Memory Scents: A Psychological Thriller

by Gayle Eileen Curtis

  “Oh Daphne...” Grace pulled another chair up close to the fragile old woman and sat down. She picked up her bony hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Grace sat quietly with her mother-in-law and allowed her to cry. She’d never seen her like this before, not even when Jack died. She’d always thought her a strange old fish; cold and harsh. But looking at her now was like sitting with someone else. Someone she knew, not a stranger, which is how Grace had felt towards her in all the years she’d been married. The woman sat in front of her now had emotion in her face, making her look softer, more vulnerable.

  Grace suddenly realised she’d never spent the time making an effort to get to know her. She’d always taken Tim’s word that she was a vile human being. Eve obviously saw someone different.

  This thought reminded her why she was there and a shot of panic entered her heart.

  “Has Eve popped in for a visit today?” Grace kept her voice light and casual. Daphne looked up at Grace, squeezing her hand slightly.

  “What is it, Daphne?”

  “I’ve told her everything.”

  “What do you mean you’ve told her everything?”

  “Everything.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Chrissie was frozen to the spot; three things were circulating around in her head. Firstly, she thought that the person sat in her kitchen was dead but he appeared to be very much alive. Secondly, she was going to die. And thirdly, it had been him trying to scare her out in the garden all along.

  Chrissie looked from him to the clock on the wall, which seemed to be ticking louder than normal, warning her that her time was almost up. She prayed that for the first time in Sarah’s life she wouldn’t be late. The silence gave her time to think, to work out how she could get out of the situation alive.

  She lifted her arm slowly up her back to try and reach the key behind her in the lock. She was watching Tim the whole time. He continued to stare at the table, picking at an old candle wax mark. She expected him to say something else but he didn’t. Her fingers found the key and she held her breath as she desperately tried to get her fingers to work without making too much noise. She bit her lip hoping beyond hope that the latch wouldn’t fly back, making a loud clunk like it usually did. She mentally pictured herself turning quickly, opening the door and running out. She felt slightly like she had done as a child when she and her sisters had been playing chase with one another and she was trying to get away from them. Only this wasn’t a game and she felt much, much worse.

  Tim continued to pick at the table and stare at nothing; his eyes were glazed; he’d stepped into another world. She could hear the thumping of her heart beating in her ears, almost in time with the loud ticking of the clock.

  Clunk, click. She grabbed the door handle; a whimpering escaped her lips as she heard the screeching of Tim’s wooden chair across the tiled kitchen floor. She banged the door against the wall and ran screaming down the path that led to the bottom of the house, the driveway, the footpath, the whole time anticipating a hand grabbing her. She daren’t look behind her; she just knew she had to keep going. Get into an area where there were other people. She didn’t want to knock on anyone’s door; she couldn’t risk them not answering. Great gulps of breath were straining her chest and neck.

  She kept going until she got to the seafront and dared to turn and look behind her before she stopped running. She’d had an idea when she got to the main street in the centre of the village that maybe Tim wasn’t following her; she couldn’t hear his foot fall behind her. She hadn’t wanted to risk it though just in case it was wishful thinking. She looked behind her; there was no one to be seen in the pouring rain, only the passing traffic. She placed her hands on her knees to catch her breath; the rain was pelting down on her, running down her face. She turned around and around frantically looking for him, expecting him to jump out and grab her.

  A car beeped and screeched to a halt on the side of the road, startling her. It was Grace. Chrissie checked around one more time before she got in the car. Once inside she pressed the central locking and stared at Grace, her eyes wide and full of fear.

  “You’re soaked. What on earth are you doing out in this weather?”

  “I...I...Tim...” Chrissie was still trying to catch her breath. She was shivering, shaking, crying and absolutely petrified all at the same time. “Tim’s at mine...Tim...I’m not seeing things...I promise.”

  “Shit! We need to phone the police, Chrissie. Is he still there?”

  “No. I don’t know. He came in the house. I thought he was going to hurt me.” Chrissie’s breath was coming back and she was finding it easier to talk and breathe.

  “Are you ok? He hasn’t hurt you has he?” Grace looked Chrissie up and down.

  “No, I got out and just kept running.” Chrissie wiped her face on the sleeve of her damp sweater. “I thought the police said he was dead?”

  Grace sped off while Chrissie stared through the car windows looking for Tim. She was waiting for Grace to continue what she was saying.

  Grace glanced at her. “Sorry Chrissie I’m looking for Eve, the hospital discharged her and I haven’t been able to find her. I’m getting really worried.”

  “I assume you’ve looked in all the likely places she would go?” Chrissie was still shivering.

  “Yes but no-one’s seen her. At least I know she’s not with Tim.” Grace paused as she digested her own words. “Oh my god! You don’t think he’s already seen her?”

  All Chrissie could do was stare at her; she needed to think.

  “Right, ok. Let’s think about this logically, I’m sure she’s fine. There’s no reason why Tim would have come across her.”

  “I’m not so sure. The thing is Chrissie, there’s quite a lot that’s come to light the last couple of days and I haven’t had a chance to tell you. Let me get you back to Eve’s. We can check to see if she’s there, find you some warm clothes and then I’ll ring the police.”

  *

  Tim wandered through the open door and out into Chrissie’s garden. The rain seemed to be coming down in sheets; the grass under foot was already beginning to drown with the amount of water that had already fallen. Tim lifted the collar of his coat, tucked his hands in his pockets and made his way across the garden to Chrissie’s swing. He sat down on it and gently pushed himself.

  In his mind he was twelve again and not in Chrissie’s garden but in the garden of his childhood. He was back in the moment when his mother had sat him down and told him the truth about his sister, Verity. She hadn’t died when she was a baby as he’d always been led to believe. She had been murdered when she was seven. It was a day that had changed his entire life forever.

  There was a room in the house he was always forbidden to go in and it was kept locked. Daphne had told him it was a storage room and wasn’t to be played in. But that day, Daphne had unlocked the door to the mysterious room and allowed him to enter. It was Verity’s bedroom, his sister’s. He remembered when he walked into that room how the mysteries of his short life had all become clear in that one moment. A bedroom to a life he’d never known about, a life he hadn’t been permitted to know; one that had existed before him.

  The room was similar to a scene in a museum, except the life like plastic figures were missing.

  He’d been allowed in there that one and only day, with Daphne. It was a clear and vivid memory that had stayed with him all his life. He hadn’t been allowed to touch anything; he was just allowed to have a look. It had been Daphne’s way of making it real for him, to hopefully dampen the shock of finding out the truth about his sister. She and Tim’s father had wanted to protect him, so that his childhood wasn’t tainted with the ghastly truth they had to live with. This had only proved to have the opposite effect, and in truth the real reason had been that it was too painful for either of them to talk about.

  Before Tim was permitted to go into the room, he wouldn’t have been shocked to see Verity lying on the bed, a preserved waxen effigy in the little time
warp his mother was exposing him to.

  As he twirled round on the swing he clearly saw the memory of watching his mother standing in Verity’s bedroom, checking that everything was in its place. He’d wondered at the time if she was looking to see if Verity had come back and moved something, a sign she might still be around somewhere. He could still recall the clinking of the keys in his mother’s hand, tears filling her eyes as she moved forward to shake the dusky pink eiderdown. Everything was clean and tidy and perfectly placed. Tiny hand printed roses flecked the walls, the rugs on the floor were flat as if they’d been painted on, their fringes immaculately straight on all sides.

  Tim had looked around and noticed how everything had been carefully chosen. Perfectly picked for Verity, unlike his own room which looked like it had been made up for an unexpected guest.

  It hadn’t been the fact his mother had told him his sister had been murdered that bothered him. It had been the realisation that he’d come face to face with his competition. His sibling rival.

  He’d always known there had been something untouchable standing in his way; he just hadn’t realised the extent of what it had been. It was like finding a missing piece of an old puzzle long since packed away; a vital part of the whole picture.

  Verity was the reason his mother didn’t want him. His mother and father had had a life with her before him. He realised this whenever he had revisited this memory. He’d been too young at the time to understand it all then; too young to analyse it. Re-running the footage throughout his life had made it become clearer in his mind.

  It had been raining the day she told him, as it was now, soaking him as he sat on the swing under the willow tree. Huge droplets of water were sliding off the leaves and landing on his head, as though he was being smacked by hundreds of tiny cold hands.

  He’d become aware as he grew up that his mother and father had tried to recreate their life after Verity, but it had backfired on them because Tim had been born a boy. And from that day forward he had never been wanted. His feelings the day he’d stood in Verity’s room, had been a mixture of disappointment, pain and anger. Verity had upped the stakes and even though she wasn’t alive, Tim had felt she very much was. Competing against a dead baby had been hard enough but a murdered, pretty, clever little girl had seemed almost impossible.

  He and his mother had stood in Verity’s bedroom for what seemed like hours. He had mainly watched his mother’s reaction, studied her heartbroken face. Devastated and contorted at the loss of her first born, still in that era, locked in a time when Verity was still alive. He’d stretched out his hand, hoping beyond hope she’d clasp it with her own. Instead, she did something that caused a crack to run through the centre of his tiny heart; she flinched. Then she busied her hand with finding a tissue in her sleeve so that she could wipe the tears from her face.

  Tim pushed himself off the swing, his salt and pepper hair plastered to his head by the rain water. He took a deep breath and began walking down the garden to the old brick shed. His special shed.

  A car pulling into the driveway jerked him into the present day, causing him to stop in his tracks.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Grace had arrived back at Eve’s with a much shaken Chrissie. There was still no sign of her sister, although she had been back at some point because Grace noticed her bags in the hallway. She checked round the house but she was nowhere to be seen. This had eased her concern; her hospital luggage showed there was some sign of life, but Grace was still worried. She called the police telling them that Tim was very much alive and had paid her friend a visit, giving her quite a fright. They told her to stay exactly where she was while they looked for him, and a police officer would be over to them soon. They also promised to send some police officers out to look for her sister. Grace played ignorant to the fact she knew anything about Tim, but the officer on the other end of the phone sounded far too serious for it to be purely to do with Tim’s disappearance. She knew the news was all over the police station and they’d be pleased if they did find him alive. A case could be put together and some sort of justice would be done. It made Grace realise that Dennis had been right; death was far too easy an option for Tim. She just hoped they had enough evidence to convict him for the rest of his life.

  Grace put the phone down on the kitchen table, mentally deciding she would tell the police that her mother-in-law had told her everything that day. It was something Daphne had agreed with her. They’d shared their secrets that afternoon and bonded in the process. Grace hadn’t been sure about using her as a scapegoat, even though Daphne had insisted, but now, as she clicked the red button on the phone, she surrendered to the offer. For the first time in many years, she felt safe and protected, pleased that someone else was shouldering some of the responsibility.

  She got Chrissie a warm sweater and blanket out of Eve’s airing cupboard and, after settling her with a hot drink, brought her up to speed with everything that had happened.

  “It just gets worse, Grace. I couldn’t make it up to write about.” Chrissie sipped her hot sweet tea, still shaken from her encounter with Tim. Being in such close proximity to him had brought back a barrage of feelings and fears from the past.

  “I know. It’s a lot to take in. I still can’t quite believe it myself.”

  “Oh my god!” Chrissie jumped up, throwing the blanket off her shoulders. “Sarah is coming over tonight; she’s probably at mine already!”

  “Oh shit! Quick, ring her!” Grace thrust the phone into Chrissie’s hand.

  After several attempts and no answer from Sarah’s phone, the two women decided to jump in the car and go straight to Chrissie’s house and wait for her. They didn’t want to think about the various scenarios that could face them all, and they weren’t prepared for the one they hadn’t even thought of yet.

  It was a strange sight as they pulled down the track towards Chrissie’s house. There was no way they were going to be able to park in her driveway. There were police cars everywhere; some of them still had their lights flashing. Chrissie sat bolt upright in the car and strained her neck to see what was going on. The sight of Sarah’s car caused a jolt of shock to pass through her. She jumped out of the car before Grace had stopped moving, and ran up the driveway. She was stopped by a police officer before she’d even got halfway to the house.

  “What’s happening?” Chrissie desperately tried to see passed the young police officer.

  “I’m afraid you can’t go in there.”

  “It’s my house! Is Sarah in there?”

  The police officer was slightly taken aback and he wasn’t quite sure what to do or say next. He was new to the job and his lack of experience and confidence showed in his worried face.

  “Wait there, I’ll just go and get someone.”

  Grace had joined her and they were waiting patiently in silence, both straining on tip toe to see what was going on.

  After what seemed like half an hour but actually only a few minutes, a plain clothed officer came out of Chrissie’s house.

  “Hello. I’m Detective Sergeant Jane Spencer.” She flashed some identification in front of their startled faces.

  “Are you Christine Newman?”

  “Yes.” Chrissie’s voice sounded small and quiet. So she tried again after clearing her throat. The Detective Sergeant stared at her like a strict school teacher chastising a child; her serious blue eyes boring into Chrissie, letting her know that time was of the essence.

  “Yes, I’m Chrissie.”

  Chrissie pulled her shoulders back and stood tall, preparing herself for the shocking news she was anticipating; like a sea wall waiting for a strong tidal wave.

  “Can you come into the house please; we need to ask you some questions.”

  A prickling sensation was beginning to spread across her neck, threatening to burst into a rash; nausea was rising in her stomach.

  “Where’s Tim?” Grace said. Seeing Chrissie’s distress, she squeezed her arm.

  “And you
are?” Detective Sergeant Jane Spencer peered at Grace as if she’d only just realised she was standing there.

  She wasn’t at all friendly and Grace could completely understand how she’d got to the position she was in. Everything about her was cold; from her short blonde hair right down to her pale grey trouser suit.

  “I’m his wife, Grace Charlesworth.”

  The Detective leant back slightly, unable to hide her surprise.

  “You need to come in as well, there’s been an incident concerning your husband.”

  At this last comment, Chrissie and Grace stared at each other, both with the same panic stricken faces. They followed the Detective Sergeant Jane Spencer into the house.

  *

  The rain had finally stopped and the sun was bursting through the early evening clouds, touching everything in its sight with an orange glow. The wind blowing off the sea was making it hard for Sarah to hear what Tim was saying. It was vital she heard every word and responded to him in the right way.

  Tim was stood on a grassy verge on top of a cliff, not far away from the edge. He was talking to Sarah, who was a few feet away from him, oblivious to the fact he was surrounded by police, albeit quite a distance from him.

  He was in another world again, a different era, another time and place. All he could see was Sarah, only to him she wasn’t Sarah, she was his mother. Daphne was dressed in a pretty, floral 1950’s dress, which was white and splashed with vibrant cerise pink roses. A navy clutch bag was clasped in her gloved hands, which were crossed and tucked, as always, under her breast. A navy shrug matched her navy shoes and her shiny bleached blonde hair was perfectly pinned on top of her head. She looked exactly as she always did, with her immaculate makeup, like she’d just stepped off a film set.