Through Dead Eyes

by Chris Priestley

‘Ha!’ said his father. ‘Fair point. Just try and get some sleep, son. Goodnight.’

  Alex’s father walked through the connecting doors, closing them behind him. As soon as he had gone, Alex kicked the mask out from under the duvet and, without looking at it, turned over and closed his eyes.

  Chapter 15

  Alex sat on his bed watching the BBC news on his television, without really taking any of it in. He was still in a daze from the night before. He was dimly aware of the sounds of the street drifting in through the window and now and then he heard the tread of other guests. His father knocked and opened the door.

  ‘You’re sure you don’t want any breakfast?’

  Alex shook his head.

  ‘I feel bad leaving you here,’ said his father. ‘Maybe it’s better if you come with me.’

  Alex could hear that his father didn’t really believe that. Alex was sure that his father dreaded the idea. What if Alex caused some sort of scene at the publishers?

  ‘It’s all right, Dad,’ he said. ‘Go. I’m OK.’

  ‘If you need anything,’ said his dad, ‘just call.’

  His father had made him promise to stay in his room. He said he probably wouldn’t be back by lunchtime and if Alex got hungry he could ring room service.

  Alex lay on his bed. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Van Kampen lurching forward with his cane. No one was going to believe him, least of all his dad.

  He could have told everything to Angelien but he was scared that she would think he was just a stupid kid. He could bear his dad thinking he was crazy, but he couldn’t bear that.

  Alex read his book fitfully, breaking off every now and then to mull over some episode from the last few days. By twelve he was starting to regret not having breakfast when the phone next to his bed suddenly rang, sounding startlingly loud. He was unsure what to do at first but thought that it might be his father calling from reception and so crawled across the bed and answered it.

  ‘Hello?’ he said.

  ‘Alex?’ said a voice at the other end he recognised straight away.

  ‘Angelien?’ said Alex coldly. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I’m in reception,’ said Angelien. ‘Come and get me. I tried texting you but your phone is off.’

  ‘I know,’ said Alex. ‘I switched it off.’

  There was a long silence.

  ‘Come on, Alex,’ she said. ‘You’re angry with me, I know. But I need to talk to you.’

  Alex took a deep breath.

  ‘Why?’ said Alex. ‘I thought you only talked to me if you got paid.’

  ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘The manager is giving me a funny look. Don’t leave me here. It’s about Hanna.’

  ‘OK,’ said Alex after a pause. ‘I’ll come down.’

  Alex walked down the stairs, getting more agitated with each step. He was in the grip of a confusing mix of anger, hurt and a kind of nervous exhaustion.

  Angelien was sitting at a table by the window as he walked past the reception desk. He walked over and sat down opposite her, looking out at the canal.

  ‘I read some more of Graaf’s journals last night,’ she said.

  ‘What?’ said Alex. ‘That’s it? I don’t even get a sorry or anything?’

  Angelien slumped back in her seat.

  ‘I’m sorry, Alex,’ she said. ‘Really.’

  ‘Why did you have to tell him about what I said?’

  Angelien shrugged.

  ‘Because that’s what people do when they go out with each other, Alex,’ she said. ‘They talk about things. I had no idea Dirk was going to say anything to you. It was wrong of him. He can be a jerk sometimes.’

  ‘Sometimes?’ said Alex shaking his head.

  ‘Look,’ said Angelien. ‘I get enough of this from my mother, OK? Let’s just forget about Dirk, huh? Do you want to know what I’ve found out or not? I thought you’d be interested.’

  Alex stared at her for a few moments sullenly, and then nodded.

  ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Let’s go get a coffee.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Alex. ‘I kind of promised Dad . . .’

  ‘OK,’ said Angelien. ‘I don’t want to get you into trouble. But there’s a place just at the end of the street. You look like you could do with some fresh air. Have you eaten?’

  ‘No,’ said Alex. ‘I’m starving.’

  ‘Well come on then,’ said Angelien.

  Alex nodded and he opened the door for her to walk through, the cold, damp air sweeping over them as they exited the hotel.

  ‘Wait till you hear what I have to say,’ she said.

  ‘I’m not really sure I should talk to you about the mask and stuff any more,’ said Alex without looking at her. ‘My dad says –’

  ‘Hanna wasn’t burnt as a baby,’ said Angelien. ‘Hanna’s face wasn’t burned at all.’

  ‘Then why did she wear the mask?’ said Alex.

  Angelien shrugged.

  ‘The painter wondered if Van Kampen did it because of what happened with his wife. Maybe he was punishing his daughter because he couldn’t punish his wife. Maybe he was stopping her from going out so that she would never leave him.’

  ‘But why make her wear a mask?’ asked Alex.

  ‘Maybe because her mother had run away with a man, Van Kampen was trying to hide her face from view – from any possible suitor in the future.’

  ‘But that’s crazy,’ said Alex.

  ‘Hey,’ said Angelien. ‘All men are crazy as far as I’m concerned. Van Kampen certainly told the painter that his daughter’s face was horribly burned. Maybe Van Kampen had told her that too, from when she was little. Maybe she even believed it. He did not allow mirrors or even polished surfaces in the house. Only Van Kampen saw her with the mask removed. The servants weren’t allowed to take it off.’

  ‘But surely she would have taken it off herself?,’ said Alex. ‘In all those years. She must have felt her own face and realised it was fine. Wait . . . Maybe that’s why he beat her.’

  ‘Beat her?’ said Angelien. ‘What do you mean? What makes you think he beat her?’

  ‘I just . . . I don’t know,’ said Alex. ‘How did Graaf know all this anyway? If Van Kampen never let anyone see, how did Graaf know it was a lie?’

  ‘The painter was there when she died,’ said Angelien.

  He knew that Hanna was dead – of course he knew that she was dead – but still those words seemed to explode inside Alex’s head. He had shared his mind with Hanna – shared a body with her. He had become so bound up entirely in her story that hearing of her death seemed like a bereavement.

  ‘Alex?’ said Angelien.

  ‘Yeah,’ he murmured. ‘I was just . . . How did she die?’ He thought of the beating again and felt the crack of the cane on his ribs. ‘Did Van Kampen kill her?’

  ‘Van Kampen?’ said Angelien, frowning. ‘No. Well not directly anyway. I suppose you could argue that his treatment of her was to blame . . .’

  ‘For what?’ said Alex.

  ‘She climbed out of her bedroom window and threw herself down on to the street.’

  They both looked down at the cobbles in the street where she must have landed. Alex thought of the beckoning children and shuddered.

  ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Let’s go get a coffee.’

  After a moment’s hesitation, Alex nodded.

  ‘Graaf saw the commotion and ran round to Van Kampen’s house,’ Angelien said as they walked. ‘He arrived only moments after she had jumped. She was already dead. Someone removed her mask and Graaf saw her face for the first time, her pale eyes open and staring up at the sky. Is this place OK for you? We can sit outside.’

  ‘OK,’ said Alex, pulling up a metal chair as a waitress came out. Angelien ordered and then returned to her story.

  ‘Hanna had landed on her back and her face was untouched by the fall. It had no sign of burning at all and far from being hideously deformed by fire, Graaf described her as very beautiful.’
r />   Alex shook his head. Van Kampen was a vicious creep. It was all his fault. He had driven her to it. ‘Her father might as well just have shoved her out of the window!’ Alex said.

  ‘You sound very angry about Hanna’s story, Alex,’ said Angelien.

  But it didn’t feel like a story to Alex. Each time he put the mask on, Alex felt more of Hanna’s darkness seeping into his soul. He was not entirely sure where his feelings ended and hers began.

  ‘That’s what I love about history,’ said Angelien. ‘The way you can get caught up –’

  ‘No,’ said Alex. ‘It’s more than that.’

  Alex leaned back in his chair.

  ‘Oh?’ she said.

  Alex paused for a long time, trying to find the right words to start.

  ‘The mask,’ said Alex. ‘The one I bought in the antiques market. It’s kind of haunted.’

  Angelien sighed.

  ‘Alex,’ she said. ‘Are you joking with me?’

  ‘It’s true. I swear. When I look through it, I can see what Hanna saw. I saw the ghosts of the plague children. When I wear it, I am kind of half me and half Hanna. It’s hard to explain.’

  Angelien looked at him for a little while and then spluttered into laughter.

  ‘It’s true,’ said Alex. ‘You have to believe me.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Alex,’ said Angelien. ‘But this is too crazy.’

  ‘But you said you thought anything was possible the other day.’

  ‘Hey, Alex,’ said Angelien. ‘I try to have an open mind, but not a weak mind, huh? Come on. This is too silly.’

  ‘You’re lying,’ said Alex. ‘You were as obsessed with Hanna’s story as I was, you know you were.’

  ‘I’m a historian, Alex,’ said Angelien. ‘We get carried away sometimes.’

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ said Alex. ‘There was more to it than that. You know there was. I didn’t even know about the painting when I bought the mask. And what about all the other stuff – the hotel key rings and –’

  ‘We don’t even know the mask is the same one as in the painting, Alex.’

  ‘I do,’ said Alex.

  Angelien sighed.

  ‘Even if it was,’ she said, ‘That doesn’t make it magic or haunted. There may be a thousand masks like that – but there could be a logical explanation for all this.’

  ‘Like what?’ said Alex in exasperation.

  ‘Calm down, Alex,’ said Angelien. ‘Have you told your dad about any of this?’

  ‘No,’ said Alex. ‘He’d think I was crazy. I thought you’d be different.’

  Angelien took a deep breath and smiled. She leaned forward, putting her hands on either side of his face.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘Really.’

  Alex felt like everything was sliding away and he needed to do something fast. He had to stop talking and do something.

  Alex lunged forward, putting his hand behind her head and kissing her on the lips. Angelien pulled herself away and stood up, knocking her chair over.

  ‘What the hell –’ she said angrily, glaring at him.

  Alex stared at her. That was not the reaction he had hoped for.

  ‘What have we here?’ said a voice Alex already knew too well.

  ‘What?’ he said, turning to look at Dirk and then staring back at Angelien. ‘What’s he doing here?’

  Angelien rattled off a volley of Dutch. Dirk just laughed and wagged his finger in admonishment.

  ‘English, Angelien,’ he chided. ‘Think of the little boy here.’

  ‘Shut up!’ yelled Alex, getting to his feet.

  ‘Whoa!’ said Dirk holding his hands up. ‘Don’t get so worked up, my friend. You’ll hurt yourself.’

  Alex swung a punch at Dirk that took him by surprise, hitting him in the ribs and making him wince. He grabbed Alex by the throat and pushed him towards the canal.

  Angelien shouted something at Dirk in Dutch.

  ‘What the hell is going on?’ said Alex’s father suddenly appearing with Saskia, heading back to the hotel.

  ‘Angelien?’ said Saskia.

  Dirk let go of Alex, smirked and backed away.

  ‘Get away from my son!’ hissed Alex’s father, jabbing his finger at Dirk.

  ‘Jeremy,’ said Angelien. ‘I’m so s—’

  ‘And you can stay away from him as well!’ growled Alex’s father.

  ‘Hey! Don’t talk to her like that,’ said Alex.

  Alex’s father turned towards him with an expression he had never seen before. He took a step back.

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Leave her alone,’ said Alex more falteringly.

  Alex’s father peered at him incredulously.

  ‘You think she cares about you?’ said his father. ‘For God’s sake, Alex. Wake up! Look at her. She’s laughing at you, Alex. She just wants to get stoned with scum like him.’

  ‘Hey!’ said Angelien.

  Dirk stifled a laugh.

  ‘I don’t think I like the way you are talking about my daughter,’ said Saskia.

  ‘Oh well I’m very sorry,’ said Alex’s father. ‘We mustn’t say anything bad about your precious daughter, must we?’

  ‘You need to calm down, Jeremy,’ said Saskia. ‘Let’s all just –’

  ‘Perhaps if you were a bit harder on her she wouldn’t dress like she works in the red light district and hang around with druggy pieces of –’

  ‘That’s enough!’ shouted Saskia. ‘How dare you? Who do you think you are?’

  Alex saw his father open his mouth to speak but the words never came. Everyone was looking at him, even a passer-by who was pretending to talk on his mobile phone.

  ‘We are finished at the office,’ said Saskia coolly. ‘And I think that so are you and I, Jeremy. If you need anything more, you can contact my secretary.’

  ‘Saskia . . .’ he said. ‘Saskia!’

  But she was already walking away and she didn’t look back.

  ‘Angelien!’ she called without turning round, and after a moment, Angelien followed after her. Dirk shook his head, smirking, and walked off in the opposite direction.

  Alex’s father stood there looking up at the glowering sky. He closed his eyes and Alex prepared himself for a tirade but it never came. His father just opened his eyes, looked at him for a moment and then set off for the hotel. Alex stood for a while in the deserted street and then set off after him.

  Chapter 16

  For a long time, Alex and his father didn’t talk at all. Then gradually they found a functional meeting place of single words and shrugs. His father tried to book them on a flight back that evening but there was nothing until the following morning. They settled down in their respective rooms to while away the time.

  It seemed ridiculous to be in a city like Amsterdam and spend the last day in a hotel room, but Alex accepted it as unavoidable under the circumstances. He could hear his father tapping away at his laptop in the next room as he looked out of the window at yet another rain shower.

  What was for sure was that things would never be the same again back home. Alex felt as though he saw things more clearly now.

  Alex picked up his mobile and sent a message to his mother. It read simply, Sorry. He knew now how much he must have hurt her. He hoped she would understand.

  Alex vowed that when he got back to England he would go and see his mother and talk about everything. He would tell her about Molly and Angelien and Hanna and the mask.

  Alex switched on the television and flicked through the channels, failing to find anything he wanted to watch. He picked up his book and began to read, but he just didn’t feel able to concentrate. He lay back on his bed and stared at the ceiling. The muffled sound of the outside world and his father’s tapping faded away and he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

  It felt like only seconds later when he woke with a start, but when he looked at the clock by his bed he could see it was over an hour later. The day was drifting slowly toward
s twilight. He stretched and sat up.

  Alex went to the bathroom and poured himself a glass of water and drank it in one go. His mouth still felt dry. He looked in the bathroom mirror and he almost didn’t recognise himself. The trials of the last couple of days seemed etched on to his face.

  What a mess it all was. He had come to Amsterdam hoping to put the troubles at home and at school behind him, but he had simply swapped those troubles for new ones.

  One thing was for sure, the mask was staying in Amsterdam. He might not be able to solve everything, but at least he could leave Hanna and Van Kampen behind. He had enough troubles of his own to deal with without getting caught up in things that happened centuries ago.

  Walking back into the bedroom, Alex went over to the chest of drawers. He would put the mask in the bin and that would be that. But on opening the top drawer he was surprised that the mask wasn’t there.

  Then he remembered that it was still under the bed. Alex dropped to his knees and looked and bent forward, pressing his face to the carpet and peering into the gloom. There, like a skull in a grave pit, was the mask, smiling, deathly pale.

  Alex froze. Tears sprang to his eyes. He knew now that he looked at it, that he shouldn’t touch it – that he would pack his clothes and leave it be for the cleaners to find. But he also knew in that instant that he couldn’t stop himself.

  Alex stretched out his arm and grabbed the mask. As always, the surface felt cold, and its chill had seeped into his flesh.

  Alex tied the mask on and looked around the room. The change was expected now. Even the fact that daylight was extinguished didn’t surprise him any more.

  Alex again had the feeling that there were two people inside his head. Or was it that he had invaded the head of the girl? Did she have the same strange sensation as him?

  Some time had elapsed since the beating. He could still feel the pain that Hanna carried from it, but it was an ache now. But her anger was still raw. Alex could feel it burning cold, like ice.

  He walked over to the window and, pulling aside the curtain, looked out at the canal. It was that more-than-night of Hanna’s world. The plague children were already gathered in the street outside.