House of Echoes

  He pulled the carriage house door shut and clicked the padlock into place then he held out his hand. Reluctantly she took it.

  The kitchen was very warm after the frost outside. Tom, surrounded by toys was playing on a rug in front of the television, half heartedly watching Pingu whilst Lyn was peeling potatoes. She glanced up as they appeared. ‘At last. The whole family together. If you’re going upstairs, Joss, you might look in on Ned. He sounds a bit restless.’ She dug her peeler energetically into a deep eye.

  Joss stared at her. Then she turned and ran from the room.

  There was a single lamp on in their bedroom. Tearing off her jacket she threw it down on the bed before hurrying towards Ned’s little nursery. There was no sound from him now, just the soughing of the wind in the bare branches of the creeper outside the windows. She pushed open the door.

  ‘Ned?’ she whispered. She crept towards the cot. ‘Ned?’

  He was lying on his stomach, his small fists clenched on either side of his head.

  ‘Ned?’ She bent over him. He was very still. In sudden panic she pulled back the covers. ‘Ned!’

  Her sharp cry woke him with a start and he jumped. As she gathered him up into her arms he was screaming indignantly.

  Lyn was in the room in seconds, with Luke just behind her. ‘Joss, what is it? Is he all right? We heard you on the baby alarm.’

  ‘He’s fine.’ Joss cradled him gently in her arms, soothing him. ‘I didn’t realise he was asleep, that’s all and I woke him up, poor little darling.’ She was shaking like a leaf.

  Lyn noticed. She glanced at Luke, then she held out her arms for the baby. ‘Come on, Joss. You’re cold and tired. Why not have a hot bath while I get supper? I’ll take this young man and put him back to bed.’ She took Ned and gave a grimace. ‘I’ll change him quickly first. Go on. No arguments. Have a nice bath. Get Luke to bring you up a drink.’

  Laying the baby down on his changing mat she began to strip off his pyjamas. Joss was just leaving the room when she heard Lyn’s sharp intake of breath, hastily swallowed. She stopped and turned, in time to see Lyn pointing to Ned’s arm. ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing, love. Ned’s had a bit of a bash, that’s all. I expect he’s knocked his arm against the cot.’ Lyn was frowning.

  ‘Let me see.’ She was frantic.

  ‘No need. Nothing to worry about. Hardly a mark.’ She pushed her gently out of the room and Joss found herself staring at the closed door.

  Exhausted, defeated and cold she was suddenly too tired to argue. Walking slowly back into their bedroom she kicked off her wet shoes and began to unfasten her jeans. Running hot water into the huge old-fashioned bath she tipped in some bath oil and stood in front of the swiftly steaming mirror, slowly brushing her hair. How had Ned got bruised? Had she done it, when she pulled him out of the cot? It was quite possible. She had been in such a panic. Or had something else been near him. Something, or someone. Her knuckles whitened on the hairbrush. Putting it down she unbuttoned her shirt and pulled it off. Then her bra. Her breasts were still heavy and blue veined; she surveyed them miserably through the condensation before turning to bend over the bath, stirring the water with a hand which still tingled with cold.

  Katherine

  The sound had mingled with the rush of water in her head. For a moment she didn’t react. Then slowly, she turned off the taps. The skin of her back was crawling. Not looking round she groped behind her for the towel on the rail, her fingers flailing in the air till at last they connected with it. Grabbing it she pulled it off the rail and whisked it round her.

  Katherine

  It was louder this time, easy to hear above the drips from the taps. She backed away from the bath. Wraiths of steam hung in the air, condensing on the walls. The water was growing cooler already as she stood with her back to the wall.

  Katherine

  It was stronger again. No possibility of it being her imagination. She stared round wildly, clutching the towel round her breasts.

  ‘You give her to me, but she does not love me!’ The king stared in anger at the woman who stood so arrogantly before him. ‘I did not want a whore, madam. You promised me love in exchange for my adoration! I take her to my bed and she lies like a wax doll in my arms!’

  Turning to pick up the goblet of hot wine he did not see the woman tense at his words, nor the expression of feral cunning which flitted across the strangely golden eyes.

  ‘Joss? Can I come in?’ It was Luke’s voice that brought her out of her panic-stricken daze. She flung herself at the door and slid back the bolt.

  ‘Why on earth did you lock it?’ He had a couple of glasses with him. ‘Come on. I thought I’d talk to you while you have a soak. Lyn’s getting supper and Ned is fast asleep.’ He grinned at her then, as he noticed her white face his smile died. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing.’ She shook her head. She was trying desperately to get a grip on herself. ‘Nothing’s the matter. I’m just much tireder and colder than I thought.’ She took the glass, sipping at the white wine gratefully. ‘Sit yourself down and talk to me.’

  With him there she would be safe. Glancing round in spite of herself, she dropped the towel and hopped into the bath, lowering herself with a groan into the steaming water.

  ‘Better?’ Luke was watching her carefully. He could see clearly the signs of strain and agitation. Closing the lid of the loo he sat down on it and leaned forward, elbows on knees, studying his wife. She was still very beautiful, her body already more or less recovered from the birth; the only sign was a wonderful voluptuousness of breasts and belly which he found a great turn on. Leaning forward he put a hand gently on her breast. ‘Nice.’

  She smiled sleepily, submerging beneath the viscous bubbles, feeling the water and Luke’s presence comforting, reassuring. Closing her eyes she reached up to touch his hand. ‘You’re sure Ned was OK?’

  ‘He was OK.’ His voice was calm but he frowned suddenly. The bruises on Ned’s arm had definitely been the marks of fingers. ‘Here.’ He lifted her glass and passed it to her. ‘Drink.’ Slipping onto his knees beside the bath he pulled up his sleeve and putting his hand into the water he ran his fingers down and over and round her breasts, feeling the slipperiness of the bath oil on her skin, gently massaging and rubbing, sliding his hands on down over her belly.

  She took a sip of wine, giving a quiet groan of pleasure. ‘Does it matter if we’re late for supper?’

  He smiled. ‘Not in the least. Lyn is putting Tom to bed. I said you’d look in later and say good night, but we both know he’ll be asleep by then.’ His hand was still moving rhythmically over her breasts making little choppy waves in the bath water.

  ‘Luke – ’

  ‘Sssh.’ He bent over and kissed her on the lips. ‘Am I going to get in there with you?’

  She giggled. ‘We’d never fit.’

  ‘Then you’d better get out.’

  ‘I don’t want to. It’s cold out there.’

  He laughed. Standing up he pulled the heap of towels from the towel rail and spread them on the floor. ‘Come on. You won’t feel cold with your husband to keep you warm.’ He was pulling at his belt, sliding it through the loops, unzipping his jeans, then suddenly he swooped and she felt his arms slide under her. ‘Luke, you’ll strain something!’ She smothered another giggle as he heaved her out of the bath and laid her dripping on the heaped towels. Kneeling astride her he leaned forward and pressed his lips on hers.

  Katherine gazed up at him and smiled. Her arms went round his neck and her lips, soft and sweet as cherries, seized greedily on his.

  ‘My love,’ she murmured. ‘My king.’

  With a groan he caught her to him, his hands running over every inch of her body, his tongue greedily questing over her face, her neck, her breasts, glorying in her heat and in her passion.

  His cry of triumph and possession hung in the rafters above the bed and rang around the shadowy spaces of the house.
br />   Contentedly Joss put her wet arms round Luke’s neck, pulling him closer. ‘Love you,’ she whispered. She opened her eyes sleepily, revelling in his warmth, running her tongue over the roughness of his cheek, gazing unfocused into his eyes. ‘Luke, I want to take the children away tomorrow,’ she whispered. ‘Just for a few days. Please.’

  He frowned. She felt his body tense. ‘Joss – ’

  ‘Luke. Please. Humour me.’ He was on the same side as the house, wanting to keep her there – not wanting her to go. She reached up to nibble his ear. It had she realised become suddenly very cold in the bathroom. She had begun to shiver in spite of the warmth of his body above hers.

  He had lifted his head to look down at her and she saw the anger in his eyes. ‘Joss – ’

  ‘Please, Luke.’

  She reached across him to pull at one of the towels, trying to cover her legs. ‘I’m getting cold, Luke.’ She was shivering so violently her teeth had begun to chatter. Suddenly she found it difficult to breathe. His weight on her was intolerable, pressing on her chest. Panicking, she pushed at him violently. There was something over her face, pushing over her nose and mouth, an invisible weight, pushing her into the floor. With a violent wrench she threw Luke off her and staggered to her feet. Running over to the window she threw it open, leaning out into the icy wind and taking deep gasping breaths of air.

  ‘Joss?’ Luke’s voice behind her was sharp with concern. ‘Joss, what on earth is it? What’s wrong?’

  She couldn’t speak. The stone of the mullions was freezing against the skin of her breasts, her fingers were locked onto the ivy-covered sill. She gave a great wheezing gasp, followed by another. ‘I’m sorry … couldn’t breathe … I need a drink, Luke … water …’ It was pressing in behind her now – the sense of someone close to her – breathing down her neck, closer, pressing against her. Luke had grabbed her glass of wine from the rim of the bath. Chucking the contents into the foamy water he ran to put it under the tap and brought it to her. Wrapping her dressing gown round her naked shoulders he pushed the glass into her hand. ‘Here. Drink this.’

  She turned and took it in shaking hands. The figure standing behind Luke was absolutely distinct. A man – taller than Luke, and older, a man with anguished blue eyes and greying fair hair, a man with fury and pain etched into every angle of his face. As she met his eye he raised his hand towards her, then as she watched he dissolved into the steam of the bathroom and in a few seconds he had gone.

  The wine glass slipped from her fingers and crashed to the floor. Slivers of glass scattered round her bare feet but she didn’t notice them. She stared over Luke’s shoulder for several seconds in shocked disbelief.

  ‘Joss? Joss, what is it?’ Luke swung round to look where she was staring. ‘What is it? What’s wrong? Are you ill?’

  She couldn’t speak. He had been so real. So clear. The figure that had been only shadow and a sense of oppression to her before had shown himself clearly in all his pain and anguish and she had made eye contact with him. He had been real. For those few brief seconds he had been as real to her as Luke was now. Blinking hard she stared round, aware for the first time of the icy wind blowing in through the opened casement.

  Somewhere outside the shriek of a fox rang out of the darkness. Luke leaned past her and pulled the window closed. ‘Come on, Joss. Into the bedroom. Let’s get you warm. Mind your feet, there’s glass everywhere.’

  He pulled the towel round her again, and put his arm round her shoulders.

  ‘We have to go, Luke. Now. I have to take the children away.’ She grabbed his shirt and made him face her. ‘Luke, you have to understand. The children are in danger.’ She pushed past him and ran through into the bedroom, treading on a piece of glass which sliced diagonally into her toe. Grabbing at her dressing gown she pulled it on properly. ‘Call Lyn. Tell her to help us. We’ll take them over to Janet now. Luke. Don’t look at me like that, for God’s sake! Do it!’ She slid her bleeding foot into a slipper and pushed her hair back off her face. ‘Quickly. Don’t you understand? He has become strong enough for me to see him! The boys are in danger.’

  She ran through into the hall and stood outside Tom’s room, staring in. The little boy was asleep, the night light burning steadily on the table by the window. ‘Let him sleep, Joss.’ Luke came up behind her and peered through the door. He put his hands on her shoulders. ‘Come on, love, you’re overwrought. Let it be. Come to bed and I’ll get you some supper.’

  The shadow was there again – by the window in its usual place. Her mouth went dry; she stared, not daring to take her eyes off it. It was moving. Moving towards the child’s cot. She could see the shape distinctly now – a man’s shape, a tall, broad-shouldered man, his figure bulked grotesquely by some kind of breast plate beneath the flowing cloak.

  ‘The tin man!’ She didn’t realise she had spoken out loud. She turned and caught at Luke’s arm. ‘Look! You don’t believe me? Look, for God’s sake! Get him. Get Tom before it’s too late!’

  Luke put his hands on her arms. ‘Joss – ’

  The shadow was closer now, nearly at the cot. It was bending – reaching out …

  With a scream Joss flung herself into the room. She could feel it – a solid presence between her and Tom. Frantically she reached into the cot and grabbed the small boy by the arm. Hauling him out bodily she flailed out at the figure behind her. ‘Go away! Leave us alone! Luke!’

  Above Tom’s screams she could hear Luke’s voice, but she couldn’t reach him. The figure was between her and the door. In her arms, Tom’s cries were piercing. Across the landing she could hear Ned crying too.

  Clutching Tom against her chest she tried to run towards the door. Something was holding her back. Something was trying to snatch Tom from her.

  ‘Joss!’ Lyn’s voice reached her through the screams. ‘Joss, give him to me!’

  Lyn was there somewhere. Lyn was trying to help.

  She stared round frantically fighting her way through the blue folds of the swirling cloak, feeling a mailed hand on her arm, the fingers biting into her flesh as she clung to the screaming child.

  She was losing him; she could feel her hold slipping. The strength of the man was too much for her. ‘Luke!’ Her frantic sob was drowned by Tom’s screams as he was wrenched from her arms, and then suddenly it was all over. The figure had gone.

  Joss collapsed on the floor sobbing. ‘Tom …’

  ‘I’ve got him, Joss.’ Lyn’s voice was tight with fear.

  ‘Take Tom downstairs, Lyn, and get in the car. Now.’ Luke was standing over Joss. He pulled her to her feet. ‘What the hell were you playing at? You nearly killed that child! I saw you do it! I saw you! What the hell is the matter with you, Joss? You should be in hospital. You’re not fit to look after the children.’ His voice was shaking. ‘Lyn’s right. I should have listened to her weeks ago. I’m sorry, darling, but I’m not taking any more risks. I’m taking the children. Now. Do you understand? Are you listening to me, Joss?’ He caught her arms and dragged her round to face him. ‘I’m sorry, darling. I know you’re not yourself. But I can’t risk this happening again.’

  ‘Luke?’ She was staring at him. ‘Luke, what are you talking about – ’

  He stared at her, then with a sigh he let her go. ‘I suggest you have a good night’s sleep. Then if you’ve any sense you’ll ring Simon in the morning and get him to sort you out. Once I’ve got the children away safely I’ll come back and we’ll decide what to do.’

  He strode out of the nursery and across into Ned’s little bedroom. Scooping a pile of clothes and nappies into a bag he lifted the screaming baby out of his bed. ‘Go to sleep, Joss. Have some rest. We’ll sort this out tomorrow.’

  ‘Luke!’ She was standing staring at him in bewilderment. ‘Luke, what are you doing?’

  ‘I’m taking the children away, Joss. Now. Before you hurt one of them really badly. I didn’t believe Lyn. I wouldn’t let her ring Simon. But she was right. It was yo
u all along.’

  ‘Luke –’ Her knees had turned to cotton wool. She couldn’t run after him. All the strength had drained out of her. ‘Luke, wait – ’

  For a moment his face softened. ‘I’ll come back, Joss. Later. When we’ve taken the boys to Janet’s. I promise, darling.’

  Then he had gone. She heard his footsteps, running down the stairs and then there was silence.

  ‘Luke.’ It was a whisper. She stared round the empty nursery, the silence somehow more shocking after the noise of the children’s screams. The flame of the night light flickered a little and steadied. Her own shadow, humped and grotesque in the candlelight crouched against the wall near the cot, huge and menacing. She stared at it in confusion, hugging her dressing gown round her. In her left slipper the blood from her cut foot oozed steadily through the soft sheepskin, staining it red.

  ‘Luke?’ The small, querulous cry of protest had no strength. ‘Luke, don’t leave me.’

  She heard the sound of the car clearly. Outside in the drive the headlights arced across the frosted trees for a moment and then they disappeared in the direction of the village.

  Tom’s favourite teddy bear was still lying discarded in the cot. He would never get to sleep without it. Picking it up Joss stared down at the silky brown fur and small beady eyes. It was wearing a yellow knitted jumper. Hugging it to her she sank to her knees and began to cry.

  It was some time later that the pain of the stiffness in her legs made her move. Staring round the room she realised the night light was flickering, the wick only a fragment in the last liquid drops of translucent wax. Still clutching the teddy bear she dragged herself to her feet and made her way back into the bedroom. The house was bitterly cold. She could hear the wind now, knocking the creeper against the windows. There was a hollow moaning from the chimney. Outside, the clouds were building and it was beginning to sleet. Her slipper was stiff with dried blood and her foot hurt. Making her way towards the door she went out onto the landing.

  At the top of the stairs she stopped and looked down. They had turned the lights off; the great hall was in darkness. She swallowed, her right hand clinging to the newel post at the top of the banisters, listening to the wind howling in the huge chimney. It was very cold downstairs. They hadn’t lit a fire in the vast fireplace for days and the chill of the autumn nights had penetrated deep into the room. She took a deep breath and put one tentative foot