The House of Ashes

by Stuart Neville

  Tonight, as Joy and Mary spoke to each other in the dark, Noreen remained silent. Joy could feel her there on the other bed, watching and listening, anger festering in her. But she didn’t care. Let Noreen lose herself to this place. Joy had Mary, and that was all that mattered.

  “When we go away from here,” Mary said, “will the children come with us?”

  Joy felt a crackle behind her eyes. “What children?” she asked.

  “The other children who live here with us.”

  “What children?” Joy asked again.

  Behind her, in the dark, she knew that Noreen held her breath.

  “There,” Mary said, “and there.”

  Although she could not see, Joy felt Mary’s arm move, pointing into the black corners of the room.

  “Who are they?” Joy asked, though somehow, she knew the answer.

  “They live down here with us,” Mary said. “When I got terrible sick and I had the fever, I found them in that place. And when I came back, they came with me. But they’ve always been here.”

  In the light of day, Joy might have told Mary to quit her auld nonsense, but here, in the darkest mile of the night, she knew Mary spoke the truth. And it did not frighten her.

  Noreen spoke up, her low voice startling Joy. “Is there a wee boy with them?” she asked.

  “You mean the boy I remember?” Mary said. “The boy who used to be here and then he wasn’t?”

  “Matthew,” Noreen said. “His name was Matthew.”

  “Aye,” Mary said. “Matthew’s with them.”

  Joy felt something crack inside her as she heard Noreen’s mournful sob, and she wrapped her arms tight around Mary, her legs too, and she wanted to swallow the girl whole, absorb her, pull her into herself. She buried her face in Mary’s hair.

  “When we go,” Mary said, “will they come with us? I need to look after them. Can they come too?”

  “No,” Joy said, “they can’t. They can never leave. This is where they belong.”

  By morning, as she made her toilet, as she washed and dressed, as she set about her tasks, Joy had put the conversation out of her mind. As she swept ashes from the living room fireplace, she did not think of children watching from the corners. As she gathered wood from the yard, she did not concern herself with dark eyes in pale faces. She had never seen them from the corner of her eye, not ever, no quick movements that made her turn her head only to find nothing but folded shadows. And if she had ever seen such things, she would never admit it, not even to herself.

  All she cared about now was the phone call that George was going to make later that morning. After breakfast, he was going to walk into the village and use the telephone box on the main street to call the estate agent in Portadown. Little else entered her mind apart from the children, whom she banished as quickly as they appeared.

  As she and Noreen gathered dishes from the table, George stood and informed his father and brother that he was heading into Morganstown on foot to follow up on yesterday’s messages. He wouldn’t be very long.

  “You needn’t be,” Ivan said. “I want them cattle moved up into the top field. They’ve grazed the bottom field bare.”

  “Aye, I’ll get it done,” George said.

  He didn’t look at Joy as he fetched his coat from the back hall and walked out to the front. As Joy piled dishes in the sink, she watched him shuffle along the drive to the gate and the lane beyond. She felt a small spark inside, knowing that when he returned, he might have news that would change everything.

  “You have to stop it.”

  Joy turned to Noreen’s voice, then looked around the room. Ivan and Tam had left them alone in the kitchen. She turned back to the sink, and the dishes soaking there.

  “I told you, there’s no stopping it.”

  Noreen put her hand on Joy’s arm. Her voice trembled.

  “Please, Joy, please stop it. They won’t let him go and they’ll kill you for putting the notion in his head.”

  “I have to try,” Joy said. “For me and Mary.”

  “They’ll kill her too. And me. They’ll kill us all.”

  Joy said, “It’s done. That’s all there is to it.”

  Noreen came in close, hissing, “Then I’ll stop it.”

  Joy turned to her, their eyes inches apart. “What?”

  “I’ll tell Ivan. You’re a bloody fool if you think he doesn’t see it anyway, but I’ll tell him, and I’ll make sure he knows I had no part in this. You get yourself killed, get the child killed, but not me, right? Not bloody me.”

  “You wouldn’t,” Joy said.

  “Wouldn’t I?”

  Noreen turned to go, heading for the back hall, but Joy grabbed her wrist.

  “Don’t,” Joy said.

  Noreen tried to jerk her wrist away. “Let go.”

  “You’ll say nothing to anyone.”

  “Or what?”

  Joy shoved Noreen into the wall with one hand and reached into the sink with the other. Her fingers found the wooden handle of the knife, and she pulled it from the water. She threw her weight at Noreen, pinned her against the wall with her forearm, brought the blade to her throat, light reflecting on the underside of Noreen’s chin.

  “You say anything and I’ll kill you myself,” Joy said. “I’ll cut your throat if you try and stop me.”

  Small hands reached up and gripped Joy’s arm. She looked down, saw Mary looking back at her.

  “Look,” Mary said, “she’s bleeding.”

  Joy turned her gaze back to Noreen and the blade beneath her chin. She saw the thin trickle of red on the metal, blood melding with dishwater before it dripped onto her fingers. And the fear in Noreen’s eyes.

  “Just keep your mouth shut,” Joy said.

  She took the blade away and allowed Noreen to spill to the floor.

  39: Mary

  After a while, Mummy Noreen gathered herself up and disappeared away off somewhere with a tea towel pressed agin her throat. Mummy Joy stood at the sink, staring out the window, saying nothing. The house came over terrible quiet then, and after it was all over, after they were all dead, I took the notion it had been taking a breath, holding it, ready for what was to come.

  But right then, in that moment, I no more knew what was coming than I knew the number of hairs on my head. I still had the notion things were going to be all right. Wee fool that I was.

  I mind I looked down and I saw drops of blood on the floor, in the corner, where Mummy Joy had Mummy Noreen up agin the wall. Says I to myself, I better get that cleaned up afore Daddy Tam or Daddy Ivan sees it. If they sees it, they’ll bate the hides off all of us. There was still hot water in the pot on the stove, so I poured some into a bucket, fetched the hand brush, and got down on my hands and knees and scrubbed.

  Here, didn’t I scrub the whole kitchen floor, as clean as it had ever been? I’ve no notion how long it took, but Mummy Joy never moved from the window in all that time. I was glad Daddy Ivan nor Daddy Tam never came back, because she would’ve got a hiding just for standing there, her two arms the same length.

  Then, all of a sudden, she spake up.

  He’s back, says she.

  I never lifted my head, just kept on at the scrubbing. But I listened, and I watched from the corner of my eye. Daddy George let himself in and locked the front door behind him. He came into the kitchen, and Mummy Joy turned away from the window. He put a big paper bag full of food on the counter next to the sink.

  Says he, Where is everyone?

  Tam’s out in the fields, says she, and I think Ivan’s in the yard.

  Says he, What about Noreen?

  Never worry about her, says Mummy Joy. Well, what happened? What did they say?

  And here, Daddy George started to giggle and titter, and so did Mummy Joy.

  Says she, Did they ta
ke the offer? Is it done?

  Aye, says he, they took it. The place in Waringstown is mine just as soon as I hand over the money. You know what that means?

  Aye, says Mummy Joy, I do.

  He telt her anyway. Says he, It means we’ll have a place of our own. It means we can be a real family.

  I could feel his happiness from all the way across the kitchen. It glowed out of him like light from a lamp. It touched everything. It made me dizzy in the head. Even though I knew it was all a lie, even though I knew it would never ever happen, it felt like a real and good thing, just for a wee moment.

  He took her in his arms, and she looked awful small in them, like he could crush her, just ball her up like a piece of paper. And she hugged him back, even if she couldn’t reach all the way around him. I wanted to giggle too, and I had to put my hand over my mouth to keep it in.

  And then I saw when he tried to kiss her, she pulled away, turned her face and only gave him her cheek. I knew then it was false. I knew it all along, but I knew then most of all and I felt sad for him, even though he didn’t deserve it. I felt sad for myself too. I knew I’d never have a father, not a real one, nor a real mother nor a family. I mind the notion came into my head, what a thing it must be, to have that. A family and a home where no one’s afeart of anything.

  Then I heard Daddy Ivan’s boots tramping up to the back door, and says I, He’s coming, and Daddy George and Mummy Joy near leapt apart from each other before he walked in the kitchen.

  He stopped there in the doorway to the back hall, looking from one to the other of us, those wee eyes of his hunting for secrets.

  And he found them in the end, like I knew he would.

  There was never any secrets from him.

  We worked through the day, doing what we had to do, but Mummy Joy never settled herself. I had to do half her work for her, she was that busy fiddling and footering. I had the same nerves in my belly, but I knew one of us had to get things done or we’d all be in trouble. Mummy Noreen did her share too, even if it was with one hand, her other holding a flannel to her throat. If the Daddies noticed the blood on her dress, they never let on themselves.

  It was getting late in the day when Daddy George took Mummy Joy aside, and says he, Why don’t you cook the tea for everyone? I bought a gammon in the village there, and new potatoes and some parsnips. Cook it fancy, make it special, maybe use some of the honey from the larder. Put everyone in the right form. And then it’ll be a celebration, won’t it?

  Aye, says Mummy Joy, a celebration.

  She didn’t sound sure of it.

  Says I, Can I help?

  Daddy George smiled down at me, and says he, Aye, why not?

  So we set about it, Mummy Joy getting the gammon ready, boiling it with carrots and onions in the big pot, me peeling the parsnips and more carrots. We were wondering what to do with them, should we mash them or just boil them?

  Mummy Noreen appeared behind us, and says she, Roast them in the honey, along with the gammon. I saw that in a book one time, when I was at the library to stay out of the cold. I used to like looking at the cookery books.

  Aye, says Mummy Joy, we’ll do that.

  She clapped her hands and tittered and we all took into it, laughing and chittering like I’d never ever known us do before. And I had that feeling again, like everything was going to be all right, like I was going to be free of thon house.

  I should’ve known it would never let me go.

  Before the men sat down for their tea, Daddy George spake up.

  Says he, The girls have worked awful hard on this feed. Maybe they could take a plate down with them while it’s hot instead of waiting for the scraps?

  Daddy Ivan gave him a terrible hard look. Daddy Tam just sat there with a dirty wee smile on his face, his eyes all red from the drink.

  Go on, says Daddy George, just this once. Sure, there’s plenty for everyone.

  Daddy Ivan let a grumble out of him, then, says he, Aye, all right, just this once.

  He nodded at Mummy Noreen to make the plate up, and she took the biggest one she could find from the sideboard and she piled the food up so high I was afeart she would spill it all over the floor. We took it downstairs, and I still remember the smell of it, steaming hot. I can’t mind a single other time I had hot food down there. The three of us dug in with our fingers and all the fighting and thran was forgotten about while we ate. I’d never tasted food cooked in honey before that, and I can still now mind the sweetness of it on my tongue.

  The Mummies let me clean the plate, running my fingers round it, getting the last wee scraps. Then I lifted it to my mouth and I licked it till it was shining. I was so busy with that I didn’t hear the noise from upstairs. The first thing I noticed was the Mummies had gone terrible still and quiet. When I lifted my mouth from the plate, I heard the voices up there, thundering.

  It was Daddy George, mostly. Shouting at the other two. Daddy Ivan’s voice was calm. Daddy Tam was laughing, the hoots of him over everything else. I couldn’t make out all the words, but I heard Daddy George telling them he wasn’t the eejit they thought he was, they always treated him like he was stupid, but he wasn’t, he knew things too. They never let him have anything for himself, he was shouting, why would they never let him do what he wanted to do?

  And Daddy Tam laughing harder and harder, and that must’ve hurt Daddy George more than anything, for that’s when there came the big crash, a bang first that shook the dust from the ceiling, then cups and plates smashing, cutlery clattering above us.

  Mummy Noreen put her hands over her ears and put her head down to her knees. Mummy Joy stared straight ahead of her, and I could see she was trembling. I reached over and took her hand and she squeezed mine so hard I was afeart she would crush my bones to pieces.

  There came a terrible thumping and rumbling from up above and I knew Daddy George and Daddy Tam were bating each other up there and any moment Daddy Ivan would have the belt off him and swinging. Right enough, I heard the snap of it, and them men squealing.

  Then it got awful quiet and all I could hear was my own heart jumping and kicking like it wanted loose from my chest. Mummy Joy squeezed my hand harder still and I would’ve cried for her to stop if I’d had any voice left in me at all.

  I don’t know how much time went by. Like I said, I haven’t a great notion of time, I can hardly tell a minute from an hour, but right then it felt like it stretched out forever and ever until time wasn’t a real thing a person could even reckon.

  Then the door at the top of the stairs opened. I was the only one dared turn her head to see. For a moment, I couldn’t tell who it was, he was nothing but a black animal eating up all the light from around him.

  Then he spake up, his voice all broken with anger, and I knew who it was.

  The three of yous, says Daddy Ivan, get up here now.

  40: Sara

  Sara turned her head, saw him standing over her, horror on his face.

  “What the fuck have you done?” Damien asked.

  “What about Tony?” she asked. “Is he alive? Please tell me.”

  Damien took a step back and said, “Get up.”

  She looked back to the exposed skull, most of it still hidden in the earth. “They’re everywhere,” she said. “Mary told me. In the walls and the floors. And you knew. You knew what they found there in the extension. You knew there were others and you did nothing. Said nothing.”

  “Get up,” he repeated.

  “We’ve been walking over their bones,” Sara said. “All these children. You knew, your father knew, and you didn’t care. How could you imagine living here with—”

  He reached down, grabbed a handful of her hair, hoisted her upright. “Get the fuck up!”

  Sara howled at the pain, her back and shoulders, her knees, her scalp.

  “Look what you did,” Damien sa
id, his breath hot against her ear. “After everything my father gave us. After everything you’ve put me through. Look what you fucking did.”

  He threw her to the floor, sent her sprawling through the scattered earth and sand, across the displaced and broken flagstones. She scrambled up onto her knees, but he was on her, grabbing her hair again. From the corner of her vision, she saw him raise his free hand, form it into a fist, ready to bring it down on her.

  Her fingers found something long and hard, a handle, the mallet. Without thought, she swung it up behind her head, and it met his fist. Through the shaft, she felt bone break, and he gasped, an agonised inhalation, then he whined. He rolled back onto his haunches, still astride her legs, clutching his now misshapen hand to his chest.

  “You fucking b—”

  His words were cut off by the mallet connecting with his chin. His head spun, twisting his neck as he fell against the island, knocking a stool to the floor. He searched for her with dim eyes. A string of blood and white fragments spilled from his lower lip as he coughed. She saw the disrupted line of his jaw and knew she’d broken it.

  Somehow, as she backed away, he got his feet under him and stood upright. He coughed once more, spraying blood and teeth across the floor, and reached down with his one good hand to seize the chisel.

  Sara got to her hands and knees, tried to crawl away, but he stood on her ankle, ground his sole into her flesh and bone. He lifted the chisel by its shaft, its blade pointing down, ready to stab at her.

  She saw the hate in his eyes, and she did not hesitate.

  Sara swung the mallet with the very last of her strength, the force of it buckling his knee, and now he screamed as his leg gave way. He collapsed against the island, tried to cling on, but he slipped, his head striking the worktop as he fell.

  Sara scrambled to the far side of the kitchen, to the door leading to the back hall, and pressed her back against the frame. She watched as he lay on his back, mumbling and gurgling, his arms moving as if they weighed more than his body could hold. He tried to lift his head, but his neck couldn’t support it.