Mrs Caliban and other stories

by Rachel Ingalls

  Lisa sat next to Jim. She said, ‘Just for dinner, I thought?’ She took him by the arm and dug her fingers in.

  ‘It’s very nice of you,’ he said, ‘but we must have gotten the signals wrong. We don’t even have a toothbrush between us.’

  ‘Oh, we can lend you everything.’

  ‘And Aunt Alice tomorrow,’ Lisa said, ‘and Mrs Havelock at church on Sunday.’ She’d used the same made-up names for the past year: ever since the evening when she’d flung a string of them at Jim and he’d repeated them, getting every one wrong. Now they had a private pantheon: Aunt Alice, Mrs Havelock, Cousin George, the builders, the plumber, the twins, Grandmother and Uncle Bob, Norma and Freddie, and the Atkinsons.

  ‘I’m afraid it’s too late in any case,’ Isabelle said. ‘The fog here gets very bad at night around this time of the year. I don’t think you’d be able to see your hand in front of your face.’

  It’s true,’ Jeanette said. ‘I took a look before we sat down. It’s really socked in out there.’

  ‘If it’s anything urgent,’ Isabelle suggested, ‘why don’t you phone, and stay over, and then you can leave in the morning. All right? We’d rather have you stay on, though. And we were counting on the numbers for tomorrow night.’

  Jim turned to look at Lisa. If the fog was worse than when they’d arrived, there was probably nothing they could do. He said, ‘I guess –’

  ‘If we start off early in the morning,’ Lisa said. ‘It’s nice of you to ask us.’

  ‘I’ll show you the way right now,’ Isabelle told them.

  *

  Lisa stared at the huge bed. It was the biggest one she’d ever seen and it was covered in a spread that looked like a tapestry. The room too was large; it seemed about the size of a double basketball court. Everything in it was gloomy. All the colours were dark and muddy. The main lighting came from above: a tiny triple-bulbed lamp pronged into the ceiling above the bed and worked from a switch by the door. There was also a little lamp on a table at the far side of the room.

  ‘This old place,’ Isabelle said. ‘I’m afraid the bathrooms are down the hall. Do bear with us. We try to make up in hospitality. Broderick simply loves it here – his family’s been in the district just forever. But I must say, I can never wait for the holidays. Then we go abroad to Italy. When the children come back from school.’

  ‘How many children do you have?’ Lisa asked.

  ‘Three boys. I don’t know why I keep calling them children. They’re already taller than their father – hulking great brutes.’

  Isabelle led them down the corridor to a bathroom that was nearly as big as the bedroom. There was a giant tub on claw feet, a toilet with a chain, and a shower partly hidden by a stained plastic curtain. The place was tiled halfway up to the high ceiling. In the corner opposite the toilet the tiles were breaking apart or disintegrating as if the cement had begun to crumble away.

  Isabelle said, ‘I’ll just go see about getting you some towels. We’ll meet downstairs. All right?’ She left them standing side by side in front of the bathtub.

  Lisa whispered, ‘Some friends you’ve got.’

  ‘It’s pretty weird.’

  ‘It’s unbelievable. What was that stuff we were eating?’

  ‘Jesus, I don’t know. I kept trying to guess. I got something on my fork I thought was an ear, and then a hard piece that looked like part of a kneecap. It all tasted like … I don’t know what.’

  ‘They’re crazy, aren’t they?’

  ‘I doubt it. Pretentious, maybe. Dora and Steve are the crazy types: dull and normal on the surface, but really looking for leaders to show them their occult destiny.’

  ‘She’s got a thing about soil. God, I wish we didn’t have to stay over.’

  ‘At least it’s warm up here,’ he said. ‘And they’re right – it’s like pea soup outside.’

  ‘First thing in the morning, we leave. Right?’

  ‘Definitely. I get the strangest feeling when I’m talking to Broderick, you know. And Isabelle, too.’

  ‘I know what you mean.’

  ‘I mean really. As if there’s something wrong. As if they’re the wrong people, or there’s been a mistake.’

  ‘I’ve just thought of something. Wouldn’t it be funny if you didn’t know them at all?’

  ‘Well, I don’t. They’re friends of Elaine’s parents. Or of her mother’s cousin. Something like that.’

  ‘I mean, maybe we took the wrong road. Are you sure they’re the right people? That sign we passed: the one that had a name on it – that isn’t their name, is it? Or the name of Elaine’s friends, either.’

  ‘Well … I don’t know what we could do about it now, anyway.’

  ‘It really would be funny, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘And embarrassing. It would be just about the most embarrassing thing I can imagine.’

  ‘Oh, not that bad. Not after that fabulous meal they just gave us. And the coffee; how do you suppose they cooked that up?’

  ‘Maybe they had those two butlers out in the pantry just spitting into a trough for a couple of days.’

  Lisa pulled the shower curtain to one side. ‘Look at this,’ she said, holding it wide to inspect the stains, which were brown and might almost have been taken for bloodstains. ‘The whole house.’ She pulled it farther. As she drew it away, she could see the corner of the shower. A mass of dead brown leaves lay heaped on the tiles. ‘See that?’ she asked.

  ‘Smells bad, too,’ Jim said.

  They both stared down. Lisa leaned forward. Suddenly the leaves began to move, the clump started to split into segments.

  Her voice was driven, growling, deep into her throat. She clapped her hands to her head and danced backward over the floor, hitting the opposite wall. Then she was out of the door and down the hallway. Jim dashed after her. He’d just caught up with her when they bumped into Isabelle.

  Isabelle said, ‘Good heavens. What’s happened?’

  ‘Toads,’ Lisa groaned. ‘A whole gang of them. Hundreds.’

  ‘Oh dear, not again.’

  ‘Again?’

  ‘At this time of year. But there’s nothing to worry about. They’re harmless.’

  ‘They carry viruses,’ Lisa babbled. ‘Subcutaneous viruses that cause warts and cancers.’

  ‘Old wives’ tales,’ Isabelle laughed. ‘You just sit down and relax, and I’ll deal with it.’ She continued along the corridor and down the stairs.

  Jim put his arm around Lisa. She was shivering. She said, ‘I can’t stay here. Jesus. Right in the house. Thousands of them. Please, Jim, let’s just get into the car and go. If we’re fogged in, we can stop and go to sleep in the back seat.’

  ‘We can’t now,’ he said.

  ‘Please. I’m grossing out.’

  ‘Just one night,’ he told her. ‘I’ll be with you. It isn’t as if they’re in the bed.’

  ‘Oh, God. Don’t.’ She started to cry. He hugged and kissed her. He felt badly for not having been able to resist the temptation to frighten her. It was so much fun to get the reaction.

  ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘I’ll try to find you a drink.’

  ‘Oh boy,’ she sniffed. ‘Some more of that wonderful coffee.’

  ‘They’ve got to have a real bottle of something, somewhere. If everything else fails, I’ll ask for the one we brought with us.’

  He led her back to the brightly lit living room. Broderick stepped forward with a glass in his hand. ‘Say you forgive us, please,’ he begged. ‘And take just one sip of this.’

  Lisa accepted the glass. She raised it to her lips. She wanted to get out of the house and go home, and never remember the place again. She let a very small amount of the liquid slide into her mouth. It was delicious. She took a big gulp.

  ‘Nice?’ Broderick said.

  ‘Terrific’

  ‘Great. We’ll get you another.’ He pulled her over to the couch where Neill was sitting. Neill began to talk about making a TV film in Ita
ly one summer a few years ago: Broderick and Isabelle had been there at the time. And Broderick talked about a statisticians’ conference he’d been attending.

  Everyone began to drink a great deal. Lisa felt wonderful. She heard Jim and Carrol and Jeanette laughing together across the room and saw Dora and Steve sitting on either side of Isabelle, the doctor standing behind them. She had another one of the drinks, which Broderick told her were coffee liqueur plus several other things. She laughed with pleasure as she drank. She wanted to hear more about Italy and the museums and churches she’d only ever seen pictured in books. It would be so nice, she said, to go there and see the real thing in the real country.

  But why didn’t she? Broderick thought she certainly should: go to Italy as soon as possible; come with them that summer and stay at the villa. ‘Oh, wouldn’t that be nice,’ she told him; ‘wouldn’t it be just like a dream? But Jim’s job. And mine, too …’

  There was a break. She came back, as if out of a cloud, to find herself in a different, smaller room, and lying on a couch with Neill. She knew she was pretty drunk and she had no idea if they’d made love or not. She didn’t think so. They both still had all their clothes on. Her head was heavy and hurting.

  As she moved, he kissed her. She sat up. He reached towards her. She could see under his shirt a red patch composed of flaking sores. It looked as though the skin had been eaten away. ‘What’s wrong with your chest?’ she said.

  ‘Make-up allergy. Badge of the trade. Come on back.’

  ‘I think I’d better be going. I’m pretty plastered.’

  ‘So’s everybody.’

  ‘But I’d better go.’ She got up. He let her find her way out alone. She stumbled through hallways in near darkness, thinking that any minute she’d fall over or be sick. She came to the staircase and pulled herself up, leaning on the rail.

  The bedroom was empty and autumnally moist. There was a smell, all around, of rotting leaves. A pair of pyjamas and a nightgown had been draped over the foot of the bed. The sheet was turned down. She got undressed and climbed in.

  The light was still on. She was thinking about having to get up again to turn it out, when Jim lumbered in. He threw himself on top of the bed, saying, ‘Christ, what a night. Where did you get to? I looked everywhere.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I feel terrible.’ She closed her eyes. When she opened them again, he was already sleeping. The light was still on. She turned her head and fell asleep herself.

  When she woke again, the room was in darkness and stiflingly hot. The odour in the air had changed to one of burning. ‘Jim?’ she said. She started to throw the covers back. He wasn’t anywhere near. She felt around in the dark. It was so pitch-black that it was like being trapped in a hole under the ground. What she needed was a flashlight; they’d brought one with them – the black one – but it was still in the car. ‘Jim?’ she said again. She sat up and clasped her knees. She was about to peel off the borrowed nightgown she was wearing, when he touched her hands.

  ‘I can’t sleep,’ she said. ‘It’s so hot.’

  His hands moved from her fingers down to her shins, to the hem of the nightdress and underneath it, up the inside of her legs, and rested on her thighs. She held his arms above the elbows. He sighed.

  She said, ‘Let me get out of this thing,’ and was reaching down and back for the nightgown hem when a second pair of hands slid gently up to the nape of her neck, and a third pair came forward and down over her breasts. Close to her right ear a fourth person laughed. She yelped. Her arms jerked up convulsively.

  They were all on top of her at once. She whirled and writhed in the sheets and yelled as hard as she could for Jim, but they had their hands everywhere on her and suddenly she was lifted, thrown down again, and one of them – or maybe more than one – sat on her head. She couldn’t do anything then; the first one had never let go of her legs.

  She couldn’t breathe. Two of them began to laugh again. She heard the nightdress being ripped up, and then, from a distance, the doorknob turning. Shapes bounded away from her across the bed. Light was in her eyes from the hall. And Jim was standing in the doorway. He switched on the ceiling lights.

  She fell out of the bed, on to the rug, where she knelt, shuddering and holding her sides. She whined about the men: how many of them there were and what they’d been trying to do to her. The words weren’t coming out right.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Jim demanded. He put down a glass he’d been carrying.

  ‘Where were you?’ she croaked.

  ‘I went to get some water. What’s wrong?’

  ‘Men in here – four, six maybe, a whole crowd of them.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Just before you came in.’

  ‘They left before that?’

  ‘The light scared them.’

  ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘I guess so,’ she said.

  He made her drink half the glass he’d brought back. ‘Which way did they go?’ he asked.

  ‘They’re still here. Unless they ran past you when you opened the door.’

  ‘No,’ he said. He looked around. ‘There isn’t anyone,’ he told her. ‘Look. Nobody here. Just us.’

  ‘They’re under the bed.’

  ‘Come on.’

  ‘Take a look,’ she ordered. Her teeth started to chatter. She wrapped herself in the torn pieces of the nightgown.

  He got down on his knees and peered sideways under the bed. ‘Nothing,’ he said.

  She joined him and took a long look herself.

  ‘See? Nobody,’ he said. ‘Nothing. Not very clean, but no other people.’

  ‘They were here.’

  ‘Look at your nightgown,’ he told her. ‘How much did you have to drink, anyway?’

  ‘Not enough for all that.’

  ‘We could both use some sleep.’

  ‘I’m not staying in this room unless the light’s on. I mean it. If you want the light out, I’m sleeping in the hall: I’m running out of the house. I won’t stay here.’

  ‘Take it easy. You want the light on, we’ll keep it on.’

  ‘And the door locked.’

  ‘I thought they were still in here.’

  ‘The door,’ she shouted.

  He went to the door, which had a key-hole but no key. He pretended to be twisting something near the right place, and returned to the bed. He got in under the covers and put his arms around her.

  ‘I can’t wait to get home,’ she said. ‘Tomorrow. As early as possible.’

  ‘Um. But we might stay just a little.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Broderick was telling me about this business deal he’s got lined up. It sounds really good. We could travel, everything.’

  ‘Jim, we don’t even know them. And this whole house is completely crazy. And all this occult crap, and – Jesus, nearly getting raped the minute you walk down the hall.’

  ‘I think we all had a lot to drink.’

  ‘Not that much.’

  ‘I didn’t mean you. If there was anybody, maybe they thought this was the wrong room. Maybe it’s part of that occult stuff they were talking about at dinner.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘That would explain it, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘If you call that an explanation.’

  ‘There are even people who spend every weekend that way.’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘They do.’

  ‘Not in this part of the world.’

  *

  Broderick sat at the head of the breakfast table. He’d finished eating, but drank coffee as he read the papers. He was still in his pyjamas and dressing gown. At the other end of the table Isabelle poured tea. She wore a floor-length housecoat that had a stand-up collar. Her hair was pulled high in a coiled knot.

  They were in a different room from the one in which the last night’s dinner had been laid. The windows looked directly on to a garden, although nothing was discernible of it other than the shadow of
a branch next to the panes. Everything else was white with fog.

  ‘Tea or coffee,’ Isabelle said, ‘or anything you like. Just tell Baldwin or Ronald if you don’t see what you want on the sideboard.’

  The other young members of the party weren’t yet down. Dr Benjamin was seated on Isabelle’s left. He dipped pieces of bread into an egg cup. Dora and Steve sat side by side; he was eating off her plate, she was buttering a piece of toast. ‘I just love marmalade,’ she said.

  ‘Is it always like this?’ Lisa asked, looking towards the windows.

  ‘It’s a little worse than usual today,’ Broderick said, “but it should break up by lunchtime. We’ll just have to keep you occupied till then. Do you swim? We’ve got a marvellous swimming pool. Really. Art Nouveau tiles all over. This place used to belong to – who was it? A real dinosaur. But the pool is great. And it’s got three different temperatures.’

  ‘I don’t have a bathing suit,’ Lisa said.

  ‘We’ve got lots of extra suits.’

  Lisa and Jim each ate an enormous breakfast. She looked at him swiftly as they rushed to the sideboard for third helpings. They almost started to laugh. The food was entirely normal, and the coffee too.

  The morning passed pleasantly. Broderick showed them over most of the house. Some of the rooms were light and modern, others old-looking and apparently mouldering. ‘We used to rent parts of it out,’ he told them. ‘For a long time that whole side over there was used as a retreat by a religious organization that Isabelle’s Aunt Theda was involved with. If we sold it, I guess somebody’d turn the place into a school. They all want me to sell. But I couldn’t bear it. My parents bought this house when I was seven. I remember moving in.’

  There was a billiards room, a game room with ping-pong tables in it, a library. The pool was indeed magnificent. Jim and Lisa put on the suits they were offered. Broderick and Jeanette joined them. Neill sat in a canvas chair where it was dry; he said the chlorine made his skin allergy itch. And Carrol, who had sat down next to him, pulled out her knitting and shook her head. She was waiting, she said, for her consultation with Broderick.