“Where do you live?”
“I’m not sure, here I think.”
“What, in my house?”
“I think so. I enjoy watching you draw and play.”
“Have you been in my kitchen before?”
“Lots of times, but until today you’ve never talked to me?”
“That’s because I’ve never seen you before, silly.”
Rosie smiled. William didn’t, he looked sad.
“Don't you have friends to play with?” asked Rosie.
“No, but I play with my sister, she’s called Louisa.”
“Where is she?”
“She’s shy, she doesn’t like to come out.”
“I’d like to play with her, tell her to come along next time.”
Sophie was in the lounge tidying up and could hear Rosie chatting away in the kitchen. She put down a stack of newspapers to be recycled, popped her head around the kitchen door and saw her daughter playing on her own and talking to herself.
“How old are you?”
“That’s funny, I’m five too. How old is Louisa?”
“She’s the same age as you? You must be twins.”
“Hello Rosie, who are you talking to?” asked Sophie.
“Mummy, meet William, he’s my new friend.”
Sophie smiled.
“That’s nice. What are you doing?”
“I’m drawing and he’s watching.”
“Why doesn’t William draw a picture?”
“Don’t be silly mummy, he can’t pick up a pencil. I have to draw a picture for him.”
Sophie smiled again.
“Okay sweetheart, I’m going back to the lounge to do some tidying. Call me if you need me.”
Sophie sniffed the air. There was a strong odour which reminded her of rain as it hit the ground after a hot spell of weather.
She grinned and returned to her chores. She was happy that Rosie had made up a ‘normal’ imaginary friend and wasn’t talking to the strange man with paper on his face she’d told Finn about.
Sophie’s concerns that they’d been visited by the ghost of Robert Buxton had subsided and looking back to when it had happened in December she realised how stupid she and Finn had been, even though it happened on the anniversary of Buxton’s death. She carried on with what she was doing and let Rosie continue to spend time with her new imaginary friend.
“That was my mummy,” said Rosie.
“You’re lucky to have a mummy.”
“Everyone has a mummy and a daddy, why haven’t you got a mummy?”
“I don’t know. Me and Louisa had a nanny who looked after us. She was nice.”
“What, like a granny?”
“No, she wasn’t as old as that, she was our nanny that my father got to take care of us.”
“Where is your nanny now?”
William shrugged his shoulders.
“Does your daddy look after you on his own?”
William shrugged again.
“Who looks after you, who gives you food and toys?”
“I don’t want to talk anymore, let’s do drawing…….. I’ll tell you what to draw.”
“Okay, that sounds fun, let’s do that.”
Fifteen minutes later Rosie had covered every inch of her sheet of paper with the most detailed drawing imaginable from a five year old. She turned to show it to William, but he wasn’t there.
“William, William where are you?”
She looked under the kitchen table, behind the door and in the tall cupboard where the canned food was kept. He was nowhere. Rosie was sad. She’d liked playing with William.
Sophie walked into the kitchen.
“Are you okay darling?”
“William’s gone away.”
“Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll be back.”
Sophie looked at the picture her daughter had just finished.
“Wow, what a lot of drawings all on one page, that’s brilliant.”
“I did it with William, he told me what to draw.”
Sophie sat next to Rosie and asked her what was going on in the picture.
“The big house at the top is where William and Louisa used to live. It’s a big big house. William said his daddy had lots of money.”
“Who’s Louisa?”
“Oh, she’s William’s sister, she’s five and William’s five too. But Louisa won’t play. William says she’s too shy.”
“That’s a pity. What else is in your drawing?”
“Well, so that’s the big house where William and his sister used to live, and those are the trees his garden.”
“What’s that?” asked Sophie pointing to what looked like a wheel barrow, or a cart with handles.
“That’s William and Louisa being pushed along in a cart thing.”
“Who’s pushing them, is that William’s daddy?”
“No, silly, that’s a lady called Alice, and she was like their mummy, but he called her nanny,”
Sophie became intrigued by what Rosie had created with her imaginary friend.
“And what are those behind the lady pushing the cart, are they farm animals?”
“No, they’re dogs and they’re chasing after Alice.”
“Why are they doing that?”
“I don’t know. William didn’t tell me.”
Sophie squinted her eyes, and she looked at all the other little detailed pictures that Rosie had crammed onto the sheet.
“What’s happening there?” asked Sophie pointing to the top right hand corner.
“I’m not sure. William said it’s a well, like in ding dong bell, pussy’s in the well.”
“Is that the pussy in the well?” asked Sophie, pointing to what she thought was an arm.
“No, it’s William and Louisa. He said Alice put them there.”
Sophie shuddered, she wasn’t sure if she liked the direction the picture was taking.
“What’s that tree by the well?”
“Oh, that’s the one in our garden, you know, the bread and cheese tree in the front. William said it was by the well.”
The picture had been drawn in black pencil, apart from the bottom right where there was a colour section in red, yellow and orange.
“What’s the colourful bit at the bottom, it looks like a bonfire.”
“It's not a bonfire. It’s an old building that got set on fire.”
“What kind of building, a house?”
“I don’t think so, William didn’t say. But that’s where Alice is.”
“You mean Alice is in the building and it’s on fire.”
“Yes, and she dies in the fire.”
Sophie snatched the paper from the table.
“Rosie, that’s horrible, I don’t want you ever to draw anything like this again.”
“But it was William who made me do it.”
“Don’t tell lies, you did this.”
Rosie cried,
“Why don’t you believe me? It’s true.”
“Because William’s made up, he’s in your imagination.”
Rosie slumped in her chair, crossed her arms and looked miserable. She got down, left the kitchen and stomped upstairs to her room.
Sophie let Rosie have a tantrum. She’d talk to her in a few minutes after she’d calmed down.
She looked at the drawing again. There was so much happening. Rosie had drawn nothing like it before. She wasn't happy that her daughter had ideas in her head of people burning in a fire, or being thrown in a well.
The burning building drew her attention, and the way Rosie had mixed her colours to create the flame effect. She had to admit, it was a brilliant piece of work for someone so young.
Above the burning building Sophie noticed a bird soaring just beyond the flames.
Either side of the building were two large round balls of fire drawn in red. She stared at them, they were familiar, but couldn't remember why.
Sophie huffed. Maybe she shouldn’t have shouted at Rosie and been so har
sh on her. She checked on Jack, who was sleeping in his pushchair in the lounge, and then went up to see Rosie. She pushed her door open to find her lying on her bed looking at a comic.
“Are you okay?”
Rosie nodded, but didn’t look up. Sophie sat next to her and ran her fingers through her daughter’s hair.
“I’m sorry I shouted.”
Rosie continued to read her comic and didn’t speak.
“It was just that the drawing you made up was scary, that’s all…… I’m sorry.”
“But I didn’t make it up, it was William’s idea, he told me what to draw.”
“I know, that’s okay. Hopefully next time William will ask you to draw something nice.”
Finn returned home late after a long and drawn out meeting. It was a dark and wet evening in late February. Sophie pulled a dried up meal from the oven which had been keeping warm for two hours.
“I’ll say goodnight to the children before I eat,” said Finn.
“They’re both sleeping, Rosie went to bed early, she was in a mood,” said Sophie as she put the hot plate on the table.
“Sorry, if I’d known you'd be back as late as this, I would have cooked later for you.”
“Don’t worry, this’ll do just fine,” said Finn, as he moved the food around the plate with his fork.
“What’s the matter with Rosie, why’s she in a mood?”
“Oh, nothing, I had a word with her over something she’d drawn, it was my fault, and I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“About what?”
“It was nothing, she drew a picture, and it was, …… well, a little unusual for her, It wasn’t the style of drawing she would usually come up with.”
“Unusual? In what way?”
“It was graphic, a lady burning in a fire and being chased by dogs, children being put in a well……. I don’t know, it was horrible, and I snapped at her.”
Finn pushed back in his chair and listened to Sophie.
“That’s not her normal thing is it? But to be honest, it makes a change from her attempts at fluffy animals and rainbows,” said Finn, with half a smile.
“I'm serious, you should see it, I don’t think you’ll find it so funny.”
Sophie went to the lounge, returned with the drawing and placed it in front of Finn on the kitchen table.
“Whoa! I see what you mean, that's creepy.”
“She’s got a new imaginary friend. She said he told her to draw it.”
Sophie continued to tell Finn what all the different elements of the picture were. He grimaced when she pointed to the children in the well and the burning lady.
“Oh, and that’s supposed to be the hawthorn tree in the front garden,” added Sophie as she gestured to the tree next to the well.
“And she said her imaginary friend told her to draw this?”
“Yes, she said his name’s William.”
Finn looked at the burning building and the two balls of fire. Sophie saw his expression change. He slid the dinner plate across the table, stood up and disappeared to the lounge. Sophie could hear him huffing and puffing as he searched for something.
“What are you looking for?” she called from the kitchen. Finn didn’t answer. He returned a few minutes later with the colouring book Rosie had last used in December, on the evening she’d told Finn about the man with the paper on his face. He stood in the kitchen doorway, thumbed through the book and stopped three quarters of the way through.
He examined the page and frowned.
“What is it?” asked Sophie.
He lay the colouring book on the table, flattened it out with his hand and placed the drawing Rosie had done alongside.
“What do you see?” said Finn.
Sophie shook her head.
“Look at colouring book then look at the burning building.”
She examined the picture in the colouring book. It was a tree in a field with farm animals. She had coloured nothing, but above the tree she’d drawn two circular patterns in red crayon and beneath each one was a tick. She looked back to the burning building and then she saw it.
“Those two red patterns, they’re the same.” said Sophie.
“I know. Rosie told me the man with paper on his face made her draw them, and now she’s saying her imaginary friend William made her draw the picture in the other book. Where’s she getting this stuff from?” said Finn.
“Her imagination and nowhere else,” said Sophie as she closed the colouring book and slid the picture beneath it.
“Since we’ve moved here, her imagination is coming up with strange things,” added Finn.
He closed his eyes and concentrated.
“Do you want a beer?” asked Sophie.
Finn put his fingers over his lips to shush her. She watched in an awkward silence as he rocked back and forth and focussed his mind. He jumped up, grabbed the drawing book and paper and headed upstairs. He went to their bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed by his bedside table.
On the table was a wooden box. In it were odds and ends. He opened the box and took out the gold ring. The ring the old shopkeeper gave him last summer from the antique shop that had never existed. He looked at the patterns on the ring and then to his daughter’s drawings. Finn reached over to Sophie’s side of the bed and grabbed the reading glasses from her table and held a lens up to the ring. He examined the two patterns made from tiny rubies which were placed in circular grooves etched into the face of the ring. His attention switched from the ring, to the drawing she’d done that day and then to what she’d drawn in December. He lay back on the bed and sighed. There was no doubt. The patterns were identical.
He studied the ring again and slipped it onto his finger and just like when he had tried it on in the shop, it slid on. But this time it wasn’t sloppy and loose as it had become later that day. It was a perfect fit. And just like in the shop he suddenly felt assertive and decisive. He became overcome with an air of confidence like never before. Finn played with the ring and moved it up and down his finger. He attempted to remove it, but it was stuck behind the joint of his finger. He resisted the urge to take it off and lay on the bed as a look of contentment spread across his face.
Finn casually strolled back to the lounge and dropped Rosie’s drawing book and picture on the settee.
“Be a love and get me that beer,” asked Finn.
Sophie put her arms around his shoulder and kissed the back of his neck.
“What’s the magic word?”
“Just get me that beer.”
Sophie took her arms from him and was taken aback by what he’d just said. She dismissed it and assumed it was because of his late evening in the office, tiredness and maybe the strange drawing Rosie had done.
She headed to the kitchen and returned with the beer.
“Take off the top and put the bottle by the fire,” said Finn.
Sophie warily removed the lid and placed the beer on the mantelpiece. She noticed the gold ring on his middle finger.
“You’re wearing that ring, the one I told you to take back.”
“Oh, I forgot to tell you, I went back to the shop, but it had closed. It was boarded up, and the owner had gone,” replied Finn as he inspected the ring. “I like it,” he added.
“I think it looks garish, it’s tasteless, not your style.”
“Really? I think it’s classy. Maybe it’s time for me to have an image change.”
“You’re talking as if you’re heading for a midlife crisis,” joked Sophie.
Finn turned to her, and said nothing. She saw a glint in his eye that made her uneasy.
He got up, grabbed the beer and slouched on the settee. She watched as he ran his finger over the face of the ring.
“Haven’t you got things to be getting on with?” snapped Finn as he held the bottle to his mouth.
She couldn’t believe what he just said. He’d never spoken to her like that in his life.
“Are you okay Finn?”
/> Finn felt in control and ambitious, as though he'd found new direction. He was no longer content just being a father and husband. Now he wanted more, much more.
“Am I okay?” said Finn.
He took another mouthful of beer and looked at her with a mischievous glint in his eye.
“I’ve never been better in my entire life.”
Chapter 21
Gabriel Butler enjoyed the warmth of his log fire. He turned the pages of his newspaper and settled in his leather armchair.
The lights were low, allowing the orange flames to cast a comforting glow which illuminated his wood clad study, giving him enough light to read the paper. He reached for his brandy and took a sip.
He was interrupted by a dull thud. Butler replaced the brandy glass on the table beside him and lay the newspaper on the carpet.
On the floor behind his chair was a large book which had fallen from the bookcase. He walked over to where it landed. The book lay open, and he watched as the draught from the fire caused the pages to flutter. He bent down to pick it up and was startled as the book slammed shut on his hand. He turned the book over and looked at the cover and saw that it was a copy of the King James Bible. He opened it to where it had slammed shut and saw the page had ripped. The rip had torn through 1 Peter 5:8. The writing was too small to read in the low light so he walked to the dimmer and turned up the lights. Butler frowned as he straightened the ripped page and aligned the words. Then he smiled as he read the verse in a hushed whisper.
“Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour.”
Butler replaced the Bible from where it had fallen, reached for a Carlito Fuente cigar and took a lighter from beside the brandy. He inhaled the sweet smoke and looked from his window at the cold February evening.
He took the phone from the cradle, punched in a pre-set number and waited whilst it rang.
“Mr. Tempest, this is Gabriel. Your work is finished and I will arrange for the agreed one million seven hundred and fifty thousand to credit your account by close of business tomorrow.”
He paused as he listened to Kieran’s reaction.
The Third Skull (Book one - The Discovery): A Paranormal Mystery Thriller Page 10
