The House of Wood (12 page)

“David, I don’t think I can go
on. The memories are just too hard to bear.”

He took her by the hand.
“That’s okay. Maybe we should take a break from talking about the
past for a while.”

They sat in silence for a few
minutes, each of them picking at their food. The restaurant was
getting busy. The hum of conversation buzzed around them. Yellow
light from the candle flames flickered in the gloom of their little
booth. It gave the place a serene atmosphere. Like a church. Rachel
noticed Mr and Mrs Krupp arrive, her looking as though she could
commit murder with a single look, him forever the dutiful husband.
Neither of them paid her any mind, as she tried to duck her head
down behind the palm of her hand in order to hide her face. The
last thing she wanted to do was make another scene, which
inevitably would happen if Mrs Krupp opened her mouth. Now she
understood why psychiatrists had offices.

“How’s your food?” David
asked.

“It’s very nice, thank you? How
is your steak?”

“Delicious.” Blood oozed out of
the fleshy meat as he cut.

Rachel was beginning to feel
awkward. If the best they could manage were a few lines about the
food, then this was going to be a long night. She looked at her
watch. It was only half past ten.

“So, do you like living at the
bed and breakfast?”

“I did.”

“Oh?”

“Sorry, didn’t I tell you, I
picked up the keys to my new house yesterday. The renovation isn’t
quite finished yet, but it’s fine for me to move in. I’m going back
there tonight.”

“At least you don’t have to
suffer Mrs Ryan anymore.”

“Her bark’s worse than her
bite.”

Rachel giggled. The old battle
axe wouldn’t be giving her anymore problems that’s for sure.

“Where
is
your new place?”

“Oh, it’s just outside town.
Why don’t you tell me what happened next?”

Rachel put her knife and fork
down. She sipped at her drink, ignoring the fact that he had
switched the conversation back to her. “There isn’t much to tell.
What happened can’t be changed.” She had prayed for that a thousand
times over.

“What did happen?”

“I wonder how Becky’s date with
Nathan is going? He could do with a nice girl like that in his
life.”

“I think we should keep this
about you.” He took another bite of his steak. “Tell me more about
this Justin. He sounds important.”

“I don't want to, if it's all
the same to you.”

“Why not?”

Rachel was taken aback by the
look in David’s eyes. There seemed to be a macabre glint in them.
It was as if he was enjoying watching her squirm beneath the weight
of his questions. It's just your imagination, she tried to tell
herself. Whatever she thought she had seen was gone, replaced by
his usual warm kindness.

“I’m here to help you, Rachel.
You'll only be able to get over your fears if you confront
them.”

“I know, it's just…” She
stopped. The words just didn't seem to want to come out. They were
locked inside her. Just like her memories. “I’m sorry, I can't.
It's too hard. This was a mistake.”

“It’s okay. This must be a
painful experience for you. It's never easy to face the past
especially when it contains something you feel is better off
forgetting.”

He took hold of her hand. She
felt strange. Relax. It was as if, by touching her, he was taking
away her fears and doubts. Their eyes locked together. She could
melt away in the vastness of those blue pools, she thought, a rare
tender smile lighting up her face. For the first time in years, she
felt at peace.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I
won't let anything happen to you. I’ll protect you.”

A choking lump caught in her
throat. She pulled her hand away from his. “What did you say?”

“I said I would protect you.
What's wrong with that?”

“I-I-I’m sorry.” The stuttering
had returned.

“Calm down and take deep
breaths.”

She did as she was told. David
signalled the attention of the waitress and asked her to bring over
a glass of water. When the waitress returned, she sipped at the ice
cold liquid. She felt numb.

“Now tell me what's wrong?”

“You sounded like him.”

“Like who? Justin?”

“Yes.”

David sat back in his chair. He
looked worried.

Deep down Rachel knew she
couldn't go on like this. Every second of every minute she was back
in town, it would only get worse. Something had opened up inside
her. Like Pandora's box, more and more evil would pour from her,
never giving her any peace. It had all started when she saw the
house coming back into town. It was with her all the time. She knew
it was out there, waiting for its next victim. She had to do
something about it. Anything.

She looked at the man opposite
her. He was strong, dependable. She felt as though she could tell
him anything and he would believe her. Maybe if she poured her
heart out, she thought, at least someone would know. Maybe they
could stop it from happening again?

“Are you ready to tell me the
rest of your story?”

“I think so.”

“You don't have to if it makes
you too uncomfortable. You can stop any time you like.”

“I know.”

“In that case, why don't you
start with the journey up to the house? Tell me about that.”

Rachel took another sip of
water and then a large gulp of her Archers and Lemonade. She
shifted in her seat. Not once did she take her eyes off of the
table.

“The group of us drove down in
a black Chevy Impala. Tim’s pride and joy. It sped along the old
dirt track like a panther. The engine growled with exhilaration.
None of us knew what was waiting at the top of the hill, or that
this would be our last weekend together…”

Chapter
Twelve

I peered lazily out of the rear
window. The car, going at such a speed, made everything move past
my eyes in a blur. The rhythm of the engine hummed along to the
sound of AC/DC singing
Highway to Hell
. In
the distance, I could see the old white house. As we got closer to
the destination, my heart beat faster and faster to the point where
it was matching the beat of the song, thundering out of the
speakers. I still couldn't quite work out why I had agreed to tag
along.

You've got to come, Rachel. It
can be our last hurrah.

As true as that was, there were
plenty more things that I would rather have been doing before
travelling on to college. I really didn't want to be there. Or
that’s what I kept telling myself.

Despite trying to keep cool, my
anxiety was beginning to bubble beneath the surface. It wasn't just
because of where we were heading; they were only silly ghost
stories. It was the fact that we were speeding down a remote road
and Tim had been drinking with Justin before picking us up. The
smell of alcohol in the small compartment of the car was
intoxicating. My senses were beginning to overload.

“You okay, Rach?” Chelsea
asked.

“Yeah I'm okay,” I replied,
putting on a smile and then turning back to the window. The last
thing I wanted to do was spoil the fun by being all prissy. Anyway,
it wasn’t all bad. Justin was there to hold my hand. This would be
the weekend that something would finally happen between the two of
us.

Just as the song reached its
climax, the car ground to a halt on the driveway. Tim jumped out of
the car whooping and shouting like a clown, as Chelsea followed
behind him, laughing at his crazy antics. I just sat, gazing out of
the window at the big wooden building. It was mesmerising. From a
distance, it looked like nothing more than a clapped out old shack.
But up close, it was a different story. The house was huge.
Decrepit. Most of the old whitewashed paint had chipped away and
the old beams holding up the porch roof were weathered with age.
Even the eight steps leading up to the door were battered and worn
away. In my mind it was the windows that stood out more than
anything. In most houses, the windows created pictures of warmth
and joy. Here, they were just black, lacking any homely comfort. No
curtains, no light. Empty. They were like eyes. Lifeless. To me
they seemed sad, devoid of any happy memories. The house just sat
there looking out over the countryside, forlorn and hopeless, as if
it was waiting for someone to end its misery.

“You planning on joining us, or
spending the night here?” asked Justin, giving me his usual playful
grin.

I stepped out of the car and on
to the driveway. The only sounds were the other three messing
around and the gravel of the drive crunching beneath their feet.
Apart from that, it was silent. This was a place we shouldn’t have
been.

My eyes were fixed on the
house. “Guys I'm not so sure this is a good idea.”

“Stop being so stupid. There's
nothing here to worry about. It'll be fun,” replied Tim. “Justin,
get the beers from the car while I unlock the door.”

Justin turned to me and gave me
another smile. “Don't worry I'll protect you.”

I returned the smile and made
my way up the old wooden steps. My heart pounding with each second.
Something wasn't right. I let the others enter the house first and
turned around for one final look over the countryside. It was
still. Not even the swing stirred in the breeze, as I
entered
.

***

The musty smell filled my
nostrils as soon as I stepped over the threshold. It wasn’t the
typical smell associated with old homes, where people haven't lived
for a while. It was the smell of decay. It was so disgusting, I
almost gagged. No house should smell like this, I thought, as I
moved further in to the heart of the building.

Lord knows what the guys had
been doing up there. No doubt drinking beer, discussing chicks and
getting high. That, or not turning up at all. Whatever it was, they
hadn’t been working.

The entrance opened up in to a
room that, at one time, may have been a living room, or parlour.
Cobwebs hung low from the ceiling, and I had to bat a curious
spider away from my face as I explored. The source of the smell was
coming from the damp walls. It had caused the wallpaper to rot and
peel away, revealing green mouldy patches. The floorboards creaked
with every footstep, as if my weight was causing them distress.
There was very little furniture and all of it was covered in a
thick layer of dust. The main piece was an old fashioned writing
bureau against one wall with a simple wooden chair. The rest
consisted of a small coffee table by the front door and a battered
old sofa, which had also started rotting some years ago. There was
an archway to my left that lead to a similarly dreary kitchen and a
doorway at the back, which opened on to a corridor. The final
pieces of the room were a fireplace that looked like it hadn’t been
used in centuries and a single, dirt covered window that looked out
over the porch and the front garden with its lonely swing. None of
it had been touched for years. The decorating materials were all
stacked in the corner of the room, waiting to be opened. I was
about to say something when I stopped.

Right in front of me was the
most striking thing in the room; a portrait of two children with
their parents. It had suffered over the years. The young boy’s half
had been torn, so that his face could no longer be seen. But the
girl could be. I assumed it must have been his sister. She was
young, but very pretty with jet black curly hair and big brown
eyes. There was something about her though. She looked sad.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get used
to it,” Justin said, as he walked past me and put the bags of food
and drink on the dining table in the kitchen. Was he talking about
the smell, or the picture?

I watched him begin to unpack
the bags. Chelsea and Tim were nowhere to be seen, but I could just
about make out Chelsea’s incessant chatter upstairs. By now, Justin
had slotted in to our little group perfectly. We were all best
buddies. Except I wanted to be more than just friends.

I still hadn’t worked out what
our relationship was. I didn’t even know if we were in one. As soon
as I had seen him that first time, I knew I would fall for him, and
the more I got to know him, the more I fell. Soon I would be going
to college, so it really
was
the last
chance I would get to let him know how I felt.

“Umm, do you need a hand?” I
enquired.

“I thought you’d never ask,”
Justin replied, looking back at me.

His blue eyes sparkled in the
subdued light. I walked towards him, trying to hide my growing
attraction.

“So, having fun yet?” he asked
playfully, as he dipped in to another bag and started unpacking
it.

“Ummm kind of,” I replied. I
had never been so nervous. I could hear my own heavy breathing.
Keep it cool, I thought to myself, as I focused on the bag I was
unloading.

“Only kind of? Come on, you
love it here.” Justin gave me a playful nudge, which sent a surge
of heat rushing to my face. My cheeks gained a scarlet tint to
them. Did he know how I felt? “Seriously though, do you not want to
be here? I can take you home?”

Great! He thinks I’m a wimp, I
remember thinking. I really didn’t want to be there though. All my
senses were screaming at me to take him up on the offer, but I
couldn’t. If I had left at that point, I would have gone off on the
following Monday and probably never again see the only, genuinely
nice guy I had ever met.

“It’s not that I don’t want to
be here, it’s just…” I looked around the place and then back to
Justin. “You know?”

“I see your point. It’s not
exactly The Warldorf.”

“No it’s certainly not,” I
replied. We were both smiling now at the little joke we had shared.
I noticed a glint in his eyes when he smiled at me. I wanted to
just fling myself at him, but I also didn’t want him to think I was
desperate and needy either. God, did I want to be with him though.
The only thing that was stopping me was my own irrational fear of
rejection. What if he didn’t feel the same? I would have looked
stupid.