A Cry From Beyond (21 page)

Leave! a
voice inside my head suddenly screamed.

But that
of course was impossible. Whether I liked it or not I had to find
out what’d happened to Terry and Mary Louise. I had at least to try
to clear up the mess and get to the bottom of the mystery. I’d been
running away from things all of my life. Cowardliness was no longer
an option. It was time to face up to problems rather than flee from
them.

I
returned my attention to present matters. Downstairs, Pixie began
playing up to me again. I somehow managed to snub her advances, but
boy was it difficult. She wore little beneath the night gown and it
would’ve been so darned easy to slip upstairs to the unoccupied
bedroom to take advantage of the situation. It was only the thought
of reconciliation with Michelle that kept my resolve
intact.

“But I’m
lonely and I’m bored,” she complained when I told her I had to
return to the attic room to work. “Can’t you write your songs after
we’ve gone?” She offered up a cute little pout and patted the sofa,
indicating I join her.

“I’ve got
an important deadline to meet,” I explained with an apologetic
smile. “I’m afraid you’ll have to amuse yourself.”

She
frowned, perplexed. “So why did you invite us over here if you’re
too busy to have fun?”

“I
didn’t. It was Des’s idea,” I said bluntly, forced against my will
to revert to the direct approach.

She
finally seemed to accept defeat. “It’s your loss,” she said with a
dismissive shrug.

No sooner
had I arrived back in the attic room, than I heard her climb the
stairs and knock on the door to the bedroom occupied by Des and
Dixie. The door was heard to open with a creak and then close.
There followed the muffled sounds of giggling. That was the last I
saw of Pixie until evening time, when she and my other two guests
reappeared in search of food and drink.

We sat
around the table eating a spaghetti and pasta dish, complimented by
a light Italian wine, saying little.

“You’re
going to have to entertain your two friends on your own,” I said
privately to Des after the meal.

“They’re
going to bloody well kill me at this rate,” he moaned.

I almost
laughed. “Guess a man’s got to do what a man’s got to
do.”

“Yeah, I
suppose so.” He flashed a wicked grin at me. “It’s a tough life, is
it not?”

“Tough
enough”

“But
first we do the séance, right?”

“I don’t
know,” I said, sensing it was a bad idea.

“Come on
man,” Des urged, “it’s the main reason we came up here.”

I
conceded he had a point and reluctantly agreed. Minutes later,
having explained the principles and aims of a séance to Pixie and
Dixie, we sat around the table and linked hands.

While Des
and I took the occasion seriously, Pixie and Dixie behaved like
immature school girls. All that changed however, when Des asked the
semi darkened room if anyone was there. While Dixie rolled her eyes
indignantly, Pixie’s whole demeanour changed. She began to tremble
and sob for no apparent reason. When asked what the matter was, she
found it difficult to explain, saying merely that she sensed
incredible sadness around her.

“A-and
danger,” she suddenly added.

I asked
her what she meant. She thought long and hard before finally,
looking deeply bemused, she said, “It’s in the ground. The sadness
is in the ground.” She seemed to speak with genuine insight and
with uncharacteristic maturity and intelligence.

“And the
danger,” I asked. “Where is the danger?”

“All
around,” she said simply.

Des and I
looked at each other.

“When you
say something is in the ground,” Des said, leaning forward
attentively. “Do you mean something is buried?”

“It’s so
terribly sad,” she replied staring fixedly, her lips barely moving.
Tears welled in her eyes and trickled down her flawless cheeks. To
Des she said, “Can we stop this game now please. I-I really don’t
like it...”

Realising
she was on the verge of hysteria, Des agreed and we broke the
chain.

“Time for
a drink,” I said, trying to defuse the tense atmosphere. I quickly
left the room, bound for the kitchen. Des followed and caught up
with me in the hallway, where he said, “You do realize she’s
psychic don’t you.” He gave a disbelieving shake of the head. “Who
the hell would have thought it?”

“Yeah,
well, psychic phenomenon is based on sixth sense, not necessarily
common sense,” I said, trying to ease the tension.

Back in
the lounge over drinks and with Pixie having regained some of her
composure, Des and I tried to coax her into discussing her feelings
on the subject of the séance. Unnerved by the experience, she
refused to elaborate on what she’d previously said, complaining
instead of a severe headache. Dixie seemed to pick up on her
unease, saying she too felt unwell and suggested we all turn in for
the night. It was decided by mutual consent that the girls would be
best served if they occupied the master bedroom together. Des and I
flipped a coin for the guest room. Des won, which meant I ended up
with the booby prize, being the couch. Pixie’s unexpected reaction
to the séance had dampened everyone’s enthusiasm for fun and games,
which in turn allowed me to escape a potentially awkward
situation.

Having
retrieved the sleeping bag from the airing cupboard, I tried to
make myself comfortable, eventually managing to fall into a
restless and dreamless sleep. Sometime during the night however, I
was abruptly woken by hysterical screaming coming from the
direction of the master bedroom.

Upstairs
I was to discover Pixie sitting bolt upright in bed with the sheets
drawn up around her, while Dixie sat on the bed next to her, trying
to offer comfort. Both girls were in floods of tears, though Pixie
looked by far the most upset. I asked them what had happened.
Shaking uncontrollably Pixie told me she’d dreamt that Des had been
abducted.

Aware
that he had so far failed to put in an appearance despite the
commotion, I rushed across the landing to the guest room, flung
open the door and flicked the wall switch. Light instantly flooded
the room, which, much to my dismay, was deserted. I was suddenly
gripped by a horrible sense of déjà vu. Returning to Pixie and
Dixie, I gave them the unwelcome news and suggested they remain
together in the bedroom, while I searched the cottage and nearby
grounds.

“Two
faces,” Pixie suddenly blurted; eyes wide with disbelief. “It had
two faces. Oh my God, what on earth did I see?!”

Dixie
demanded to be taken home. “I don’t like it here. Something’s not
right.”

I tried
to offer reassurance. “Please don’t worry, the police are onto it!”
The comment received sudden looks of horror.

“What do
you mean?” Pixie demanded to know.

“Didn’t
Des tell you?”

“Tell us
what?” It was Dixie. She looked petrified.

“It’s the
reason we had the séance.” I began to detect renewed hysteria in my
two young house guests. In an attempt to play down High Bank’s
problems, I kept Terry’s disappearance from them, mentioning only
that someone had strayed off during a party at the cottage and that
the police had mounted a search of the area.

Dixie
burst into fresh floods of tears nevertheless. Pixie by contrast
stared blankly, as if she’d fallen into a trance, or a state of
shock. I reached out, touching her tentatively on the
shoulder.

“Hey,” I
said, “are you all right?”

She
continued to stare blindly at the far wall. Finally she spoke,
though the words were barely audible. The words sounded horribly
like “Mary-Louise”.

Oh my
God, I thought feeling completely numb, she really is bloody
psychic.

“Terry,”
she then whispered, before reeling off a string of other names that
proved unrecognizable. She ended with those I’d come to know so
well since arriving at High Bank, “Melinda” and “Kayla”, and
finally, the name I dreaded hearing more than any other:
“Des”.

Pixie
slowly turned her head so she faced me, her baby blue eyes still
eerily blank and unseeing.

“Dead,”
she said chillingly, “all dead.”

Next to
her, Dixie collapsed back onto the bed, sobbing her heart out,
completely overcome with fear.

“Des
can’t be dead,” I said, the idea too horrifying to
contemplate.

“Dead,”
she repeated with absolute certainty.

I grabbed
her by the shoulders, wanting to shake her, but managed to restrain
myself and said simply, “I want you to stay here with Roxy, while I
take a look around. Do you understand?”

“Des
isn’t here,” she said with finality.

“Then
where is he?”

She
failed to respond.

I got
Roxy aka Dixie to sit up. “Take care of her. I’ll be back as soon
as I can.”

“Please
don’t leave us.”

“I have
to look for Des.”

Pixie
started to mumble incoherently, her face still a vacant
mask.

“Oh my
God,” Roxy stammered hopelessly. “What’s wrong with
her?”

“I don’t
know. I have to go.” I started for the door, but then stopped
dead.

Pixie’s
words had suddenly grown intelligible.

“The
lake,” she said, referring to that which was located to the west of
High Bank; and a stone’s throw from the chapel.

I
returned to kneel at her side and took hold of her trembling
hand.

“What of
it?”

Her eyes
were wide and vacuous. Her whole body shook with
tension.

“Something is there,” she whispered.

“Can you
tell me what it is?” I moved closer, expectant.

“Your
father,” she said, startling me.

“What
about him?”

“He
knows.”

“Knows
what?” I was confused. “My father is dead.”

I gave
Roxy a gentle nudge. She stared through her tears, but appeared not
to see.

“Take
care of your friend,” I told her. Her eyes cleared and she nodded
her head.

I went in
search of Des. Of course, I knew instinctively Pixie was correct in
her claim that he was gone, but I nevertheless felt the need to at
least go through the motions of trying to locate him. When I failed
to find him anywhere inside the cottage, I took Lennon with me to
search the grounds outside, again without success.

In the
morning, having composed a note explaining my whereabouts, I left
the girls asleep inside the cottage, while I made another search of
the grounds, accompanied by Lennon once again.

We found
no sign of Des. Like the others, he’d vanished into thin air.
Something had taken him and I had a dreadful feeling he was never
coming back. I was forced yet again to contact the police. Pixie
and Dixie and I were taken to the nearest police station in a
patrol car, where we answered a series of questions and made
individual statements in a bid to help the cops with their
enquiries. The interviewing detective instructed us to keep him
informed of our movements and forewarned us that police activity in
and around the cottage would intensify.

They
descended upon the place straight away, accompanied by sniffer dogs
and a forensic scientist. The news media also put in an appearance,
seeking information and interviews. Marcia Climes along with Mr
Smooth and the ginger nut with the camera made return appearances,
vying for an interview, along with a couple of representatives from
the national press. I barricaded myself inside the cottage, having
first pleaded with the police to get rid of them.

That
evening I had the dubious honour of being featured on national, as
well as local television and radio news programmes, something from
which Pixie and Dixie escaped involvement, having boarded a train
bound for London shortly after leaving the police station. I didn’t
know it then, but it was to be the last contact I would ever have
with them. The following morning a structural engineer arrived at
the cottage to carry out preliminary checks on the cellar walls,
floor and ceiling.

I phoned
David to update him on events.

“Oh my
God,” he said, “Whatever next?

In the
background I heard Jenny say, “What’s happened now?” to which he
replied, “Another one has gone missing.”

Jenny
didn’t respond.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“So, what
will you do?”It was David. He looked worried sick. Jenny, sitting
beside him, wore a similar expression.

I tried
to speak, but words failed me. My head was spinning with thoughts
of Des and the others, and what might’ve happened to
them?

The house
that ate people!

Why the
hell did David have to go and say that?

Jenny and
David glanced at each other, mutual concern clouding their normally
carefree faces, and then Jenny said, “Why don’t you talk to Madam
Lee again?”