Bad House (10 page)

“God, Ian, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“She thinks I’ve got…problems. She thinks I’m losing it.” He took a deep breath, stealing himself for what he was about to say. “But the thing is, I’m beginning to doubt myself, too. I mean, she packed a suitcase and left me at nine o’clock last night, said she was going to stay with her mother who lives a good two-hour drive away. But I saw this morning that
she didn’t take the car.
I know she probably ordered a taxi to take her to the train-station, but that just seems plain
weird,
especially with that storm last night. Why didn’t she just drive?”

“Storm? What storm?”

His blood ran cold and he looked at her blankly. “You do live in Manchester, right?”

“Yes, just a few miles away from you. There was no storm last night, Ian.”

That bad feeling intensified.

They’re still in the house. They never left
.

He sat there stunned.
It made no sense, yet it was the only thing that did.

“I have to go,” he said, suddenly springing to his feet and banging his knees on the underside of the table as he did so.

“Ian? What’s going on? What have I said?”

He looked down at her and attempted a smile, although he had a feeling it looked more like the rictus grin of a corpse. “Either the house has done the worst thing imaginable, or I’m fucking crazy. Thanks for meeting me today, I really appreciate it.”

He had already moved away from the table as the words tumbled from his mouth.

“Ian! Wait.”

He stopped in his tracks, sighing deeply. He
knew
he should keep walking, this was his problem, no one else’s. When she spoke, he cringed in a mix of relief and dread.

“I’m coming too.”

Slowly, he turned round to face her. “No, Louise, that’s not a good idea. Go home. I can’t drag you into this.”

“It’s a bit late for that, wouldn’t you say? Maybe I have to, for
my
sake, not yours. Ever since my parents disappeared, I’ve been avoiding twenty-nine Aberdeen Road. Even when I got the builders and decorators in so I could sell it, I can still only count the amount of times I went there on one hand. I need answers too, Ian.”

Against every last ounce of his better judgement, he nodded his head. Because the truth was, he
needed
the company. He was frightened, the thought of going back to that house alone brought him out on a cold sweat. And the company of someone who believed him, who didn’t think he was crazy, was just too tempting to turn down.

“Okay fine, I’ll meet you there.”

You’re a bastard, Ian Webster. A complete, fucking bastard
…

CHAPTER TEN

When Ian pulled up outside his house, Louise wasn’t there.

Maybe she’s changed her mind. Maybe she’s not coming.
Part of him hoped she had bottled it, but the other part, the
bigger
part, hoped she was close behind.

He got out of the car and leaned against the driver’s door. It had been years since he’d last smoked, but right then he could’ve killed for a fag. Overhead, dark clouds were gathering, making him think of last night’s storm. Louise spoke up in his mind:

Storm? What storm?

He shivered in his leather jacket, the bite of early-winter hanging heavy in the air. The double garage doors seemed to be mocking him, and he tried not to think of Holly’s car behind them.

He pulled out his mobile and pressed Holly’s name. It went straight to voicemail.

Where are you, Holly?

A few minutes later – although it felt more like a few hours – Louise drove her red Range Rover through the opened gates and parked up behind him. She swung her long legs out the car and strode over to him. Her long red hair whipped across her face and she pushed it out her eyes.

She really is quite beautiful
.

The thought was inappropriate, and a vague sense of guilt settled over him; a guilt that was beginning to feel all too familiar since he had met Marianna
and
Louise.

Clicking a button on his keyring, the electronic gates smoothly swung inwards, sealing them inside the premises of the house.

Sealing our doom
…

The melodramatic almost made him smile.

Almost.

“Shall we go in?” he asked, dangling the keyring from his forefinger.

For a fleeting second, her big, green eyes betrayed her fear, but just as quick the flashing indecision was gone again.

“Sure.”

As he unlocked the front-door, he was painfully aware of her presence behind him, and his stomach lurched.

This is wrong, she shouldn’t be here
.

The door creaked inwards, and they were in.

Immediately, Ian led her to the living-room. He was incredibly nervous, feeling very much like a young lad on a first date. He found himself talking too fast and too much, all the while just one thought going round and round in his head on a loop:

She shouldn’t be here
.

“So I got this computer guy round to rig up a surveillance system in key rooms throughout the house. It seemed like the logical thing to do. I mean, if something is happening, then the cameras would pick it up, right? They would have to pick up
something
, or at least you’d think so. It’ a shame about the power-cut last night…”

With the storm that never was
.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she said, resting a gentle hand on his forearm once they were in the living-room.

No, it’s not okay,
he wanted to say.
None of this is okay
.

“You don’t have to be here. Maybe you should go.”

He glanced down at her slender hand resting on the sleeve of his leather jacket. She didn’t pull away and their eyes locked.

“I want to be here, with you. I want this, Ian. I
need
this.”

Ian was no longer sure what she was referring to. Was she just talking about finding some kind of answers or closure with regards to the disappearance of her parents? Or was she coming onto him?

He broke the searing eye-contact and looked down at his boot-clad feet.

“Why don’t I show you the surveillance footage? You can flick through it while I make us a drink, if you like. I haven’t looked at it since yesterday.”

“Sure.”

As soon as it was out his mouth, he regretted it.

Marianna.

How fickle he was, he thought humourlessly. Just because another beautiful woman was with him at this precise moment, he had temporarily forgotten about the other one that had been in his house only this morning.

But what did it matter? It wasn’t like he had done anything with Marianna, she had only come round to check if he was okay.

And so what if I had? Louise is only here because of what happened to her parents, she’s not here for me.

Somehow, he didn’t fully believe that.

“I have to warn you though, the next-door neighbour came round this morning just before you called. I went dizzy in the hallway and she managed to carry me into the living-room and dump me on the sofa before I passed out.”

Louise looked dismayed. “Did she call an ambulance?”

“No.”

“No? Why not?”

“I guess she just wasn’t very community minded.”

His tone was light, but for some reason he was starting to feel really strange and on edge. A pressure was building behind his eyes and in the bridge of his nose, and he felt strung out and jittery, like he had drunk too much coffee.

“I’ll show you how this works,” he said, sitting down in the middle of the sofa and patting the empty space next to him. The laptop on the coffee-table before them fired into life and he showed her what Bob the surveillance guy had shown him. Soon she was flicking from room to room in real time. “And this is how you look at the pre-recorded footage,” he said, moving the curser over more icons.

A fat droplet of red plopped onto the back of his hand which was resting on the keyboard.

What the hell was that?

Another drop swiftly followed and he realised it was blood.
His
blood.

“Ian? Jesus, are you okay?”

As soon as she spoke his nose gushed red, and he only just managed to jump to his feet in time and clasp his hands over his dripping nostrils to stop the computer from being drenched.

“I’m fine,” he said, tilting his head back to stem the flow of blood. “I had one yesterday too, it’ll pass in a minute.”

“My dad complained of nosebleeds too. Funny thing is, I can’t recollect him ever having a single nosebleed before he moved into this house.”

But Ian was barely listening and was heading for the door. “I have to sort out my nose, then I’ll make us a drink. I’ll be right back.”

He lurched along the hallway to the downstairs bathroom next to the kitchen.

“Fuck me,” he grumbled, doing his best to stem the flow of blood.

He shrugged off the leather jacket and it fell to the floor. Once it felt as if the bleeding had sufficiently stopped, he wadded together some fresh toilet-paper and mopped up the blood as best he could. He splashed his face with cold water and stuck some rolled-up toilet-paper up each nostril. His shirt was black and didn’t show the blood stains, which was good because he really couldn’t be arsed going upstairs to change.

What a sight I must look,
he thought with a grim smile as he made his way to the kitchen.
I wonder if she’s watching me?

Self-consciously he saluted the camera, feeling an utter fool with the bog-roll shoved up his nose. As he opened the fridge door and reached inside for the chilled bottle of white, thoughts he couldn’t quite grasp danced around the edges of his mind.

Thoughts or memories
, he wondered. He frowned in concentration.
I can’t remember
. All he knew was right then he felt like shit. He felt feverish and that sense of dread he had been feeling on and off all day was back with a vengeance.

Something awful has happened
…

The ill-formed thought slipped through the cracks of his mind and try as he might, he couldn’t make sense of the fragments. Shakily, he straightened up, bottle of wine in hand.

Better take the shit-roll out my nose,
he thought humourlessly. Suddenly he was aware of the desperate need to urinate so he placed the unopened wine on the counter and made his way back to the bathroom.
I didn’t wash the blood away either, I should probably do so before Louise goes to use the bathroom
…

Back in the bathroom once more, he looked at the sink in puzzlement. The blood was gone.

But I didn’t wash it away
.

Doubt assaulted him; perhaps he had done. He could’ve easily run the tap and rinsed the blood away without it registering.

Yeah, okay. But I didn’t
.

Sighing heavily, he unbuttoned his jeans and pissed into the porcelain bowl, his gaze drifting downwards from the sink.

He froze in place. He was also sure he had dripped blood onto the tiled floor, but there was no blood there either. That bad feeling lingered in his mind like a rotten fart in a pair of underpants; it was there, but it had no substance. His headache had really kicked in now and he squeezed his eyes tightly shut for a second.

What’s happening to me?

Zipping himself back-up, he retrieved the bottle of wine from the kitchen along with two glasses, and headed back to Louise in the living-room.

“I don’t have Pinot, I’m afraid, it’s just a Chardonnay, but it’s cold and wet…” His words trailed off when he realised he was speaking to an empty spot on the sofa.

“Just stay
the fuck
away from me.”

“Louise? What are you doing?”

“I mean it! I’ve called the police, they’ll be here any minute.”

Ian’s head reeled. “What the fuck is going on?”

He stared at her in dumb horror, not comprehending the sudden turn of events. She was over by the window, brandishing what looked like a jagged piece of glass before her.

She was acting like a wild animal backed into a corner.

What have I done? This makes no sense
...

“How did you make her
do
that? Is it some kind of camera trick you concocted to freak me out?”

“Please,” he said, his hands raised in the air, “I really don’t know what you’re talking about. “Just relax, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You’re a fucking monster! Keep back!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Why would you make me watch what you did? You’re sick Ian, really fucking sick. You’ll burn in hell for what you did.”

“What did I do?” he asked desperately.

Her gaze flitted nervously from side to side, as if searching for something more to defend herself with. Her luscious red hair hung in her eyes, making her appear crazed. “The police will be here any second,” she said again.

“Louise, please…” She flinched when he spoke as surely as if he had struck her. “Okay, okay, but I truly don’t know what’s going on here. Will you at least let me look at the video footage, too? Maybe then I’ll have some idea of what you’re going on about.”

She didn’t move for a moment, her entire body taut and trembling. Then curtly, she nodded.

“Fine. Sit on the sofa and don’t move a fucking muscle. The police will be here any second.”

“So you keep saying.”

Moving slowly so as not to alarm her any further, he sat down. The woman had obviously completely lost her mind.

That’s what you get when you invite strangers back home with you
…

He thought about making a run for it; she was all the way over by the window and all he had to do was make a break for the door.

But something compelled him to stay. He had to
see
. As far as he was concerned, the answers to
everything
could be on that laptop.

Those formless thoughts were back, taunting him from the edges of his mind, shadows of shadows of memories.

What am I not remembering? It’s something important. Why can’t I remember?

The screen was frozen on an image of him in the corner of the living-room with the landline pressed to his ear. Reaching out a trembling hand, he pressed play.

There was no sound, but as soon as the image started moving, he could easily place the exact moment in time.

“What’s so awful about that?” he said. “It’s from this morning. I was talking to you on the phone.”

When he glanced over at her, he saw she was crying. She was also edging towards the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.

She screamed and hurtled herself past him. She never made it to the door. Ian sprang to his feet, and in one fluid motion he grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and wrenched the piece of glass out of her hand before throwing her to the ground. She lay there sprawled out on her stomach, one arm twisted awkwardly behind her back.

He wasn’t
remembering,
exactly, but he felt something in his mind give, like a door being pushed open that couldn’t be closed again.