by Amy Cross
“What have I told you about knocking?” Michael yells angrily, and Maisie stops in her tracks.
“Sorry,” she says, “but -”
“Get out!” he shouts. “Right now! Get out of here!”
Maisie hesitates before stepping back and pulling the door shut. When I look up at her face, I can see tears quivering in her eyes, and her bottom lip is trembling slightly. She sniffs the tears back, and then she tentatively knocks on the door. I can tell that she's scared.
“Dad?” she calls out. “Can... I was wondering, can I come in now?”
As we wait, I can hear Michael doing something in the study. Then, a moment later, footsteps come to the other side of the door, and finally the door opens to reveal a flustered, slightly red-in-the-face Michael who looks a little guilty.
“What have I told you,” he says firmly, “about knocking before you enter a room? This kind of thing is important, Maisie. I don't just tell you things because I love the sound of my own voice. I expect you to listen!”
“I'm sorry,” Maisie replies, “I just wanted to ask if I can use your computer.” She holds the book up for him to see. “Hugo found this in the garden and Mum said I can use your computer to see what I can find out. There's a name in the book, and I think maybe it's someone who used to live here, and I was thinking that if I can use your computer then maybe I can -”
“Okay, okay,” Michael says, interrupting her, “I get it. You want to go online. Can't you use your mother's computer?”
“She says I can use yours.”
“Oh, she does, does she?”
He hesitates, before sighing as he goes back over to his desk.
“Give me a moment to log out of some things,” he says, leaning down and tapping at the open laptop. “I'm going to open a new browser window for you, Maisie, but you are only allowed to use that window. Do you understand?”
Maisie nods.
“I'll know if you go anywhere else,” he continues, “and I'll also be able to see which websites you visit. So you're only to look up things to do with that stupid book, and only while I take a shower. When I come back down, I need my laptop back. No games, and definitely no buying anything in apps.”
“Okay,” Maisie says.
Michael taps at the computer for a moment longer, before coming back over to the doorway.
“On you go, then,” he sighs. “I'll be about ten minutes, maximum.” He looks down at me. “And Hugo isn't allowed on any of the furniture in the study. I don't want his claws scratching the chairs or the desk.”
“He won't,” Maisie replies, as she walks over toward the desk. “Come on, Hugo. You've got to be good while you're in here.”
They're saying my name a lot, but Michael in particular sounds angry.
I glance up at him, but he's staring at me with a pretty mean look in his eyes, so I simply wag my tail at him briefly before hurrying over to join Maisie. She's already sitting on the chair and tapping at the computer, so I sit next to her and wait. She has the book on the desk, and even from down here I can smell all the different scents that are wafting out from the rotten pages. As Maisie works on the computer, I lick my nose and lean up as far as I can, and I start trying to separate out all the different scents and figure where they all come from.
The book is old, but it still has the scents of human hands. Not just Maisie's hands, either. Old hands from a long, long time ago.
Chapter Twelve
“Don't be disappointed,” Linda says as she sets a plate of food on the table in front of Maisie. “You did your best.”
“But I didn't find anything about Elizabeth Waterfield,” Maisie replies, “or about the house, or about the book. Can't I go on again later and try some more websites?”
“I think you did your best,” Linda continues, “and it's not good to spend too much time on the computer.”
“But -”
“If you like, I'll take a look,” Linda adds. “After you go to bed, I'll look some things up. I can't promise to find anything, but you never know. There are some ways to search that maybe you don't know about.” She glances over at Michael. “Isn't that right?”
She waits, but Michael is busy tapping at his phone.
“Something important?” Linda asks.
“Hmm?” He glances at her, as if he only just heard her voice.
“Work?” she continues. “You seem very busy with your phone.”
“Oh, it's nothing,” he replies, putting the phone in his pocket as Linda sets two more plates down. “Dinner smells amazing. You really seem to be getting the hang of this new kitchen.”
“Can Hugo have a meatball?” Maisie asks.
I look up at her. The smells from the table are really strong, and I can tell they're having some kind of meat. I wag my tail at Maisie as Linda comes and takes a seat next to me.
I heard my name!
That might mean I'm going to get something!
“Hugo's on a diet,” Linda explains, “so no, he can't have one.”
Again!
This is a good sign!
I wag my tail, to give them a little extra encouragement.
“But Mum -”
“That's an end to it, Maisie,” Linda continues. “The dog is not -”
Before she can finish, the lights go off, plunging the kitchen – and the whole house – into darkness.
“What now?” Linda says with a sigh.
“Just wait a moment,” Michael replies, “they'll come on again. They went off for a few seconds earlier, while you were in town. They came right back on again after.”
They all sit in silence for a moment, in complete darkness. The only light comes from the window, where I can just about make out the silhouette of trees against the starry sky.
“Well,” Linda says finally, “that was more than a moment and they're still not on. Can you go and check the fuses?”
“Just wait another thirty seconds and the lights'll come back on by themselves.”
“Really?” Linda asks with a loud, heavy sigh.
“I don't like it in the dark,” Maisie says quietly.
“Your father thinks the lights are going to magically come back on,” Linda replies. “Apparently that's how we solves things these days. We just wait for them to fix themselves.”
“What's that supposed to mean?” Michael asks.
“It means we seem to be relying more and more on miracles.”
“Fine!” Michael gets to his feet, scraping the chair legs against the floorboards in the process. “I'll go down into that dark basement with only my phone to guide me. If I'm not back in ten minutes, just assume I fell and broke my neck, okay?”
With that, he makes his way out of the kitchen, and a moment later he switches his phone on and uses the screen to guide his way across the hall.
Linda mutters something under her breath.
“How much longer will it be dark?” Maisie asks, as Michael opens the door next to the stairs and starts going down into the basement.
“Well, your father's on the case,” Linda replies, “so... Probably never.”
“Never?”
“I'm kidding. Any second now.”
“The basement's horrible,” Maisie continues. “It stinks and it's muddy.”
“Muddy?”
“Haven't you been down there?”
“I haven't had time,” Linda replies, sounding a little annoyed. “I'm sure your father already has a plan in place to get it all fixed up.”
We all sit together in silence. I'm not entirely sure why the house has gone dark, but Linda doesn't seem too worried. Maisie, on the other hand, has a slightly raised heart-rate and she's giving off other subtle indications to suggest that she's concerned. After a moment, I shift position and edge closer to her, and then I gently rest the side of my face against her leg so that she'll remember I'm here. So long as I'm here, she'll be safe.
“Any second,” Linda says finally. “After all, your father's just so good at household
tasks.”
As she speaks, I realize I can hear footsteps above us. I look up at the dark ceiling and listen as the footsteps continue. They're faint and steady, but they're definitely real and after a moment I tilt my head and cock my ear in an attempt to get a better feel for where, exactly, they're coming from. I can hear Michael down in the basement, and I'm certain that nobody else is supposed to be in the house, but I'll get into trouble if I bark.
“Maybe I should go down and do it,” Linda says with a sigh. “It's not that hard to find the -”
“Mummy, who's upstairs?” Maisie asks suddenly, her voice filled with fear as she grips the sides of her chair and looks up at the ceiling.
“No-one's upstairs,” Linda replies. “What are you -”
She stops suddenly, and as we sit in silence I hear a couple of more steps making their way across the floor of the room that's directly above us. I watch the ceiling for a moment, before turning to look up first at Maisie and then at Linda. When they both remain quiet, I let out a faint, rumbling whimper.
“Who's upstairs?” Maisie asks again. “Mummy -”
“Quiet!” Linda hisses.
Another footstep, then another.
Whoever's in the room above us, they're walking slowly toward the door that leads out onto the landing.
“Mummy, who is it?” Maisie whimpers, with sobs in her voice. “Mummy, who else is in our house?”
“No-one,” Linda replies, getting to her feet and walking over to the doorway, where she stops and looks up at the ceiling just as another footstep bumps gently above her.
“Daddy's in the basement,” Maisie continues, “who who's in your bedroom?”
Linda hesitates, and a moment later there's another bump, this time coming from the upstairs landing. Still watching the ceiling, Linda seems frozen as she waits for the sound to return. I want her to tell us that everything's alright, but I can tell now that her heart is also pounding, and she's acting as if she's scared. I let out another low whimper as I press myself a little harder against Maisie's leg, determined to remind her that she's safe.
“It's okay, Hugo,” she whispers, reaching down and stroking the back of my neck, “Mummy won't let -”
Suddenly she gasps as there's another, louder bang, although I quickly realize that this noise has come from below us in the basement.
“Mummy, what was that?” Maisie stammers.
“I think it was your father,” Linda replies, sounding terrified.
“But what -”
Before Maisie can finish, the lights flicker back on.
“Damn it!” Michael yells, and I hear him stomping back up from the basement. A moment later he appears in the doorway next to the stairs, and he's rubbing one side of his head. “That bloody fuse-box is in the most awkward place possible! I almost brained myself trying to get to it!” He rubs his head some more as he slams the door shut. “I think I'm going to end up with a lump!”
“Did you hear anything upstairs?” Linda asks, stepping out into the hallway and looking up toward the top of the staircase.
“Did you hear me almost smash my head open?”
“I'm serious! Listen!”
“To what?”
“Just listen!”
They stand in silence for a moment, but now the footsteps on the floor above seem to have stopped. Maisie's still stroking the back of my head, and I can tell she's still worried, but then Michael comes through to the kitchen and I realize that he doesn't seem worried. I might not like Michael much, but he is the leader of the pack and generally he seems to know what's going on. If he's not concerned about the footsteps we heard, then I suppose I shouldn't be either. Still, Linda hasn't come through and she seems worried.
“We heard footsteps!” she calls through to Michael. “It was like someone was upstairs!”
“Hugo heard them too,” Maisie says. “Didn't you, Hugo?”
“I swear, we heard footsteps,” Linda continues, coming over to the doorway. “Michael, I'm serious. Maisie and I both heard them, it was like someone was in our bedroom.”
“No-one was in our bedroom,” Michael mutters as he sits back at the table. “Can we please eat now?”
“I'm going to take a look,” Linda says.
“Have fun.”
She hesitates, before turning and heading to the stairs. As she makes her way up toward the landing, Maisie continues to stroke me, while looking over at her father.
“Aren't you going to go with her?” she asks.
“On a wild goose chase?” He smiles. “No, Maisie, I'm not. I've waited long enough for dinner and I think I've done my bit for tonight.”
“But Mummy -”
“Your mother's a grown-up,” he says, as Linda's footsteps move into the room above us. “If she screams, I might go and check on her. Otherwise, she's on her own.”
“But what if -”
“You can go and help her if you like,” he adds.
Maisie looks over at the doorway, and I can tell she's worried. She still has a hand resting on my shoulders, but she's no longer stroking me and I can tell that she doesn't like Linda being away from us. A moment later, however, footsteps start coming down the stairs and I see Linda reaching the hallway, and Maisie starts stroking me again.
“Find any big bad monsters?” Michael asks.
“There was nothing,” Linda says as she reaches the table.
“Told you.”
“But we heard something, didn't we?” she asks, turning to Maisie. “It was like...”
Her voice trails off for a moment.
“It was nothing,” she adds, forcing a smile as she sits back down.
“But Mummy,” Maisie says, “we -”
“It was nothing!” Linda says again. “We just got spooked by the lack of light, that's all. Let's not start down that road, Maisie, okay?
Linda still seems worried, but at least she's already eating again. Maisie, meanwhile, hasn't touched her food and is looking back up at the ceiling. Her hand is resting on my shoulder, but once again she's stopped stroking me. After a few seconds, I start licking her hand. Partly because she's got some meatball juice on her fingers, but mainly because I want her to feel better.
Chapter Thirteen
“I'm not sure I want you to have this in here with you,” Linda says as she glances at the bible on Maisie's bedside table. “It's filthy. You might catch something.”
“I want it!” Maisie replies. “Please!”
Linda finishes tucking her in, before patting me on the back and then stepping back from the bed.
“Don't touch it until morning, okay?” she says with a sigh. “I mean it, Maisie. If you do touch it, you have to wash your hands immediately. Is that clear?”
Maisie nods.
“And you only get one chance at this,” Linda continues, heading to the door. “I don't want you sitting up and reading that thing.”
“I won't.”
“So the light's going off. Understood?”
Maisie nods.
Linda switches the light off, and then she starts swinging the door shut.
“Mummy!” Maisie calls out suddenly. “Did you find anything about Elizabeth Waterfield?”
“Who?” Linda hesitates, silhouetted against the light of the landing, with the door almost shut.
“You said you'd look up Elizabeth Waterfield on the internet,” Maisie continues. “You promised.”
“Right.” Linda sighs. “Listen, honey, I didn't have time, but I'll take a look tonight. And if I find anything, you'll be the first to know.”
“She has to have existed!”
“I'm sure she did,” Linda replies, “but back then, people didn't always leave much trace of themselves. It wasn't like now, with social media. Back in the nineteenth century, people could live their whole lives and then just vanish once they were gone.”
“As if they were never there?” Maisie asks.
“Sort of like that, I suppose. But this is a conversation for an
other time. Goodnight, honey.”
“But Mummy, why -”
“Goodnight!”
Linda bumps the door shut, leaving us in darkness. I can just about make out Maisie sitting up in the bed, staring over toward the door. She doesn't look very tired, and I can hear her heart beating pretty fast. She sits silently as Linda's footsteps fade into the distance, and then slowly she reaches over and switches on her bedside lamp.
“Be really quiet!” she whispers to me, as she takes the tattered bible and sets it on her lap. “You can't make a noise, Hugo. If Mum finds out that I'm awake, I'll be in so much trouble.”
She opens the book carefully, as if she's worried that it might fall apart in her hands. I sniff the air, picking up the same strange scents that I noticed earlier, although now those scents seem a little less vivid. I suppose the book has become less pungent since I dug it up from that hole, although the whole thing still smells pretty rotten. I'm glad that I managed to get it out from the dirt, but I wouldn't mind now if Maisie wanted me to bury it again. Some of the scents are so stale, I don't really like smelling them at all.
“The handwriting's really old-fashioned,” Maisie whispers, running a fingertip against one of the pages. “I wonder why people even wrote like that.”
She turns to another page, and then another.
I let my eyes slip shut.
“There's more!” she gasps.
I open my eyes again.
“I wish she wrote in a way that was easier to read,” she says, squinting as she leans closer to the book. “It's really faint, but she's written things in pencil in the margins.”
She turns the books around to get a better look.
“Thursday,” she says after a moment. “I think that says Thursday, and then...”
I watch Maisie for a moment, before shutting my eyes.
“Today I washed the steps,” she says suddenly, and I open my eyes to see that she seems to be reading out loud from the book. “Mother said it wasn't good enough. I had to do it seven times in total. My hands were bloodied at the end, but Mother told me seven was the number of my sins.”
She turns to me.
“What do you think that means, Hugo?”
I stare at her, and then slowly I start shutting my eyes again.
