She turned to leave when she spotted something; it was a small plant pot on the coffee table. What was that sticking up out of the soil? Three twigs from a tree? Molly looked closer: no, not three twigs, three fingers. Three small fingers, skin turned to bark like the planted people outside, ragged fingernails visible at the top of each. Molly remembered the Fisks taking cuttings to plant inside from ‘Cathy’ days earlier. Brighten up the front room, they’d said. Molly shuddered.
Back into the corridor, the dank, mouldy smell grew stronger as she passed the door under the staircase; Molly made her way into the back room. More pictures, a couch, a table with a half finished jigsaw on it of one of those giant mazes made from tall hedges you get in the grounds of big fancy houses. This led through into the kitchen, the mould stench lessening as she moved further from the corridor, from the staircase, from that door.
The kitchen was as ordinary as they come. Or at least it would have been thirty years ago, such was the age of the garish units and old-fashioned lino flooring that peeled upwards in the corners. Molly pulled at the fridge door, the light inside came on, and what she saw made her immediately regret the decision. A head. It looked back at her, eyes turned dry and yellow in their sockets. Molly slammed the fridge door shut and walked quickly back out, through the back room and into the corridor again, hand over her mouth.
The door under the stairs was there, waiting. The smell of mould and of festering decay seeping from behind it to envelop her. Molly could have gone upstairs, checked the bedrooms, the bathroom, the attic, but she knew. She knew if her Mum was anywhere inside this house, it was behind that door.
She wrapped her fingers around the brass knob; it was cold and sticky to the touch. Tacky, unclean. She turned it; the scraping complaint seemed almost like that of an animal, not old, rusty metal. She pulled the door forward and staggered backwards as the smell assaulted her, causing her to turn and almost vomit up the unhealthy feast she’d wolfed down earlier. The smell was almost visible, rolling lazily out of the darkened doorway. Molly caught her breath, blocked her nose, and then stepped inside.
It was pitch black within; she felt around on the wall for a light switch. The wall was warm, damp, and soft beneath her wandering fingers. Finally she found the switch and pressed it. There was a second or two’s delay before the spluttering flicker of bare bulbs cast a low light, just enough to see. She peered at the soft wall; it seemed a dark red under this poor lighting. Not red-red, not strawberry red, more a sort of dull, fleshy red, like raw meat. She touched it again and gasped as the wall seemed to writhe beneath her hand, like it was alive, like it was a creature responding to her touch.
In front of her a wooden staircase led downwards.
Molly took each step carefully, trying not to touch the flesh walls which continued to move and twitch and judder. This was no ordinary basement; it was like she was actually inside a living beast, like Jonah in the belly of the whale.
Even with the lights on, the illumination cast was too weak to be able to make out much; most of the room remained hidden in shadow. Even so, Molly could see the space wasn’t empty; large darkened piles surrounded her. She approached the nearest pile; it was soil.
She moved to the next, more soil, and onto the next. Molly’s heart jumped into her mouth, something was on the soil. No, not something. Someone. ‘Mum!’ Molly shouted joyfully. She wasn’t too late! The Fisks hadn’t put her in the garden yet!
Molly raced over to her; Mum was curled up on her side like she was asleep in her bed. Yes, that was all, just asleep. Molly could feel her breathing as she hugged her tightly.
Mum stirred slightly in her arms. ‘Molly...?’ she said, still half asleep.
‘We’ve got to go right now!’ Molly shook her. ‘Mum, come on, wake up; please!’
Mum opened her eyes full and tried to focus on Molly, eyes bleary, ‘Oh; hello Moll’s. I was having just the weirdest dream. Your Dad was there, I think. All dressed up in his Police uniform. Only no, no it wasn’t him, not when I stepped outside, then he had these teeth, these sharp teeth—’
‘Okay, good, I really want to hear that, but let’s get out of here first, yes?’
‘What time is it? Have you had breakfast?’ Her Mum sat up, stretching. ‘Eww, what is that smell?’ She still seemed dazed, not completely aware as she looked around, trying to focus in the basement’s gloom. ‘Where are we?’
‘At the Fisks', come on, let’s get home, now.’ Molly pulled at her arm and her Mum staggered up, feet slipping in the soil. As they reached the stairs, Mum reached out a hand to steady herself, touching the fleshy wall.
‘That’s not stone, that’s... is that alive?’
‘Come on, Mum! We don’t have time for this now!’ Molly snapped, pulling her Mum desperately forwards.
‘Oh, I’m still asleep, aren’t I? This is where I was in the dream you see, in the flesh room. The stinky old flesh room. Such a weird dream, but so sort of real, too.’
‘Mum! Come on!’ screamed Molly.
‘Okay, okay, I’m coming, there’s no need to shout. You know if this wasn’t a dream I’d give you a right telling of for talking to me like that.’ And Mum laughed as the flesh walls seemed to breathe in and out in a panic.
She laughed a little less when the room began to scream.
~Chapter Twelve~
Molly and her Mum ran into the garden full of planted people as the basement continued to scream in outrage behind them. Scream at the thief who stole away the garden’s latest addition, scream a warning to the Fisks that someone had trespassed into their inner sanctum.
‘Oh!’ said Mum as they raced past the gardens ghoulish exhibits, their limbs twisted and bent at unnatural angles. ‘I remember this place, sort of; it’s horrible. Was I eating cheese before bed? That’s probably it. You should never eat cheese before bed, you know Molly. Gives you the loopiest dreams, but people plants?’
‘Okay then, no cheese before bed, got it!’
‘Or trees, they’re more like trees really aren’t they? Well, that’s a new one on me!’ And Mum laughed and laughed as Molly kept pulling her forward towards the front gate.
‘Look at the size of that gate!’ said Mum. ‘Why would I dream a massive gate?!’
At every step Molly looked for any signs of the Fisks return, expecting them to emerge from the undergrowth at any moment.
But they didn’t appear, and soon enough they out they were out of the garden, into the street beyond and past the Boy’s house. ‘You can tell this is a dream,’ said Mum, ‘because even though this is our street, it’s not quite right is it? That front door over there’s the wrong colour for a start, and that house is supposed to have a tree in the front garden, not potted plants!’
Soon they were back in their own home; Molly slammed the door shut and locked it.
‘You know I’m very tired all of a sudden, it’s strange to be tired in a dream, isn’t it?’ said Mum. ‘I think I might go up to bed. Up to bed in a dream to sleep in a dream.’ And with that she headed upstairs to her room, chuckling and shaking her head.
Molly leant back against the locked front door and finally allowed herself to feel the relief. She’d done it; she’d rescued her Mum and hadn’t even had to face off against the Fisks. After a few moments she bounded up the staircase and peeped through the small crack in the doorway into her Mum’s room; she was curled up under the covers. As she fell to sleep she began to fade away, until finally the bed was empty.
Molly ran in and threw the covers back, but there was no one there.
‘Mum!’
‘It’s okay, Molly, she’s Awake now.’ Molly turned to see her Gran in the doorway.
‘She’s safe? She’s back home?’
‘Well, she’s back home, yes.’
Molly ran to her dead Gran and hugged her tightly. ‘I did it.’ Gran held her and stroked her hair gently.
‘Yes, you did. Nothing and no one gets in the way of my Molly Brown.’
‘You w
ill not believe what happened to me,’ Molly said. ‘There was this boy who I think might have been some sort of monster, and then there was this bus full of corpses and a zombie murder conductor guy, and the Tall Man without a face who was following me. I thought I was never going to get back.’
‘I told you, Molly, you cannot trust the Between; it changes, moves, deceives. You could have been lost out there forever,’ said Gran, a hint of annoyance in her voice to let Molly know she meant business, that Molly should have listened to her and not let herself be distracted.
‘Sorry, but everything went okay in the end. I got Mum back from that house; she isn’t in the garden with Billy Tyler and the rest. I showed those stupid old Fisks not to mess with me.’
‘Oh, yes you did.’
‘Will I see you again?’ asked Molly, looking up into her Gran’s grey face.
‘You can come here any time you like now that you’ve been here once. You just need to go to sleep thinking of here, and if you do you’ll slip Between. Any time you do, I will know, and I’ll be here.’
They walked back to Gran’s room, arm in arm, and sat side by side on the bed. Molly told her all about the adventure she’d been on, about the Conductor’s attack and the bloody handprints and Billy Tyler in the garden and of the flesh basement that screamed. When she finally stopped her excited gabbling, Gran smiled and ruffled her hair.
‘The Fisks know,’ said Gran.
‘That I’ve got Mum out?’
‘Yes, I can feel it. The basement called out to them when you were escaping. Wherever they were, the Fisks will have heard it, too,’ said Gran.
‘It’s alive, the house, isn’t it?’
‘In a way it is, yes.’
‘They’ll be angry, I expect; monsters don’t like their food being stolen. I’m not a monster and even I hate that,’ said Molly.
Gran laughed, ‘Yes. Which means you no longer have the luxury of trying to talk your Mum into moving away, though I don’t expect that would have really worked in the first place. The Fisks will come for both of you now; you trespassed on their home Between, stole from them, saw their secrets. They won’t let that pass.’
‘What now then? What can we do?’ asked Molly.
Gran smiled. ‘Now, Molly dear? Well, now we fight!’
~Chapter Thirteen~
Molly awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright on her Gran’s bed. She looked at the bedside clock. It was just a normal clock again, with the ordinary, normal number of hands; she was back in the real world. She was Awake again. What’s more, it seemed like hardly any time had passed; it was still bright and early in the morning, not even nine o’clock. A muffled clatter alerted her to the fact that someone was bashing around in the kitchen. Molly jumped to her feet and rushed downstairs. In the kitchen her Mum was making a cooked breakfast; bacon sizzled in the pan, eggs ready to fry nearby.
‘Hey Molls, how much bacon d’you want? I’m starving!’ Molly grinned and ran at her Mum, hugging her tightly, her Mum looking down in surprise. ‘Woah! What have I done to deserve this?’
‘You didn’t get eaten,’ said Molly.
‘Oh. Okay. Bit of a weird answer.’ And Mum ruffled Molly’s messy hair affectionately before turning back to the bacon. ‘You know I had such a weird dream. You were in it actually.’
‘Oh really?’ said Molly, smiling.
‘I was in the Fisks basement, only it was alive and they were going to plant me in their garden, like all those plants they’re always doting over. Only instead of just being nice and watering and pruning me, they would eat me. Or eat my soul. Something like that. I’ll have to tell them about it, I bet they’ll find it a hoot,’ said Mum.
‘No!’ shouted Molly firmly.
Mum looked at Molly in blank surprise. ‘Excuse me?’
‘I mean, why go near the Fisks at all? They’re so sort of boring and dull and they really smell.’
‘They smell,’ said Mum, unimpressed.
‘Yes! You must have noticed.’
‘Smell of what?’ asked Mum.
‘Oh, just, you know... stuff. Smelly stuff,’ said Molly sheepishly.
‘Now you just stop that. The Fisks might be more than a touch on the dull side, but they’re a nice old couple and you will not talk about them like that,’ said Mum, giving her best stern glare, before breaking into a smile. ‘Though yes, I suppose they are a bit smelly. Poor pair.’ Mum and Molly laughed as the doorbell rang.
‘Go and get that will you Molls? I’ll crack the eggs.’
Molly sighed and went to answer the door as the bell rang out again. ‘Okay, okay, I’m coming!’ she yelled, annoyed, pulling the door wide to reveal two familiar, crinkly faces smiling sweetly back. It was the Fisks.
Molly froze as she looked back and forth at the pair, they no longer looked like harmless old Mr and Mrs Fisk— or actually they did, but now that she looked at them she could see these two old people for the disguise they were. She could feel the coiled danger beneath the sagging skin, see the malevolence slithering in their watery eyes.
‘Well, well and I never did or could; look who it is Mr Fisk, look who it really and actually in all honesty is.’ A dry tongue darted from between thin, peeling lips, licking, hungry.
‘Is it? Could it be or do my ancient yellowed eyes deceive me? Is it Molly, dear? We really did wonder what could have become of you, it’s been such a time since we laid our old eyes on you last.’
‘Go away,’ Molly hissed.
‘Goes away? Is that what she said to her dear old friends and neighbours? Friends who taught her how to keep a tidy, colourful, bountiful garden? Who pointed at all the plants and told her their real and actually truthful names?’
‘What could have brought on such a hurtful outcry I must ask myself in indignation?’
‘Who is it?’ asked Mum from the kitchen.
‘No one! Wrong house!’ shouted Molly, trying to throw the door closed, but a wrinkled, bony, claw of a hand, fingernails long and ragged, grasped the edge and pushed forward with surprising force, sending Molly tumbling backwards onto the floor.
‘It’s us, Mrs Brown! Your favourite neighbours who ain’t in fact Mr Adams the ex-military man.’
‘Mrs Fisk?’ shouted Mum, ‘Come through, the kettle’s just boiled.’
Molly went to kick the door shut on them, but before she could even raise her leg the Fisks had moved with a speed she would never think their withered old bodies capable of and were already disappearing through the kitchen door.
‘Crap it—’ Molly leapt up and dashed into the kitchen, where Mr Fisk was already slurping hot tea, his eyes narrow and amused as he peered at her from over the rim of his mug.
‘You would not and never could believe the horrors myself and my good sound husband of many years here have most recently endured, Mrs Brown,’ said Mrs Fisk, mock indignant.
‘Oh? What’s happened? Not that dog from number eleven leaving its mess on your lawn again?’ asked Mum.
Mr Fisk snorted. ‘No, not that yappy little fiend, we already done for him, dealt with him we have, we deals with things you see.’ Mr Fisk’s eyes met Molly’s again as he finished his sentence.
‘We had what you might say was very much an unwanted and illegal intruder!’
‘No! A break-in? Are you okay?’ asked Mum.
‘Oh, I am, made of sterner stuff than most I am, ain’t I?’ crowed Mr Fisk, ‘But it has put the wind up something terrible for my lovely lady wife here. Not safe in your own home anymore! People come in, uninvited, don’t they?’
‘Got home we did, me and Mr Fisk, to find the front door wide, muddy prints up and down the carpet, something that was ours, our very own, ripped and taken from the premises. From our very own and private basement even! Something we deserves and wishes so very much that we had back.’
‘Will have back,’ Mr Fisk interjected.
Mrs Fisk nodded with enthusiasm. ‘All being well and good, Mr Fisk, oh yes....’
Molly stood
straight and defiant under their glaring eyes.
‘That is just awful,’ said Mum.
‘Maybe they, whoever it was that broke in, was taking something back that wasn’t yours anyway. Maybe you deserved it!’ Molly stepped back, surprised at the strength of her outburst. She looked to her Mum, who was starring at her, eyes wide and dumbfounded.
‘Molly, what on Earth would make you say such a horrible thing!’ said Mum. ‘Apologise right this second!’
‘No I won’t! I will not apologise to them; you don’t know what they really are!’ Molly was pointing at the Fisks, who were almost unable to stop themselves from sniggering. Molly knew there was no way to explain things, to make Mum believe her. It was crazy; who would believe it?
‘I’m going to have to ask you to ignore my daughter. I don’t know what’s got into her today.’
‘That’s okay, Mrs Brown, we know the ways of the young and spirited and ripe for the picking, their emotions do bubble up and spill out unbidden at times, you can’t and really shouldn’t hold it against the poor mites,’ said Mrs Fisk.
‘That’s very understanding, Mrs Fisk, but I won’t stand for it. Molly, get to your room, now.’ Mum glared at Molly, but she stood firm.
‘No, I won’t go,’ Molly replied.
Mum blinked dumbly twice. ‘I beg your pardon young lady?’
‘Not until they’ve gone; not until they’re out of our house.’ Molly crossed her arms and planted her feet wide to show she meant it.
‘I’m so sorry, Mr and Mrs Fisk—'
‘Oh no, no need, we knows where we isn’t wanted or needed or desired; off we pop Mr Fisk.’
‘Yes, yes, back to our broken cold home to lick our poor wounds and wonder who next might break our homes safety and avail their hands of what’s ours.’
Molly stepped back as Mr and Mrs Fisk made for the front door, Mr Fisk turning to look at Molly, his eyes slithering over her, making her feel as though they actually left a greasy streak on her skin. ‘See you soon, Molly girl. Yes, yes. Believe that.’ And then they were gone and the front door was heard to open and close.
A Monstrous Place (Tales From Between) Page 6
