“Well shit love, I think you need some sleep.” Betty laughed nervously.
“Have you ever seen anything like that?”
“Seen weird people and lurkers but nobody ever disappeared in front of me before!”
Silence passed between them and all there was in the air was the persistent scratching away of lives in their separate volumes, and Dakota realised that somewhere, light years from here, life was continuing. All the people she had known were still there, carrying on without her, and for the first time since she had died she wondered… was she missed?
“Perhaps we should go back to our rooms and get some shut-eye? We been in here for what feels like days and these chairs aren’t comfy to sleep in.” Betty shifted her ample bottom slightly in her chair with a grumble.
“No, I can’t stop now, I am nearly there. I’m about to turn twenty-one and that means I’ll be dead soon,” she explained as the rain smashed its tiny, angry fists against the glass.
“Well… will you be OK on your own? I need to sleep on something half-comfy!”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine, you go on up for a rest.” Dakota smiled warmly and put her hand on Betty’s. “And I am really grateful for your help, thank you so much.”
Betty smiled back and held on to Dakota's small hand for a moment longer before patting it affectionately.
“There is another life of course, your first one, but I suppose there’s no point reading that – I already know the ending, hehe,”
“Seriously though, thank you, Betty.”
“It was fun; I got to read a book with an ending.” She laughed and winked before taking one of the bottles of vodka and shuffling away into the shadows of the library.
Dakota felt suddenly lonely again. The long and dense shadows breathed in and out as the lamp flames flickered in a draught from the old windows, and even though she was aware of other souls shifting about beyond the rows of book cases, they were not her friends and they did not care.
Taking another swig of vodka for Dutch courage, Dakota returned to the day she came back into Jackson Shade’s life.
TWENTY-SEVEN: Home Again
Dakota turned the key in the front door at around two in the afternoon, and was surprised to find that Lula was home.
“Oh my god, what are you doing here!” cried Lula throwing her arms around her sister and then holding her away from her to get a better look.
“Well, I just felt I needed to come back, so I might stay if that’s all right?”
“Of course it is! Did you get the invite, then? I only posted it yesterday.” Lula took her sister’s suitcase from her and began carrying it up to her old bedroom.
“No, what invite?” she asked, following her upstairs.
“Oh, Jackson and I are getting married!” Lula scrunched up her face with delight and pushed the bedroom door open.
Shock passed through Dakota as the words registered in her brain. They were getting married.
“Well? Aren’t you happy, D? Oh, please say you are. God knows it’s taken him long enough to propose!”
“He proposed?”
“Yes… well, no, actually I did! I know it’s weird but I asked loads of times before and he always said no, but this time he said yes!” She was talking like a schoolgirl who had just asked her big crush to the school disco and got a positive response.
“Well, that’s great Lula. I am really happy for you both,” she managed half-heartedly.
“We should celebrate your return. Shall I cook something special for dinner tonight?”
“Yeah, that would be great. I just need to unpack and freshen up and stuff, if that’s OK?”
“You take your time and get settled back in.” Tears filled Lula’s eyes and she hugged her little sister again. “I am so happy to see you, you have no idea how much I missed you.” With that, Lula said she’d go make her a sandwich and disappeared off downstairs.
Dakota flopped on the bed and looked around. It was like a shrine to her youth in that room; everything was just as she had left it. Nick Cave and Doors posters still on the walls, the books she didn’t need to read all the time still sat on her shelf gathering dust and her CD collection sat unlistened to by her quiet stereo.
The only thing Dakota could do was dig out her diary and pour out her immediate feelings on the news she had just received. Shock was still coursing through her as feelings of despair began. Did this mean Jackson didn’t need her anymore? Or had he just given up hope that she would return to him? She decided swiftly it was the latter and set about unpacking before soaking in the bath and making sure she looked pretty for when Jackson came through the door.
At 6.10pm, Dakota started the CD and Nick Cave's voice began to crawl out of the speakers. A few minutes later she heard a key in the front door as she made her way out to the top of the stairs.
The few seconds that followed were something she thought she would never forget.
As Jackson came through the front door, he was initially stuck in his nightly routine. He came in, shut the door, dropped his keys on the hall table and started to remove his shoes. But suddenly, just as he was kicking off his right shoe, he froze.
The music from the bedroom upstairs had finally reached his ears, and he looked as though someone had thrown a bucket of ice water over him. Very slowly he stood up straight and stepped back a few paces to look upstairs. The second he saw her she could see tears in his eyes, and all they could do was stare at each other.
It had only been two years since she last laid eyes on him, yet it felt like it had been an age, but he was as beautiful as ever, his black hair still swept away from his face and down to his collar, and his eyes were still as blue and deep as ever. He was the answer to all her questions, and the only thing she felt she had ever really needed in her life, and after two years of him creeping into her dreams and her constant attempts to push him aside and out of her life, she accepted that he had always been right; they belonged together.
The moment she had seen him, her stomach seemed to leap up into her throat and as much as she wanted to run down the stairs and throw her arms around him, she was frozen to the spot, as though every emotion she had ever felt had just revisited her and temporarily paralysed her.
“D?” he whispered in the dim light of the hallway, staring at her as if she were a ghost.
“Oh Jackson, guess who’s come to stay? You’ll never guess!” cried Lula,
running out from the kitchen, hands flapping in the air like an overexcited six-year-old. Jackson still couldn’t manage any words, and neither he nor she could tear their eyes away from one another.
“Oh! Damn, you spoiled my surprise!” Lula laughed, wagging her finger up at Dakota. “She just arrived a couple of hours ago. Isn’t it great? And she didn’t even know about the wedding! How spooky is that?”
“Oh I see, so you’re not here for the wedding?” he asked finally, his throat dry.
“No, it’s just a coincidence. I just decided I wanted to come home, so I did,” Dakota explained as she sauntered down the stairs.
“Welcome home,” he managed as the three of them stood awkwardly in the hall. Every urge Dakota had to kiss him and be held by him again had to be suppressed. But the hardest thing was just to keep her eyes off him. Luckily Lula was so excited that she didn’t even notice. Instead she was flapping around and dishing up dinner, a ‘welcome home’ meal that consisted of cheese-topped shepherd’s pie, Dakota’s favourite.
Her stomach was in so many knots that she had to use every bit of willpower to eat her meal, all the time answering a million questions from Lula, and trying not to look at Jackson for fear their eyes might become glued together again.
Once dinner was over and they had all settled in the lounge with glasses of wine, Lula’s face took on a serious look.
“I did write you a letter that was in with your invite, but seeing as you didn’t get it, I’ll ask you face to face,”
“What?” A stab of fear pricked her stomach, an
d for a second she thought that Lula somehow knew about her and Jackson.
“Will you be my Maid of Honour?”
Dakota almost choked on her mouthful of wine, and then felt she needed to swallow the rest of glass.
“Um, yeah, of course I will. Will I have to wear a silly peach-coloured dress and satin shoes?” Dakota forced a giggle, filling up her glass again.
“No! We can go shopping this week. I have the week off work, so we can go looking for a dress for you, OK?”
“Yeah, OK. When is the wedding?”
“Two months.” Lula beamed. “Hey! It’s your birthday in a few weeks. How fab, we can go out somewhere!”
Dakota felt terrible. Here was her only sister so incredibly happy to see her and so desperate to bring her back into her life, and yet all she wanted was to tell Lula to get out and leave her alone with Jackson.
It had all seemed so much easier before she had left for Dublin. The way she had always dealt with keeping her feelings secret from Lula seemed to have left her; all she wanted to do was tell her she was in love with Jackson. Greed had taken over her. She wanted Jackson all to herself now, more than she ever had.
The evening wore on, Lula asking all sorts of questions and showing Dakota what her wedding dress was like and what music they would have. All the while, Jackson sat drinking and staring at Dakota, only looking away to light his cigarettes.
“Isn’t it time you took your sedatives, Lula?” he muttered around ten o’clock.
“Nah, not tonight, I want to stay up late and talk with my sister. What do you think, D? Shall we stay up all night watching movies and drinking?” Lula asked excitedly. And only the part of Dakota that felt guilt stopped her from saying no. She realised that this meant she would have to go another night without touching Jackson, but she felt she could handle it. What difference would one more night make?
“Oh, I never told you about Mr Goldman next door, did I?” began Lula, pouring out more wine.
The mention of his name made Dakota go cold, and for an icy moment she thought he had been arrested.
“He disappeared!” A cold sweat pricked on her forehead as some kind of relief washed over her.
“When?”
“God, it was about six months ago now. He had a younger brother apparently and they hadn’t seen each other in years, but the brother decided to come back and see him. He knocked here and asked if Goldman still lived there, and I said he did but I hadn’t seen him in a few weeks. The brother went round the back and his back door was open, but Goldman was gone. The place was messed up as if someone had broken in or had a fight and then he found the pictures,” Lula explained and paused to sip her wine. Dakota could feel her hand shaking.
“What pictures?”
“It was horrible. I am so glad I didn’t find them. They were all of little girls and things, you know? He had been molesting them, and taking pictures. They also found pictures of dead ones. The police have been looking for him ever since. Seems it was him who killed that little girl there was a big thing about, Michelle something. Do you remember?”
“Yeah, I do. And they don’t know where he is?” Her mind flickered between what she was asking and the thoughts she was having about the photographs of herself and Jackson.
“Nope, the news has been full of it for ages, but they think he might have left the country. I hope they catch him. I keep thinking he could still be out there hurting little girls, sick bastard. They said he was responsible for all the other little girls’ bodies they found out in the woods.”
“I’m sure they’ll catch him one day,” replied Dakota, wondering if she really believed that.
“Oh, we’re out of wine. I’ll get another bottle from the kitchen. Hang on a sec,” Lula said as she got up and left the room.
Dakota turned to Jackson, her eyes wide, asking the question he knew she would: had he killed Goldman?
“Don’t be stupid, D, but I wish I had,” he whispered, leaning forward. For a second it looked like he was going to kiss her but the sound of Lula returning made him stand up suddenly, his eyes never leaving Dakota’s. “Soon.”
“But what about the photos?”
“Taken care of, don’t worry.”
So the night passed by until around 5 am, when Dakota realised she was tired, and, leaving Lula on the sofa with Jackson, she wandered off to bed, her desire for Jackson burning in her stomach, unsatisfied.
The next morning, Dakota found a note on her pillow as she woke.
All it said was:
‘Meet me in the woods at midnight by the witch tree.
I’ll make sure Lula sleeps heavy.
It’s good to see you again, I missed you,
Jackson.’
Just as she was slipping the note between the pages of her diary, Lula came in unannounced.
“Morning love, you all right? It’s nearly afternoon actually. Fancy going shopping?” she began, wandering into the half-lit room and opening the curtains.
“Uh yeah, OK. You want to look for a bridesmaid dress?”
“Yeah, why not? Hey, is that your old diary? God you’ve had that for years. I see you taped some new books to it; had a lot to write about, have you?” she asked, nudging and winking like a school girl.
“Heh heh, oh yeah, you know how I have to write everything down,” she replied slipping the diary under her pillow. “Right OK, give me five minutes, I’ll be ready for some shopping!”
Dakota spent the day making sure she kept Lula happy. Everything Lula wanted to do, Dakota did, and every awful dress she had to try on, she tried on with a smile. Everything she was doing was not what she wanted to be doing, but it was all bearable because she knew she would be seeing Jackson again that night, and they would be alone at last.
It seemed to be the longest day of her life. As it wore on, it got harder for her to smile and keep up the act of the little sister home from her adventures, home for good, back to the bosom of her family.
Her family.
What had become of her family? A row of tiny stones to mark where her brothers and sisters lay, one big one to mark where her beloved parents lay, all of them turning to dust over the long years. And all that was left on the earth was Lula, her older, manic depressive, drug-dependent sister. Dakota had spent most of her life picking Lula up out of her depression, making sure she attended her therapy sessions and took her medication. What kind of a life was that? The only things her family had taught her were that people die, and what sort of antidepressants are sedatives. The memories were suddenly painful; the sweet memories of her mother and father were replaced by dark moments of grieving and having to spend all her time making sure Lula didn’t accidentally overdose. All there was in her memories now was death, madness and loneliness.
TWENTY-EIGHT: History Repeating
Darkness came late in the July evening, the sky pausing in shades of peach and amber before slipping into darker hues and secrecy.
Dakota had taken herself off to bed early that night, leaving it up to Jackson to make sure Lula took her tablets in time to be deep in slumbers by midnight. All night long Dakota had waited for Jackson to look into her eyes, but not once did he turn those Caribbean blue circles on her; not for one moment did he chance a glance at her with a wink as he used to before. He seemed so different since she had returned. Even though she still sensed the desire in him, radiating out to her, he did not show it in his eyes, that look of wanting she had so often seen, a signal that promised he would come crawling up to her bed in the small hours.
She heard Jackson and Lula go to bed together around ten, and all was silent until half past eleven when she heard him leave the room, pause on the landing, and then head downstairs. At that signal, Dakota slipped her hooded jacket on and crept out of the window onto the garage roof, then jumped down onto the driveway to head off to the woods.
It was a clear night; the sky was endless stars and the soft whisper of the wind through trees was a warm sound of comfort to her. It was o
nly minutes before she reached the edge of the woods.
And she paused.
She had not set foot in the woods since the morning she had found Michelle Taybury. Before that day she had never been afraid of the woods, but now, as she looked into the deepening dark she thought of all the ghosts that wandered there, all the lost children trying to find their way out of the woods and back to their mothers. The shuffling of the trees sounded like their souls, moving through the undergrowth, their still hearts unafraid of the dark now it was all over, now the bad man couldn’t touch them anymore. Then she wondered; was he there? Had Goldman returned to these woods to haunt them, to chase down the ghosts of all those children he stole? Would he stand by and watch her walking through, down those paths she always used to take to get to the grove to meet Jackson?
As fear reached its peak in her, she set foot in the forest.
Walking through the routes she could take blindfolded, suddenly the fear left her and was replaced by a feeling of safety, as though she was coming home to warm comforts and familiarity. The trees groaned above her, and shuffled their mighty branches as though they were wings; distant cars hummed briefly in the midnight world and then were gone. No birds chirped; they were all asleep in the high branches, their eyes closed to her and her journey. Only squirrels and foxes whispered in the blind gloom a conspiracy of secrets in the undergrowth, old bird bones and stolen eggs, and weasels grinning in the dark.
But even in the endless night, she could find her, the Witch Tree, and even though the fear had left her, she could not pass her and enter the grove. In her mind, Dakota could still see that little girl with glassy eyes and feared slightly that her ghost would remain there, only standing upright, still and staring with shining eyes and dirty clothes, leaves in her unkempt hair, at her, the girl who let her die.
Jackson arrived only moments later but neither made a move to touch. Only the trees spoke, then finally she found her voice.
Purgatory Hotel Page 20
