The Dark Corners Box Set

by Robert Scott-Norton

  A noise from behind her made her spin around. On the ground, just a hand’s reach away from the shadows was the teddy bear she’d thrown out in the rubbish the other day.

  Lisa’s brain reacted to the adrenaline and light breathing and took the only action it had available.

  Lisa fainted.

  22

  Judy pulled up by the curb on the opposite side of the office block. She was on the other side of Southport to where she lived, much closer to Marshside and an area she wasn’t that familiar with. It was just after lunch and her stomach was still full of the sub she’d treated herself to from Subway. Her chat with Richard had made her look at things afresh. What if she did put the house on the market? Would that be such a bad thing?

  Maybe getting rid of the house was the way to get rid of the problems that came with the house as well then. She wasn’t naïve enough to think that every house only carried good memories, but what if her time with Phil had tainted the property? Could feelings be trapped in bricks and mortar?

  Richard had been helpful in making her see there were other options available. And wouldn’t it be nice to start somewhere new and make a whole new world of memories? Being close to Jemma’s school would be a bonus and getting out of the house that Adrian had helped find for them would also be a clear sign of her independence. She didn’t need anyone. She could sort her life out on her own.

  There were no signs she was at the right place. Adrian had told her that the adoption agency was long gone so she hadn’t expected to see any signs advertising it, but there was an aura about the place that she didn’t like, and as she got out of the car and walked closer to it, she felt a bad trembling in her stomach, like she was delving into something she had no right messing with.

  This was the right address. Hosforth House. She’d double-checked the papers and Google maps.

  She walked through the nearly empty car park and headed for the main entrance. The doors were locked, and she checked the intercom for a clue as to how to get in. There was no main reception, so she tried the button for the unit number that matched the adoption agency on Lisa’s paperwork.

  “Massive Dynamics, can I help?” The man’s voice was polite and precise.

  “Hi, I wanted to speak to someone at Premier Adoption Services. I wonder if you could help.”

  There was a pause. Then, “This is Massive Dynamics.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  Another pause. “This isn’t an adoption agency.”

  “I know, but you might still be able to help.”

  “Have you tried the other offices? I’m not sure if there is any adoption company here.”

  “No, there isn’t. It closed.”

  “I’m confused. Why are you here?”

  “Perhaps you could let me in. You could still help me.”

  She imagined the person on the other end of the intercom looking through the built-in camera and sighing, wondering what they’d done to deserve such a visitor.

  Just as she was about to give up with Massive Dynamic and try another business, the door buzzed. Before they could change their mind, she shoved open the door and let herself into the building.

  It was roasting inside. Heat rose from the antiquated cast iron radiators, filling the space with a dry heat that made her reach for the top button of her coat. There was a staircase by the entrance, its carpet threadbare. A stripe of warning tape was holding down the carpet on the first two steps. The floor in the reception was a black industrial lino well beyond its natural lifespan. You could see every scuff and mark and scratch, and it told the story of a thousand souls coming to work.

  Just as she was debating whether to head for the stairs, the double doors opposite the entrance opened and a thin gangly man stepped through into the reception area and smiled.

  “I’m sorry, but I honestly don’t know what you’re after. You said you were after an adoption company.”

  “Premier Adoption Services. I know they’re closed, but they had offices here in the seventies.”

  “Goodness. That’s before my time.”

  “Is there anyone here that might have been here then?”

  He shrugged. “Matt Hodgson’s been here a while. I think he was here back then.”

  Judy’s heart lifted at the news. This suddenly didn’t feel like the complete waste of time it had a moment ago. “I don’t suppose I could speak to him.”

  “I don’t work with him directly. He’s the maintenance guy. He’s employed by the landlords. He comes in once a week or as work is needed. I can ask him to call you when I next see him.”

  “Do you have any idea when that might be?”

  “You might be lucky. He normally pops in on a Tuesday afternoon.”

  “Excellent. Let me give you my details.”

  Judy spent the rest of the morning at home, tidying, making lunch, a pitiful jacket potato she wazzed in the microwave for ten minutes until its sides sagged like an old wet sack, then she put herself in front of her laptop and checked out the house prices in her area.

  Richard’s words had struck a chord with her and since he’d mentioned it, her mind kept returning to the idea that she could do much better off by downsizing. It only took a couple of minutes to find Richard’s estate agents online. There weren’t many properties listed and none from her estate.

  Damn it, she thought. That’s the second time today I’ve come back to thinking about you and your business. The thought of working for someone like Richard appealed in a way she hadn’t imagined. How much nicer would it be dealing with people who wanted you to help them sell their property than dealing with thirty unruly children and their apathetic parents? It would make it much easier to come home and leave work at the door. But it wasn’t just the thought of working in an estate agent that was appealing, it was working with Richard. A light rush of heat lifted her cheeks, and she clicked onto another website instead, banishing the idea of agreeing to go out for a drink with Richard. She had more baggage than he knew and there were things she wasn’t ready to tell anyone just yet. About the time she’d spent with Phil and how he’d changed her. Not even Jemma had seen the change in her and that was how she wanted it to stay.

  After clearing away her lunch plates, she went upstairs to change the sheets and stopped in Jemma’s doorway. The bedroom was your typical messy twelve-year-old’s domain.

  But I tidied you this morning.

  The drawers in her desk had been pulled out. The wardrobe doors were open as well. Tentatively, she stepped into the room and pushed the drawers closed. She had closed the drawers that morning. She was sure of it. Inside the wardrobe, the clothes had been squished to one side, compacted up against the wall leaving a space on the right.

  A space big enough to stand in, she thought.

  Brusquely, she swiped the clothes back across the rail, distributing them evenly before slamming the doors closed and heading to her own room.

  She was thrown from her thoughts by her mobile ringing.

  “Hello, is that Mrs Doyle?” It was an older gent, gruffly spoken.

  “Hi. This is Judy, are you Mr Hodgson?”

  “Call me Matt. Someone left me a message to call you. Something about adopting. I don’t know why you’d want to speak to me; you must have got the wrong end of the stick. I’m the maintenance man, just a part-time caretaker. I have nothing to do with the businesses that rent office space, that’s not my department see. I’m just employed by the landlord. Nothing to do with me.”

  “That’s fine. I know that.”

  “Oh. You do, right then. What am I calling you for? There’s not much in the message see.”

  “The man I spoke to said that you’d worked in that building for a long time. I wanted to speak to someone about a company that had office space there in the seventies.”

  “I was working back then right enough. But my memory is not what it was. I don’t think I’ll be able to help you.”

  Not if you won’t let me get a word in edge ways.
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  She pressed on. “It was an adoption agency called Premier Adoption Services.”

  “And?”

  “And I wondered whether you were there back when they were running.”

  “They’re not operating now? Have you tried calling them?”

  “Yes. The number is old, before the area codes were changed even.”

  “Well don’t you just put a leading zero before the number you’ve got? Maybe also a seven after the area code.”

  You are a fountain of knowledge. She sighed. This was going nowhere. She was wasting his time and her own sanity was slipping away every second she remained on the call.

  “The number is disconnected. I’m trying to find anyone that might have been working at the offices when the company was there. You’re my only name so far. If you could remember anyone else that might have been there I could get in touch with them instead.”

  “I’m afraid you might have to do that.”

  She paused. “Can you think of any other companies that had office space then?”

  “I’d suggest ringing the landlord, only that building has changed hands half a dozen times at least in the time I’ve worked there. I doubt you’ll get any—” he broke off suddenly.

  “Hello, Matt? Mr Hodgson? Are you still there?”

  “Just looking at the note that was left for me. Judy Doyle right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you related to Adrian Doyle by any chance?”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “He’s my father-in-law.”

  When Matt next spoke, he sounded like he’d just solved one of the world’s greatest riddles. “Well that makes life simple then. Speak to your father-in-law. His company had offices in the building.”

  “Their offices are on Dukes Street.”

  “Is that right? Well, back in the seventies, they were Hosforth House. They moved out in the eighties. I’m telling you, you’re best speaking to Mr Doyle. He’ll be able to sort this out for you.”

  She thanked him and hung up. Then sat there for a minute before wandering back to the kitchen and switching the kettle on. She’d had enough tea today, but the ritual gave her mind a way to focus. Adrian’s company had been in the same building as the adoption agency they’d used to adopt Lisa and Phil. She didn’t know much about the state of the adoption service industry now, and nothing about how it was in the seventies, but surely there can’t have been many. Didn’t the health service look after things like that back then? What were the chances of an adoption agency being in the same building?

  23

  Thirty years ago

  They’d gone out again and left them in the caravan on their own. Not unusual for a Friday evening. Lisa and Phil had grown used to it, just as Lisa had grown used to being dragged up here every weekend and being forced to share a bedroom with her stinking brother. Much as she liked having a twin, she’d often wished that it was a girl she shared the same DNA with. Having a brother who barely washed, farted loudly in the night, and was generally mean to her during daylight hours was enough to justify that she thought.

  Today had been no exception. Whilst she’d wanted to stay in their shared bedroom and finish her book, he’d wanted to go exploring and Dad had thought that a good idea. If they didn’t go too far, it was fine with him. He’d brought a stack of paperwork with him and had taken over the dining room table with it. Mum was out shopping at the local grocers and wouldn’t be back for an hour at least—a trip to the grocers for Mum meant a trip to the local village, and that entailed going to pretty much every shop along the village high street, whether she had plans to buy anything or not. Lisa guessed it was her way of socialising, but she was sure that Mum made it deliberately onerous to ensure that neither of the kids would want to come with her, giving her an hour or two of alone time.

  Exploring with Phil was dull as usual. There weren’t any places left to explore. They’d spent a little time running around the main road, seeing who could get to the next junction the fastest. Lisa could easily beat Phil at this but he never took it very well and would find additional ways to torment her later on, usually by encouraging her to look out into the dark woods at night when their parents had left to go socialising at the bar.

  But after half an hour of this, it seemed that Phil had something else on his mind. He’d stopped by the side track leading deeper into the woods—the track that led to the holiday lets. There were five small houses in their own plots through the woodland, part of the caravan site, but marketed at the richer families who considered caravans beneath them. Lisa wondered why her dad didn’t let them stay in one of those whilst they were up here, and he’d told her that staying in a caravan was part of the fun of getting away. Where was the fun in staying in a house? They might as well just stay back at home. Lisa wanted to tell him she thought that was a terrific idea but that would only hurt him and deep down, really deep down, she actually enjoyed having this second home to come up to every weekend. Even if it was a caravan. It was something her friends didn’t have and when she wanted to elevate herself above them, which she needed to do from time to time what with Lucy being so melodramatic, she’d drop into conversation that she was going up to their second home for the weekend. That was enough to shut them up or bring the conversation back to her. Better than the attention being on Lucy.

  “I don’t think I want to go that way,” she told Phil. He was raring to go, eager to explore the holiday lets. There were two problems with his plan. Firstly, the track was surrounded by heavier trees blocking more light than she was comfortable with. It didn’t feel part of the caravan park; it felt like crossing over into some place different, somewhere other. She’d gone that way with Phil once a few months ago and he’d tricked her by letting her walk ahead whilst hiding in the bushes, making crying sounds like the foxes at night. She’d promised herself that she wouldn’t let herself be tricked by him again.

  Secondly, Dad had asked them not to wander up to the holiday lets. The families staying there didn’t want kids running around, disturbing their peace. They were paying more for the seclusion, to get away from it all. Lisa wondered what kind of family would pay to spend time in the darkest part of the woods, away from the sights of the rest of the caravan site, right where the animals ruled.

  But there was also one property that had been left in a rundown state. Dad knew Phil was interested in exploring the house and he’d made it explicitly clear that he wasn’t to go near the place. There just weren’t enough richer families wanting those properties to bother refurbishing them all. It was unsafe to walk around, he’d tell the children. Lisa didn’t care about going to see it, but to Phil it had always sounded like a fun thing to do. On their caravan site with little else to amuse them, hell they’d just spent the morning running around the roads seeing who could get to the next bin the fastest, it was an exciting distraction for Phil.

  “Come on you wuss. It’s only a couple of minutes down here. I know you want to see it.”

  “I don’t. I just want to go home. You’re so boring, Phil.”

  He was affronted by that. “Am not.”

  “Boring.” And she patted her hand to her open mouth in an exaggerated yawn. “I’m going home.”

  “Dad’s hiding something up there.”

  That caught her attention.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Come and see and I’ll show you.”

  “You’re so full of bullshit.” She never swore in front of her parents but actively swore in front of her brother. They both swore at each other and thought nothing of it anymore.

  “I’m not full of bullshit. You’re just a bloody chicken. So scared of what might happen if you don’t do what Dad tells you.” He stormed up to her and had his face almost in hers. Almost mind, as despite being twins, she was in the middle of a growth spurt and was an inch higher than her brother. A fact that she’d remind him of whenever he got too annoying. She leant forward, not scared of him. This was familiar territory and took her mind aw
ay from the track ahead of them.

  “I’m not scared. I just don’t do what I’m told by annoying brothers.”

  “If you’re not scared, prove it.”

  “No.”

  “You are scared.”

  “I’m bored. I’m going back home.” She turned to go back to the caravan, wondering whether Mum would finally be home. Maybe she’d brought them something nice to eat, or maybe she could persuade her to take them out for the rest of the day. Keswick wasn’t too far away and had a decent bookshop. If Dad would be busy with paperwork for the rest of the afternoon, he’d probably even give her some pocket money to get something new to read.

  “I saw Dad come up here last night when he thought we were all asleep. Why would he do that?”

  Lisa paused. It wasn’t unusual for Phil to make up stories to get her into trouble, but she couldn’t fathom why he would make up something so odd. “Why would Dad come up here?” And how do you even know? You can’t see this track from our caravan.” She could think of several reasons herself but wanted to hear what Phil had to say. Back home, at their real home, she knew that Dad was a restless sleeper, often talking in his sleep or wandering downstairs when sleep wouldn’t come. And despite promising Mum that he’d given up smoking, she’d caught him in the back garden in the middle of the night, chuffing away on a cigarette. If Dad had gotten up in the middle of the night, it would have been to take a walk to clear his head and sneak a cigarette to help him sleep.

  “I followed him, dumbass. I let him get a little ahead and then I followed him.”

  “Why would you do that? What made you think that was a smart idea?”

  “He was talking in his sleep. It woke me up. He came into our room and was watching us for a bit, but I pretended to be asleep. I thought he was still mad at us.”