Midnight is a Lonely Place

LXVII

Kate glanced up at Jon as they stood side by side looking out of the bedroom window of the cottage. She still wasn’t entirely sure how or why he had appeared – explanations would come later – but she was comforted and happy that he was there. Behind them Alison was sleeping deeply. Downstairs in the kitchen Pete and Patrick were rummaging in the drawers of the dresser for candles and matches.

Patrick didn’t like being down here. He was acutely conscious at every moment of the dead man lying on the sofa in the next room. Bill who in life had been a genial, popular visitor at Redall Farmhouse was in death a terrifying threat.

They were half-way up the stairs when Alison screamed.

‘Shit, what was that?’ Pete was close behind Patrick who stopped dead, his face white. ‘That was Allie.’

‘OK, son, I’ll go. You wait here.’ Pete pushed past him, taking the rest of the stairs two at a time.

In the bedroom Jon and Kate were standing over the bed. Kate had clutched at Jon’s arm – her fingers were white as they sank into his sleeve. Alison was lying on the bed thrashing back and forth as though in pain, her hands clasped to her head. ‘Mummy!’ she screamed again. ‘Mummy, help me!’

Anne sat down on the bed. She caught Alison’s wrists, trying to pull them away from the girl’s face. ‘Allie. Allie, please, listen to me. You’re dreaming. Don’t be afraid. Wake up. Allie, wake up.’ Alison was raking at her temples with her nails. A streak of blood appeared across her forehead, then another. ‘Allie, don’t, you’re hurting yourself. Please.’

Alison did not hear her. They were there again, inside her head. Only this time he was laughing. Gone! Gone under the sea at last! Now you’re forgotten. Forgotten forever, you and your priest lover!

Claudia’s screams inside her head were so loud she thought her brain would burst; pain and anguish swirled about her; a tide of blood washed back and forth behind her eyes, and now, suddenly, there was another voice – a man’s voice – the voice of Claudia’s lover. At last he had come. He was there with them. And he was strong; stronger than Marcus, his fury uncontrollable.

With a groan Alison pulled at her hair, sitting up, rocking back and forth with such violence that Anne slipped off the bed to the floor. ‘Alison!’ She scrambled to her feet. ‘Can you hear me? Listen!’ She grabbed at the girl’s hands again. ‘You must be strong. Come back to us, Allie. Open your eyes and come back. Whatever it is you’re fighting, you must be strong.’ She gasped as Alison tore her wrists free and went back to attacking her own face with her nails. ‘Alison, please!’ She looked wildly at Jon. ‘We’ve got to tie her hands. She’s going to scratch herself to pieces. Please, help me, quickly.’

Jon looked round wildly. It was Kate who pulled the belt from her bathrobe which still hung on the back of the door. It took three of them to hold her still, but somehow they managed it, tying her wrists together and tucking her firmly down with the sheets. When they had finished both Anne and Kate had been badly scratched themselves. ‘She’s as strong as three men!’ Anne stared down at the girl who was still throwing herself back and forth beneath the sheets. She rested a hand on Alison’s damp forehead.

Alison did not feel it; she did not know what was happening to her. There was no room for thought inside her head now. No room for her at all. She had ceased to fight them. They had her strength. That was all they wanted.

Jon was shivering. The temperature in the room, he realised suddenly, had dropped violently. Surreptitiously he retrieved his jacket which had fallen to the floor when they put Alison into the bed. ‘What is it? What has happened to her?’

Kate looked at Patrick who had slid into the room behind Pete. ‘Marcus has got her.’ She gave a nervous laugh. ‘My Roman. Remember? He killed Claudia, who we think must have been his wife, and now he’s haunting us.’ She looked down at the bed. ‘He’s possessed her, Jon.’

‘No!’ Anne shouted. ‘No! He can’t have her. Fight, Allie, fight!’ She put her lips close to Alison’s face. ‘Concentrate, Alison. Think! Think about anything. Use your brain. Fight.’ She took Alison by the shoulders and shook her gently. ‘Don’t give in. Don’t let him win. Oh God!’ She threw her hair back off her face with a furious jerk of her head, clenching her fists in her frustration. ‘I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to help her! Alison. Listen to me. Fight!’

Pete, like the others, was staring at Anne. His gaze left her face at last and slid down to Alison’s restless form. His mouth had gone dry. He probably looked as bad as the others. They were all white-faced, cold. He cleared his throat. ‘This kid should be in hospital, Anne,’ he said at last. ‘Where will we find the nearest phone?’

Kate shook her head. ‘The phones aren’t working.’ Was it her imagination or was Alison calmer now? She stared down, terrified, at the girl’s tortured face.

Shadows.

Whirling shadows filled with hate.

Inside her head Allie stared into the darkness helplessly and saw the three prowling, amorphous figures. She could feel someone’s hands ice cold on hers, hear a voice shouting her name, but she could not react. They were like lions circling their prey: the woman, the two men, hungry in their hatred for living energy to sustain them.

Why me?

Did she cry out loud? She didn’t know, but as her mind rebelled the figures drew back.