He waited for her to answer. Instead, she glared at him for a moment, before turning away.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘If you need me, you only have to call.’
At the door, Larry felt the need to apologise. ‘My wife’s devoted to him,’ he explained. ‘We both are.’
The doctor was already aware of that. In all his long experience he had never seen such love and attention given to an old man. ‘I understand,’ he said. ‘She must be worn out. Hopefully, you should both be able to get some sleep tonight.’
Rolling his eyes, Larry groaned, ‘Things to do before that, I’m afraid. Can’t neglect our livelihood.’
‘Ah yes. The restaurant. That fire was bad luck. Still, I’m sure it will all come right. These things usually do.’
While Larry showed the doctor out, Ida sat by the window, staring out at the night and thinking how she was out there. Well, let her stay out there, she brooded, let her stay in the dark and the cold where she belonged, for she would never get into this house. As long as it was in Ida’s power, that sorry creature would never be allowed to rest, and neither would he.
Her soft laughter rippled through the air. Grimacing, she mimicked her husband’s voice, ‘My wife’s devoted to him. We both are.’ Again she laughed, soft, wicked laughter. ‘Fools!’ she hissed. ‘Little do they know.’
She listened. They were still talking. Quickly now. Before he comes back!
Unfolding herself from the window seat, she ran across the room, up the stairs and into the old man’s bedroom.
Standing beside the bed she stared down at his frail old face. Only her eyes moved, silently glittering, emitting a terrible hatred which seemed to taint the very air. ‘We know, don’t we?’ she murmured. ‘You and me. I’ve already paid the price, and now it’s your turn, you cruel, heartless bastard.’ A great sadness took hold of her. Small, reluctant tears ran down her face. ‘My life is nothing to me. Even if, like her, I have to haunt the earth for the rest of eternity, it will be worth it, as long as I can make you suffer for what you did.’
Suddenly she leaned towards him and, with shocking cruelty, placed two fingers either side of his eyelids, prising each eyelid open until the bloodshot eyes were almost bulging out of his head.
Stepping aside, she left a clear view to the window. ‘Look, old man,’ she urged softly. ‘It’s dark outside. You can’t see her, but she’s out there. The young man brought her back, you see. And now she’s waiting. You want to see her, don’t you? You need to touch her, to talk to her. But I can’t let that happen. I will never allow her to get past me. She knows that. She knows my hatred won’t let her through.’ Spitefully twisting away her fingers, she bent close to his face, telling him with immense satisfaction, ‘You see, old man, hatred is always more powerful than love.’
Giggling like a schoolgirl, she eased herself into the chair beside him. ‘The doctor was wrong,’ she muttered. ‘He said there was little time left for you, that you would “slip away”. What does he know? We’re the ones who have to decide, and you understand, I can’t let you go until I know for sure.’ She laughed again, stroking his gnarled hand and observing his face with keen interest. ‘You’re still handsome in a strange way,’ she whispered. ‘And we never did get to talk, did we? Now, I don’t suppose we ever will.’
The hatred was subsiding. Spent and quiet, it retreated into her subconscious. In its place came an overwhelming sense of loneliness. She kept her gaze on his face, imagining the chiselled features buried beneath the layer of age.
While she gazed on him, the silence cocooned them, like a tangible presence. ‘Pity it had to come to this,’ she sighed. ‘So many lives. Such a terrible waste.’ Hatred bubbled, reminding her of a lifetime’s purpose. Sitting up, she squared her shoulders and steeled her nerve. ‘Can’t forget.’ Painful though it was, she had to keep reminding herself. There was a kind of insanity about her now. The kind that came with years of self-torture and memories that tore at her like a savage animal at her throat. ‘Can’t forgive.’
Slowly, deliberately, she laid her hand over his. Singling out the smallest, most crooked finger, she raised it from the others, bending it back until it became taut beneath her touch. Just a little more pressure, and it would go. There! Hearing it snap like a dry twig underfoot, she sighed with satisfaction.
When Larry came into the room, he found her, head bowed over the old man’s bed, one hand placed lovingly over his and the other across his forehead as though she had fallen asleep while gently comforting him. It was a picture of devotion.
‘Ida?’ Softly he came across the carpet. ‘Ida, are you asleep?’
She wasn’t asleep. When she heard him coming, she had carefully staged the way she would look when he entered the room. Slowly, and groaning as if newly woken, she blinked her eyes. ‘Oh, Larry. Your father seemed distressed. I’m sorry, I must have dozed off.’ Silently she congratulated herself on her acting prowess. If things had been different she might have gone along that particular route. As it was, her life had been dominated by the need to carve a particular pound of flesh.
Larry was full of affection. ‘It’s me who should be sorry,’ he said. ‘In the few short years we’ve been married, you’ve shown nothing but compassion for my ailing father. You’ve refused me nothing, and yet there are times when I treat you like a stranger.’ He came to her and, draping an arm round her shoulder, said fondly, ‘I find it hard to cope, you see… with him.’ He hardly dared look at the old man. ‘There are things here that frighten me.’ Instinctively he raised his eyes to the window. ‘Are we doing right, Ida? Is she really evil?’
Again the doubts. Another battle for her to fight. ‘You know she’s evil. Hasn’t she hounded your poor father all this time? Doesn’t she blame him for what happened? She wants to punish him, to hurt him. We can’t let it happen. We have to keep them apart.’ Lowering her voice, she sidled up to him. ‘Look how she caused the death of that poor young man, just because he reminded her of your father. If that isn’t evil, I don’t know what is.’ In fact, she herself had caused the young man’s death. Obsessed with unravelling the mystery of Bluebell Hill, he had come too close to the truth. That was why she had to kill him. Larry never knew. No one did. ‘Trust me,’ she entreated, ‘your father is in great danger.’
Once more he was persuaded. ‘You’re right. What happened all those years ago was her fault and, yes, we must keep them apart. And if that means the life of one more young man, then so be it.’
‘We have to be rid of her, don’t we?’
‘Yes.’
‘Once she’s gone, your father will be safe.’
‘Then we can let him be. Let him have his rest.’
She nodded. ‘It’s clear what has to be done. We mustn’t be afraid.’
Like a child he hung on to her, his eyes appealing. ‘Before I met you, I didn’t realise why she was here. I didn’t even realise who she was.’ He was like a little lost boy. ‘I’m glad you found us, Ida. If you hadn’t come along and seen what was happening…’ He groaned, bowing his head into her breast.
She smiled sardonically, knowing there would be many times in the future, as there had been in the past, when he would doubt her again. As always she would outwit him. She was a past master at it.
‘I’m not strong like you,’ he confessed, ‘and there are times when I treat you shamefully, but in my own way, I do love you.’
‘I know.’
‘I need you, Ida.’ Reaching his forlorn gaze beyond her, he observed his father’s quiet face. ‘We both need you.’
‘You look tired.’ She could bear his touch for only so long before her skin began to creep. ‘Go to bed. Sleep for a while.’
He appeared shocked. ‘But the restaurant!’
‘You know there’s nothing you can do there. If you’re needed, I’ll wake you.’
‘No. I can’t trust them. I have to oversee the work.’
‘Please yourself.’ Her casual manner belied the irrita
tion she felt inside. She wanted rid of him. She needed to get out. She had a rage to breathe in the clean cold air of the evening and clear her soul.
‘Come with me then.’ He was bending low, his warm, rancid breath fanning her face.
She drew back. ‘What?’
‘I said, come with me then. I’m sure I won’t be missed for half an hour.’
It was painfully clear what he meant. If she went with him, maybe he would fall asleep afterwards. He often did. With him asleep, she could walk the lanes without fear of reprimand. If he was in the restaurant, she would have to stay here and be answerable. Often he would come back and forth a dozen times during the course of an evening. If he found his father left alone, there would be hell to pay. But the idea of him entering her, his groping hands all over her body and his nakedness writhing on top was deeply repugnant to her. Still, after all she had endured, it was only one more nightmare. Give in, she told herself. Afterwards he’ll sleep. Once asleep, he was like a man unconscious.
‘We’ll have to be quick,’ she conceded, ‘in case your father wakes.’
He took her by the hand and together they went upstairs. ‘Father won’t wake,’ he promised. ‘You heard what the doctor said.’
Upstairs in the back bedroom, he took off her clothes and fondled her breasts. ‘You’ve a fine figure for a woman of your age,’ he said callously.
She stood very still while he touched her all over, his probing fingers travelling sensuously across her shoulders and down the curve of her spine. He handled her breasts and played with her nipples, and when he grew too excited to contain himself, he got down on his knees and pushed his mouth into the crevice of her thighs. ‘You’re so warm,’ he muttered, his face growing red with passion. ‘Soft as down.’
In that moment when he looked up at her with admiration, she wanted to put her hands round his throat and squeeze. But she remained very still, letting him have his way. Allowing him to believe she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
With agonising slowness he undressed. ‘Now,’ he murmured and she followed him to the bed.
Lying on his back, he waited, his legs parted and his member erect, slightly bent, unduly thick at the shaft and narrowing to almost nothing at the point. It was grotesque. While she looked, the slightest dewdrop appeared at its mouth. Entranced, she watched it grow plump, rise up, then trickle down.
Hurriedly now, wanting it to be over, she climbed on to the bed and sat astride him, her arms reaching out, hands grasping the bedhead, her surprisingly firm breasts only inches from his long, searching tongue. Up and down she went. The rhythm was always the same. Up and down, increasing in ferocity, until he gave out a great moan and collapsed beneath her.
Like a mindless thing she went to the bathroom, doused herself inside and out, towelled off and returned to the bedroom, noting with satisfaction that he was fast asleep. If all went true to form, he would sleep for hours.
After dressing, she went downstairs, put on her coat and let herself out of the back door. She hated him; hated herself. ‘You’re nothing but a whore!’ The words mingled with the wind, whipping back in her face, burning her skin. Wrapping her coat closer about her, she went on, pushing against the wind, her sharp eyes scouring the lanes, probing the darkness. ‘Where are you?’ Her voice was pitiful against the elements. ‘You’ll never have him, do you hear?’
Standing in the road, she raised her arms as if fending off a devil, her face a mask of loathing, her heart made hard by all she had seen, all she had suffered. The memories had made her mad, and the love stayed with her to keep the madness alive. The pity was, she too had been a victim.
The sin was not hers. It happened long before. And she never knew.
‘How much further, Daddy?’ Daisy was wide awake, her eager eyes scouring the lanes ahead. This was a rare treat for her, being out in the car with just her father, in the dark, going somewhere she had never been before. ‘Why are there no lights down the road?’
‘Because we’re out in the country and these narrow lanes don’t have lights.’
‘Why not?’
‘Who knows? Maybe the authorities think it’s a waste of taxpayers’ money. Maybe they think they should concentrate on roads that people use the most.’
‘We’ve got lots of lights down our road.’
‘Yes,’ he said vaguely. His mind was on Libby, and her scarf, and other, strangely disturbing things. The deeper he travelled along this lane, the more restless he became.
They both saw it at the same time, a dark, shapeless figure that swooped out of nowhere.
‘What the devil’s that?’ Slamming on the brakes, Dave yelled to Daisy, ‘Hold on!’ The car went into a sideways skid as he fought for control. He gave a sigh of relief when at last the car jerked to a halt. Shaking in every limb, he satisfied himself that Daisy was all right. ‘Stay here, sweetheart, while I take a look,’ he told her. He stopped the engine but left the lights on. ‘You’re not to get out. Lock the doors and keep them locked.’
Scrambling out of the car, he ran back down the road, frantically searching as he went. There was nothing. No one. Gasping for breath, he stopped, hands on his sides and body forward, letting the air into his bursting lungs. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a movement; then nothing. ‘You stupid bastard!’ he yelled. ‘You almost had us in the ditch!’ Silence. The darkness closed in around him, and he felt utterly alone.
Swearing under his breath, he made his way back to the car. Daisy was safe inside. ‘It’s me, sweetheart.’ He pressed his face to the window. ‘Unlock the door.’
‘Daddy, I didn’t let her in.’ Unlocking the door, Daisy seemed highly nervous, glancing about almost as though she expected someone to leap out at them.
‘What do you mean, sweetheart? Who didn’t you let in?’
‘The woman. The one who was in the road.’ Clutching her rolled-up painting to her chest, she stared at him, her eyes big and frightened. ‘She wasn’t very nice, so I didn’t let her in. I kept the doors locked, just like you said.’
In the glow from the headlights he regarded her anxiously. ‘What was she like, this woman?’ He hadn’t seen anybody. How had she got past him to the car?
Daisy shuddered. ‘Old, and sort of funny.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘She stared in the window, but I didn’t let her in.’ A ripple ran through her body, catching her breath. ‘She frightened me.’
‘You’re a good girl, and very brave.’ Starting the engine, Dave put the car into gear. Who the hell could it have been? If she was old, then it obviously wasn’t the same woman he’d seen before. Dark lanes, in the middle of nowhere. Thank God Daisy had done as he told her.
‘Did that old woman want to hurt us?’ Daisy asked shakily.
He tried to put her mind at rest. ‘No, of course she didn’t, sweetheart. I expect she was some poor old tramp who’d lost her way.’
‘I expect she was cold too. Do you think I should have let her in?’
‘No!’ More quietly, he said, ‘No, you did right to keep her out.’
‘She asked me what I was hiding.’ She was clutching the rolled-up drawing in her fist.
‘Did she now?’
‘I wasn’t hiding anything, only my drawing. I took it out of my pocket to look at it but I didn’t want her to see it.’
‘It’s all right, sweetheart. She’s gone now.’ Weird old bugger, he thought angrily. She’d have got a piece of his mind if he’d caught up with her. Funny, though, how she managed to get past him like that.
Behind them, Ida remained hidden in the undergrowth until the car was out of sight. ‘He’s back,’ she chuckled. ‘We knew he’d be back.’
Spinning round, she yelled at the night, ‘Did you see? He’s come back for you. Take him and leave the other one to me!’
As soon as Dave drew up outside the restaurant, he realised there was something wrong. When he had come here with Libby, the place had been blazing with light, soft music had been playing and at least half a dozen
cars were parked in the forecourt. Now there was only a small light burning in the porch, and another shaft of light coming through one of the side windows. A faint tapping could be heard from inside the building. ‘Strange,’ he muttered. Turning his head, he peered through the back window. The car park behind was empty.
‘What’s wrong, Daddy?’
‘Nothing for you to worry about,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘I imagined the restaurant would be busy, that’s all.’ Plugging the mobile phone into the cigar lighter, he dialled and waited. ‘Better let your mother know how long we’ll be.’
This time Libby answered. ‘What are you up to?’ she asked. ‘What’s all this about an errand?’
‘Ah, that would be telling,’ he teased. ‘You’ll soon know. We’ll be home in about three-quarters of an hour.’
‘Daisy all right?’
‘Of course. What about Jamie? May said he’d overindulged at the party.’
‘He’s fine now. He’s watching telly.’
Dave chuckled.
‘Be quick, the pair of you.’
‘Quick as a wink.’ And he did just that, much to Daisy’s delight.
‘Love you.’
‘Love you too,’ Dave said, then clicked off the phone and unplugged it.
‘Are we going inside?’ Daisy wanted to know.
Dave seemed not to hear her. He sat for a moment, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. Lowering his gaze to the dashboard clock, he noted the time. It was almost seven thirty. And it was Saturday night. Why wasn’t the restaurant lit up? Where were the patrons? The cars? The staff?
A man stepped out of the shadows. Tapping on the window, he asked loudly, ‘Can I help you, sir? Is there something you want?’
Dave recognised him as the waiter who had served him and Libby. This time, though, he was dressed in casual clothes, over the top of which he was wearing what looked like a blue boiler suit.
Seeker, The Page 8
