Laura Possessed

by Anthea Fraser

  ‘If that’s the way your mind is working,’ Edward commented, ‘you could hardly do better than to talk to Lewis Castleton. He’s never been a mercenary as far as I know, but as a journalist he’s been wherever, to coin a phrase, history has been made. You heard him yourself on Robert Kennedy, and I know for a fact he was in Vietnam, Kenya, the Middle East—he was even in Munich during the Olympic games massacre.’

  Caroline said brightly; ‘Perhaps you could have a word with him when he comes to dinner next week.’

  ‘Then,’ said Sandilands, ‘if I can’t be of any more help, let’s change the conversation to more pleasant topics! Has anyone any strings to get us seats for Drury Lane either tomorrow or Friday? I know we’ve left it very late, but a spot of light relief would be more than welcome. Failing that, any theatre that’s not showing a murder play would be most acceptable!’

  At ten o’clock Edward put down his coffee cup. ‘Would you think us rude if we left you now, Clive? It takes a good hour and forty minutes to get home, and that will be quite late enough for Laura. She still needs a lot of rest.’

  ‘Not at all. Of course you must go whenever you’re ready. It’s very good of you to have come all the way here to have dinner with me. I’ll get your coats.’

  They moved out into the hall together.

  ‘Where did you leave the car?’ Sandilands enquired.

  ‘Down some little back alley behind the hotel. It’s not far away.’

  ‘I’ll come along and see you off.’

  ‘No, don’t bother. You haven’t a coat down here.’

  ‘Nonsense. It’s a mild spring evening and I could do with a little exercise after that meal. Fenella, order another pot of coffee, will you? I’ll only be five minutes.’

  It was very dark down the alley alongside the hotel and they linked arms to steady each other on the uneven surface. Occasional lights from the windows high up in the wall shed sporadic pools of brilliance which only intensified the surrounding darkness. They turned left and then right and came upon the car in the narrow little street where they had left it.

  ‘Keep me posted about the progress of the novel,’ Clive Sandilands instructed, ‘and the best of luck with it. I’ll be in touch once we’ve settled down again.’

  They shook hands and the three of them climbed into the car. Its headlights sprouted tongues of light, illuminating the small figure of Sandilands waving them off. Then they had left him behind and were threading their way through the narrow streets and out again into the well-lit thoroughfare of Cromwell Road.

  ‘What a charming man he is,’ Caroline observed. ‘I can quite see why Fenella finds him attractive.’

  They talked intermittently between themselves and in the back seat Laura closed her eyes and let herself drift towards sleep, her body swaying from side to side with the movements of the car.

  There were no lights on in Brocklehurst when eventually they reached it, and the looming shapes of the houses, dark against the paler sky, had a foreboding about them which made Laura shudder, chilled as she was after her cramped half-sleep. However, the lantern shaped light at the gateway of Four Winds welcomed them home and as Edward drew up outside the front door, the sudden ringing of the telephone, sinister in the sleeping house, reached their ears.

  ‘Who the hell can be phoning at this time of night?’ Edward demanded irritably, hurrying to put his key in the lock.

  ‘Quickly!’ Caroline urged. ‘It’ll wake Peter!’

  Edward strode ahead of them into the hall and Laura was closing the door behind herself and Caroline when the tone of his voice altered drastically.

  ‘What? Oh, my God! How did you—?’

  Caroline caught at his sleeve. ‘Whatever is it?’

  He shrugged her off, glancing at his watch. ‘Look, I’ll come straight back. I can be there by about one . . . Are you sure? Who’s with you now? Can they give you a sedative? . . . Well, if you’re absolutely sure, because it would be no trouble . . . Yes, all right then. I’ll be there about nine o’clock. Try to get some sleep.’

  Slowly he replaced the receiver and stood staring down at it, his face paper-white.

  ‘For heaven’s sake, Edward—’ Caroline began jaggedly.

  He turned clumsily to face them. ‘It’s Clive. He’s dead.’

  ‘Dead’ Caroline’s voice rose an octave. ‘But he can’t be! We’ve only just—’ She broke off.

  Laura felt her legs give way. She sank down onto the monk’s bench, staring unblinkingly at her brother.

  Edward was speaking jerkily. ‘He didn’t come back from seeing us off. God, if only he’d stayed at the hotel! That last little act of courtesy cost him his life.’

  ‘But what happened?’ Caroline demanded.

  ‘He just didn’t come back. Fenella had ordered more coffee as he’d asked, and after about ten minutes she went outside and looked up the side alley but couldn’t see any sign of him. She became anxious and sent the doorman out to look.’

  Edward’s trembling hand went to his forehead. ‘He found him lying sprawled in the alley. Of course, they thought he’d just collapsed, but—when they finally got him back to the hotel, they discovered he’d been stabbed, just once, through the heart.’

  ‘Stabbed?’ repeated Caroline. ‘You mean—it was murder?’

  Laura’s fingers were pressing against her shaking lips. Not Clive Sandilands—not that polite, helpful little man—

  ‘But why?’ Caroline whispered.

  Edward shook his head helplessly. ‘It looks like a mugging. His wallet was taken, and his gold watch.’

  There was a long silence while they all stared at each other, desperately trying to deny the truth of what they’d just heard. At last Caroline moved. ‘It looks as though the seventies are to be our violent decade,’ she said, ‘but Clive won’t be here to write about them.’

  * * *

  The story of the murder made the later editions of the papers the next morning. Seeing it in black and white finally and irrevocably convinced Laura of the appalling truth. Soon after ten o’clock Edward phoned from London, but he had nothing further to report. The police were working on it, but it looked as though they hadn’t much chance of finding the murderer. He had tried to insist on Fenella’s coming to Four Winds, but she had held out against it. It was understandable; although they were her last link with Sandilands, she had only met them the previous evening. She was extremely calm, Edward reported, and seemed capable of handling everything necessary. In the circumstances all he could do was return to Ledbrook. He had been interviewed by the police and they knew where to reach him if they needed him.

  At twelve o’clock the phone rang again, and Laura was surprised to learn it was for her.

  ‘Laura? Paul Denver here. I’ve just heard the news on the radio. Is it true? About Mr. Sandilands?’

  ‘Yes,’ she answered dully, ‘quite true.’

  ‘But weren’t you to have met him last night for dinner?’

  ‘We did. It happened after he had seen us off’

  ‘God, it’s unbelievable’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Are you all right? You sound pretty shaken.’

  ‘Well, of course I’m shaken. If I hadn’t—’ She broke off and fought to steady her breathing.

  ‘Now look, it’s bad enough without you starting to imagine things.’

  ‘I’m not imagining them, Paul; they’re true.’

  There was a pause, then he said abruptly, ‘Are you free this afternoon?’

  ‘I suppose so. I usually rest in the afternoons.’

  ‘I have a free one today. I’ll come and collect you and we’ll drive around a bit. Okay? It’ll do you good to get out for a while.’ She didn’t make any comment. ‘Laura? Will you come?’

  ‘Yes, all right,’ she answered apathetically.

  ‘I’ll be round in a couple of hours.’

  She was waiting for him at the gate when he arrived in a rather battered-looking Ford, and they drove for se
veral minutes in silence before, with a quick glance at her face, he said in his usual abrupt manner, ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

  ‘I’ve nothing to say. It was all in the papers.’

  ‘There’s nothing you can add?’

  ‘No, except that if I hadn’t said I was interested in violence he wouldn’t have invited us to dinner and it would never have happened.’ The words came out in a rush.

  ‘In which case,’ Paul said deliberately, ‘he would probably have fallen under a bus instead.’

  ‘Meaning his time had come? You really believe that?’

  ‘I’m not sure what I believe, except that you can’t consider yourself even remotely responsible for his death. But that doesn’t alter the fact that it’s a terrible business, a brilliant man like that at the height of his success.’

  ‘I know. Oh, I know.’

  They drove on a few more miles and then, completely changing the direction of her thoughts, he said almost conversationally, ‘Are you going to tell me why the sight of Lewis Castleton frightens the living daylights out of you?’

  She caught her breath and shot him a startled look. ‘Did it show that much?’

  ‘I’ll say. Every time he came near you, you nearly flaked out. Now, while he’s not my type, I’ve never considered him in quite the same light as Count Dracula!’

  He glanced at her with raised eyebrows, inviting a smile, but she was staring down at her twisting hands. He waited, guessing she was trying to decide how much to confide in him.

  At last she said quietly, ‘You said a minute ago you didn’t know what you believed in. How about—precognition?’

  ‘Ah-ha!’ The old “I’ve been here before” syndrome. I think it’s generally accepted nowadays that such a thing exists, more widely than most people realize. Go on.’

  She kept her eyes on her hands. ‘The day I came to Four Winds I dreamt about Lewis. Four days before I even knew of his existence.’

  When she didn’t continue, he prompted, ‘And is that so very terrible?’

  ‘It is to me.’ She shuddered.

  ‘What exactly did you dream?’

  ‘It was horrible.’

  ‘And that’s all you want to say about it?’

  She flushed. ‘Yes. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Could it be taken in any way to suggest you might be in danger?’

  ‘No, I suppose not.’

  ‘You are quite sure about dreaming it?’

  Her eyes flicked up. ‘Of course!’

  ‘I only ask because one theory is that due to some mental quirk, a part of the brain might register something a split second before another part, with the result that when the second part sees it for the first time, it already looks familiar.’

  ‘Not in this instance.’ She shook her head decidedly. ‘I was thinking about it all week. I couldn’t get it out of my head.’

  ‘Did you feel it was “horrible” while you were actually experiencing it? Was it like a nightmare?’

  Her flush deepened. After a long moment she said quietly, ‘No.’

  ‘And presumably you also dreamt about those trees?’

  ‘Oh no, I actually saw them. Caroline confirmed it, didn’t she?’ She gave a shaky laugh. ‘No doubt by now you’re convinced I’m quite mad!’

  ‘On the contrary, it’s all most intriguing. By some means or other you managed to “see” trees which weren’t there, only to learn later that they once had been. An interesting point arises: Did you in that flash see into the past, when the trees actually had been there, or into the future, to the moment in time when you yourself heard about their existence? Do you see what I’m getting at?’

  ‘I think so. Does it matter which it was?’

  ‘It could. Do you know anything about Dunne’s theory of serial time?’

  ‘Nothing whatever!’

  ‘Well, it’s very complicated, but the essence of it is that there is more than one time dimension.’

  Laura said apologetically, ‘If you’re going to launch into physics, I’m afraid I’ll be way out of my depth.’

  ‘You wouldn’t be alone in that! It was the dream business that made me think of Dunne, though. He carried out all kinds of experiments with volunteers who guaranteed to write down, immediately they awoke, everything they could remember dreaming about. These records were conscientiously gone through every day for about a month, and an incredible thing emerged. The dreams were almost equally divided between those that referred to things that had happened in the past and those that referred to the future. In other words, although we don’t realize it, we’re as likely to dream of the future as of the past, because in another dimension of time it has already happened. Most of the Oriental philosophies embrace the concept of the Everlasting Now, in which past, present and future co-exist.’

  He glanced at her bewildered face and gave an embarrassed laugh. ‘Sorry, it’s the schoolmaster coming out!’

  She said slowly, ‘It’s a fascinating thought, but why don’t people realize they’ve been dreaming about the future?’

  ‘Because—and this is the crux of the whole thing—ninety-nine per cent of dreams are completely forgotten within minutes of waking. That was why Dunne insisted they had to be written down immediately. Just occasionally something happens which reminds us of what we’ve already dreamt, and we say it’s “broken the dream”. You see, Dunne’s point was that so-called precognition and clairvoyance are not the gifts of a selected few but are within the scope of anyone who cares to exercise them.’

  ‘Well, I for one don’t!’ Laura declared roundly, ‘but perhaps I haven’t any option.’

  ‘Obviously some people are more sensitive to atmosphere than others—it would be easier for them. You said just now that you dreamt about Lewis Castleton the day you arrived at Four Winds. Wasn’t that about the time you saw the nonexistent trees?’

  She looked at him quickly. ‘Yes, it was. The two things probably happened within an hour of each other.’

  ‘It could almost be a case of telepathy, then. You’d somehow “tuned in” to Castleton’s mind. He could easily have been thinking about the house and garden—after all, we know Caroline had already mentioned the possibility of his going to dinner.’

  ‘And—the other?’

  ‘Perhaps another episode in his past. Did you actually figure in the dream yourself?’

  She hesitated for a moment. ‘Now that’s very interesting. I’d forgotten that part. It felt like me, but he called me something else. After all, if it was something out of his past, it couldn’t have been I, could it?’

  ‘What did he call you?’

  ‘I’m trying to remember. A rather unusual name—Noel! That was it.’

  ‘I suppose you’ve never known anyone by that name?’

  ‘No. The interesting question is, has Lewis Castleton? Paul, do you think there could be a connection between my dreaming about him and the fact that he once lived at Four Winds?’

  ‘It’s possible, though I don’t quite see how, unless houses have “memory banks” like computers! Is there anything about the house itself that disturbs you?’

  A tremor ran through her and he turned the car off the road and drew to a halt. ‘What is it, Laura?’

  ‘More of my infernal psychic powers, I suppose,’ she answered with a touch of bitterness, but he noted that she had gone pale.

  ‘Hadn’t you better tell me?’

  ‘There’s not much to tell. It’s just that all the time I’m in the house I’m strongly conscious of a feeling of despair—a cold, desperate unhappiness. Nobody else seems to notice it.’

  He smiled crookedly. ‘You don’t go in for half-measures, do you? All we need now is “things that go bump in the night”!’ He laid a hand over hers. ‘Have you told anyone else?’

  She shook her head. ‘It’s not a thing you want to advertise.’

  ‘I think perhaps you should. This—unhappy feeling. If it’s really strong, it might be a case for exorcism.’
>
  She recoiled violently. ‘No!’

  ‘Laura, it’s not healthy for you to be surrounded by all this when you don’t want to be. Let me have a word with Edward—’

  ‘No!’ she said again. ‘Don’t you see, they wouldn’t believe it, and who could blame them? They’ve noticed nothing themselves. They’d just think I needed a course of psychiatric treatment or something, and I’ve had enough of hospitals to last me a long time. And that reminds me. Dr. Banstead gave me a note to take to Edward’s doctor and I haven’t yet.’

  ‘Then will you tell him what you’ve told me?’

  ‘Certainly not! He’d have me committed!’

  ‘Don’t talk like that!’ Paul said sharply.

  She turned to face him. ‘Paul, you’ve got to promise me not to repeat anything that I’ve told you.’

  ‘But I—’

  ‘Promise!’ she repeated.

  ‘All right,’ he said reluctantly, ‘if you feel you can cope.’

  ‘I shall have to, shan’t I?’

  ‘You’ve never had any of these kinds of experiences before?’

  ‘Not before I came here, no. Perhaps my weakness after the accident has made me susceptible, I don’t know.’

  ‘Well, will you promise me that if it gets out of hand at any time you’ll let me know?’

  ‘What could you do?’

  ‘Talk some sense into you, perhaps, and make you see the doctor.’

  She said quietly, ‘Is there a prescription to banish ghosts? I’ve just thought your Everlasting Now would help to explain them, wouldn’t it? They’ve just strayed over their own time barrier.’

  ‘It would probably explain a lot of things.’ He looked at her anxiously. ‘Had I better take you home now? You’re looking rather tired.’

  ‘Yes, I’m probably missing my rest. I’ve enjoyed the drive, though. Thank you for asking me.’

  ‘I hope you’ll come again,’ he said formally.

  They turned in a wide arc and started back in the direction of Brocklehurst, both of them busy with their own thoughts. A few minutes later Paul turned in between the wrought-iron gates and Laura subconsciously braced herself. The brief respite was over and Four Winds was waiting to claim her again.