Enter the Dead: A Supernatural Thriller

by Mark White

  ‘What happened? Did she cheat on you?’

  ‘I don’t know. I didn’t stick around long enough to find out.’

  ‘You broke it off with her?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘But she didn’t do anything wrong.’

  ‘That’s because I never gave her the chance. I made up my mind, that even though I thought the world of her, I would rather break it off than risk being hurt. What a pessimist, eh?’

  ‘Did you keep in touch?’

  ‘No. She was furious, not to mention devastated. I couldn’t believe how devastated she was. Told me that she loved me and everything. Anyway, after a while she didn’t want anything more to do with me, and who could have blamed her? I heard later that she met and married an old pal of mine called Guy Morgan and they settled down in Coventry. As far as I know they’re still together. And you know what’s so ironic about it? Guy Morgan was even uglier than me! I swear to God…you would never have put the two of them together; it’d be like pairing Quasimodo with Esmerelda. Unbelievable. To this day I still think about it. That’s one of the reasons I started drinking so much. One of them.’

  ‘Why are you telling me this? What’s it got to do with us?’

  ‘A few years after I called time on my relationship with Sophie, you came along. I never thought it possible that I could meet somebody as kind or as beautiful as Sophie, but boy was I wrong when I first saw you.’

  Sarah attempted to narrow the gap between them on the bench by shuffling closer towards him, but Sam moved too, making it clear that forgiveness was not on the cards. This wasn’t a two-way conversation. He had a story to tell, and she needed to listen.

  ‘When we started going out, I automatically felt the same pangs of insecurity I’d felt with Sophie. Why would she stay with me? How long will it be before she finds someone more handsome, more interesting? For a while I even considered breaking it off. Can you believe that? Most guys would give their right arm to be seen with someone like you, but right from the start I had half an eye on the exit door. But then something happened.’

  ‘What? What happened?’

  ‘I fell in love with you.’ Once again, his gaze went to the little boy feeding the pigeons, but this time his vision was clouded. He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his eyes, all the while maintaining his focus on the boy; too hurt and embarrassed to face his wife.

  ‘After what happened with Sophie – the cowardly way I broke it off – I promised myself, that no matter how unnatural it felt I would learn to trust other people; learn to let them in a little. Not that I had any choice with you: by then you’d already stolen my heart. I knew that I had to open up to you or risk losing you, so I did. And now look at me. Talk about rough justice.’

  ‘Sam, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.’

  ‘Why?’ he said, turning to face her. ‘Why did you do it?’

  ‘I don’t know. Flattery, I suppose. I’ve always loved you, Sam, but you can’t deny we’ve been through some pretty tough times.’

  ‘That’s marriage,’ he replied. ‘It’s not supposed to be a bed of roses all the time.’

  ‘I know that now. Of course I know that.’

  ‘Was it the sex? Was that it? Did he have a bigger cock than me?’

  ‘No! It wasn’t that. Why do men always have to reduce everything down to penis-size? Sex had nothing to do with it.’ Well, maybe just a little.

  ‘Then what was it?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I think to begin with it was flattery. You know Tom has a way with words and…well…he started telling me things. Nice things. Things you weren’t telling me.’

  ‘So you fell for his bullshit, is that it?’

  ‘I guess I did, yes. I fell for his bullshit, and then I fell for him. Before I knew it I was seeing him occasionally – not often – and it seemed to become almost normal, as if what we were doing really wasn’t all that bad.’

  ‘Normal? How can screwing your husband’s friend behind his back be filed in the same fucking stratosphere as normal?’

  ‘I’m just saying that’s how it seemed at the time. Of course I felt guilty, but part of me enjoyed it too. I never meant to hurt you. I thought you’d never find out, and somehow that made it more acceptable. But eventually I called time on the affair, and that’s when he fired you.’

  ‘He fired me because you ended your relationship with him?’

  ‘It wasn’t a relationship, but yes, I’m pretty sure he did. You know how big his ego is.’

  ‘What I saw back there – at the hotel – you can’t honestly expect me to believe you. I saw you laughing and joking together. He was kissing you, for fuck’s sake.’

  ‘As I said, I did it because I thought it would get you your job back. It was only going to be the once, I promise. One last time and then I would have nothing more to do with him ever again. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I swear I’m telling you the truth. I love you Sam. I love you so much. Please believe me.’

  ‘No you don’t,’ Sam said, rising to his feet and straightening his jacket. ‘How could you do something like this and in the same breath tell me that you love me?’

  ‘It’s true. I swear it’s true.’

  ‘I’m going now, Sarah,’ Sam said, his voice unsteady. ‘I’m going to go home and collect my things.’

  ‘Sam, no! Please, just listen to-’

  ‘It’s too late for that now. Don’t you realise what you’ve done? Four years. FOUR FUCKING YEARS! Jesus Christ, how the fuck did you manage to deceive me for so long? And Tom? Oh my God. How can this be possible? How can this be possible? Jesus Christ…I can’t believe this.’

  ‘Sam, please! Don’t go. I’m begging you. Let’s talk this through properly, work a way around it. I promise you, it’s over between Tom and me. Forg-’

  ‘Answer me one question,’ he said, ignoring her. ‘Imagine the situation was reversed and it was me who’d been having an affair with one of your friends for four years. Close your eyes and pretend that the shoe was on the other foot. Okay? Got that image in your head? Good. Now tell me how you’d be reacting right now. You’ve just seen me kissing your friend outside some posh hotel, so you know what we’ve been up to. You’re then told that it’s been going on for four years, and the only explanation I can give you is because I want your friend – the friend who’s just fired you – to give you your old job back. And then, to top it all off, I tell you that the reason I began screwing your friend in the first place is because you weren’t paying me enough attention. Now if you can look me in the eye and swear to me that you’d take me back if the shoe was on the other foot, then I promise you I’ll go home with you right now and talk this over some more. Well?’

  Sarah forced herself to look up at him, but that was all she could manage. She knew he was right, knew full well how she’d react if he’d been the one having the affair. She had to accept that for the time being, whatever Sam decided to do was well and truly out of her control. She only hoped that once he’d calmed down he’d perhaps give her another chance to explain herself and convince him how much she cared about him.

  Sam stared back at her, enjoying neither the shallow victory nor the hurt on his wife’s face. In spite of everything, part of him wanted to stay and talk some more; wanted to understand and maybe even forgive. He didn’t want to leave his home, his family, his life. He wanted everything to return to how it was before…before…

  ‘Don’t worry about Max,’ he said, matter-of-factly. ‘Tell him that I’m going away for a while to visit my mother.’

  ‘Is that really where you’re going?’

  ‘Maybe…I don’t know. I think so. I need some time.’

  ‘I understand. I’m so sorry, Sam. Please don’t leave me.’

  Sam began walking away, leaving her alone on the park bench. As he neared the gates to Regent's Park, he turned and looked at her one final time. He tried to smile but failed. Instead he tilted his head to the side and frowned, suddenly unsure as to whom this woman was;
who she really was. He felt the tears once more rising to the surface. Not wanting to share them with her, he turned back around and walked away.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Sam barely registered the driver’s voice as he announced that the train would shortly be arriving at Durham Station. The three hour journey had given him time to think, resulting in a long list of burning questions that desperately needed answering. There were the obvious ones: How serious was Sarah’s relationship with Tom? Did she love him? Did she want to be with him? Was it really over between Tom and her, or was that just another lie? How could he possibly be expected to believe anything she said after four years of deception? And then there were the less obvious – but no less important - pride-related questions, such as was Tom a better lover? What was so special about him? Was he hung like a racehorse? (Sam wasn’t sure he needed the answer to that last one).

  He could phone her, but what would be the point? She’d only confuse him even more; answers would lead to further questions, until eventually he would end up losing his temper and hanging up on her. No, he wasn’t ready yet. He needed more time.

  His mother was standing on the platform waiting for him at the station, her lined face as stern-looking as ever. She was battling with an umbrella and staring straight ahead, seemingly oblivious to the torrential rain and bitter wind that swept along the tracks, whipping up litter and old newspapers. Sam grimaced: London may only have been three hundred miles south of Durham, but the weather was so much harsher up north. Janice Railton was used to it, having known nothing else, but Sam knew that as soon as he stepped off that train he would feel Jack Frost biting at him and tearing at his flesh like a frenzied madman.

  In spite of the hostile weather, Sam smiled warmly as he stepped down from the train and looked at his mother. Her face lit up when she saw him and she held out her arms to receive him as he hurried across the platform. They spoke over the phone at least once a week, but it had been more than six months since his previous visit, which was far longer than usual.

  ‘Hello stranger,’ she said, reluctant to release him from her arms. ‘I thought you’d forgotten about your old mother.’

  ‘As if,’ Sam replied, feeling her love as they held each other. And then, like a young child being cradled by its mother, he began to cry.

  ‘Come on,’ she said, taking his arm and leading him towards the car park. ‘Let’s go home.’

  Thirty minutes later they were sat together in the front room on a small sofa that faced a welcoming gas fire; its blue and orange flames drawing out the chill and replacing it with tiredness and warmth. He’d hardly said a word in the car, but now, as he cradled a cup of hot chocolate in his hands and stared at the fire, he felt ready to tell Janice the full story. He spared none of the details – their relationship was such that he didn’t need to – and by the time he’d finished talking she knew everything there was to know.

  ‘You know,’ Janice said, ‘I honestly didn’t think Sarah was capable of doing something like that to you. Tom, maybe – I never liked that man – but Sarah? I never saw her as the cheating type; never in a month of Sundays. So much for mother’s intuition.’

  ‘You weren’t the only who didn’t see it coming.’

  ‘Did you honestly have no idea? I mean…four years, Sam. How did she manage to hide it from you for so long?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Surely you must have sensed that something wasn’t right. I mean, she must have told you that she was unhappy?’

  ‘What do you mean, unhappy?’

  ‘Come on, Sam. You don’t cheat on your husband for that long if everything’s rosy in the marriage garden. Surely there were signs?’

  ‘Well, if there were, I didn’t see them. She could be a bit cold sometimes, a bit distant, but she’s always been like that. She never actually told me she was unhappy, and not once did she hint that there was something wrong with our marriage. At least I don’t think she did.’

  ‘I see,’ Janice said, shaking her head. ‘So, what are you going to do now?’

  ‘Can I stay with here with you?’

  ‘Of course you can, but I’m afraid that’s only a sticking plaster. You can’t hide away forever.’

  ‘I know, but I need to get my head straight.’

  ‘What about Max? Does he know?’

  ‘No. Sarah’s going to tell him that I’ve had to come up here for a few days to see you. She’ll probably pretend that you’re unwell or something.’

  ‘Great! Blame it all on a sick old woman. Still, probably for the best.’

  ‘He can’t know the truth. Not yet, anyway.’

  ‘You stay here as long as you want. Think about what you’re going to do. I’m afraid I can’t help you with that, but what I will say is that she doesn’t deserve you. I know I’m your mother, but she’s cheated on you for four years. That’s a lot of dishonesty. If she can do that to you, then what else is she capable of?’

  ‘Mum…’

  ‘I’m just saying, okay? You’re my son, Sam. You deserve better than that, especially after everything you’ve been through. Everything we’ve been through. Now,’ she said, taking his empty cup from him and rising to her feet. ‘How about a refill? And something to eat? You must be starving.’

  ‘What’s that?’ he said, his thoughts elsewhere.

  ‘I asked, cloth-ears, if you would like me to fix you something to eat.’

  ‘Sorry, I was miles away. That’d be great, thanks.’

  Janice smiled at him and walked away. It wasn’t until she reached the kitchen that she finally allowed herself a few tears. She placed his empty cup on the table and covered her face with her hands, trying to muffle her sobs. She knew how hard this was going to hit him. Right now he seemed to be dealing with it well enough, but knowing her son as she did, she knew that it was only a matter of time before it really hit home. She would need to be there for him; he wasn’t strong enough to handle this alone. After everything that poor boy had been through, to leave him alone would be the end of him.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Sam rose at 5.00am the following morning having barely slept a wink, his head throbbing as he searched for his slippers. He’d tossed and turned all night, his mind working overtime to make sense of yesterday’s events. He was a worrier at the best of times, but this particular problem was driving him insane. He still couldn’t decide what to do; it was as if there was an invisible line dividing him into two equal parts. One part desperately wanted to forgive Sarah and start afresh, the other part ordered him to hold firm and stand his ground…let the unfaithful bitch squirm for a while. He knew it was too soon to make an informed choice. Everything was still so raw.

  Not wishing to disturb his mother, he crept down the hallway and descended the stairs to the kitchen, closing the door behind him and switching on the light. His eyes immediately found what they were looking for. His mother’s handbag. He began rummaging around inside, relieved as his fingers found the box of Paracetamol that his head so desperately craved. Liberating two capsules from their protective packaging, he walked to the sink and half-filled a cup with water, gulping down the capsules with the desperation of an addict. He had a feeling today was going to be tough.

  With no appetite, he decided to take a walk, hoping the fresh air would help clear his head. There was nothing else to do: the shelves supporting his mother’s Catherine Cookson novels held little appeal, and he couldn’t risk waking her by turning on the TV or radio. He pulled on his coat and boots and headed out into the morning air.

  The potholed streets of his hometown were dark and deserted; the Local Authority refusing to switch on all of the streetlights due to budget constraints. Anyone visiting Cranston for the first time would have struggled to find their bearings, (not that anyone in their right mind would actually choose to visit Cranston), but Sam knew the town like the back of his hand. Born in nearby Stepley Hill Hospital, he’d spent his entire childhood here. He’d moved house only once - after the
incident - to a run-down terrace on the other side of town, where, unlike most of his childhood friends, he’d somehow managed to do well at school. He left home shortly after his eighteenth birthday to study English Literature at the University of Birmingham. However, every time he returned to visit his mother he felt the old memories coming back to haunt him. He never stayed long. A day or two at most was the most he could stomach.

  Quickening his pace, he rounded the corner of Pemberton Street and made his way along Alston Road, eventually reaching the outskirts of town. The long nights and short days of a northern winter meant there were still a couple of hours until dawn. Sam shivered as he considered where to go next. Why people chose to live in a God-forsaken dump like Cranston was beyond him. He could only assume that a lack of travel meant they knew no better. Perhaps for them, ignorance was bliss. He almost envied them for this.

  Saint Cuthbert’s Church was the last building on Alston Road. Beyond that, the road twisted and turned through three miles of fields and woodland before arriving at the small hamlet of Bryerdene. Although Sam was enjoying the revivifying morning air, he had no intention of walking that far. It had taken him twenty minutes to get here; another twenty minutes back would be sufficient. Besides, his appetite had returned and he needed some breakfast. As he turned to retrace his steps home, he glanced across to the gravestones that encircled the church like a makeshift army. He shook his head in dismay at the long, unkempt grass and the upturned vases barely hanging onto roses and lilies that had long since died. How long had it been since he’d last been here? He couldn’t be sure. But what he could be certain of was that every time he came to this place it seemed to be in a more woeful condition than the time before. Nobody seemed to care anymore; not even the vicar, who by all accounts had a keener interest in the communion wine than his dwindling congregation. Even for a non-believer like Sam it was sad to see the place in such a state of disrepair, especially as this was where his little sister had been laid to rest.