Unspeakable

by Marturano, Tony

  UNSPEAKABLE

  Some secrets will haunt you.

  TONY

  MARTURANO

  Published in the United Kingdom and the rest of the world by a Different Angle 2015

  Cambridge, UK

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the

  British Library

  ISBN - 978-0-9540137-4-5

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  © Tony Marturano 2015

  The right of Tony Marturano to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

  Any trademarks, trade names, product names cited in this book are the property of their respective owners.

  Fear not the dark, but what it holds

  PROLOGUE

  I blow on my cold fingers, but the mist of my breath does nothing to melt the numbness from them.

  Ben, wrapped in his favourite woollen hat and scarf, seems oblivious to the winter wonderland that surrounds us; it has smothered the forest, painted the house, and frozen the murky green waters of the lake.

  It's our thirteenth birthday. One of the best things about celebrating here, at father’s country home, is the skating. We spend hours, gliding on the ice and watching the trees blur by.

  Ben calls to me from up ahead as he performs yet another pirouette on the ice. I don’t know why he bothers showing off; we both know he gets more practise than me.

  “Come on!” He shouts, waving and grinning me to him with a red-gloved hand.

  I sigh and launch myself in his direction, squinting into the glare of the early morning sun and trying my best not to wobble as I glide up alongside him.

  He clutches on to my arm to steady me, and then asks with a grin, “What kept you so long?”

  I just sniff and smile, petulantly.

  “You okay?” He asks.

  “I'm all right. I just can’t feel my nose, that’s all.”

  “Come on, let’s go for a spin,” he says, excitedly, as he offers me his hand.

  I hesitate, knowing that if I accept his help I’ll be condemning myself to endless mocking for the rest of the day.

  “Come on!” He prompts.

  I reluctantly accept the offer and extend my right hand to him, secretly enjoying the feel of his warm glove around my frozen fingers.

  “Hold on,” he warns.

  Then, we’re picking up speed, gliding across the ice to the far side of the lake.

  The wind chill nips at my nose and stings my eyes as I allow myself to be transported by his momentum, but I find it increasingly difficult to keep up.

  I start to wobble as the strain on my arm intensifies.

  “Ben…”

  …I try to hold on…

  “Ben!”

  I stumble…

  “BEN!”

  Then, I’m falling. My arms flail, clumsily, as I try to steady myself, but I can’t, gravity is heavy on my body and it eventually brings me down onto my backside with a loud thump.

  The shock of the impact drills through me like a jackhammer and I’m momentarily paralysed by it. My rear hurts although it’s partially numbed by the freezing wet patch that is seeping through the denim of my jeans.

  Up ahead, Ben skids gracefully to a halt.

  He is laughing!

  I want to swear at him. But, the more I see how stupid I must look, sat here on the ice, the more I manage to share his amusement. Before long, I’m laughing with him.

  Our laughter echoes around the lake, bouncing off the surrounding forest, the house, and I wonder if our parents are awake yet.

  Then, I hear it.

  No, I don’t hear it but I sense it, travelling through the ice and my body like an electrical current. I look down and around me but see nothing, I can only feel it; sharp sonar tugs pull at my being.

  Something is wrong.

  I hear a loud splitting sound.

  The ice is cracking!

  My twin brother is doubled over in fits of laughter.

  I yell at him, “Ben!”

  He looks up, but it's too late; I watch as his expression changes from amused laughter to incredulous horror as the ice protests and crackles before suddenly giving way beneath his feet.

  He disappears right in front of me.

  “NO!” I shout, instinctively.

  I’m paralysed. My limbs are frozen but not from the cold, from the terror of what I just witnessed.

  Did that just happen? Did my twin brother just fall through the ice?

  Yes! Get over there! GO! NOW!

  I scramble to my feet but slip.

  I try again.

  “Ben!”

  I can hear his icy gargled screams, but I can’t see his face, just red-gloved hands waving at me from the hole in the ice.

  “I’m coming, Ben! I’m coming!” I scream through gritted teeth as the cold air bites into my vocal cords.

  I move into a kneeling position and then, carefully and as quickly as I can, I scramble to my feet.

  My heart pounds, the adrenaline pumps, and a cold sweat breaks out on my forehead.

  Please God, please let him be okay until I get there, please.

  I lunge forward, but the movement is too sudden and I find myself swaying back and forth, side to side, waving my hands to steady myself, but I can’t!

  “NO!” I cry as I topple forward and the ice reaches up to smash me in the chin.

  The pain shoots through me like a bullet, my vision blurs and I can taste blood. I don’t know where it's coming from and I don’t care.

  “BEN!” I gargle through the coppery taste as the icicles of tears leak from my eyes. “BEN!”

  I’m fewer than five feet away and determined to get to him, but my feet keep slipping and sliding on the glassy surface.

  I’m crying, trembling with angry exasperation as I drag myself across the ice. I dig with and snap fingernails as I inch my way painfully forward, smearing a trail of blood behind me.

  Seconds seem like hours, but I eventually reach the well to see Ben’s pallid face; it's a blurry mask of horror beneath the surface.

  I plunge both hands into the freeze.

  “GRAB MY HANDS!” I scream in a hoarse voice, “GRAB THEM!”

  I yearn to feel my fingers connect with any part of my brother’s body, but the inches between us are growing. Ben’s outstretched hands sink deeper and deeper as his facial expression changes from horror to bewilderment.

  “NO! BEN NO! GRAB MY HANDS! GRAB THEM!”

  But it's too late.

  His boyish face slowly dissolves into a white blur until all that remains are his eyes, his beautiful blue eyes that are now lifelessly watching me from the watery gloom.

  “NOOOOOOO!”

  1 THE AWAKENING

  Rupert Harrison awoke from his nightmare with a start, and was instantly comforted by the warm rays of the early morning sun. It streamed into the lavishly furnished bedroom, through large picture windows, and bathed everything in a soothing amber glow.

  “Oh God,” he whispered through shallow breaths, “Oh God.”

  “Are you okay?”

  He looked up to see Ashley standing in the bathroom doorway. Her red hair, still shower wet, cascaded over her mil
ky white shoulders.

  Dressed in her underwear, she was looking down at him with a frown of concern.

  Rupert scanned her slender figure. It was as if he were seeing it for the first time; her painted toenails, her long, athletic legs, her flat stomach and, most deliciously, the way she filled her bra. He found comfort in her vision, and sighed deeply, running his hand through his hair, as if the act would shrug off the dregs of his nightmare.

  ‘I think so,” he croaked, with a dry throat.

  ‘You were dreaming again,” Ashley said, handing him a bottle of water as she sat on the bed, beside him.

  Rupert gratefully accepted the drink, broke the seal, and drank with great thirst.

  “Same dream?” She asked, touching his face, like a worried mother would her fevered child.

  ‘Yes,’ he answered, enjoying her touch and breathing in her perfume. She smelt good and, despite his recent ordeal, he found himself instantly aroused.

  He pulled her close.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “Oh absolutely,” he responded, breathing deeply, enjoying the intoxicating scent of her shampoo.

  “I mean go back to Kenning Hall,” she said, making a space between them. “You’ve started having these nightmares ever since you decided to go back there to celebrate your birthday.”

  “Well, I guess it's to be expected, don’t you?”

  “Of course, but the fact that it’s having this effect on you means that what happened there is still on your mind.”

  “It was my home, Ashley. It’s bound to be on my mind. It’s been almost two decades. It’s time to go back.”

  “I appreciate that. But I think you may find it helpful to talk this through with Peter, first.”

  “No,” he replied, sharply. Then, taking her hand, added, ‘I know what I’d find helpful.” He said, mischievously.

  “Oh no you don’t,” she said, putting both her hands on his chest. “I’ve just showered, and already have my makeup on.”

  “So?” he asked, building a road of kisses up her arm, to her neck.

  She turned her face, and allowed him to kiss it gently. Then whispered, seductively, “Wasn’t last night enough for you, big boy?”

  “You know I can’t get enough of you.”

  He wanted to make love to her. He needed her closeness right now.

  “Give me one good reason why I should.”

  He paused his kissing. Pondered over the question for a few seconds, then said, “Well, I could cite any number of reasons, but the fact that you love me has got to trump them all.”

  “Oh, yes, that is a compelling reason,” she said with a wry smile, sliding her hand down his chest, under the sheet and between his legs. She smiled satisfactorily, when she found he was indeed ready for her.

  He moaned with pleasure, as he felt her hand around him, and focused his kissing attentions on her cleavage.

  “You like that?” She whispered, seductively.

  “Yes,” he breathed.

  “Good. Because you won’t be getting much of it while we’re away,” she said, pulling her hand out from under the sheets, and standing up.

  “What?” He wailed in bewilderment, as he watched her gorgeous legs disappear inside a pair of jeans. “What did I do?”

  “You know what you did,” she said, in mock discontent.

  He sat up. “Um, no, I can’t say I do.”

  Ashley admired his lean, hair-speckled torso.

  At the age of thirty-two, Rupert maintained the body of a twenty-year-old and, despite his strong stubble clad jaw, his wavy blonde hair gave him irresistible boyish looks.

  Nevertheless, she resisted the urge to jump into bed with him, and pulled on a white T-shirt, smothering her breasts, much to his disappointment.

  “You just had to invite her, didn’t you?”

  “Oh, not that again,” he groaned. “Ash, Elisabeth is my cousin. We’ve been close since we were kids. What was I supposed to do?”

  “Oh I don’t know,” she replied flippantly, as she buttoned up a denim shirt. “Maybe show a bit of loyalty.”

  “Come off it, Ash. You know I’m loyal.”

  “Not when it comes to her, you’re not.”

  “Stop being silly. You know I love you. But I love her too. She’s all that is left of my close family. She’s practically my sister.”

  Ashley said nothing, and he found it difficult to establish whether she was genuinely upset or just trying to make a point.

  In one move, he threw back the covers, and walked over to her. “I’m sorry,” he said, slipping his arms around her waist. “You know the last thing I want to do is upset you, but you know how close we are. I can’t help it if you two don’t get along. You know there’s nothing in the world that would please me more.”

  His ever-effective reasoning tone worked its magic; she disarmed.

  Ashley shook her head. “No, I’m the one who should apologise. It’s your birthday. Of course, your cousin should be there. I’m sorry. I’m just being selfish. It’s just, you know how she disapproves of me, of us! She always has a way of making me feel like some wretched character out of a Jane Austen novel, like I don’t belong. I just have no idea how the hell I’m going to get through a whole weekend with her.”

  “With a lot of saintly patience and murderous restraint,” he offered, with an encouraging smile. Then, pulling a puppy face, he looked into her deep blue eyes. “Come on, baby. After all, it is my birthday.”

  “Not yet it isn’t,” she said, petulantly, with a faint smile.

  “No, but it will be soon,” he grinned.

  Sulkily, she said, “Sometimes, I wish I never applied for that job.”

  “No, you don’t. Because then you would never have met me.”

  “Exactly.”

  “And you would have never experienced good sex,” he winked.

  She laughed, “That’s modest.”

  “Yet true.”

  “But subjective.”

  They smiled, as they held each other.

  “Come on, Ash. It will be okay, I promise,” he said with a beaming smile and a jerk of the head, as if to say, come with me, all will be well.

  She looked into his dark brown eyes. She loved this man very much. The problem was, he also happened to be her boss.

  And it was this particular detail that his cousin, Elisabeth, found most unpalatable. In her mind, it was beneath Rupert to be seen fraternising with the staff.

  No matter how hard she had worked to earn the position of Senior Fiction Editor at his publishing house, people would always think she had screwed her way to the top, but that simply wasn’t true. But who would believe that? Certainly not his precious cousin.

  “Hello? Where have you disappeared to?” he asked.

  She looked down between his legs, shrugged and smiled, “Nowhere. Just didn’t realise how cold it was in here.”

  With that, she walked off into the bathroom, to finish getting ready, leaving her handsome boyfriend standing there, naked.

  “Yeah, funny. Very funny,” he said.

  2 THE ARRIVAL

  It was a spectacularly sunny October day. The air was autumn fresh and the countryside a vibrant canvas of greens, auburn and reds.

  They had spent most of the two-hour journey, southwest from the city, competing in car-karaoke; who could hold the best notes, and make the best impersonation of well-known artists and their songs. Ashley definitely had the edge although Rupert refused to concede.

  It was 2:01 pm when the Lexus reached the heart of the New Forest.

  Much to Ashley’s delight, they had passed a whole Noah’s Arc of living creatures; horses, deer, foxes and even an owl.

  Also of interest was the smattering of gated driveways, discreetly set back from the road. They led through trees to some of the most impressive mansions Ashley had ever seen.

  It wasn’t lost on her that owning a home here was a privilege exclusive to the seriously rich and wealthy.<
br />
  Rupert steered the Lexus off the main road and onto the gravel track, where they passed a sign that read, ‘Kenning Hall - Private Property’.

  Kenning Hall was bought in the ‘30s by Henry Harrison, Rupert’s grandfather. It was one of his early acquisitions after founding the Harrison Printing Company that spawned the Harrison Publishing empire; a multimillion pound publishing house that Rupert inherited, along with the rest of his father’s estate.

  The ten bedroom mansion, a country home to the Harrisons for many years, was set a mile back from the main road, amidst trees. The only access was via the gravel drive they were travelling on, which was guarded by imposing oak trees.

  Neither Rupert nor any other member of his family had returned to Kenning Hall since the tragic event of his thirteenth birthday, yet nor could they bring themselves to sell the place. Instead, Rupert appointed an administrator to care for and maintain the property, until he was ready to go back.

  That day had come.

  Ashley gasped with all the magical wonder of a child as they rocked down the road, through pools of filtered sunlight.

  Rupert looked across, and smiled.

  He loved this about her. She appreciated the simpler things in life and, therefore, was often happy. Unlike his ex-wife, who not only possessed a voracious appetite for the expensive, but appeared, nonetheless, to be in a perpetual state of discontent.

  “How long now, Rupert?” Ashley asked, excitedly.

  “Well,” he said, peering through the windscreen, “you should be able to see it any time….”

  “…there it is!” she squealed, pointing at a blur of white through the foliage of the trees, and promptly buzzed down her window, flooding the car with the fresh scent of the forest.

  “Yes, that looks like it,” he agreed, trying hard to adopt Ashley’s excitement, but finding it extremely difficult.

  It felt as if a cement ball had suddenly settled in the pit of his stomach.