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Authors: Helen Phifer

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BOOK: The Forgotten Cottage
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He opened up the cutlery drawer and took the sharpest knife out. He would keep this close in case he needed to use it. There was nothing he could do now; it was out there. He would only be able to leave after dark, not that he’d gone out much; Megan was quite happy to do the running around. The kettle began to whistle and he poured the boiling water over the tea bag, then he popped two slices of bread into the toaster. He enjoyed having Megan around but he much preferred his own company; it could be quite a challenge engaging in conversation with her. If she was feeling happy it was the latest gossip from the soap operas but if she was feeling down all she wanted to talk about was death and killing people. It hadn’t been something that Henry had really thought about before he’d done it; well, not to the extent that Megan talked about it – she was quite obsessed with the whole idea of killing someone. Last night she had said that she wanted to kill women who looked like the bullies who had made her life hell at school. Women with long hair, it didn’t matter what colour as long as it was really long and they loved it, and by loving it she meant that they did nothing but play around with it. She wanted to abduct them, take them somewhere to a cellar or an empty room in a disused house and tie them up. She wanted to take a pair of sharp scissors and cut their long hair off until it was in a pile on the floor. Henry had listened to this, quite fascinated by her desire to take a person and then take away everything from them that had defined them. She was going to gag them and wasn’t sure how she would kill them, but after looking at various methods she was quite keen to try garrotting them. It was something she thought she could manage on her own, given the right tools.

Fuck, Henry had been so freaked out by the conversation he had excused himself and retired to bed to be alone with his thoughts. She was definitely on a par with some of the most depraved killers he’d heard of, but of course he couldn’t criticise her because he had done something very, very similar. It was just strange to look at her pretty face and hear those words spoken from her mouth; they would be calling her the Angel of Death once it all broke out. Megan had been quite clear that she didn’t want to spend ages setting up blind dates or meetings with her victims but she would take extra care when out and about and if she saw someone who matched her profile then she would follow them home and figure out how and when they could abduct them.

He ate his toast and sipped his tea whilst reading the articles in both papers; they were very similar, apart from one that said the people of his home town were on high alert in case he returned there. Too late, he’d been here three, maybe four days now; it was hard to keep count, and no one at the caravan park looked remotely as if they were on high alert. Caravan doors were propped open from morning until night; there were kids running around everywhere, playing football and having water fights. He didn’t mind the football but the incessant screeching when they blasted each other with water from the neon-coloured submachine guns was unbearable. In his day the best you could get was an empty washing-up liquid bottle and if you were really lucky a brightly coloured, see-through plastic water pistol, but Henry had to make do with the bottle. Not that he’d had many water fights; he hadn’t had a lot of friends when he was a child. As his mother had always told him, ‘You’re such a loner, Henry Smith. Go out and make some friends.’ His fists curled up involuntarily at the thought of her; to this day he didn’t regret killing her. At the time he’d felt sad that it had come to such a terrible decision but once he’d got over the initial guilt he’d found it didn’t bother him at all. How could you miss someone who’d dominated your whole life until the day you finally liberated yourself?

1782

The noise was horrendous. The men were all talking at once, their voices getting louder and louder. Joss picked up a pan from the stove and banged it down onto the table so hard that they all jumped and stopped talking.

‘Jesus, will you all listen to yourselves? None of this is even possible. How can a woman, a dead woman, cause so much panic? We are all grown men and very much alive, unless you carry on like this and you will all scare yourselves to death, which is exactly what could have happened to Marcus. He liked to drink, did Marcus, and we all know that—how did we all meet?’

There was a murmur from everyone, agreeing with Joss.

‘You’re right, Joss, he did like to drink and did the doctor not say he died from falling down the stairs? Broke his neck, he did, but how? He didn’t have enough ale in his house or empty bottles to get that drunk he couldn’t walk straight. And I saw the look on his face when they carried his body out—terrified, he was. A mask of fear he was wearing when his heart stopped beating.’

Joss nodded. He agreed with Thomas to a certain extent but the problem was that now they were all scared.

‘Look, why don’t we stick together? Those of you who are lucky enough not to be married can stay here with me. Those of you with wives make sure you’re never left alone long enough for anything to happen. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but if we stick together she won’t be able to hurt us all. That’s if it even was her; we might just be worrying over nothing. If after a couple of days nothing happens then we’ll put it down to Marcus’s bad luck and his inability to hold his beer.’

No one answered but Seth looked relieved; in fact, when Joss looked at each of them in turn they were all wearing the same expression of relief.

‘I suggest you go home and get anything you might need for the next few days then lock up your houses and come back here. Bring some food as well because I have no idea how much food is in the pantry.’

The heavy atmosphere in the room had eased; it was not the answer to the problem but at least it was a temporary solution. He stood with his back to them all as they began to move around and leave to go and get whatever they needed. His brain felt as though it was too heavy for his head to hold up and he prayed for some kind of answer to the problem as soon as possible. The men all shuffled out of the door except Seth. Joss dropped onto a chair opposite him.

‘We need to speak to Father Sawyer, ask him if there is something we should have done with her body. I don’t think we can exactly ask him to bury her in the church grounds, but I think there might be something we could have done that would stop all of this.’

Seth nodded and for the first time in days the frown lifted from his brow. ‘That’s a grand idea; maybe he could come and bless her grave. I think he already knows something went on because he was fishing around at the inn two nights ago. If we swear him to secrecy he will have to keep it to himself. Priests aren’t allowed to break confession, are they?’

‘I don’t think so, Seth, but we don’t really have much choice, do we? As I can’t think of anything else that we can do.’

Joss stood up. ‘Come on, let’s go and find the priest and see if he can help.’

Seth followed him and they began the short walk back to the village and the church, which was on the hill overlooking it. They climbed the steep stone steps and walked up the path to the church. Seth lingered behind Joss, uncomfortable; he really hated churches. Joss hoped that when he reached the church doors God wouldn’t decide to strike him down dead; then again, if he died it would be the end of this nightmare.

He twisted the iron ring on the door and it swung inwards. There was a strong draught of cold air which blasted Joss and he shivered. Seth tripped over the step and fell into him, pushing him forward. He missed his step and clattered through the internal door into the church. The priest spun around to see who or what had made such an entrance. His face visibly relaxed at the sight of Joss and a very red-faced Seth.

‘Sorry, I missed my step.’

‘Happens a lot that, as long as you didn’t hurt yourself.’

‘No, I didn’t. Thanks.’

Joss smiled at him. He hadn’t been inside the actual church in a while. Not since his wife had died and he had lost all faith in the good Lord. He made an exception for funerals, suffering through a church service to show his respect to the dearly departed.

‘What brings you two here on such a fine day? I’d have thought you would be out working the land, Joss?’

‘I should be, no doubt about it, but I have a problem. Well, we have a problem; there are a few of us but they are too afraid to speak about it.’

The priest nodded. ‘Would this have something to do with the sudden disappearance of one Betsy Baker and the demise of your entire family?’

Joss bowed his head. ‘Yes, Father, it does.’

‘I wondered when one of you would be forced to come and see me. I suppose Marcus dying in such a manner has put the fear of God or the devil into you all, has it? I know what you all did. I’m the first person someone comes to see if they need to confess their sins. You all honestly didn’t believe that every one of you would carry your secret to the grave and not tell another soul?’

Seth let out a sob and pushed the sleeve of his jacket into his mouth to stop him from crying out his admission of guilt. Joss patted the lad’s shoulder and turned to face the priest.

‘I suppose not; so you know about Betsy then. You know that it was her who poisoned my boys, my parents and then planned to murder me. You know that we chased her through the woods with hunting dogs and dragged her back to my house to hang her and bury her in the garden.’

The weight of confessing lifted from Joss’s shoulders and he felt much better; so be it if the priest decided to tell the authorities. If Joss was hanged at least he would be reunited with his family; he didn’t care about living or dying any longer.

‘I do. I know every single detail but do not fear for they were passed to me in a confession and we all know that they are sacred and can never be broken. Your secret is safe with me and if it’s forgiveness that you want then I forgive you. If she had done the same to my family I would want to see her hanged until she breathed no more, priest or no priest. So what have you come to see me for?’

It was Seth who spoke next. ‘She’s come back for us all; she said she would and she has.’

The church door flew open, hitting the wall with such force a chunk of limestone fell to the floor. The colour drained from Seth’s face and Joss felt a cold shiver run down his back. The priest looked at them both, fear etched across his face. He began to walk briskly down to the huge wooden door to close it.

Seth stood so close to Joss that he couldn’t have moved fast if he needed to and whispered into his ear, ‘She’s here. She knows we’re talking about her. What are we going to do?’

From somewhere behind them came an ear-splitting sound of sharp nails being dragged across a pane of glass, the sound amplifying around the eaves of the church. Seth lifted both his hands to his ears; the noise actually hurt his brain it was so loud. The priest was trying to shut the door but it wouldn’t move, and his face began to turn crimson with the effort. Joss ran to help him, followed by Seth, who didn’t want to be left on his own near to where that awful sound was emanating. All three of them put their shoulders in and began to push at the door with all their might; the priest began to pray out loud and the door moved an inch so they shoved it even harder and managed to move it slowly back so they could close it. The force behind it on the other side was huge and Joss was too scared to think about how something invisible could be so strong.

With one last push the door slammed shut and the priest took the key from his pocket. Inserting it into the lock, he turned it until it clicked and the door was locked. All three of them sighed; they leant with their backs against the door while they waited for their breathing to return to normal. Something threw itself against the door and the whole thing shook; the wood felt as if it was being pushed through. Terror made them turn around and Seth pulled Joss away from it. The priest began to shout at the door in Latin as the wood began to bulge into the church. Joss was scared it was going to break and splinter towards them. As the priest shouted louder the door became flat once more and the noise stopped. The atmosphere, which had been heavy moments ago, returned to one of peace and serenity.

Father Sawyer turned to them. ‘You need to show me where you buried her. Did you give her a proper burial because if not we have to dig her up and at least bless the grave. Did you place a cross on her chest, sprinkle her with holy water; was she properly laid out?’

‘No, Father, we did none of that; we were so guilt-stricken and afraid for ourselves at what we had just done that we threw her into a hole in the ground and buried her.’

‘There is no way we can move her body into consecrated ground now, it will be rotten, but if I bless her and we do what I’ve just said I might be able to contain her spirit. I can’t say if it will work but it’s better to at least try than all die of terror.’

Joss nodded. ‘When shall we do it?’

‘I’m afraid we have no choice; we must do it now before she becomes too powerful for me to fight. Now, kneel down at the altar. I’m going to bless your sins and forgive you both. Then I’m going to baptise the pair of you because I have no idea whether your parents did or not and it won’t hurt to do it again and then we are going to go and do the same to the remains of Betsy Baker and ask God to take her in, away from the forces of evil so that she may rest in peace.’

Chapter Twenty

Jake knocked on the front door as Father John pulled into the drive behind him. He turned and grinned, saluting the priest, who saluted back.

‘Good morning, Father, long time no see. I hope you’re here on a nice visit and not some scary shit that will turn my hair grey.’

‘Morning, Jake. Now what makes you think that? I’m here to check on our special friend Annie and see how she is.’

‘She’s special all right.’

The door opened and Annie poked Jake in the ribs. ‘I heard that, cheeky.’

Jake walked in, rubbing his side, and Father John opened his arms and grinned at Annie. She fell into them and he wrapped them around her. There was something safe about being hugged by a man of God, well, this one, anyway; he was such a good person through and through.

BOOK: The Forgotten Cottage
7.93Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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