Dead Man at the Door

by Anthony Masters

  ‘That’s OK.’

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘Yes.’ Gary had suddenly realized that facing whatever it was head-on was a mistake. Fighting wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He also realized that the last thing he wanted to do was to lose the possibility of Ted’s friendship. And he had an instinct that that was the last thing Ted wanted to do either. They needed each other. ‘I’m sorry too,’ he said, getting shakily to his feet, offering a hand to Ted and hauling him up. ‘I shouldn’t have pushed it.’

  ‘Will you come back for tea?’ That special warmth was back in his voice.

  ‘Do you really want me to?’ Gary asked doubtfully.

  ‘Yes, yes, I do. You know I do.’

  ‘OK. We still mates, then?’

  ‘Yes. But don’t let’s mention dreams and hauntings and Watchers,’ said Ted. He sounded very serious and emphatic.

  ‘OK then,’ said Gary. But he hadn’t given up yet.

  ‘What have you two been up to?’ asked Mrs Roberts as she prepared a high tea in the delightfully cluttered kitchen. Of her husband and Esmé there was no sign. She’s like a little bird, thought Gary. Pecking about over her stove and dishes. But a perplexed little bird – with nervous movements. What was she worrying about, he wondered.

  ‘We’ve been fishing,’ said Gary.

  ‘Did the fish bite?’

  ‘We got one or two,’ replied Ted. ‘But we threw them back.’

  ‘I really meant, did they bite you?’ she asked with an arch little smile that Gary found irritating, although he knew it was meant to cover her anxiety.

  ‘We fell on some rocks,’ said Gary.

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Ted quite seriously. ‘We fell on some rocks.’

  ‘Must have been painful. You should have been more careful, particularly as Gary’s been in hospital.’ She turned on Ted in sudden anger. ‘Don’t you realize he’s had concussion?’

  ‘I’m OK,’ said Gary. ‘Honestly, I’m OK.’

  ‘Your sister came back upset,’ Mrs Roberts continued, unmollified.

  ‘Did she?’

  ‘Didn’t you want her?’ There was an edge to her voice now.

  ‘’Course we did. She came to find us. She’d fallen asleep on the headland and had a nasty dream.’

  ‘I see,’ she said again and cleared her throat impatiently. She turned to Gary. ‘She’s a bit of a loner and easily hurt.’

  ‘We don’t have to treat her with kid-gloves, Mum,’ said Ted abruptly.

  ‘I didn’t say that.’

  ‘Where’s she gone, anyway?’

  ‘Out for a walk with Dad – up to the headland again, I expect. Where else?’

  ‘She loves it up there.’

  ‘Mm.’

  How many times had she seen him, wondered Gary. How many times?

  They ate a big fry-up for tea, and although he knew it wasn’t very healthy it was the kind of food that Gary loved. Throughout the meal, Gary was aware that Mrs Roberts kept giving Ted covert glances. She loves him, acknowledged Gary to himself, but she’s frightened for him too. Why? What did she know? Was it that she was already aware of Ted’s night-time escapade – the episode that none of them would admit to or corroborate? But Gary knew there was nothing he could say. When they had finished up with more fruit-cake and tea, Ted said, ‘You don’t have to go back yet, do you, Gary?’

  He looked at his watch. It was well after eight. ‘I should be back now.’

  ‘Give it five minutes. I want to show you my room.’

  ‘All right.’

  ‘I’ll ring your mum, shall I, love?’ said Mrs Roberts.

  ‘She’ll want to know where you are after all you’ve been through.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Gary gave her his phone number and then followed an impatient Ted upstairs.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘It’s great.’

  His bedroom was certainly different for it was crammed with aquariums. Inside them were subtly coloured fish swimming amongst glowing, almost fluorescent landscapes. The tanks were hard up against each wall and Ted’s bed was in the centre of the room. It must be a curious sensation, sleeping here, thought Gary, amongst silent, moving fish. Some of them had huge accusing eyes. But it was the landscapes – and seascapes – that were so haunting. There were shipwrecks, caves, reefs, underwater jungles, chasms, and even an octopus lair.

  ‘Did you make these?’ asked Gary, overawed by the scale of it all.

  ‘Over the years, yes.’

  ‘It’s a hobby?’

  ‘Sort of.’

  But despite Ted’s modesty, Gary could see that he was enjoying showing them to him. Eventually, Gary came across an empty aquarium set slightly apart from the others. ‘New one?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Got any ideas for it?’

  ‘Not yet.’ He glanced round and laughed ruefully. ‘Maybe I’m running out of them.’

  There was a shout from below. ‘Ted!’

  ‘Yes, Mum?’ he yelled back.

  ‘Your rods are cluttering up my utility. Move them!’

  ‘Not now –’

  ‘Now!’ she bellowed.

  ‘All right. I’m coming,’ he roared back resentfully.

  ‘Shall I help?’ asked Gary dutifully.

  ‘No. I’ll manage.’

  ‘I’ve phoned Gary’s mum,’ shouted Mrs Roberts. ‘He’s all right for another ten minutes.’

  ‘OK,’ said Ted, running down the stairs towards her. ‘OK.’

  Left alone, Gary sauntered round the room, admiring the modelling of Ted’s underwater world. He was really good – imaginative and adept at working in the materials he had. By his bedside was a table and Gary could see a number of drawings on it. Idly he went over to have a look – and was immediately riveted by a cramping unease.

  One rough pencil drawing showed the outline of an aquarium with a rather smudged object half in and half out of the water, balanced precariously. In the undersea world swarms of fish rose and gaped, while below there were dozens of other dark shapes. Despite the roughness of the drawing, Gary realized what they were. He was looking at a broken, smashed car poised on the brink of the ocean, while on the sea bed lay a graveyard of other car wrecks. It was an extraordinarily powerful, terrifying drawing and Gary felt shock waves course through him as he stood there, staring down at what Ted had done. Then he heard his footsteps on the stairs and sprang away. But the footsteps continued to climb for longer than they needed to, and now they were curiously muffled. Slowly, the bedroom spun, hazed, darkened – and became shadowy. Gary whimpered aloud as the banging on the steel shutter began and the baby’s cries filled the bedroom. He fell backwards on to the bed and turned his face into the pillow. But shutting his eyes did no good; he was back in Jackson’s Garage and it was starting all over again. The dream had ambushed him. It no longer needed his sleep.

  ‘Gary.’

  ‘No –’

  ‘Gary!’

  ‘I can hear it crying.’

  ‘Gary!’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Wake up!’

  Slowly he came to, dragged back from the dream that had so suddenly ensnared him. Gary was dazed, temporarily unable to comprehend where he was.

  ‘I said – wake up.’

  ‘Mm?’

  ‘Gary –’ There was an increasing note of alarm in Ted’s voice. ‘Shall I get a doctor?’ Then his eyes fell on the drawing. ‘Did you look at this?’ he asked, and with an incredibly quick movement he grabbed it and stuffed the piece of paper into his pocket. The alarm was replaced by sudden anger.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I said did you look at this?’

  ‘No,’ replied Gary muzzily.

  ‘Then what’s up?’ His voice softened.

  ‘I fell asleep.’

  ‘Just like that?’

  ‘Just like that.’

  ‘Maybe that bump on the head –’ The note of alarm was back. ‘You should have been at home resting.’r />
  ‘No.’

  ‘Dad will take you home now.’

  ‘I’ll go and collect my bike. Honest – I’m OK.’

  ‘You’re not.’

  ‘Ted, please. Don’t get everyone worked up. ’Specially my mum. I feel fine. Really.’

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘Yes.’ In fact Gary desperately wanted to be alone so that he could think. The dream had come out of nowhere and kidnapped him. Had Ted’s drawing triggered it off? And, above all, why had Ted drawn the car poised on the water – and the graveyard beneath. What did he know? Oh, God – what did he know? What did they share?

  ‘You two haven’t argued, have you?’

  They were bumping along again in Alan Roberts’ truck. But this time the atmosphere between them was quite different. Ted’s father was obviously very troubled, and was trying to reach him.

  ‘No.’ Why didn’t he tell him the truth? Why didn’t he share what had happened with Ted’s father – relieve his pain a little. But he couldn’t; he wasn’t sure what the consequences would be.

  ‘I thought your face –’

  ‘We fell on some rocks,’ said Gary firmly.

  ‘That’s what you told my wife.’

  ‘I know – and that’s what happened.’ He felt stubborn now and he stole a sideways glance at Alan Roberts’ florid face. He looked crumpled – a parody of a jolly fat man with a rubicund face. But in his eyes there was the same anxiety Gary had seen earlier in his wife’s.

  ‘Ted’s very precious to us,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ve been worried – we’ve both been worried about this virus.’

  ‘He seems pretty fit,’ said Gary. He desperately wanted Mr Roberts to confide in him, but was also wondering if he could handle it if he did.

  ‘Yes, he’s much better.’

  ‘Was it – what kind of virus was it?’

  ‘It makes him very depressed. It’s a kind of feverish virus, I suppose. Makes him sweat a lot at night.’

  ‘Has he been to the doctor?’

  ‘Yes, she’s a very competent woman doctor. We like her very much.’

  Well, thought Gary. At least he doesn’t go to my doctor – that really would finish them all off.

  ‘What does she think?’

  ‘She said it was growing pains.’

  ‘A virus?’

  ‘Connected with growing pains,’ he said vaguely. ‘Ted’s always been a very lively boy. It’s just over the last few months …’ His voice petered out and then took on a new, brisk tone. ‘But what about you? You shouldn’t have been falling over rocks after a night in hospital. I’m surprised the doctor …’ His voice washed over Gary who was still wrestling with one single thought. What in the world was wrong with Ted? Surely there was something, and was it serious?

  Seven

  At last he was on his own, walking along the remaining few yards of headland towards his bike in the gathering dark, his mind churning the problems over and over again – and getting nowhere. Looking down at the rolling ocean, he could see the surf snow-white in the darkness, combing the beach like a film of lace. Above him a pale crescent moon was continuously obscured by flying cloud and the wind was brisk and strong. Even the short grass on the headland seemed to be moving and somewhere on the far horizon Gary could see ships’ winking lights.

  She came out of a ragged wind-torn clump of grass by the edge of the cliff, rearing up at him like some avenging angel. Gary stopped dead, stumbled forward and stopped dead again. His heart seemed to be suspended somewhere in his throat as he gasped, ‘Esmé.’

  ‘Sorry – did I startle you?’ She stood there, short and innocent, looking as if wandering around on the night-cloaked headland was an everyday experience for her. On reflection he supposed that it was.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to. I’m used to it up here.’

  ‘Would you get used to someone jumping out of the shadows like that?’

  Esmé ignored him. ‘I’m sorry you and Ted had that fight – after you’d been to hospital and all –’

  ‘So am I.’

  ‘He’s not been very well.’

  ‘So your parents say. Virus or something.’

  ‘That’s a cover-up.’

  ‘I thought it might be.’ Gary felt electrified. Was it all going to come out now?

  ‘He’s ill, though.’

  ‘What with?’

  ‘Something in his mind.’

  Is she trying to tell me he’s crazy, wondered Gary. He thought of the original oblique warnings, the denials, the drawing for the last aquarium. Was Ted also receiving the dreams or was there some other connection? They obviously shared something. But what?

  ‘Why did you lie about the man you saw on the headland?’ asked Gary gently.

  ‘Because it would have hurt him. I can’t hurt him. No one must. If we do, he’ll go off his head. Go barmy.’

  ‘But what is it?’

  ‘I don’t really know –’

  ‘Is it to do with Jackson’s Garage? With the dreams I talked about?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘How long’s it all been going on?’

  ‘A few months now.’

  ‘What started it?’

  ‘We don’t know.’ She sounded desperate. ‘He’s always been so – so strong. And happy.’

  ‘He’s not worried about anything, is he?’ Gary asked. ‘Anything particular, I mean.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ She sounded quite genuine.

  ‘Would he have told you?’

  ‘Yes. No – I don’t know. We’ve always been friends, but I don’t feel we are now.’ She looked away. Gary could see there were tears in her eyes and he longed to give her a hug, but he didn’t know how to make the first move.

  ‘You know these dreams you keep having –’ she began abruptly.

  ‘You mean you believe me?’ There was relief in his voice.

  ‘I don’t know. But Ted believes you.’

  ‘He doesn’t – he said he didn’t.’

  ‘I know what he said, but he believes you all right. And there’s something else –’ Esmé turned back to him and his eyes met hers in sudden clarity. ‘He shares them.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘He was so afraid, but now you’ve turned up, he’s desperate to see you, to hang on to you. I can’t reach him, but I think you can. Although I don’t know you.’

  ‘But he never talks about it. And he shouted me down. That’s why we had the fight. He denies everything. Scoffs at it.’

  ‘Yes. That’s his way of – of staying sane. Gary – he’s scared.’

  ‘What of?’

  ‘Don’t be thick – of being drawn into the dreams, of course, or whatever they are, of getting sucked in and maybe never coming out.’

  ‘But that’s what I’m afraid of.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘What can I do?’

  ‘Get through to him.’

  ‘It’s impossible.’

  ‘You’ve got to.’

  Then Gary explained to her what had happened only half an hour ago – of how the dream had kidnapped him after he had looked at the drawing of what he took to be the plans for Ted’s last aquarium.

  When he had finished, Esmé began to cry. Again Gary didn’t know what to do. Then, instinctively, he put his arms round her and drew her close to him.

  ‘The dreams are real,’ he said. ‘I will try to reach him. But someone else is trying to do that.’

  ‘The man?’

  ‘The young bloke who keeps knocking at the door – who watches us from the headland.’

  ‘Is he a ghost?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t know. But he’s not – not alive exactly.’

  ‘It’s all so weird,’ she sobbed.

  ‘It’s something to do with the car wreck and the sea, and the baby crying in Jackson’s Garage. If Ted’s having these dreams too I wonder if the young man’s trying to contact him. But in that case what … why …’
Gary broke off, feeling completely inarticulate.

  ‘If only he’d admit to them,’ said Esmé. ‘If only I could get close to him again.’

  ‘So what are we going to do?’ asked Gary helplessly. ‘I can’t force Ted to admit anything.’

  ‘Suppose the young man means Ted harm?’

  ‘Why did Ted try to burn down the garage?’ asked Gary, not able to answer her question, his mind leaping ahead.

  ‘Do you really think he did that?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes. He obviously had the same feeling as some of the locals – the same as the builders. The place is bad. And it’s got to go.’

  ‘If it was burnt down,’ said Esmé, ‘would the young man go away and leave us alone?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ He stared at her hopelessly. ‘I don’t know anything.’

  ‘Gary, what are we going to do?’

  ‘There’s only one thing we can do,’ he said with conviction. ‘We’ve got to get through to Ted.’

  ‘Yes, but how?’ she replied doggedly.

  ‘I don’t know. It’s very hard.’

  ‘Supposing that young man means him harm – or you?’ she asked again.

  ‘I’ll just have to ask him,’ said Gary woodenly.

  ‘How?’ She looked totally bewildered.

  ‘The dream’s after me. It can’t wait until night-time now. It’s getting reckless. Maybe he is too.’ Then Gary had a sudden idea. ‘Ted took that drawing back. Do you think you could get it off him?’

  ‘Steal it, you mean?’

  ‘If you have to.’

  ‘I’ll try.’

  ‘Try hard. I need it. I need it for the dream to come.’

  Gary managed to slip up to bed early despite an angry lecture by his mother which amounted to him ‘overdoing it’, ‘driving her mad with worry’ and ‘not caring about other people – least of all your parents’. But when he was in bed she brought him up a hot chocolate and kissed him a faintly grudging good night. Before she could go downstairs again, Gary asked her, ‘So we’re not having the priest?’

  ‘No. It was a silly idea anyway, and of course your father wouldn’t hear of it. It was those letters and those builders walking out that got me shaken up. It’s all going to be all right now.’

  ‘Is it, Mum?’

  ‘Of course it is. We’ve just got ourselves into a state. All this hard work and worry. Your father’s managed to find some new builders. Much more reliable lot. So – as I say – it’s going to be all right.’