. “She'll be -”
Suddenly there's a loud crashing sound from the kitchen. Glass is breaking, and I leap up from the sofa, spilling my wine in the process. I freeze, listening to a frantic thumping sound, and after a moment I start edging closer to the door. The thumps are abating a little now, becoming less urgent, although I can still hear something scratching against the glass.
I let out a gasp of shock as I reach the door and see that a crow has crashed into the window. The glass is broken, and the poor bird has impaled itself upon one of the larger shards, which runs straight into its neck and out through its back. Thick red blood is streaming down from the wound, and the crow's wings are flapping furiously as it tries to get free. At the same time, its claws are scratching the glass, but it's quite clear that it will never be able to slide itself off the shard.
Its beak is open and its beady eyes are staring straight at me. I know I should go and put the poor thing out of its misery, but I simply stand and watch for a couple of minutes until the crow falls still. Blood is still running down the glass, but at least the bird is dead now.
I wait a moment longer, before realizing that I shall have to clean up this awful mess. I grab the broom and make my way over to the window, and then I turn the handle around and start trying to slide the dead bird up from the glass so that I can push it outside.
Suddenly the crow bursts back to life, pecking frantically at my hands. I fall back, startled, and watch as the bird slides off the glass and takes to the sky, flying up into the darkness. My heart is pounding, and it takes a few seconds before I feel a rush of pain. Looking down, I see that the crow's beak left a nasty cut on my left hand.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The Final Call
“Hang on,” Katie's voice mutters, and she sounds a little distracted. “This camera's not...”
I hear her sighing as she taps at her laptop, but still the screen remains blank.
“Are you sure it's on?” I ask.
“Just give me a moment, Mum!”
“There might be a button! Try to -”
“Just let me fix it!” she hisses, sounding rather annoyed. “Stop fussing and let me do this. I'm sure it can't be that hard.”
Leaning back on the sofa, I take a sip of wine. It has been four days since I last saw Katie's face on one of these video calls, although in the interim we've exchanged plenty of text messages. Apparently she's been far too busy to speak to her poor old mother, but I suppose I should be glad that she's keeping herself occupied. I just need to make sure that she's fine. Still, as the screen stays blank and Katie's muttered curses get louder, I can't help feeling that she sounds stressed.
“I don't know what's wrong with it,” she says finally, sighing. “Maybe we're just gonna have to talk with voices only, like they did in the old days.”
“Can't you try to fix it?” I ask.
“I've tried, Mum! It won't work!”
“But it's a new laptop,” I point out. “You must take it back to the shop tomorrow and -”
“I'm not doing that.”
“Nonsense. You still have the receipt, don't you?”
“I'm busy tomorrow. I'm going to school, and the laptop still works fine. I just don't have a functioning camera.”
“Maybe we should try talking over the phone,” I tell her. “Maybe the camera on your phone is -”
“We're on here now,” she says with a sigh, as if she's finding it rather bothersome to speak to me at all. “I'm sorry it's not perfect, but I guess this is just how it's gonna have to be. I can try to get someone to fix it for next time, but no promises. Come on, Mum, people used to talk without video for decades in the past.”
I take another sip of wine.
“There's really nothing to report,” she continues. “It's just business as usual here.”
“You sound tired.”
“I am tired.”
“Are you getting enough sleep?”
“Not really. I'm studying 'til late, so I can be ready for when the course starts next week. And there's that construction site opposite the house, and those assholes start with their drills at seven every morning, so it's not like I can sleep in.” She sighs again. “But apart from that, everything's really good.”
“And you're eating properly?”
“Yes, Mum. I'm eating properly.”
“Because food is one of the most -”
“Can we skip the health-check?” she asks. “What about you? Are you still necking four or five glasses of wine each night?”
“I hardly see how -”
Suddenly there's a loud scratching sound, bursting from the microphone for a few seconds before finally subsiding again.
“- and you should probably slow down,” Katie continues, having evidently started talking again during the interruption. “It's not good for you. I wouldn't like to see the state of your liver.”
“What was that noise?” I ask.
“What noise?”
“It sounded like someone was breathing straight into the microphone.”
“Huh? I didn't hear anything.”
I take another sip.
I wait.
Silence.
“Katie?” I ask finally. “Are you still there?”
“What? Yeah, sure, of course I'm still here. Where else would I be?”
Again I wait, and again I hear nothing but the very faintest hiss from my laptop's speakers.
“Are you trying to fix the camera?” I ask.
“Why would I be doing that?”
