The House

by Eden Darry

  She gave one last push, and then something in the pile gave. Fin thought it sounded like a cabinet crashed to the floor. She heard other bits of furniture and boxes begin to tumble like dominoes, and then she was turning around and crab-walking out of the tunnel.

  The sense of relief was huge. She took in lungfuls of the damp, musty air and brought her ruined T-shirt up to wipe the bottom over her face.

  Now all she had to do was get upstairs and out of the house in one piece. In the corner, something moved.

  * * *

  Liam woke up screaming. Sadie ran in from the balcony to find him thrashing violently on the bed, the covers twisted around his legs.

  Sadie sat beside him and leaned over, trying to hold down his arms, which were fighting off something unseen. It seemed to make things worse, so instead she gathered him into her arms. His elbow connected with her cheekbone and she saw stars for a minute.

  “Shh. Liam, you’re dreaming. Shh.” She rocked him like she had when he was a baby. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

  Slowly his thrashing became less frantic, and his body went limp. He was panting, and when she looked down his big brown eyes were glassy. Sadie reached out and ran her hand over his hair and down the back of his head. Sadie continued to rock him, staring down at his face and willing him to come back.

  Behind her, she heard a sniffle. Lucy. She’d forgotten all about Lucy. Sadie turned her head. Lucy stood in the middle of the room. Her T-shirt had ridden up, exposing her softly rounded tummy, and she was sucking her thumb. She hadn’t done that for over a year now. She wasn’t crying, but her eyes were wet, darting between Sadie and Liam, and her lower lip quivered.

  With one hand Sadie reached out, and Lucy ran over and climbed onto the bed.

  “Liam’s having a bad dream. There’s nothing to be scared of. He’ll be fine in a minute.”

  Lucy pulled her thumb from her mouth with a pop. “I want Mama,” she said.

  So do I. God, so do I. “I know, darling. We’ll see her soon.”

  Liam moved in her arms and she looked down at him. He blinked slowly and struggled to sit, staying in the circle of her arms. Sadie couldn’t hide her relief. “Oh, thank God. Liam, are you okay?”

  He nodded, then saw Lucy and gave her a watery smile. “I had a bad dream.”

  “You was screaming,” Lucy told him solemnly. “Woke me up.”

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “You don’t need to be sorry, Liam.”

  “I want to go home,” he said suddenly.

  “We can’t yet.”

  “We have to,” he insisted.

  “Why?”

  He looked away. “Don’t remember. I want to go home. I want to see Mum.”

  Liam crossed his arms and his chin jutted out. Sometimes he seemed so grown up, and other times, like now, Sadie was reminded he was only six. Just a baby.

  She sighed and rubbed her eyes. She could feel a headache building behind her eyes. On the bedside table, her phone buzzed. Fin.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Fin walked towards the police car and signalled for them to wind down their window. She bent down and looked in.

  “Did you see anyone come down here? Up to the house?” she asked.

  “No. Not this way. Did something happen?” the older guy asked her.

  “What about you two? Did either of you go around the back of the house?” She didn’t answer his question.

  “No. Ms. Claiborne, is something wrong?”

  Fin wasn’t sure how much to say. There was no sign of anyone in the house—she’d checked everywhere and it was locked up tight. Except for the giant bloody rat that had scurried out at her in the basement.

  After finding out about Lance Sherry, she’d made sure all the windows and the back door were locked and bolted. The front door hadn’t been tampered with either. If it wasn’t Lance Sherry, then who had pulled up the ladder and shut her in? It didn’t make any sense. If it was someone passing by, wouldn’t they have called out to see who was down there?

  She realized they were waiting for an answer. She was also aware of how she looked. Even now, for reasons she couldn’t explain, she was reluctant to tell anyone about the trapdoor and the tunnel.

  “No, no nothing’s wrong.”

  “Are you sure? You look…umm…”

  “I’ve been moving all the junk in the basement.” It wasn’t a total lie. “Years’ worth of crap down there. Sorry to bother you. I’m going to make a cup of tea in a bit. I’ll bring you one out.”

  She straightened up, hiding the wince caused by the pain in her lower back. She’d need some painkillers and a hot bath tonight, or she would feel it tomorrow.

  Fin decided to check around the back of the house, at the tunnel. Just to see if the person who shut her in was still hanging around. After that, she’d head down to the basement and try to tidy up some of the mess she’d made. And cover that tunnel back up. She told herself it was in case one of the kids found it and went for a wander, but that wasn’t quite the truth.

  Fin took another walk around the property and couldn’t find any sign of anyone. She picked up the ladder and stored it back in the shed. In the kitchen, she boiled the kettle for tea, and that was when she saw her phone. Shit, six missed calls. All from Sadie. Fin picked it up and dialled her wife.

  Fin was about to hang up when Sadie answered in a rush, “Oh, Fin, thank God. Where were you? I was so worried.”

  “I’m sorry, babe, I was in the basement. Is everything okay? Are the kids all right?”

  “They’re fine. We’re fine. I’ve been calling you since early this morning.”

  Fin set out three cups and tea bags for her and the officers and poured the water, the phone cradled between her shoulder and ear. “I left it in the kitchen. I didn’t mean to worry you. How’s it going over there?”

  “Liam had a nightmare, a bad one. He’s okay now,” she added quickly. “Lucy’s trying to catch a spider on the balcony.”

  Fin laughed. She closed her eyes, picturing her family. She missed them. “I miss you.”

  She heard Sadie’s deep sigh on the other end of the phone. “We miss you too. The children want to come home.”

  “What? They’re on holiday—off school. Why do they want to come back?”

  “To see you, of course. Is there any news on…you know.” Sadie lowered her voice.

  “No babe. Nothing.” She didn’t tell Sadie about this morning. It would only worry her, and Fin didn’t think it was Sherry after all. “They’ll catch him soon.”

  “I hope so. I want to come home.”

  Fin felt a lump rise in her throat. “Yeah.” Her voice was rough.

  “So, what are you up to today?”

  “I’m going to start on the basement, I think. I’ve got some furniture being delivered from the old workshop later, and I really need to crack on with it.”

  “You’ll be careful in the basement? There’s so much stuff down there. I don’t want it to fall on you—not while there’s nobody around.”

  If only you knew. “I’ll be fine. I won’t touch the heavy stuff on my own. That lad from the town is coming up when the furniture arrives, so I’ll get him to give me a hand with the big stuff.”

  “Okay then. I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  “Do you want to speak to the children?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Fin spoke to the kids for a bit and then Sadie again. When they finally hung up, she felt an acute loneliness she remembered from childhood. Meeting Sadie made it go away, and now it was back again. She missed her family.

  She thought again how unfair it was that piece of shit Lance Sherry got to walk around without a care in the world, while her family were forced to leave their home. She felt impotent and helpless. She should be doing something, not pissing about in tunnels and basements. She had to do something.

  * * *

  Downstairs in the basement, Fin surveyed the wrec
kage from her escape. A tallboy had fallen forward and smashed to pieces. A bunch of mismatched dining chairs had tumbled over, though they looked more or less in one piece.

  Fin carried the plyboard over to the now exposed tunnel and held it against the archway opening. It would fit, and if she moved all the furniture and boxes back, no one would know it was there. Or be able to get through. But especially, know it was there.

  She nailed the board in place, then began to drag the boxes over. One of them tore at the side and she cursed as its contents—photos and papers—spilled out everywhere.

  “Shit.” She bent to scoop it all up. Fin couldn’t help herself—she shuffled through the stack she was holding. In one picture a man stood with his family against the backdrop of the house. She flipped it over and saw 1888 written in faded blue ink. She looked at the man again. Could this be Nathaniel Cushion? There was something familiar about him, but in this light it was hard to see properly.

  Fin put the pictures and documents back in the box as best she could and dragged it over to a corner.

  Out of curiosity, she opened a few of the other boxes. Most had general junk inside: broken lamps, chipped teacups, and yellowed paperback books. It was the detritus from the families who lived here before. Left down here and forgotten over time. She didn’t have time now, but later she might take them upstairs and have a look through. It would be something to occupy her in the evenings while Sadie was away.

  It took a few hours, but finally the tunnel was hidden once more, and the basement junk gave no sign she’d struggled through it earlier.

  Upstairs again, Fin checked her watch. She’d have enough time for a quick shower and change of clothes before the furniture arrived.

  * * *

  Fin sat on the sofa and put her feet up. The furniture arrived and she’d worked late into the evening, trying to catch up on a piece she was well behind on. All day, she’d thought about the journal and looked forward to reading it. The box still sat in the basement, and Fin wondered what other treasures were in there.

  Fin drank from her wine glass and opened the journal at the first entry. It took her a moment to adjust to the handwriting, and she was struck by how beautiful the cursive script was. She felt a sense of loss that no one wrote like that any more.

  Unfortunately, the excitement she’d felt all day didn’t match what was inside. The first entry concerned itself with practical matters about the house construction. She flicked through several more pages which were filled with the same subject. She skim-read through about a month’s worth of entries and almost put the journal down. Finally, she came to a vaguely interesting entry and read:

  11th August 1888

  I have today been forced to let another of the builders go. I told the man I found his work to be substandard and almost laughed at the shock on his face. He is the fifth man this month. He begged me to reconsider and even came close to tears when he told me about his sick child. I struggled not to laugh at the pathetic creature.

  The truth, of course, is far from the story I told him about his shoddy workmanship. I cannot tell him why I fired him or the four before him. I would find myself on the gallows with a noose around my neck if the truth were ever known.

  I am impatient. The high turnover of workmen slows the building and I am anxious to take up residence. I have dreamed of this for so long, and now that the wait is almost done, I find myself short of both temper and self-control. I must remain controlled, though. I must, or it will all be for nothing and I am so close.

  Fin yawned and closed the journal. Nathaniel Cushion sounded like a bit of a bastard. She was too tired to read any more and decided to call it a night. Perhaps she’d pick it up again tomorrow.

  Fin went upstairs to bed. She was asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

  She woke a few hours later gasping for breath. She ran a shaky hand over her head and it came away wet with sweat. It was the dream. That fucking dream.

  Fin got out of bed and went into the bathroom. She ran the tap and splashed water over her face. It helped a bit. Except she still couldn’t get that dream out of her head. Fuck.

  In the dream she’d come home to find Lance Sherry at her dining table. By one hand sat a cup of tea, and by the other was a wicked sharp knife. Sadie was at the sink, and when she turned, she had an angry red line across her throat where he’d cut her. In a dreadful monotone voice she’d said, Welcome home, Fin. We’ve been waiting for you. Fin turned at the sound of her children coming through the door, and they had those same red lines too. Fin tried to scream but nothing came out.

  See, said Lance Sherry smugly. This is what happens when you can’t take care of your family. I make them mine. Now run along, you pathetic creature. And he made a shooing motion with his hand. Sadie laughed, except that didn’t sound right either.

  In the dream, Fin’s legs began to move of their own accord and carried her out of the house and down the drive. She turned to look back, and they stood there: Sadie, Sherry, and the kids in the same pose as the photo she found in the basement. Except for those red lines on their throats. The red lines had begun to bleed.

  That was when she woke up, terrified. Now she stood in front of the sink, her face and hairline wet. She looked at herself in the mirror. She looked like shit.

  Fuck it. Fuck waiting for the police to catch him, and fuck having Sadie and the kids halfway round the world while she sat here twiddling her thumbs. Fin hadn’t gotten where she was by waiting for someone else to save her. If she had, she’d still be waiting now. She knew exactly how to put an end to this. Her horrible family would finally be good for something.

  She got dressed and went downstairs, grabbing her car keys on the way.

  Chapter Eighteen

  It was almost closing time, but the pub was still packed. The Beggar was one of those pubs the twenty-first century left untouched. It still had two separate bars. In the old days, one had been for working men and the other for men and their wives. Even when she was a kid, her dad would take her to the second bar and usually leave her there with a Coke and a packet of crisps. These days, people used whichever bar they wanted. The carpets were threadbare in places and all the dark wood made the place seem small and dingy. It hadn’t changed at all.

  Fin’s uncles had been drinking in this place for years. Her mum used to send her down to fetch her dad home on Sunday afternoons, back before he walked out and her mum started hitting the bottle.

  She was hardly through the door when she heard her name being called.

  “Finola? Bloody hell, it’s Fin.”

  “You all right, Nate?” She barely had time to greet her cousin before he pulled her into a bear hug.

  He lifted her off her feet and spun her around. “Joe,” he called to the barman. “Get my cousin Fin a drink. What do you fancy, Fin?”

  “I’ll have a vodka Red Bull.” She usually didn’t touch the stuff, but she was running low on sleep and needed something to lift the fog.

  Before long, she was sitting at a table in the corner, wedged between the wall and Nate. Fin looked up to find her Uncle Finlay watching her. Her namesake always reminded her of a lizard. He took in everything around him without ever moving his head. She would bet money he even had a forked tongue.

  “How are you, sweetheart?” he asked. “Haven’t seen you for years. How’s your mum?”

  The last time Fin saw her mum, she was in the park drinking cider. Fin had walked past and pretended not to see her. “She’s all right. I haven’t seen her for a while.”

  Uncle Finlay nodded. “Heard there was a bit of trouble with your…with Sadie? Isn’t it?”

  He was quick. She had to give him that. She wasn’t surprised he knew about the attack. He’d probably been wondering if she might pop by. He would help, she knew. But it would cost her. Not money, by all accounts he had plenty of that. Uncle Finlay traded in favours. If she took his help, she’d be paying him back forever.

  “That was a terrible business.
We were all very sorry to hear about it. Is she all right?” he asked. The sympathy in his voice never reached his eyes.

  “Thanks, Uncle Finlay. She’s okay, yeah.”

  “Have they caught the little cunt yet?”

  He would know they hadn’t.

  “No.”

  “Terrible business.” He reached forward and picked up his drink, his eyes never leaving hers. He was waiting for her to ask him. She thought about the promise she made Sadie, about the reasons she hadn’t spoken to her family for years.

  “Do you know him? Lance Sherry?” she asked.

  Nate shifted on his seat beside her, and she saw him make eye contact with his dad. “We know of him. He’s off the Charles Hocking estate, so we don’t tend to, er, cross paths much.”

  Fin heard what he wasn’t saying. Sherry worked for a different firm, which would make things trickier.

  “Do you know where he is?” she asked again.

  Nate shrugged. “Lying low probably. He’s got a few friends left in the area. I can ask around if you want?”

  Fin looked around at the pub. It was a relic, just like the men in front of her. Just like most of the people in here. A snapshot of a world that didn’t exist any more. Her uncle was still dangerous and he still had connections, but the world was changing and he was a dinosaur. Still dreaming about a world that had long since passed. He was even wearing a fucking suit, for God’s sake. To the pub. To this shithole.

  What was she doing here? Was she mad? She’d gotten away from these people, and now she was thinking of inviting them back into her life. Into Sadie’s life. Into her kids’. This was madness.

  “Maybe. How’s Aunt Mary?” she asked instead.

  Surprise registered in Uncle Finlay’s eyes before they hardened and flattened again. “She’s good, thanks. Spending most of her time with Michelle now she’s had the baby.”

  Fin vaguely remembered her mum telling that her cousin Michelle had a new baby. “Congratulations,” Fin said.