The Silence (8 page)

As far as Nell knew, Beth was completely truthful, so she accepted this at face value. And since mention of an unknown child being in the house might frighten Beth, she said, ‘I thought I heard you playing. You’re improving by leaps and bounds.’

‘Am I really?’ Beth looked pleased. After they had eaten, she went back to the little sitting room to finish the Enid Blyton book. It was pretty good, she said, when Nell asked what she thought of it. ‘Only they’re so gross, some of those girls. They talk about having maids at home. I don’t know
anyone
who has maids, do you? Well, except at Oxford, and that’s not the same, is it?’

‘Oxford’s a law unto itself.’

‘I’ll finish it though, on account of wanting to know what happens.’

‘While you do I’ll go up to make some notes about the rest of the books,’ said Nell.

‘Are they worth a lot of money?’

‘Some of them might be. So don’t spill anything on that one. Call if you want me. I won’t stay up there long, though. It’s already starting to get dark.’

As Nell sorted through the books, the image of the boy at the piano was strongly with her. Michael had recently been absorbed in Longfellow’s poems, and there had been a line he had liked and had quoted: ‘All houses wherein men have lived and died/Are haunted houses . . .’ And then something about, ‘The stranger at my fireside I cannot see . . . There are more guests at table than the hosts invited . . .’

It was an unnerving idea however you looked at it. And what about the stranger at the piano? Was it conceivable that the boy in that dazzle of sunlight could be a lingering fragment of Brad? A shard of memory still lodged in the house?

I think there are a few strangers at the firesides of this house, thought Nell. But I don’t think I’d mind if they were a link with Brad.

It was then she heard Beth scrambling up the stairs, shouting to her. She tumbled into the room, white-faced and clearly frightened, clutching at Nell’s hands.

‘Sweetheart what’s wrong?’

‘There’s someone outside.’ Beth’s voice was shaking, and fear jabbed at Nell.

As calmly as possible, she said, ‘Are you sure? What did you see?’ She knelt down, holding Beth’s hands tightly. ‘Darling, you’re perfectly safe. Just tell me what you saw.’

‘I went back into the music room so I could sit in the window and read. Then I thought I’d have another go at that old piece of music. I thought Dad might have played it so I wanted to play it as well. And I got a bit more of it this time, which was pretty good, but then there was a kind of movement from the garden—’

‘Through the French windows?’

‘Yes. At first I thought it was just a bush or something blowing across the glass. Only,’ said Beth, on a sob, ‘when I looked, it wasn’t. It was a woman – Mum, she was standing right up against the window, pressing against the glass, and she had this thin,
thin
face, and hands that sort of scrabbled at the glass as if she was trying to get in . . .’

‘She can’t get in,’ said Nell, as Beth faltered. ‘Whoever she was, she couldn’t possibly get in. Everywhere’s locked up. We’re absolutely safe – we couldn’t be safer.’ But we’re not, she thought. I can feel that we’re not.

Beth said, ‘I ’spect we could just tell her to go away, could we? Only she might come back. Like – when we’re in bed and it’s dark, and if she got into the house . . .’ She broke off, her small face crumpling.

‘That won’t happen,’ said Nell at once. She was listening for sounds from downstairs as she spoke, but there was nothing. ‘I’ll go downstairs now to sort it out,’ she said. ‘You stay here.’ She saw Beth’s scared expression, and she said, ‘Bethy, listen. This was the room Dad used to sleep in. So you sit at the desk – I’ll bet he often sat there – and I’ll be straight back and everything will be fine. It’ll be someone who’s lost and come up to the house to ask for directions or something like that.’

But despite her words, Nell’s heart was thudding as she ran downstairs, and she was strongly aware of Stilter’s isolation and the non-existent phone signal. Probably there was no one out there. Yes, but you saw someone last night, said her mind. And Beth saw something just now, and she isn’t given to wild flights of imagination.

It was growing dark and Stilter seemed to be sliding down into its semi-haunted twilight state. Nell cast a swift glance towards the music room door, then darted into the kitchen to collect one of the new torches. Back in the hall she thought something moved beyond one of the narrow panes of glass at the side of the front door – a faint shape that might be a human hand or might be a tree branch. There was the sound of rain pattering against the windows. Or was it rain? Mightn’t it be fingernails, tapping to see if anyone was at home . . .?

Nell took a deep breath, reminded herself that the torch was heavy enough to use as a weapon if necessary, and went determinedly towards the music room. She stood warily in the doorway, shining the torch all round, every nerve tensed. But nothing moved and nothing seemed out of place. Bay window, chairs, tables, bookshelves, piano which was open with Esmond’s music still propped up on the stand. Gripping the torch more tightly, she turned its light onto the French windows. It sliced a triangle of sharp brilliance through the violet and indigo shadows, but nothing seemed to be out there. Had the woman Beth saw gone away, as she had last night? Nell had a sudden wild vision of some poor half-mad soul in the grip of a freakish compulsion to walk through Stilter House’s gardens every evening at the same hour.

She turned back to the room, trying to decide how safe she and Beth were and wondering if she dared go all round the house to look into each room. She was just checking the catch on the French windows when there was a movement behind her. Nell whipped round and something stepped out from the shadows and walked towards the piano. The torchlight fell on wild unkempt hair and mad, staring eyes, and on dreadful thin hands that reached out greedily. Nell gasped and raised the torch in instinctive defence, backing away, praying to reach the door before the woman pounced, somehow managing it. She slammed the door hard, then ran across the hall and up the stairs as if all the demons of hell were at her heels, calling to Beth, not caring if her voice gave away her exact whereabouts.

Beth answered at once. ‘I’m here. What’s happening?’ Her voice was scared, but she was clearly all right, and Nell fell thankfully into the room.

‘It’s all right, we’re quite safe. But we’re going to drive to the village.’

‘Is it the woman I saw?’ Beth hopped down from the window seat, her eyes huge with fear. ‘Did you see her?’

‘Yes. She won’t hurt us, though. Most likely she’ll have run off now,’ said Nell, hoping Beth would accept this. ‘But she seemed confused, so it’ll be better if we get to the car and fetch help for her. We’ll go quietly downstairs, and all you’ve got to do is keep tight hold of my hand and do exactly what I tell you.’

‘You promise it’s safe?’ said Beth, her eyes huge.

‘I promise it is. Double treble promise.’

As Nell led Beth to the dark landing, her mind was racing ahead. She always put the car keys in the side pocket of her handbag, but had she left the bag in the sitting room where she had been working, or looped over the banister at the foot of the stairs when they came in earlier? Let it be on the banister, she thought.

‘Beth, I’ll snatch up my bag from the stairs and we’ll go out through the front door. If the bag’s not there it’ll be in the little sitting room, and that’ll mean a quick sprint down the hall and out through the garden door. All right?’

Halfway down the stairs Nell saw that the music room door was partly open, and her heart leapt with fear. I left it shut, she thought. She’s come out of that room. She’s somewhere in the house.

The foot of the stairs was in shadow, and for a moment she thought her bag with the keys was on the banister after all, but as they neared the stairs she saw it was only a scarf. She tightened her hold on Beth’s hand, and pointed to the hall. Beth nodded, understanding, and they went towards the back of the house. Please don’t let her be here, Nell was thinking. Please let us get out of the house and to the car.

It was like one of the old children’s games, where you had to cross a piece of land without being caught or seen. The hall seemed to stretch out and out, like the distortion in a nightmare, and there was the strong feeling that she and Beth were not alone. It’s the stranger at the fireside, thought Nell. The guest who wasn’t invited, but who’s here anyway . . .

Here was the sitting room at last, and there was her bag on the fireside shelf. She picked it up, and turned to indicate to Beth that they would go out through the scullery.

There was a whisper of sound from the dark hall and a blurred movement, then the woman was in the doorway, her face in shadow, black rain clinging to her. For several dreadful seconds Nell froze, then Beth gave a sob of panic and her mind snapped back into place. She thrust Beth behind her, then bounded forward and slammed the door hard. There was no lock, but she was already seizing the edge of a small settle, and dragging it across the door to form a barricade. Blessedly Beth seemed to understand, and threw her own small weight behind the task.

‘That cupboard as well,’ gasped Nell. ‘Push it hard against the door. Good girl. We’re safe now.’ She took a deep breath, then, as calmly as she could, said, ‘And get my phone from my bag, will you? There might just be a signal.’

‘There isn’t,’ said Beth, having found the phone and tried it. ‘It says “Out of reach of signal”. Mum, what are we going to do? Will she go away—’ She broke off and in a terrified whisper, said, ‘The door handle’s moving. She’s trying to get at us.’

But Nell, who was still leaning hard against the makeshift barricade, had already felt the slight shift of the cupboard, and she turned to stare in horror at the door. The handle was twisting back and forth and a thin line of black was appearing around the frame. Nell grabbed her bag from Beth and slung it over her shoulder. In a low voice she said, ‘We’re going to get out through that window, and run to the car, and drive to the village. You can climb through the window, can’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good girl. Quick as we can.’

The window was quite a small one, criss-crossed with leaded lights, but Nell thought that pushed open to its full extent they could both get through.

‘It’s stuck,’ said Beth in panic, as Nell wrestled with the catch.

‘No, it’s just a bit warped.’ As Nell renewed her attempt to force the latch, the settle was pushed even further away from the door, and the gap around the frame widened again. Fear lent Nell strength; she thumped the window catch with her fist, and it gave way. Cool night air, with rain inside it, came in.

‘You first,’ she said, lifting Beth onto the narrow sill. Beth swung her legs over, and jumped onto the grass four feet below. ‘Easy,’ she said. ‘Come
on
, mum.’

Nell followed, landing on the soft grass. Rain blew into their faces, but it was a good feeling. We’re out of her reach, she thought. We’ll get away.

The window was on the side furthest from the drive, but they only had to go along the path and through a wrought-iron gate and they would be at the front of the house and within sprinting distance of the drive.

‘Move slowly and quietly,’ said Nell in a whisper. ‘Then she won’t hear where we are.’

It was not quite dark, but the rainstorm had brought a dull uncertain twilight that hung over Stilter House, turning the trees into grotesque figures waiting to reach down to scoop up unwary humans. Beth cast a scared glance at these and clung tightly to her mother’s hand and Nell hated Stilter House with fierce intensity.

The rain had stopped, but moisture dripped from the trees in an eerie rhythm. Nell opened the side gate slowly so the hinges would not squeak, and closed it behind them. Once clear of the house the dripping leaves seemed to take on a different pattern – the pattern of soft footsteps following them. She shot a quick look back, but nothing moved, and every step took them nearer to the car and its safety. Here was the shrubbery – in the smeary half-light it was a dark mass of lumpen shapes. Could the woman have crept around the other side of the house and be hiding there?

She said, very softly, ‘Beth, we’re almost there. There’s the car, just beyond the bushes. I’ve got the keys ready – we’ll simply dive straight in and drive away. Everything’s going to be fine.’

As if to mock these words, a thin high sound sliced through the night. It might have been the sonic screech of a bat, or the squeal of some small vulnerable creature resisting a predator, but Nell knew it was not. It was the sound of the iron gate being opened. The woman was in the dark, dripping garden with them. As Nell half-turned, the figure was there, silhouetted against the night, lifting up her hands – hands that held something black and ancient, something that was made of twisted iron, and brutal spikes. She began to walk through the trees, holding the dreadful thing out before her, as if she was displaying it for Nell, as if she was saying, ‘Look at it,
look at it,
because this is what’s waiting for you . . .’

Nell felt, rather than heard, Beth’s gasp of fear, then they were both running towards the car, no longer caring about being heard. Once Beth skidded on the wet grass, but Nell pulled her upright. She risked a glance over her shoulder, and for a split-second there was nothing to be seen, then between one heartbeat and the next she was coming towards them through the trees. The rain clung to her outline, gleaming coldly, and Nell pulled Beth over the last few yards to the car. Her hand was shaking, but she pressed the key tab, and the car’s lights blinked as the auto-locks released the doors. They tumbled inside and Nell fired the engine and revved it, cursing that the car was parked facing the house. Was there room to turn without reversing? No, the drive was too narrow, and she might hit the rockery or one of the trees and puncture a tyre or do something to put the car out of action.

The woman was advancing and there was no time to execute a precise three-point turn. Nell threw the car into reverse and backed down the narrow drive towards the lane as fast as possible. The exhaust made clouds of smoky vapour on the damp air, and the reversing lights glowed. Into this smoky, red-tinted glow, came the wild-haired figure, indistinct through the rain-spattered rear window, but black and forbidding, still holding out the lump of spiked iron.