From the kitchen doorway, he saw Adrienne buttering toast. His medication and glass of water were waiting for him on the countertop. He went to the bathroom to wash. A few minutes later, she tapped on the door.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  Max mumbled spitting toothpaste into the sink.

  ‘I’m off to bed,’ she called. ‘I’m on the late shift again tonight.’

  Max didn’t answer. He was still trying to understand why Adrienne never told him she’d been at the festival that night. He scraped the razor haphazardly down his lathered cheeks and rinsed. The sloppy attempt at a clean shave resulted in nubby skin. He towelled his face and retrieved the toast she had left for him.

  He stared through the rain-splattered window, the overwhelming feeling of sadness weighed heavy and he had an urge to visit Ellie’s grave.

  Max swallowed the pills, and ate his dry toast with the water, then washed the dishes leaving them to drain on the sink. It was quiet, so he assumed Adrienne was asleep. Stretching his arm through his jacket sleeve, he flinched as the material touched his shoulder stump. Even though it had healed, it felt tender today.

  Adrienne’s shouts came from upstairs. ‘Max. I heard the trap. I think it’s caught a rat!’

  I wonder if it’s more than a rat. Max slammed the front door behind him and tugged the peak of his cap, shielding his face from the rain.

  Shuffling toward the bus stop, he thought about Sam’s words. ‘Ellie thought you were having an affair with Adrienne.’

  Ellie’s face came into his mind. Her ice-blue eyes and ash blonde hair cascading over her shoulders. She had been beautiful.

  Max clutched his chest as if she was squeezing his heart with her bare hands. He pressed so tight the metal buttons on his jacket dug into his palm.

  The sound of the wheels splashing in the rainwater alerted Max to the bus approaching. His eyes scanned the people on board, dressed in drab wet coats staring through misty windows.

  Its motion made him drowsy. He closed his eyes, drifting to the hum of the engine and the sound of tyres splattering.

  He opened his eyes when it came to a stop in the village where he and Ellie grew up. He jumped off, then marched past the bakery, the post office, and to the church where he came to a halt before the iron gate. His stomach gambolled at the thought of seeing Ellie’s grave.

  The hinges on the gate groaned as he pushed against it. Max followed the pathway between the graves to the rear of the church. The familiar yew tree with its canopy of needles now sheltered three new resting places. Under the gloom of its gnarled branches, a heart-shaped granite headstone sprinkled with raindrops glistened like glitter on a coalface.

  He moved closer and read the inscription, gold against black. ‘Ellie Byrne 1992 – 2014. Loving Daughter and Sister. RIP.’

  Max dropped to his knees, hunching over the stone. He traced his fingers over the golden letters. He wept. She was dead, and there was nothing he could do about it. He clenched his fist, his back stiffening as he pounded the stone, tearing open the wounds on his knuckles.

  He stopped and steadied himself on the wet ground. He wiped the foam from the side of his mouth on his jacket sleeve. Blood trickled between his fingers.

  A twig snapped behind him. An icy hand seized the nape of his neck and pushed his head toward the granite. He caught the edge of the stone to stop himself falling, clutching it so tight, he felt the veins in his forehead bulge.

  His body began to weaken, he felt woozy and he buckled, smacking his head against the gravestone. He passed out.

  Awakened by the taste of mud and blood in his mouth, he opened his eyes. He saw his mother standing in front of him, gesturing for him to take her hand. As he reached for it, a sudden rush of air filled his lungs.

  Max sat up and vomited. He scrambled to his feet, but frozen digits snaked around his windpipe again, dragging him to the ground. Max thrust out his fist, but found nothing but mist. His lungs burned, his muscles turned to jelly, and he sank into the soil. Wormy earth clogged his nose and pale flesh wriggled in his mouth. He was falling fast.

  Groaning and using the last of his strength, he lifted his head and through a veil of drizzling rain, he saw two translucent figures next to the yew tree. One was his mother, the other Ellie. A tornado of blue mist blasted his attacker smashing its grip from his neck. He was free. Then he watched as the two figures dissolved.

  Terrified, he leapt to his feet, and skidding on the mulch path between the graves, he reached the gate and bolted through it. Blood washing down the side of his face, fear pumped his heart as he sprinted to the bus stop, where he clung to the concrete post until the bus arrived.

  All he saw were blurred faces seated around him. An old lady asked if he was alright, and he nodded to say he was.

  When he arrived home, Adrienne was in the kitchen cooking, but the smell of sausage and onions didn’t make the house feel homely or safe.

  He carefully slipped off his jacket, every inch of his body feeling pulped and tender. Cautiously he lowered himself onto the couch.

  ‘Dinner’s ready,’ Adrienne said, coming into the room moments later.

  Max barely lifted his head. ‘I’m not hungry.’

  She crossed the room to face him. ‘What have you done to your face?’

  ‘I fell over.’ His whole body was shaking.

  ‘What happened?’ She touched the gash on his forehead.

  ‘I saw Sam last night,’ Max said, looking up into her eyes. ‘He told me you were at the festival the night before the accident.’

  Adrienne’s hand dropped from his face.

  He stared at her. ‘Were you at the festival?’

  ‘Yes. I was there,’ Adrienne said.

  ‘Did you tell Ellie about us?’

  Adrienne’s skin paled. She looked away from him, wringing her hands together. ‘Yes,’ she said.

  Max leapt from the sofa and yelped as a spasm shot through his head, making him fall forward, knocking her against the mantelpiece. She shrieked out in pain.

  He gripped his head. ‘You had no right to tell her.’

  Adrienne straightened. ‘One of us needed to.’ She slumped on the sofa and rubbed her arm.

  His eyes glazed over. ‘Did Ellie know about us when she died?’ His voice broke.

  ‘Yes. Ellie knew we were having an affair.’

  Chapter 10

  Max stared at Adrienne. The crust of blood on his knuckles was wet.

  ‘You told her you were pregnant?’ Spittle flew from his mouth.

  ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lied.’ She plucked a tissue from her sleeve and furiously dabbed her eyes.

  Max saw his reflection in the window against the darkness. Hunched over the sofa glaring at Adrienne. He saw his anger and took a deep breath to control it.

  Adrienne leaned back on the cushions. ‘I wanted you to leave her. I thought you loved me.’ She wiped her nose.

  Max settled on the sofa next to her. ‘I do love you.’

  She looked up at his face. ‘Your head is bleeding. What happened?’

  ‘I went to Ellie’s grave. I slipped on the grass and bumped my head,’ he said.

  ‘I’ll clean it for you.’ She returned a few minutes later with cotton wool and antiseptic. ‘Are you hurt anywhere else?’ He shook his head. ‘You were gone so long I began to get worried,’ she said, cleaning his wound.

  He gritted his teeth as the antiseptic stung. Every inch of his body burned.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me where you were going?’ she asked.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were at the festival?’ Max snapped.

  Adrienne stopped what she was doing. ‘I didn’t tell you because I was too ashamed at what I’d done.’ Her hands trembled as she recapped the bottle. Max watched her scrunch the wad of dirty cotton wool in her hand.

  ‘I’ll fetch you some pain killers.’ She returned with the tablets and a glass of water. His throat burned as he tried to swallow the pills.

  She brought out the plates of sausage and mash with glazed onions and lay them on the table. They sat at the dining table although neither of them ate much.

  Max lay down his fork. ‘I’ll eat it later.’

  He knew at that moment that something had changed. His heart sank, he wanted to hold Adrienne in his arms, tell her everything would be alright, yet he couldn’t.

  Leaving her at the table, he traipsed to the bathroom and checked his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were bloodshot with dark circles underneath, his face red and blotchy. As he splashed his face, the water tingled as it dried on his skin.

  Adrienne was washing up when he came out of the bathroom. Without saying a word, he wandered upstairs and rolled under the duvet. His head was throbbing inside and out. Whatever hurt him today wanted him dead.

  ‘Aren’t you going to get undressed?’ Adrienne’s voice startled him.

  He listened to the rustle of her clothes as she changed for work. When she sat on the bed, the weight of her body pulled the duvet tight across his shoulders.

  ‘Have a good night’s sleep.’ She kissed him on the forehead. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’

  Exhaustion and pain killers knocked him out for several hours. He dreamt he was with Ellie underneath the yew tree in the churchyard. His mother was standing next to a black heart-shaped stone.

  Ellie touched his face. It was bleeding, yet he wasn’t feeling any pain. Then as in most dreams, the scene changed, and she stood by the side of his bed. He reached out, and as his fingertips touched hers, they tingled. Without warning, she stepped back and screamed when she saw the stump of his arm. Her face became distorted, her mouth opened wide, her teeth were nubs of black coal.

  Max awoke from his sleep and lurched forward, suddenly aware of a loud scream.

  The light in the bedroom was still on. A groan came from the room below.

  ‘Adrienne?’ he called.

  Sliding out of bed, he crept onto the landing where he was hit with a strong smell of rotting fish. His heart was thudding in his ears as he tiptoed downstairs. The lounge, kitchen, and bathroom were empty. There was no putrid smells downstairs.

  Outside was pitch black, and as Max peered through the kitchen window, his reflection stared back. He heard another groan, this time coming from above. He took a knife from the drawer and slowly made his way back upstairs.

  The back bedroom, partially lit from the landing light, seemed the same. There was still an odour, although not as strong. Max paused outside his room in fear of seeing the figure again. Everything looked the same as he’d left it. Hurrying inside, he shut the door and closed the curtains.

  The clock read four o’clock in the morning. Max placed the knife on the bedside cabinet, left the light on, and slipped under the covers. On laying down, a sharp pinch jolted his shoulder. He rotated his arm stump to loosen it when somebody grabbed his phantom hand.

  He screamed and bolted upright staring at his shoulder stump, at the space where his arm would be. Nothing was there, but something was still holding his hand, something cold and clammy.

  Instinct urged him to escape, but he couldn’t move his legs, they were heavy as if set in concrete. Trying to keep calm, he focussed on his phantom arm trying to visualise it, a trick to fool his brain into thinking his arm was still there. For a second, he could feel his missing arm again, and he yanked it free.

  He legged it two stairs at a time and rushed into the lounge. The light bulb flashed as he flicked on the switch, plunging the house into darkness. The black shroud gave him an eerie feeling there was more to come.

  Using the back of the sofa, he guided himself to the front door. He dived for the handle, and the door swung open, a face staring back at him. He yelped in horror.

  The face screamed back. Margaret, his neighbour, stood before him terrified.

  ‘You frightened the life out of me’ she said, clutching a torch to her chest.

  ‘I think we scared each other!’ He held his breath to stop himself from panting.

  ‘I thought I heard you shout, so I came to check you were okay. I saw Adrienne had gone to work.’

  ‘I had a nightmare. I hope I didn’t wake you?’ Max was still shaking.

  ‘No. I couldn’t sleep so I was going to make a cup of cocoa. You’re as white as a sheet, would you like one?’ Margaret asked.

  Max grabbed his keys and followed Margaret round to her house.

  ‘Take no notice of the mess. I haven’t unpacked my case yet. I got the ten o’clock train back from my daughters,’ she chirped.

  Margaret’s home reminded him of his grandfather’s. A similar decor, a palette of warm rose and gold with plush cushions and dark wood furniture. He sat back and breathed deeply, squelching his toes in the soft carpeting not heeding he was barefooted.

  She turned on the gas fire, and as she placed the cups on the coffee table, he watched the flickering flames.

  He looked up. She was sitting on the chair opposite, staring at him inquisitively whilst holding her drink. He hadn’t even noticed she’d sat down.

  ‘Have you settled in next door?’ she asked.

  Max could tell by her face that she knew he hadn’t. It was pointless lying to her.

  ‘I’m struggling. There’s a lot to do in the house. I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed, to be honest.’

  ‘The house needs a lot of work, Albert didn’t do anything for years. Is your cocoa alright?’ she asked.

  Max nodded. He sipped the milky chocolate, heated in a pan just like his mother used to do, a ritual they had at the end of each week to use up the milk. He returned his gaze to the fire.

  ‘He was always pottering in the garden until his wife left. Then he became a hermit,’ she said.

  ‘You mentioned Albert left the lounge light on in case his wife came back?’

  ‘Yes, poor soul. His wife left him for another man, but he never gave up hope,’ she smiled then blew the top of her steaming drink.

  ‘Sometimes the light downstairs turns on by itself,’ Max said then laughed at how odd it sounded.

  She started laughing, her shoulders bobbed up and down as she spoke.

  ‘Blimey, you wouldn’t see me for dust. Albert was pretty miserable, even so, I don’t think he’d haunt you.’

  ‘The house needs rewiring.’ He smiled and decided tonight wasn’t the night to confide in somebody he hardly knew. However, he did ask about the scratching in the walls, if she’d seen any mice or rats.

  ‘We do get mice in autumn. The only thing I heard last night was a woman screaming on your television and, of course, you shouting just now. Which is why I came round.’

  We don’t have a television, Max thought to himself.

  The morning light was breaking when he returned home, and he was glad for it. The lounge wasn’t so frightening during the day; nonetheless, he couldn’t bring himself to go upstairs so he laid on the sofa and after covering himself with his jacket, he fell asleep.

  Hours later, Adrienne woke him by coming through the front door. She took a step back in surprise when she saw him curled up on the sofa. She unbuttoned her coat and hung it over the dining chair without speaking.

  When she was in the kitchen, Max plodded to the bathroom and examined his face in the mirror. New lines creped around his eyes, the bruise on his forehead was purple and swollen. He teased blobs of dried blood from his hair with his fingers. His mind raced through the events of the past few hours.

  He heard Adrienne run the tap in the kitchen, and when she turned it off, he listened to her footsteps stop outside the bathroom. He opened the door, and they came face to face.

  She stood, holding a glass of water. ‘I’m going to stay at a friend’s house for a few days.’

  Max was stunned. She walked off, and he followed her into the lounge.

  ‘Because of last night?’ he asked.

  ‘I heard the rat trap go off yesterday. I told you I’d be off if there were any more rats.’ She rubbed her eyes, he thought she was about to cry.

  He went to touch her arm, and she withdrew.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about last night.’ She put her glass on the table. ‘You’ve changed since we moved here, it scares me.’

  ‘What?’ He stared open-mouthed.

  ‘I love you,’ she said, ‘but you’re still in love with Ellie. I can’t live with that.’

  Every part of his body wanted to grab hold of Adrienne and make her promise never to leave. Except he couldn’t. His limbs were bound as if tied, his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth.

  She stomped upstairs, and a few minutes later she stood on the bottom step with her suitcase. But it wasn’t Adrienne who caught his attention. Ellie stood behind her, peering over her shoulder.

  Max knew, no matter how much he loved Adrienne, Ellie would never let him go.

  ‘You know where I am.’ Adrienne left.

  Chapter 11

  Max stood transfixed.

  Adrienne slamming the front door broke the spell. His feet released from their invisible shackles and his tongue loosened from the roof of his mouth. Ellie’s ghost dissolved.

  Shaking, he collapsed on the sofa, staring up at the nicotine-stained ceiling. Am I going insane?

  A voice in his head screamed. ‘Get out... Leave this house!’

  He was too exhausted to move. His eyes weighed heavy, forcing them closed, and he fell into a deep sleep.

  Ellie was at the back of the bike, fastening her helmet. The red from her leathers tinted her hair pink. He felt the bones in her hands grip his waist. The bend in the road was approaching, and Ellie mumbled. Something was wrong, terribly wrong.

  He saw Ellie’s gravestone. Decomposing fingers poking up through the soil, black digits crawled across his chest like spiders devouring its prey in its web, drawing him into the belly of Ellie’s grave.

  He screamed in his dream.

  Max woke up sweating although his body was numb with cold. He got up off the sofa and ignited the gas fire, crouching over it to warm himself. Thirstily, he snatched Adrienne’s glass from the table and drank the water. The liquid felt good, refreshing his dry throat and lips.

 

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