The Memory: A Gripping Psychological Thriller With a Heart-Stopping Twist

by Lucy Dawson

  ‘It lasted a lot longer than that. It was more like a good minute or two,’ he says. ‘I couldn’t breathe properly; something was definitely pressing down on my chest. I knew I was awake because I saw a figure walking down the road outside, behind the curtains, but there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t scream, nothing.’ He swallows. ‘In this country it’s called an incubus – a sleeping demon that lies on your chest. Lots of other cultures think it’s a night hag – a witch that sits on you and sends you nightmares.’

  I snort. ‘Eve Parkes was unkind to me earlier tonight, but I think it’s a bit harsh to call her a night hag.’

  He doesn’t laugh. ‘You didn’t hear what I said, did you?’

  He takes a deep breath and steps into the bedroom, switching the light on. It’s a manic bright pink, not in the least restful, but otherwise a very average room. The window is right in front of us; but it’s hard to notice anything but the colour of the walls.

  ‘We used to call this the bubblegum room,’ Tim says, unnecessarily, as I look at it in disbelief, then up at the thick polystyrene ceiling tiles. The whole look is completed by the white Formica built-in wardrobe… this one has faux gold handles – luxury – and a peach-fringed lampshade that I’m not surprised Eve has left behind.

  ‘See? I saw someone walk past behind the curtains that night,’ Tim repeats. ‘I definitely saw them… and we’re a floor up, aren’t we?’ he adds triumphantly.

  He’s actually serious. ‘I honestly think sleep paralysis is quite a common phenomenon,’ I say gently, ‘but you know what? It doesn’t matter that this side of the house creeps you out – you don’t have to sleep over here. We already said we’re going to keep that door locked, so Rosie can’t go wandering around.’ I walk over and rub his arm. ‘Try to relax a bit. As soon as I can get a locksmith, I’ll get him to put an extra bolt on it, OK?’

  I expect him to rebuke me for taking the piss or being patronising, but in fact, he nods and shivers. ‘I don’t even want to put the boxes out here, if that’s OK.’

  ‘Sure. If it makes you feel better.’

  He looks at me. ‘Can’t you feel anything?’

  I raise an eyebrow. ‘Like what? A funny atmosphere or something?’

  ‘I’m not sure what I mean really; a negative energy – a sense of hopelessness?’

  I laugh at that, I can’t help it – and he looks wounded. ‘Yes! I bloody do!’ I say. ‘This place is a shithole and I’ve got to spend the next year here making it look pretty because you gave all of my money away – of course I feel a sense of hopelessness!’

  He looks down at his feet. I’ve broken my earlier promise already.

  ‘Sorry,’ I say instantly. ‘Come on.’ Grabbing his sleeve, I flick the harsh light off and pull him back through the door into the middle bit as we plunge into darkness. I throw the bolt across while he shivers awkwardly and rubs his arms again.

  ‘It’s really rattled your cage, all of this, hasn’t it?’ I say, looking at him more carefully. ‘It was unsettling to find Izzie just standing in the living room like that, but like you said – you probably left the front door open.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not worried about her at all,’ he says quickly, ‘but yes, we do need to get into the habit of locking up. We can’t just leave it because we live in the country now.’

  ‘Very true,’ I agree. ‘Come on – just leave the boxes. Let’s get you home.’

  ‘We are home,’ he says bleakly.

  There’s an uncomfortable silence and I clear my throat. ‘Can we please not descend into a pit of gloom, Tim? I’m doing my best to stay upbeat. Help me out here, OK?’

  It’s his turn to apologise. ‘Sorry. You’re right. I’ll shut up now.’

  ‘That’d be good, thanks. Let’s get back to your mum and dad’s,’ I say pointedly. ‘We’ve all had enough excitement for one day. Where did I put my bag?’ I look around me. ‘I have no idea where it is.’ I start to wander around looking on top of boxes, and Tim follows me.

  ‘You didn’t leave it in the kitchen?’

  ‘No, because I took a phone call from your mum upstairs in the front spare bedroom…’ I pause. ‘Ah! Look – there it is!’ I spy it through the door to Rosie’s room, lying on the floor. As I bend over to pick it up, Tim follows me, walks into the en suite and with the vocabulary of a man who has an eight-year-old and now automatically moderates his language even when she’s not there, announces: ‘I’ll just have a wee before we go.’ He still leaves the door wide open as he unzips his fly, though. Not all habits die.

  I roll my eyes and look away, wandering around the bedroom as I wait for him, glancing at the birds on the walls before something on the floor catches my eye. It’s a small stubby piece of candle with what look like thorns shoved into it. I bend again to pick it up. It’s only when it’s in my hands and I twist it directly under the light that I can see it has been intricately carved.

  ‘What’s that?’ says Tim over my shoulder, having finished, and looking at it warily.

  ‘A candle.’

  ‘I mean what’s it got all over it?’

  ‘I know. Odd, isn’t it?’

  ‘Where did you find it?’ he says quickly.

  ‘Just on the floor. Why?’

  ‘No reason.’ He reaches out and takes it from me. ‘I’ll chuck it. I don’t want Rosie finding that – she might hurt herself.’

  ‘OK.’ I watch him shove it in his back pocket.

  ‘Any other weird things like that you find – will you give them to me?’ He looks around him and his gaze settles on the tree and birds. ‘I want to paint over all of that too.’ He points at it. ‘They creep me out.’

  ‘You’re kidding me.’ I’m amazed. ‘Rosie will be gutted if you do that. At least let her see them for herself and make the call. I’ve already told her about them.’ I watch him exhale heavily. ‘Honestly, Tim – they’re just birds. I’m not having this for the next year that we’re here. Calm it down and take a breath, yeah?’

  ‘Do you think we should get a priest in to bless this place?’

  I blink, I’m so astonished at what he says. ‘A priest to do what?’

  ‘Bless it,’ he says awkwardly. ‘Get rid of any negativity – and make it safe.’

  ‘What on earth are you talking about?’ I exclaim.

  He clears his throat, widens his eyes like he’s just appreciated how that sounded out loud, and exhales slowly. ‘You’re right – this is just stupid. I’ll feel better in the morning. It’s been a very long day.’

  I take his hand. ‘I know this place holds memories, but like you said to me – it’s just a building. That’s all.’

  He hesitates – then nods. ‘You’re right. You’re absolutely right. I need a massive dose of grow the hell up. I was a kid the last time I was in here and I’m not that person now. You know, Adam, Izzie and I did a séance right here in this very room.’ He laughs when he speaks, but it’s an anxious sound.

  I roll my eyes. ‘What were you thinking?’

  ‘Isn’t it just the sort of thing you do when you’re seventeen and a bit bored?’

  I shake my head. ‘Nope. I’ve never done one.’

  ‘Maybe it’s a living in the country thing.’ He shrugs. ‘We did the lot; waited until it was dark, lit candles… Adam and Izzie put their hands on the planchette and it began to spell “Michael” – which was Izzie’s Dad’s name. Izzie started crying and saying: “Is that you, Daddy?” I was terrified and I almost wet myself when it spelt out “Yes”. I couldn’t say a thing. Adam was really calm though, he took her other hand and told her not to be afraid.’

  ‘“It’s comforting. This is OK,” he said, and looked at her. “We can stop this any time you want, all right?” He took charge pretty much straight away.

  ‘She nodded, before asking out loud: “What do you want to say to me, Daddy?”

  ‘The planchette spelt k-i-s-s-e-s and then h-e-a-r-t-s. Then it spelt h-e-a-r-t-s again and again, getting faster and faster.
Their hands were going mad over the board when Adam gasped and suddenly sat back, letting go and just staring at Izzie. “You’re glowing!” he said, in amazement. “Oh My God – I can actually see your aura! That’s incredible! It’s violet… and blue!” He reached his hand out towards her then rubbed his fingers together very gently, like something tangible was slipping between them. His eyes widened and he slowly pointed at her head. “And you’ve got a halo! An actual halo! That’s crazy!” he started to laugh.

  ‘I didn’t think it was funny. I made myself look at Izzie, but the only abnormal thing I could see, was how still she was sitting. When she suddenly jumped like something had touched the back of her neck, I leapt out of my skin too. She whipped round and looked over her shoulder – which really freaked me out – only for her hand to start moving again, apparently against her will, because she gasped. The planchette was flying around the letters a-n-g-e-l, a-n-g-e-l, a-n-g-e-l. I thought her dad was trying to tell her she was his angel, or that she wasn’t to worry, he was in heaven; something like that – but then it slid suddenly and it started spelling h-a-h-a-h-a-h-a-h-a.

  ‘There was nothing comforting about that.

  ‘Izzie started to panic straight away. I could hear the fear in her voice when she said “Daddy?” She looked up at us, worriedly. I didn’t do anything, but Adam put his hand back over hers only for it to move to P-A-U-L. The second it landed it on the L Izzie screamed and snatched her hand back. I jumped up as well. I couldn’t believe it was Paul Jones. It was like he’d been waiting for us.

  ‘Only Adam still had his hand on the planchette. “We have to say goodbye!” he said desperately, “that’s right, isn’t it, Izzie? Otherwise the gate stays open?”

  ‘She nodded – she had turned completely white – and we watched Adam fight to move the planchette to “goodbye”. It was like he was pushing a mountain. He shouted: “Thank you for speaking to us, but we need to go now!” and managed to somehow force the planchette across the board, before collapsing onto the floor, and looking up at the ceiling, panting.

  ‘I honestly don’t think I took a breath the whole time.

  ‘“We need to blow the candles out now.” Adam sat back up quickly. “Do we wrap the board in a cloth next? I can’t remember?” He looked at Izzie, his hand pushing up through his hair. “My mind has gone blank. I saw him – or someone – stood next to you.” He pointed in Isobel’s and my direction, and I jumped to my feet instantly, looking around me, terrified.

  ‘“Wow, that was scary.” He let his head drop. “We shouldn’t have done this in the house. What were we thinking?”

  ‘“Can we burn the board, so nothing can get back through?” I suggested, flattening up against the wall. I wanted to vomit – but Adam looked at me like I was mad. “You never, ever burn a board, Tim. You’ll be haunted forever if you do that. You have to bury it – and in a different location to the planchette.”

  ‘“Some people say it doesn’t matter, once you’ve made the connection with the spirit world, it can never be undone,” Izzie whispered. “Your fate will be bound to the other side forever.”

  ‘I wanted to cry. Why the hell was she telling me that now? Fat lot of good that was! “You said it was safe!” I stammered, but she ignored me.

  ‘“Do you think it was all Paul Jones?” she asked Adam. “Do you think my daddy was there at all?”

  ‘“Yes, I do,” Adam said earnestly. “I really believe that, Iz. He got pushed out, but he was there. There’s no doubt in my mind.”’

  Tim looks at me and swallows nervously.

  ‘I don’t know if I agree that it was her father, but Adam seemed certain someone was there.’ He looks around the room and exhales slowly.

  ‘Right,’ I say eventually. ‘Well firstly, I can’t believe that, even as a kid, you thought that any of that might have been real.’ I turn around and start to head off downstairs, Tim following close after me. ‘There have been about a hundred studies showing that Ouija boards are down to something called the ideomotor effect, which is basically when you make movements unconsciously – almost involuntarily – when you’re asked a question to which you already know the answer.’

  ‘Sorry?’ says Tim, looking doubtful.

  ‘Like when you’re doing a quiz and someone asks something random like “By what name is La Gioconda better known?”’

  ‘Er… I want to say Mona Lisa?’ He sounds unsure.

  ‘Exactly!’ I say delightedly. ‘You didn’t know you knew it but it’s locked away in your subconscious. Same principle with Ouija boards.’ I reach the bottom of the stairs and turn to face him. ‘Adam and Izzie already knew who they’d be thinking about and subconsciously moved the planchette to spell it out. Although it was probably even simpler than that. I expect Adam just did it to try and be “comforting” to Izzie because he fancied her.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Tim stops short for a moment. ‘That has literally never occurred to me until now. Maybe that was why he spelt out “Paul”, because he knew it would freak me out?’

  I shrug modestly, feeling secretly rather pleased with myself. ‘Probably. Plus, loads of other studies have shown when you blindfold Ouija users and flip the board around so they don’t know where the letters are, the planchette spells out gibberish, because the users haven’t got sight to guide them to the right letters. If it were “spirits” you’d get clear answers anyway, right? It’s complete rubbish.’

  ‘You really should think again about your psychology degree. It’s not fair that you never got to do it. We should look into how we could make it happen,’ Tim says after a pause.

  I shake my head. ‘It’d be too expensive now – and it’s not practical; definitely not this year, that’s for sure. I think I would have enjoyed university – but my sister needed me more, and I’ve done all right without it, so…’ I shrug. ‘Shit happens.’

  He reaches out and takes my hand, giving it a supportive squeeze. ‘You honestly weren’t ever tempted to use a Ouija board yourself?’

  I shake my head. ‘No – never. I read quite a lot about spiritual stuff – mediums and that kind of thing – after Mum and Dad died. I think some people really want to believe stuff like that, to the point where they genuinely believe they’ve heard or seen something supernatural. I find that interesting, but only because it shows how powerful the brain can be – but it’s also why I think when your brain stops – everything stops – that’s it. Game over.’ I shrug. ‘No one more than me would like to believe in there being something beyond this world, but there just isn’t.’ My smile becomes a little sadder and Tim hugs me, kissing the top of my head.

  ‘I’m sorry, now I’ve upset you, talking about this.’ He hesitates. ‘I have sometimes wondered if it had anything to do with the acid we did.’

  I wrinkle my nose. ‘How can I have been with you for ten years and not known you did acid? You’d have been about twelve, surely, when it was all about raves and smiley faces. I know you smoked dope at school; I didn’t know you’d done more than that?’

  He looks embarrassed. ‘It really only was once or twice in the sixth form – and that time with Adam and Iz.’

  It’s all starting to make a lot more sense now. ‘So what you actually mean is when you were all seventeen and eighteen and tripping your tits off you did a Ouija board. No wonder you were scared stupid.’ I snort. ‘Come on, let’s go. I’d have been more worried I’d unlocked a part of my brain I wasn’t going to be able to shut back off if I’d been you. I read an article recently about working professionals using LSD to treat depression and mental breakdowns.’ I skirt over the fact that I was scanning to see if there were any helpful pointers for how to handle what Tim might be going through. ‘It suggested that it can help shrink down your sense of self,’ I’m also very careful not to use the word selfish or ego, ‘and make you feel more connected with the world around you. Apparently LSD can have a really profound effect on some people and they can experience “memories” or echoes of a trip for some conside
rable time afterwards.’ I cross the room to turn the lights off and wait until Tim walks past me.

  ‘I honestly only did it a handful of times, I promise,’ he says.

  I shut the front door behind us and diplomatically don’t comment. Bloody boarding schools. It was probably rife for most of the time he was there, not just in the last year. Thirty grand a year to mess your kids up forever. What’s wrong with people?

  Scrabbling through my bag in the dark car, however, I realise I’ve not got all of the answers.

  ‘Don’t go yet, my phone is missing,’ I exclaim in frustration. ‘What’s wrong with me today?’ I look up at the house and nudge him. ‘Hey – look at that! It’s in the front spare room – I can see it lighting up! Someone must be calling me.’ I watch as the glow in the room dulls and returns back to black. ‘You stay here, I’ll go and get it.’

  ‘You don’t want me to?’ Tim eyes the window nervously.

  ‘You’re all right,’ I say kindly. ‘Thanks, but I really don’t mind.’

  I unclip the seat belt, open the door and using the overhead light, search on the unfamiliar keyring, before selecting the front door key as Tim shivers in the cold.

  ‘I’ll be right back.’

  I climb out and walk back up to the door, unlocking it and pushing it open, as it judders, catching on the tiles and swings wide. I throw the hall light on and flick the small sitting room switch. As I walk into the room, I catch my reflection in the dining room window, visible through the door on the far side of the room, and do a double take, before tutting at my own foolishness and bounding upstairs. The landing creaks as I walk into the front bedroom and put the light on, glancing down to see Tim waiting in the car below, engine still running – and there indeed is my phone, on top of a box. I pick it up and press the home key to see who rang, but I have no missed calls. I also don’t have a single new notification. I frown, pick it up and slide it into my back pocket, turn and flick the light off.