Heller's Regret

by JD Nixon

  I rested for half an hour, adjusted the thermostat higher again, and went back to work. Every time I found anything interesting, an old coin or button, I’d show it to Samuel. He’d examine it carefully, then shake his head regretfully, making a small pile of the rejects next to him. I worked until well after dark, stopping every couple of hours for a pot of tea and a rest. I was pleased with my progress at the end of the day and promised him to continue tomorrow. Another sweet smile was my reward.

  I was determined that we would both get a good night’s sleep to make up for the previous night. So we climbed under Samuel’s blankets again while I read him more Alice in Wonderland. He enjoyed the story immensely, listening closely to every word I said. When I judged I’d read enough, I made him go to bed and he acquiesced without any argument. I kissed his forehead and smoothed back his hair as he peeped out from under his blanket. He really was the loveliest little kid I’d ever met. I was growing very fond of him.

  I sat in the kitchen afterwards enjoying one last pot of tea before I also hit the sack. I thought for a while about that sad music, when it started again. Maybe I was expecting it or just getting used to it, but it didn’t startle me as much this time. I sipped my tea and listened to its melancholic melody, finding my mind returning to Daniel and Niq. But I could no longer recall what they looked like at all, no matter how hard I strained my brain. All I could remember was the refrain I’d repeated to myself the day before – Niq had the eyeliner, Daniel had the scars. But what if I forgot even that tomorrow? Then I wouldn’t remember them at all. I had to make myself remember. I could write it down, but what if I lost the piece of paper I wrote it on? I worried over it for a few minutes before an idea popped into my head. I nodded to myself – it was a good one.

  I went to Mrs Grimsley’s room and rummaged through her meagre makeup collection. Fortunately, she had what I wanted – a black eyeliner pencil. I peered in her dressing table mirror and applied the eyeliner thickly around my upper and lower eyelids, smiling at my reflection afterwards. I would never forget about Niq now. But what about Daniel? I would have to do the same.

  I searched for something sharp, heading back to the kitchen to search in the drawers for what I needed. I found a small paring knife, which looked reasonably sharp. I drew it quickly across one wrist, passing it to my other hand to repeat on the other wrist. Blood flowed immediately. It stung like hell, but it was for a good reason I reminded myself, which made the pain easier to bear.

  Pleased with a good night’s work, I went upstairs to bed, stopping short in the door to my room when I saw the portrait on the wall. Had I taken it down when I’d woken up or not? I couldn’t remember, but couldn’t face her evil stare, averting my eyes. Why did she hate me so much?

  I struggled to take it off the wall, my hands slightly tender from digging and my wrists aching, but finally managed to lay it face down on the floor. I needed something heavy to put on it to keep it down though, my eye falling on a couple of weighty tomes lying on their side, dustily neglected in the room’s small bookcase. I placed them gently on the back of the painting, then collapsed into bed, curling into a fetal position, clutching the cardigan around me to ward off the oppressive chill.

  Chapter 8

  I slept through until morning and woke up feeling energised, ready for more hard work in the basement. My stomach gripped with dread though when I saw that the painting back hanging on the wall, the books neatly returned to the bookcase. Did I or didn’t I? I’d been very tired the previous evening and maybe I’d only dreamed that I’d taken down the painting and put the books on top. How would I ever know what was real and what wasn’t if my mind kept playing tricks on me?

  I made the mistake of glancing at the woman and immediately wished I hadn’t. Her snarl had become more obvious and I could now see some of her teeth. Her eyebrows had drawn together even further, giving her an evil appearance that frightened me. She was judging me and I knew she thought I was a sinner. She could see straight into my heart and knew all of my sins, my many, many black sins. There was no escape from her condemning eyes.

  I fled my room down to the kitchen to find solace in a pot of tea, Samuel close behind. As I headed to the kitchen, I heard a phone ringing. It was a mobile sitting on a side table. I didn’t know whose it was, but answered it politely.

  “Hello?”

  “Matilda! You haven’t been answering your phone.” I didn’t recognise the voice.

  “I’ve been busy,” I said in a neutral voice, not wanting to give away anything to a stranger.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “You sound strange. Are you sure everything is all right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Farrell and Barnes visited you yesterday afternoon, but you didn’t answer to door. Do you want me to come over?”

  “No!” That’s when I understood it was Them wanting to take Samuel away. “I have to go. I’m quite busy today. Thanks for calling.” I hung up, turning to the little boy. “It was Them again. They never stop trying to take you away from here. We have to be ever vigilant, Samuel.”

  He nodded solemnly and followed me into the kitchen, watching as I prepared a pot of the awful tea. I sipped it in relief, warming my icy hands on the mug. I wriggled my legs vigorously to keep warm as I drank, the temperature having plummeted even further overnight. God, it was so cold. I knew I should eat something, but had no appetite. Samuel didn’t request any food either.

  After drinking five cups of tea, I adjusted the thermostat, once again increasing the temperature. I hoped it would start warming up soon; my fingers were aching with the cold. I looked forward to working in the basement again, hoping that the physical labour might warm me up some.

  Once I finished the tea, I visited the water closet before we went downstairs again, Samuel trailing behind me. That day I found a very old gun of some sort with a box of bullets hidden among the junk. I put it aside safely in case I needed to defend us one day. Samuel nodded his approval of my plan when I explained it to him. There was no way I was letting anyone take him away from me.

  I spent all day digging in the basement, but with no result that satisfied Samuel. That evening, after I’d tucked him in, I sat in the kitchen sipping tea, listening to the desolate music and letting myself cry. I reapplied the eyeliner and sliced my wrists, but could no longer recall the names of the people I’d hoped to remember.

  Back in my room, the woman judged me, her appearance turning truly demonic, teeth fully bared, eyes red and wild with fury and hatred. I couldn’t bear to make eye contact with her, not understanding why she hated me so much. Then it came to me – she believed I’d hand over Samuel to Them. It all made perfect sense.

  “No, no, no,” I assured her. “I would never do that, I swear.”

  To hopefully placate her, I offered her some of my blood in supplication, smearing my cut inner forearms across her snarling mouth. That night I slept better than I had since I’d come to the house, and knew that she appreciated my sacrifice as a gesture of my goodwill towards Samuel. I respected her for her fierce protection of the little boy, finding my fear of her lessening.

  The next day I worked all day in the basement, under Samuel’s watchful eye. In the evening, I reapplied my eyeliner and drew the knife through my soft inner-arm flesh, but couldn’t remember the reason behind the actions anymore. All I knew was that it was important to me, so I continued regardless. As I smeared my blood offering on the woman’s mouth again, my heart leapt with joy when I caught the faint glimpse of approval in her eyes. I decided that the next evening’s offering would be greater than I’d given her so far. I had to prove my loyalty to Samuel, and that would certainly gain greater approval from her.

  The next morning on my way to the kitchen and basement, the mobile rang again. I ignored it, well aware that it was Them trying to trick me into handing over Samuel. I laughed to myself. They underestimated me to their own disadvantage. I was ready for Them when they came, thin
king of the gun stowed safely in the basement. I would ask Samuel or the lady in the painting to show me how it worked so I was fully prepared.

  I diligently worked all day in the basement, finding a purpose in digging in the ground. I broke only for tea, but by the time I was ready to pack it in, I still hadn’t found Samuel’s precious object. Samuel’s disappointed little face hurt me deeply. I promised him that I’d dig harder and for longer the next day. And the next. And the next, for as long as it took to find what he sought.

  That evening, as I’d promised my judger and accuser, I cut deeply into my arms with the knife. The pain was intense, but my blood provided her with a bountiful offering. Her head nodding with appreciation as the rich redness poured from me onto her. I fell asleep blissfully, still beaming with pride.

  By mid-next morning, I’d dug up about half of the basement. My next shovel turn unearthed another button, which I handed to Samuel. He inspected it as carefully as all the previous items I’d found. But this time his eyes widened with recognition.

  “You know it?” I asked, excited.

  He nodded, his enormous eyes clouded with emotion. “It’s mine.” I wasn’t sure what to say to him. Perhaps he’d lost it while playing down here one day. “Keep digging in that spot.”

  I renewed my efforts, flinging dirt over my shoulder in a frenzy, thrilled I’d made some real progress. A loud banging on the front door reverberated down to the basement. Samuel and I stopped what we were doing. Them! I signalled for Samuel to find a hiding spot amongst the rubbish. I crept halfway up the stairs. The banging continued for an inordinate amount of time before halting abruptly. I heard rattling at the front door, swiftly followed by the sound of heavy footsteps in the entry hall. They must have picked the lock, the tricky bastards.

  “Matilda?” an accented voice boomed out. Other voices spoke as well, so it was difficult to calculate how many of Them had come. I crept as close to the kitchen door as I dared, turning the lights to the basement off as I stealthily climbed further up the stairs to the door.

  “There’s her bag. I recognise it from when she put it in the vehicle when we headed out. It hasn’t even been unpacked,” said one of Them.

  “Her handbag’s sitting on the floor next to that chair and her mobile’s on the table. What the hell’s going on here? Where is she?” said another.

  “Matilda?” shouted the loud voice again.

  “Are you sure it was her you spoke to, Boss?”

  “No, I’m not sure. It sounded like her, but she was strange, distant. And she hasn’t answered her phone since.”

  “God, it’s hot in here. I’m sweating like a pig,” one of Them complained.

  I pulled my cardigan tighter around me and shivered in the chill. Someone came striding towards the kitchen. I could see that They were wearing black clothes. Just like the ones who came to the door that day.

  I scurried back down to the basement, first mostly closing the door behind me while they weren’t looking.

  “Boss!” yelled one of Them. More footsteps hurried towards the kitchen. “There’s a teapot here on the table. It’s still warm. Someone’s in the house.”

  “I want this place torn apart,” the first man ordered in a hard threatening voice. “Find her.”

  They bounded into action. I knew They would find Samuel and take him away from me. This was it. It was me against this bunch of big men. The woman in the painting and Mrs Grimsley were counting on me to keep him safe.

  I turned on the torch I’d been using to better illuminate anything I’d found. I beckoned to Samuel to stay concealed and took the gun from its hiding spot.

  Samuel whispered some quick instructions on what to do with it, and with shaky frozen fingers, I crammed in the bullets. I didn’t even know if the gun worked and I had no real idea how to use it. Just point and shoot, I hoped. My biggest worry was shivering in the bitter cold, making my arms tremble uncontrollably.

  I turned off the torch and crouched on the ground, waiting patiently. I’d never been more afraid in my life. Samuel didn’t make a peep, but his nervousness showed in his big eyes. I regarded him fondly. He was such a good boy. He looked back at me trustingly. I didn’t want to do this, but it was for Samuel and the woman, I reminded myself.

  They must have finished with the top floor, because I could hear Them stamping around every room on the ground floor again. I wasn’t sure how many of Them there were, but it certainly sounded like a crowd. I didn’t have enough bullets to see Them all off, but I only needed to shoot a couple to scare the rest of Them away.

  “There’s blood everywhere in a bedroom upstairs, Boss,” one of Them said loudly. “Something odd’s going on in this place. I hope Tilly’s okay.”

  I took a deep, steadying breath – it was only a matter of time before they investigated the basement. I wished I had some tea down here with me. I suddenly had a raging thirst. I’d take care of that later, once this was over and They’d left, I promised myself.

  “Basement!” one of Them yelled, pushing open the door to the stairs. Footsteps echoed on the stairs.

  “Find the lights!” ordered someone.

  My heart pumped with adrenalin as I raised the gun and aimed it. I had to shoot while the light was out. I had the advantage over Them because They were looking down into the dark, but I was looking up into the light. I pressed the trigger. It was harder than I thought, stiff with age. I had to jam several fingers into the trigger to have the strength to depress it. The noise was deafening in the confined space and the recoil threw me backwards, hitting the wall and jolting the gun from my hands with a loud clatter.

  There was chaos on the stairs, men scrambling in reverse, one trigger happy man returning fire blindly. I scrabbled in the dark for the gun when a bullet flew close to my head. I ducked behind a crate. I had to find my weapon.

  “Hold your fucking fire! Tilly might be held captive down there,” I heard one of Them shout at the others. “Find those lights, now!”

  I reached around on the ground, my hand closing over the gun. I propped it in my badly shaking right hand with my left, finger on the trigger. They finally located the light switch, flooding the basement with light. A throng of men stood on the stairs, all dressed in black. They peered down at me in shock, their much more modern guns pointed in my direction.

  I aimed my gun straight at them, trying not to blink in the blinding light.

  “Tilly! What are you doing? Put that down,” urged one of Them, his face a mask of horror, his light grey eyes huge with apprehension. His voice softened. “Come on, Tilly, put it down. You know you don’t how to use it. You’ll hurt somebody.”

  “All of you get back!” I screamed. “I won’t let you take Samuel away from me!”

  “What she’s talking about?” asked one of the men.

  The grey-eyed man yelled back over his shoulder. “Get Heller down here now. Tell him we found him.” Men ran off to obey.

  “Get back,” I screamed again, and pulled the trigger a second time. My aim was terrible. The bullet flew far too high, hitting the ceiling above their heads, showering them with plaster. The powerful recoil flung me backwards against the wall again. My head hit something hard. I started feeling faint as I tried to rearrange the gun in my hand.

  They withdrew momentarily, but I could hear Them talking about me, pretending to be worried. They didn’t fool me for a second. They tried to talk to me again, this time sending down the man who appeared to be in charge, the tall, blond one.

  “Matilda. You need help. Let me help you,” he said, his gentle voice belying the alarmed expression on his face at the sight of me. I bet he hadn’t expected me to be armed, I thought with satisfaction. They thought I’d be a pushover.

  “Get away,” I demanded, not having the energy to scream anymore. “I know what you want. You want to take Samuel away from me. I won’t let you. I promised Mrs Grimsley I wouldn’t let anything happen to him.”

  I weakened, sliding further down the wall unt
il I almost lay on the floor. The gun became an increasingly heavy burden to hold.

  “Matilda, my sweet, listen to me. There is no child living here. Grimsley lied to us. She’s never been married, never had children, let alone grandchildren. There is no Samuel Grimsley. I checked the birth records. The only Samuel Grimsley I could find went missing, aged ten, back in 1905.”

  “You’re lying! You’re trying to confuse me. He’s here with me right now.” But when I looked over to where Samuel had been hiding, he was no longer there.

  “Samuel,” I shouted in panic. “Samuel, where have you gone? Come back, it’s not safe for you with these people! Samuel?” Had I passed out at some point, allowing Them to steal him? Was this whole story this man spun me just Their way of wiping my memory?

  “Matilda. Please let me take you to the hospital. You’re hurt. You’re bleeding badly. You need medical attention.”

  There was something about his tender tone and the tremendous concern in his face that triggered memories from the hazy depths of my mind. I searched his searing blue eyes.

  “I know you, don’t I?” I asked hesitantly, straining to recall him.

  “Yes, you do, my sweet. You know me very well. And you know that I care about you very much. I want to help you.”

  “Why can’t I remember anything? My brain is so foggy.”

  “I don’t know what’s happened to you here. You do need some urgent help though. Let me take you to the hospital. Please.”

  I tried to protest, looking around for Samuel, but my energy ran out and I slumped against the floor in a faint, the gun clattering out of my hand. He rushed down the stairs. I came to and tried to stop him.

  “Promise me that someone will stay and look after Samuel for me. He can’t stay here alone. He’s just a little boy. He’ll be frightened.”

  He promised to leave a couple of men behind in the house, so I allowed him to effortlessly pick me up in his arms. I found myself trusting him, and I couldn’t say for sure why.