The Cry of the Lake

by Charlie Tyler

  I couldn’t think straight. I ran through the events of last night again. This time I saw myself heap spoonful after spoonful of powder into the tea. Uncle was right. I must have done it.

  I sobbed.

  “You aren’t to blame, dearest.”

  “What will I do, Uncle?”

  Frank was pacing up and down, clicking his knuckles. “Dear, dear. What’s to be done, indeed?”

  He took a deep breath then clasped his hands together. “One thing for certain is this; we don’t want the police coming around here and questioning you. You might confess what you did and then go on to mention Gil and what a mess that would create. I know you didn’t mean to do it, dearest, but the law will take a much dimmer view of these events.”

  I was shaking. Frank pulled out a hipflask from his jacket pocket, unscrewed the lid, and pressed it to my lips. “There, dearest, you’ve had a shock. Take a swig.” I obeyed him, like I always did, and he tipped the liquid down my throat; it tasted of burnt cherries and made me catch my breath. The burning sensation continued circling my belly long after I had swallowed. I liked it.

  “I think the best thing is for you to take Cassie and go somewhere far away. Don’t tell me where so that if I am questioned, I simply will not be able to answer. I will give you money to start you off with, but then you must fend for yourselves. Change your names, become different people but, whatever you do, you must stay in the shadows. Do you hear me?”

  I nodded.

  “You are old enough to take care of yourself and your sister now. Old enough to make a new life for the both of you.”

  “But what about you, Uncle?”

  He shook his head. “I will stay here and smooth things over. If I can, that is.” He sighed. “But don’t worry about me. There is no time to lose. You must pack a few necessities and I will take you to the station.”

  “May I say goodbye to him?”

  Frank started. “No!” he snapped. His eyes widened and he coughed. “No dearest. I don’t think that would be the right thing to do.”

  We went to the train station and he left us on the platform with our luggage. He didn’t wait to see us catch the train. I clutched hold of my sister’s hand; if Cassie was surprised or distraught, I wouldn’t have known or cared. Frank had been generous. We had enough money to get by for a year and it was stuffed into envelopes inside my suitcase – we were lucky that Frank happened to have so much cash in the safe.

  I sat on the train and imagined what the funeral would be like. Cookie would over-cater, and I knew there would be a tray of untouched egg sandwiches whose corners would curl in on themselves thanks to the oppressive heat of the drawing room. People liked to observe other people’s grief and I imagined the dozens of pairs of eyes focusing upon Frank, wanting to feed off his sadness. They would be disappointed that the girls weren’t there – Frank would have to explain that we were too traumatised by the event and had gone to stay with relatives.

  I imagined throwing a posy into the coffin and let out a loud sob. Cassie glanced up from her book then quickly returned her gaze to the page. Tears were flowing down my face as I thought of Gil. He would never be buried; his body was assigned to the bottom of the lake for eternity. The rattle of the carriage dug into my bones and my sorrow faded, replaced by an emerging sound.

  The voice went by the name of Blame.

  It was Blame that chose to go back to Tom Marchant and punish him. After all, he was the one who set off the chain of events which had led me to the here and now. Blame was kind to me and never once considered that my involvement also made me culpable; it ignored my misreading of Gil’s affection; my creation of the mermaid; my administering of the overdose.

  No! Tom Marchant. It could all be traced back to him. He had promised me the chance of a normal life, but it was all a lie. I would never be able to experience what it was to have a loving relationship with a man. So instead, I dreamt of how I would get my revenge and the cruelty dished out to me, I passed down the line to my sister.

  Things were different in our new Norfolk flat. I chose bedtime stories with unhappy endings – the Brothers Grimm or Hilaire Belloc. If I had to suffer then so did Cassie. At the start, I never did anything tangibly cruel apart from to starve the child of the hugs and cuddles she desperately wanted. The cutting came at a later stage when Grace had been created and I needed Cassie to appreciate the seriousness of what I was trying to achieve.

  The self-harm reminded me of the blood that had been spilt and Lily became a living sacrifice. You could say it was almost holy.

  ***

  I was jolted from my thoughts. There were footsteps and Tiggy woofed and scratched at the door to the jetty. Next there was loud hammering.

  I picked up the rifle and positioned myself behind the door. And so, the final act had begun.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Lily

  I pushed the boat out, through the panelled corridor, onto the lake. To start with, my feet reached the bottom, but as I emerged into the open water, I stumbled and swallowed a great gulp of ivy-green water which left a residue of silt on the back of my teeth. I was hauling myself inside the floating tub just as Grace waded in. She grasped hold of my ankles, digging her fingernails into my skin and I kicked back at her with every ounce of strength I had. Before I lost momentum in my upper body and just before my brain had time to remember I couldn’t swim, I dropped inside, landing on Nina’s soft body. She groaned.

  The panic at being surrounded by water had left me struggling to breathe. My nightmares might have vanished, but water was still a huge terror. One lesson on how to float with Flo had not turned me into a swimmer. Grace was at a distinct advantage; first, she could swim and, secondly, she knew how scared I was of water because she’d fed my phobia.

  Grace was clinging to the boat like she was a crab, pincers hooked onto a nylon washing line dangled over the pier wall – desperate to retrieve the bait. She began to rock the boat, the tilting motion enabling her to claw her way closer. I grabbed the oar, sat up and whacked Grace’s fingers until she screamed and was forced to let go.

  The rage on Grace’s face took on demonic proportions; her eyes disappeared to arrow slits and her mouth twisted into a knot.

  Still gasping for air, I rowed into the centre of the lake, relying on adrenalin to power my body into movement.

  When Grace saw I was out of her reach she submerged her whole body and retreated back under the boat house; a crocodile, biding its time. Classic reptilian behaviour; why waste energy in a fight when it was much more efficient to wait until the prey was tired and then go in for the kill?

  It was bucketing down with rain.

  After a few minutes my sister appeared on the jetty, her hair smooth against her skull, her roots brilliant white; eyes darting from side to side. Her lips were moving but no sound came out. Who was she talking to? Then I saw it and the oar almost slid from my grasp. She had a rifle tucked under one arm whilst an umbrella dangled from the other. She smiled at me and waved the gun in the air before sitting down and laying it next to her. It was as though she was setting out a stall at a fete. She patted a curious black object next to her thigh then put up the brolly, clamping the handle between her knees.

  “You’ll have to come in soon,” she said, cupping her hands around her mouth, her voice competing against the storm. “The whole area around the lake is fenced – you’ll never be able to get out. After all, dear Uncle Frank couldn’t have us running away again.” She laughed; a screeching sound. “I’ll give you forty minutes to make your way back in before I start shooting.”

  And there we were; in a floating, wooden shell, bobbing up and down on the middle of the lake. Torrential rain pressed against the ridge of my spine and it felt like someone was shaking a box of dressmaker’s pins onto by back. Nina was lying on her side and I covered her face with my upper body, spreading my arms wide and transforming my cardigan into a make-shift tent. I sang to her and every so often she opened a glassy eye,
presumably to check I was still there, but the longer we drifted on the water the less the frequency of her stares.

  I couldn’t let Nina die. I wouldn’t. Surely Flo would have raised the alarm when she realised her Mum and Frank were both missing? Were police cars on their way?

  Suddenly I was blinded by a white light. At first, I thought it was lightning, but the dazzling illumination remained, coating my body in its brilliance. Grace was shining a powerful torch onto the boat and it created a silver a pathway across the water.

  There was the sound of gravel shifting and a silhouette raced up the wooden steps. I couldn’t see who it was, but they were slender and moved with stealth. My heart shuddered – was it Flo? Tiggy barked and Grace got to her feet and stood to one side of the door. There was loud banging, the door burst open and at the same time Grace raised the butt of the rifle. CRACK! The person fell to the ground and Grace rained more blows down upon them.

  Grace shouted something to me, but her voice, drifting across the water from the boat house, was muffled by the gentle lapping of the lake and the grotesque cry of an amorous frog.

  She pointed the rifle at the body on the deck and waved her arm in a beckoning gesture. She had gained herself another bargaining chip – she knew I couldn’t stand by and watch someone else die – I already had too much blood on my hands.

  My stomach lurched at the inevitable; I would have to row back to the boat house and face whatever punishment she chose to inflict. The help that I had desperately hoped would arrive and whisk us to safety had unwittingly handed Grace every last ounce of power. There were no blue lights flickering through the trees or sirens clanging in the distance.

  “Don’t move,” hissed a familiar voice. I pressed my hand to my forehead. I must be hallucinating. I kept my head still but rolled my eyeballs around, trying to work out where the sound was coming from.

  “It’s Friday I’m in love,” sang the voice. It was coming from the water behind. I was going out of my mind. The boat moved forwards an inch.

  “Flo? But I thought…”

  “Your voice?” she exclaimed, almost laughing. “Shit – how did that happen?”

  “I can’t explain. I had a vision. A man. I know it sounds crazy, but it’s like he unlocked something inside of me. It’s like he has given me back my voice.”

  “Nothing happening here sounds crazy because it’s all off the scale fucked up. Throw the rope out to me, I can’t tread water any longer.”

  “I’m so glad you are here,” I said, guilt blistering out of my pores. I lowered the rope with slow movements. “I wanted so much to tell you what was going on, but I couldn’t – I was such a coward.” My voice trailed off.

  “You are not a coward. Grace is a monster. I know she killed Amelie to frame Dad and get her revenge on his involvement with your father’s death. She’s been keeping you a prisoner for years and now it’s time to cut her loose.”

  “But…he’s not dead. My father, he’s still alive. I can’t explain it all now. How did you even get here?”

  “I swam.”

  “Nina. She’s in a bad way and whoever came to rescue us just now is lying unconscious on the decking.”

  “It was Annie–” said Flo, her voice breaking. “Mum… Will she be okay?”

  “She needs help urgently. And Frank,” I gulped, “I’m so sorry Flo, but he’s dead.”

  Flo was silent for a few seconds. It was too much for her to take in. Water sloshed against the sides of the boat. We watched Grace disappear for a few minutes then return, carrying a rope.

  “This is so fucked up,” said Flo. “I saw what she just did to Annie. She was waiting to meet with Grace, but Grace must have seen us arrive together because she changed the venue. As soon as we realised, I got in a taxi and came rushing back here. I heard screaming down by the lake and saw you pushing the boat onto the water with Grace trying to grab you. I thought Annie would be following right behind me, but she took forever to get here so I decided the best thing to do was to swim up behind the boat. That way, I wouldn’t be seen. I thought I’d be able to hide you in the bottom of the boat and then make a big show of swimming to the furthest bank, tricking Grace into thinking I was you. She would have had to leave her post to come and find you and then you could have rowed to shore and made a run for help. The gun and the frigging spotlight have put pay to that – she’s watching our every move. No one’s going to get through that door onto the jetty without her hearing them.”

  “She’s tying Annie up. Flo, Annie’s on her feet. She’s okay.” I let out a huge breath. “Okay. What are we going to do now?”

  “You are going to row close enough to hold a conversation with the mad bitch. Once she’s busy talking to you, I’ll swim under the boat and through to the other side of the jetty. You need to keep her chatting and distracted. Once I’m in position, tie up the boat and get her to give you a hand onto the decking. That’s when I’ll attack her. From behind.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Let’s do this.”

  I turned the boat around and rowed in, towing my hidden extra cargo. My shoulders and arms ached from the effort, but I kept going. Soon, I could hear my sister hollering at me. Sweat trickled into my eyes making them sting.

  Nina groaned. “Flo’s here,” I whispered. “It’s all going to be okay.”

  A flicker of a smile clung to the corner of her mouth and made my heart flutter.

  When I was about two metres from Grace, I stopped rowing, turning as I slowed.

  I stared at Annie, who was gagged, trussed up and tied to a wooden post. One of her eyes was screwed shut, whilst the other focused upon me. Grace was bent over, re-adjusting the angle of the torch.

  “As you can see, the lovely Annie’s here,” she said, standing upright and placing her hands on her hips. She turned to Annie. “Thought you’d got me, didn’t you?” She wagged a finger at her then turned back to me. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen your step-sister on your travels. She’s bound to be prowling around here somewhere.”

  “You’ve got to stop this, Grace.”

  Grace’s jaw fell open and then she threw back her head and cackled. “So, you’ve found your voice. Well, well, well. What brought about that miracle?”

  “It came back when you found the chopped-up skeleton in the water.”

  Her body went rigid.

  The boat dipped and I pictured Flo sucking in a deep breath before submerging her head. The water to my left rippled and I saw a green-white shadow slip away under the surface. I had to keep Grace talking.

  “You won’t believe it,” I shouted, “but since then I’ve been haunted.”

  “What?” Her eyes twitched from side to side and her mouth hung ajar. She took a step closer to the edge of the jetty. I needed to keep her face trained on mine.

  “I know it sounds crazy, but it is the ghost of a young man.”

  “What does he look like?”

  In the distance I saw Flo’s head bob up out of the water. “He’s tall with golden skin and long white-blonde hair. When he smiles,” I waved my hands in the air, “well, it’s as though he could light up the whole world.”

  Her hands trembled. All thoughts of hostages and bargaining chips seemed to vanish.

  I had her hooked.

  She knew my guardian angel.

  “Is he here?” She whipped her head from left to right – her eyes glinting in the artificial light. Flo’s silhouette was clawing up one of the wooden posts. My stomach churned. Grace had to stay focused on me.

  “No,” I snapped. “He’s not here at the moment.”

  “When did you last see him?”

  “In the woods. And then again under the boat house. He was the one who guided me onto the water.”

  “He’s been guiding you to me,” she said, pressing her hands together in prayer. “It’s me he’s trying to communicate with. Not you.”

  Tiggy barked and went over to where Flo’s fingers were curling over the edge of the wooden boards.
r />   “Tiggy,” I shouted, my voice stern. The dog spun around and pattered towards me.

  I rowed the boat a metre closer. I could see Grace’s breath rising up into the cold air.

  She threw back her head and laughed, a horrid mechanical sound. “Did your ghost tell you his name?”

  I shook my head.

  “Gil Walton.”

  I kept my face trained on hers. The dog was running from side to side, barking and wagging her tail.

  “Gil Walton, otherwise known as Myrtle – the creature of the lake. The dead body you saw under the water.” She laughed until tears ran down her cheeks. “It was Gil, your nanny, not a fucking mermaid.” Hazy images of a young man lifting me up into the air and spinning me around, flooded into my mind. Grace’s cries of laughter morphed into sobs. “Every time you had a nightmare you saw him. That’s why I wanted to listen. He was mine,” she jabbed an index finger against her chest. “He belonged to me and yet each time it was you who got to see his face and hear his voice.” Her speech was stilted, her ribcage jerking in and out.

  My mind was racing. My mermaid was Gil – a nanny I could barely remember.

  “I killed him.” She thumped her fist against her chest. “I did. He loved me and Dad took him away from me.”

  And then I saw him. Gil was standing behind Grace holding his arms around her; his skin golden and shimmering.

  Flo was out of the water.

  I threw the rope onto the side.

  “He’s here,” I whispered. “Don’t move a muscle.”

  Grace froze. “Where?”

  “His arms are around you. Can you feel them?”

  Annie flinched and in that split-second Grace turned. There was a roar as she flung herself on top of Flo. The dog was running in circles, barking and wagging her stumpy tail. I leapt onto the deck and jumped on top of Grace’s back so that all three of us were rolling around on the planks. After a few minutes of wrestling, Flo and I had Grace pinned face down, hands behind her back. Annie nodded her head to her back pocket and Flo reached inside her jeans and pulled out a set of handcuffs which she slapped around Grace’s wrists.