Isobel

by Sheila Tibbs

  “Repent your sins and God will show you mercy!” he cried to the woman.

  A laugh, like she had never before heard, rang through the stillness of the night, cutting it like a hot knife through butter. The woman went to speak, Sarah couldn’t hear what she said as she was being transported away, but she saw her face begin to change, to contort like nothing human…

  •

  She was back in her bed with David at her side. She smiled at him as he reached for her. Together they lay, naked, legs entwined, bodies as one. He pulled her on top of him, she could feel his member penetrate deep within her and she moaned. He held tight to her hips, restricting her, and raised himself, pushing deeper and deeper inside. She tried to move with his rhythm but David held her fast. Each thrust seemed to go deeper, each thrust harder than the last, more urgent, more necessary. She could feel the pleasure rise within her, David’s thrusts became faster and she knew that he would soon be expelling his seed deep within her. She leaned forward and kissed him. Her own pleasure was about to explode and she shuddered. But, wait, it was no longer David lying beneath her, it was, it was…

  Sarah woke, sweat dripping from her, and fright eating away at her soul. She looked around the room and saw she was still alone. She pulled her legs up around her and cried.

  •

  David lay in the spare room, thinking of his day. It had gone well, in fact, it had gone from good to better. Now, here he was, in bed waiting. He knew she would come, she always came, and again he would experience pleasures that he had never known before. She had promised him everything. Wealth, power, whatever his heart desired, and she had kept her promise. All that was asked of him was no questions. No who are you? Where do you come from? How did you get in here? Nothing. Just accept her pleasures and the world could be his.

  “Well, little lady, the pleasure is all mine,” he smirked.

  He saw her, from where she came he didn’t know, or care. She was there, by the window, naked. Her nipples erect on her firm breasts, her long black hair shining in the moonlight. Her firm midriff with tight muscles, and her long legs, perfectly shaped. Her skin the softness of silk. She smiled, her blue eyes sparkling.

  “Hello, David,” she purred, “you called to me, I am here, take what you require of me, my love.”

  She passed to the bed in the blink of an eye and was on him, kissing, biting and teasing. How she seemed to know what he wanted he didn’t know, but whatever he thought, happened. It was like she was made for him. Her body fitted his in every possible way, they were like two pieces of the same jigsaw, and he loved it and relished in her expertise. Her hands touched every living cell in his body, sending tingling sensations down his spine, into his groin and his manhood grew to a size he never believed humanly possible. Indeed, the pleasure, it seemed, was all his.

  Sarah could hear his moans coming from the spare room, and she knew they were moans of pleasure, somehow, from somewhere deep inside, she knew David was having the same dream she herself had just had. She knew she should go and wake him, make his dream stop before it turned to the nightmare her own dream had become. But, somehow, she couldn’t move, couldn’t get off the bed. She was forced to stay and listen to his pleasure.

  The tears fell silently. She was trapped, and she didn’t know by what or by whom. Closing her eyes, she asked God for guidance. What was happening to them? She heard no answer to her prayer.

  Isobel sat in her room, her yellow eyes piercing the darkness. She could feel Sarah’s pain, she could feel David’s pleasure, and she laughed out loud. A laughter that seemed to pierced the dimness and stillness of the late hour, a laugh that seemed to come straight from the pits of Hell.

  The sound of her music box floated through the manor.

  Chapter fifteen.

  David left for work early, before Sarah had woken. She was glad she didn’t have to face him. She felt exhausted, her sleep had been fitful and her dream was still vivid in her mind.

  She would speak with Father Mather that afternoon, when she took Isobel for tea after school.

  Isobel came down, still in her nightclothes. Her face was pale and her eyes dull. She complained of a stomach ache and

  Sarah rushed to her. Feeling her forehead with the back of her hand, as her own mother and grandmother had done to her when she was small, she felt Isobel had indeed got a slight temperature.

  “Perhaps you’re coming down with something sweetheart, you do feel hot and you look very pale. I’ll tell you what, why don’t you go back to bed and I’ll be up to see you shortly with some toast, how’s that sound?” She smiled. “I just have to make a quick phone call, then I’m all yours.”

  “Okay, Sarah,” Isobel whimpered, and turned back towards the stairs. As she went she smiled.

  Sarah picked up the receiver and dialled the number.

  Isobel stood at the top of the stairs, listening. The sound of ringing continued to travel the length of flex until it reached Sarah’s ear.

  'No-one home,' she thought, and was just about to replace the receiver, when a voice spoke.

  “Sorry, there is no-one here to take your call but if you would like to leave a message after the tone, I will be happy to get back to you on my return. May God be with you.”

  Sarah smiled to herself at Father Mather's message and, after the beep, she left her own message, informing him of

  Isobel’s illness, and that, hopefully, they could reschedule the offer of afternoon tea to another day.

  Replacing the receiver, she turned and went back into the kitchen.

  Isobel, her face strangely contorted, remaining unnoticed by Sarah, turned to enter her room, silently laughing.

  •

  It was later that day when Father Mather retrieved his messages and wasn’t at all surprised to receive one from Sarah.

  “Just as I had expected,” he mumbled to himself sitting in his comfy chair, he dialled Sarah’s number.

  “Hello, Sarah, it’s Father Mather. Sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner, only I have just got your message. Is young Isobel alright? Nothing to serious I hope?”

  He tried to sound as genuine as he could, but he knew deep down there was nothing wrong with the child at all.

  “No, Father, nothing serious, just a tummy bug I think.

  She’ll be fine in a day or two.”

  “Tell me, Sarah, just out of curiosity, did you tell Isobel of our engagement this afternoon?” he asked.

  “No, I didn’t mention it. You are aware of her refusal to go to church, so I thought it best to say nothing until after school.

  Why do you ask?”

  He chuckled softly, “Oh, no reason, my dear, I just wondered that’s all. Well, we will reschedule when she is better.

  Please wish her well from me. And remember, Sarah, be strong, and I’m here if you should need me, night or day.”

  The line went dead. Sarah stood looking into the receiver, almost expecting to see Father Mather sitting at the other end.

  'What a strange thing to say,' she thought. Shrugging her shoulders, she replaced the receiver on the hook and went back to the kitchen.

  Father Mather sat in his study, staring at the phone on his small desk. The study was a good size. The wall behind him shelved books from the floor to the ceiling; some very old and of all shapes and sizes.

  The opposite wall housed ornate French doors that opened directly onto his small, walled garden. There, he watched the wildlife that seemed to spring from the churchyard. Birds, big and small, hedgehogs, foxes, even the odd rat. How he loved to watch them going about their fight for survival, just as we ourselves do on a daily basis, only their only fight was to eat and live to see another day.

  He sat there for a long time, his mind in turmoil as to what action to take. What if his suspicions proved wrong? What if he were too old to fight the battle he felt he had in front of him?

  What if he couldn’t help? What if I’m wrong? That last question he asked himself over and over again, yet he didn�
��t know the answer.

  Isobel sat at her mirror and she could see Father Mather sitting at his desk, the look of worry, of failure, on his face ... and she laughed.

  “Old man, you are no match for me, you never have been.”

  On the side of the dressing table, her music box played.

  Chapter sixteen.

  By the time David returned from work that evening, Sarah felt like a prisoner in her own home. She couldn’t say why, or that anything had happened to make her feel like she did, just an almost desperate need to get out of the house.

  She needed to feel fresh air on her cheeks, feel the wide-open space that hovered just outside her front door, become part of it, if only for a while.

  So, when David, again, acted like Sarah no longer existed, she made her excuses and left the house.

  Outside, Sarah breathed deeply and then hurried off down the driveway - before David could call her back, or Isobel called after her, wishing to join her. She knew deep down that it would never happen.

  She had felt David relax when she said she was going out for a while, and Isobel was happier sitting with David than with herself.

  Her desperate need to escape made her feel as though they could read her thoughts, and that they would try and alter her plans out of sheer malice.

  At the lane, Sarah felt herself relax slightly.

  “You’re being paranoid and delusional, stop it!” She reprimanded herself out loud.

  The sun was beginning to set and the red sky shone like flames over the village below. Sarah stood and gazed down.

  'What a beautiful sight,' she thought. She walked slower now, round and round the village, stopping to look in shop windows as she went.

  She walked passed the school Isobel attended and passed the bus stop where the twins had died - a time that seemed a million miles away now but was in fact only weeks ago.

  She walked passed the butchers. Mrs. Goodwin had not re-opened the shop since Mr. Goodwin had died ... the windows now boarded up to stop the youths from vandalising them. A small light flickered on in the flat above. Mrs. Goodwin was still there, alone.

  Sarah felt her heart pain for the middle-aged lady. 'To be totally alone must be awful,' she thought, then laughed. Was she not totally alone? Was she not alienated from her supposed family?

  She could imagine how Mrs. Goodwin must feel.

  Sarah found herself walking past the church. When she reached Father Mather's pathway, she stopped. Father Mather was at home.

  The light in his small living room shone brightly, the drapes still open. Father Mather was sitting by the fire that he had just lit, to keep the evening chill out, when he had an overwhelming desire to look out of the window. Sarah could see him standing there, looking out at her. She smiled, weakly, and raised her hand to wave. Father Mather could see Sarah standing there and smiled.

  Beckoning her in, he walked to the front door and opened it just as Sarah reached the step.

  “Good evening, Sarah,” he smiled, “I thought I might see you today.”

  “Good evening, Father. I’m sorry to disturb you, I don’t even know why I’m here.”

  “I think I do. Please come in, the fire is lit in the sitting room. Go in and warm yourself, and I’ll make some tea.”

  Sarah walked into the sitting room. It looked even cosier with the glow of the fire than it had looked the other day. Sarah sat and watched the flames dancing and felt at peace for the first time in what seemed a long time.

  Father Mather walked in carrying two large, steaming mugs of tea and handed one to Sarah, who received it with thanks.

  “So, Sarah, what brings you out on a cold night like tonight?”

  “It’s not that cold, Father, the sky was a beautiful shade of red when I left. It’s going to be nice again tomorrow. And now the sky is so clear you can see the stars,” she chuckled.

  “Exactly. The sky is so clear, there will be a frost tonight, mark my words. Yes, a definite chill in the air. But, with Christmas just a few weeks away, what else can we expect.” He smiled warmly, the firelight dancing in his eyes.

  “You haven’t answered my question. What brings you out and about on a chilly night like tonight?” he asked again.

  Taking a deep breath, Sarah found herself telling him of her dream the night before, of the sounds coming from David’s room, of how she just walked past the spot where the twins died and past the butchers. How she was feeling now, how she had felt last night and her feelings for Mrs. Goodwin.

  Sarah talked non-stop for over an hour. Father Mather sat there listening, drinking in her every word, and only once muttered something, two words, Incubus and Succubus.

  When Sarah had finished, she asked him about what he had said.

  “Nothing, please ignore my mumblings, Sarah. I’m getting old now and we old people do that from time to time.” He averted his eyes. He didn’t like lying to her but, at the moment, if he told her his suspicions, she would laugh at him, no doubt even have him sectioned, thinking he had eventually gone completely stark raving mad.

  “Sarah, can you find out from Social Services anything about Isobel?” he asked, changing the subject as quickly as his mind would allow him.

  “Like what?” Sarah asked.

  “Like where she lived before coming to you, was she with her mother, father, or foster parents? Where her mother is now, or her father for that matter? Has she any living relatives? What school she previously went to? That sort of thing.”

  “Yes, I suppose I can. Will they divulge that sort of information though? Isn’t it confidential?”

  “Yes, possibly, but it won’t hurt in asking, will it?”

  “Why do you want to know, Father? Do you know what’s going on, what’s happening?” she pleaded.

  “Let’s just say I have a few suspicions, and no, before you ask, I’m not prepared to discuss them until I have done my homework so to speak, but please help me where I feel it’s necessary.”

  He held his hand up to stop Sarah as she opened her mouth to speak.

  “Will you do that for me?”

  Sarah nodded. She glanced at the clock over the mantel piece and rose, commenting on the lateness of the hour.

  Pulling her coat round her, she bade goodnight to Father Mather and set off for her walk home. She hadn’t realised sitting there, how late the hour had got and was sure there would be an argument with David on her return.

  •

  Quietly, she opened the front door and walked into the lounge, but it was empty. She turned off the lamp David had left on and closed the door behind her.

  The kitchen was in darkness, indicating David had retired for the night, so, sighing with relief, she climbed the stairs to bed.

  She stopped outside the door of the spare room David had been occupying and listened. Nothing. Frowning, she walked to Isobel’s room and listened at her door. She could just hear the quiet breathing of a child asleep and tip toed on.

  She opened the door to her room and there on the bed was David.

  “Hello, love,” he said. “Did you have a nice evening? You look better for your time alone; your cheeks have a lovely colour.”

  “Yes, thank you,” she said, “David, please don’t misunderstand me, but what are you doing here?”

  Laughing, he tapped the bed. “I’ve missed you, Sarah, I’m sorry I’ve been such an arse-hole lately, will you forgive me?”

  Sarah felt her heart flutter, so, smiling, she went to him.

  His touch was all she had longed for over the past weeks. His lips sort hers and they kissed, softly at first, then more urgently, seeking, tasting and loving.

  They made love. How Sarah had missed him.

  Smiling, she closed her eyes, snuggled up in David’s arms, and together they slept.

  Isobel opened her eyes and smiled. “Sow your seed, David,” she said.

  Her music box played.

  Chapter seventeen.

  Sarah woke early. She looked over at David, still slee
ping beside her, then smiled.

  The winter morning had yet to break and the frost Father Mather had forecast, the previous night, had turned everything that came within its grasp a snowy white.

  Silently, Sarah slipped from beneath the bedclothes and opened the bedroom door, making sure she closed it quietly behind her.

  The chill of the kitchen made Sarah shudder. Turning on the heating, she stood over the lighted rings of the gas cooker, to warm herself, until the heating took hold of the large place. She smiled. She felt happier than she had in a long time. David had told her that he loved her so many times that she lost count. Gone now were the empty feelings of yesterday, in its place was inner warmth ... warmth only brought on by loving, and being loved. And she was.

  Making herself a pot of tea, Sarah sat at the kitchen table.

  The dawn was just beginning to break outside, and light was beginning to cut through the darkness of night. 'A new day breaking,' Sarah thought, 'and a new beginning for us too.'

  Remembering her conversation with Father Mather, Sarah remembered she was to phone Isobel’s social worker that morning. She decided there and then not to mention anything to David, she didn’t want to spoil what she had just regained. Knowing how sensitive David was, or had been where Isobel was concerned, she dare not risk alienating herself again.

  David opened his eyes and reached across to where Sarah had been laying. He smiled. Pulling on his dressing gown, he made his way down to the kitchen. He kissed Sarah softly on her cheek and reached for a clean mug from the cupboard above the draining board.

  Pulling up a chair, he sat down and poured himself a cup of tea from the pot on the table. Neither had spoken a word, neither felt the need to, the silence between them both was comfortable.

  David glanced at the clock on the wall; 5:45.

  With a twinkle in his eye and a teasing smile playing around his lips, he said, “Have we got time for another session, before Isobel wakes for school?”

  Sarah laughed and, standing up, she went to him. They kissed. David dropped her nightdress to the floor expertly and Sarah stood before him naked. Her nipples were erect from both the early morning chill and the excitement of what was to come.