The House That Jack Built (34 page)

    

    

    Norman must have been waiting for her. As she quickly walked past the open door of the Hungry Moon, he came leaping out like a jack-in-a-box. He was wearing a huge Indian shirt in purples and greens and he was wearing tiny sunglasses with amber lenses.

    'Mrs. Bellman!' he called. 'Mrs. Bellman, I really have to talk to you!'

    Effie glanced inside and she could see Pepper standing in silhouette at the crowded counter, wreathed in cigarette smoke.

    'If you're worried about your contract, Norman, stop worrying. Your mom persuaded me to stay cool.'

    Norman said, 'She told me about it. You know, like, she's not often sorry. But this time she's real sorry. She didn't want to hurt you, not for nothing.'

    'It's all right, Norman. I think we've come to an understanding.'

    'Well, I'm glad about that. And not just because of the work I was doing, or the money I was making. I mean, like, work is work, and money is money, but friends are friends.'

    'That's right. Friends are friends.' She turned to walk on.

    'Hey... you're not going?' said Norman, in alarm. 'I have to show you something.'

    'I'm tired. I've had a bad week, okay? Can't it wait for some other time?'

    'Please,' said Norman. 'This could be the answer to what's been happening up at Valhalla. It's true, I've seen it for myself. I don't know whether it's anything to do with occult disturbances or any of that stuff. You know what I think about that. Pretty sceptical, most of the time. But this is different.'

    'Well, what is it?' asked Effie, impatiently.

    'Do you know the Benton House, up at Salt Point?'

    She shook her head.

    'Well, I hadn't either. But mom had. She said that it's pretty famous, at least it is in psychic circles.'

    'I think I've had enough of psychics for one day.'

    'I guess so - but listen: the Benton House was built by this nutty religious sect in the 1890s, the Brotherhood of Balam. It belongs to the Historic Hudson Valley people now; but they've never got around to restoring it. Seems like they've tried about four or five times, but each time they've had to stop work because of some serious accident; and so the place is closed up. But Jim Bogard, one of the trustees, he let me borrow the keys. He wasn't supposed to; but I restored this gazebo for him last year, you know, and did a real special job on it, so he like owed me.'

    'Norman... what has any of this to do with me?'

    'It could have a whole lot to do with you, Mr. Bellman. No, I'm serious. The Brotherhood built the house in a special way… like the floor-joists were fitted circular, like a spider's web, which is a very unusual construction.'

    'So?'

    'So the only other place I've ever seen a floor constructed in the same way is the library floor at Valhalla.'

    'Well?'

    'The Brotherhood of Balam kind of upset their neighbours, so mom says, because of their rituals and stuff. But when their neighbours came looking for them, they locked themselves in their house. And then disappeared, totally disappeared, and nobody ever saw them again.'

    'Oh, come on. I expect they had a secret tunnel.'

    'Unh-hunh. I went all through the house, top to bottom. No secret tunnel. No secret doors. It's as solid as a rock.'

    'Then what are you trying to tell me?'

    Norman raised a hand to indicate that she should stay where she was. He disappeared back inside the store, and after two or three minutes he returned Carrying Pepper's huge grey cat, its eyes squeezed shut in displeasure, its heavy body dangling like a gamekeeper's sack.

    'You met Houdini before, didn't you?'

    'I saw him in your mom's kitchen. I didn't know his name was Houdini.'

    'Hairy Houdini. He used to be called Merlin, after the magician, but he got caught in the dough-mixer once, down at the bakery; and he managed to squeeze his way out between the cogs and the beaters and get himself out of there. Didn't you, Hoods? A true escapologist.'

    Houdini squeezed his eyes even tighter and looked as though he would happily scratch out Norman's eyes, if only he could wake up.

    'Norman,' said Effie, 'I'm not in any kind of mood for games.'

    'No game… I swear it. But if you don't see come to the Benton House to see this for yourself, you won't believe it.'

    'You want me to drive up to Salt Point with you? Now?' Norman dropped Houdini into the back seat of his Charger and took off his sunglasses. He pushed back his hair, and suddenly Effie found herself looking at a serious, thin, but quite good-looking young boy. 'I couldn't get the connection myself,' he said. 'But then I looked up the Brotherhood of Balam in Nonconformist Theology in back of mom's store. The Brotherhood were very ethical, as a matter of fact, but they worshipped fallen angels, because they thought, like, that everybody should be given a second chance. That's what upset the local populace. That, and totally nude baptism. In particular they worshipped Balam, who used to be an angel of the Order of Dominations. Balam was kicked out of heaven because he argued with God that women were equal to men. Kind of a really early version of women's liberation.'

    'And?'

    'And... Balam was the spirit of yesterday, today and tomorrow, all three. Balam was the spirit of time, and invisibility, and everything happening at once… coincidence. Balam could tell you when you were born, what you were going to do in five minutes' time, and when you were going to die. And, listen, the floor that the Brotherhood built - this weird spiderweb-type floor, it wasn't so much a floor to stand on, although you could stand on it, it was like a clock.'

    'You're losing me.'

    'But don't you see? Jack Belias must have found out about the floor at the Benton House before he built Valhalla. He must have - the design is identical, except for the scale. Because what could a gambler have wanted more than anything else in the world? To talk to Balam, right? To ask him questions, right? To know what would happen before it happened!'

    Effie said, 'You're talking... madness! Time, spirits, floors! What the hell are you trying to say to me?'

    Norman reached out and took hold of her hand. His fingers were surprisingly dry and comforting and warm. 'I'm trying to find out what's going on, that's all. I'm trying to find out what's real and what's imaginary.'

    'I think we can safely say that Balam is imaginary.'

    'What about the man you danced with? The man who cut your feet? Like, how imaginary was he?'

    'I don't know. As far as I'm concerned, it's finished.'

    'Mrs. Bellman,' Norman said, with great gravity. 'It's far from being finished. Please - come with me to Salt Point? We could eat at St. Andrew's Cafe. I have a friend who's studying at the culinary institute there… he can get me a table almost anytime.'

    'I appreciate the offer, Norman, but I'm not particularly hungry and I don't want to go to Salt Point.'

    Norman stared at her for a moment and then he let his hair fall back over his face. He looked so disconsolate that Effie reached out and took hold of his hand. 'Norman… I've had so much grief with Valhalla… I don't want any more.'

    'Okay, then,' said Norman. 'I understand. But I took Houdini up to the Benton House early this morning, and it worked, and there's no reason why it shouldn't work now.'

    'What worked?'

    'I have to show you. You won't believe it, else.'

    It was just then that Effie looked up the street and saw a taxi stop outside Pig Hill Inn. The door opened, and Craig climbed out. She knew that she needed to have a long and soul-searching talk to him. In an odd way she had almost forgiven him for what had happened between him and Pepper Moriarty up at Valhalla. She didn't logically know why. But she could almost believe that he and Pepper were telling the truth about it. Craig, in spite of his irascibility, had always told her the truth; and she had a strong feeling that Pepper wouldn't dare to lie - that Pepper believed too strongly in the powers of light and darkness and mystical retribution.

    If Pepper was convinced that she could use a few pinches of magic herbs to make a mistress's skin wither like an old apple, her eyes dull over and her breasts sag, then she obviously believed that somebody could do it back to her.

    Craig disappeared into Pig Hill Inn's front door. Effie hesitated for a moment, then opened the door of Norman's car, and climbed into the passenger seat, and said, 'Sure, yes, why not?'

    Norman looked pleased, and started the engine. He turned north-east, towards Nelsonville, and the Taconic State Parkway. Houdini sat up in the back with his eyes closed, his fur ruffled by the warm wind.

    

    

    They turned off the road and bounced along a rutted, rock-strewn track that ran down one side of a cornfield. Black clouds were building up from the north-west, but the sun still shone warmly on the varnished corn-ears and the shivering leaves of the aspens that bordered the field on two sides.

    They turned into a scrubby, pentagonal field of about two-and-a-half acres. Almost in the centre stood a large, boxy-looking house, with steeply sloping roofs and four pentagonal turrets, one at each corner. The house was painted in flaky grey, and the roof was green. The windows were as empty as picture frames with no pictures in them; except for one large window on the left-hand side, which reflected a shining-perfect view of the sun, and the gathering clouds, and the shivering aspen trees.

    Norman stopped and they climbed out of the car. A thin wind was blowing, and Effie wished that she had brought her coat. He said, 'You should see the way they put this baby together. This was house building. I mean this was Yike joinery.'

    Effie looked back towards the sun-gilded cornfield. It appeared curiously unreal, as if it were a background painting for The Wizard of Oz. She could imagine Judy Garland walking through it, accompanied by the Scarecrow. Then slowly the clouds began to nibble at the edge of the sun, and the field darkened, and the wind blew stronger through the stalks.

    'Come on,' Norman urged her. He was carrying Houdini under his arm. 'You have to see this, you really do.'

    They climbed up the front steps to the verandah, and he unlatched the screen door. 'They don't build houses like this any more. They can't. They may have the skill but they don't have any, like, psyche. This house was built on this exact spot because it was the right spot, whichever way you look at it. And it was built of the right materials and painted the right colour. That's what we call architectural psyche.'

    He unlocked the front door. There was a dulled brass knocker on it, in the shape of a long, attenuated goat's face.

    'Balam,' said Norman.

    'Looks kind of miserable, doesn't he?' said Effie.

    'Notice that he's facing east… same as the knocker at Valhalla.'

    They stepped into the house. It was gloomy and silent and smelled of disuse. 'It's not damp, though,' said Norman. 'They built it so well that it never got damp. You look at the roof. Could've been finished yesterday.'

    He led her through an empty hallway across floors that were immaculately boarded in limed oak, not a trace of discoloration or warping, and still gleaming faintly under their coating of dust.

    'Look at these floors. I could cry. And do you know something? If the Hudson Valley Historical Society records are right, they were laid by a boy of nineteen called Ethan Carter. A boy of nineteen! I can't find men of twice his experience to lay a decent floor.'

    He took her through to the largest room. It was high and rectangular, and almost four times the size of any other in the house, but the odd thing was that it had no windows. Any light which penetrated came from the open doors.

    'Look at this floor,' Norman enthused. 'Now tell me, come on, like, is this a floor; or is this a floor?'

    Effie walked across it, her training shoes squeaking on the once-polished oak. 'It's circular, for sure.'

    'It's amazingl' Norman cried out, almost in anguish. 'It's the single most incredible piece of joinery I've ever seen in my entire life!'

    Effie looked down, and Norman was right. It was amazing. It was made up entirely of curved oak boarding, laid out in perfect concentric circles, like a bulls-eye.

    'How did they do that?' she said, turning around and around.

    'Easy... well, simple in concept, rather than easy. George Carter sawed out acres of wood from mature oaks, by hand, right? and fitted them together like a massive jigsaw-puzzle. But think of the skill it needed! Every circle has to have a greater diameter than the circle next to it. And there must be over a thousand pieces here.'

    Effie kept on turning around. 'What a dance-floor! It's incredible!'

    'Hey- don't,' said Norman. 'Mrs. Bellman- don't do that!'

    She stopped circling. 'Don't do what?'

    'All that around-and-around stuff. Like I told you, it's more than a floor, it's a clock.'

    She looked down at it again. 'I still don't understand what you mean.'

    'That's why I brought Houdini. You can't explain this floor. You have to show people.'

    He dropped the cat into the very centre of the room. Then he hunkered down beside him, and stroked him. Houdini stretched and yawned and nuzzled up against his knee. But then Norman reached into his pocket and took out a small bow-tie shape, made out of folded white paper with an elastic band around it. While he tickled Houdini under the chin with one hand, he slipped the paper bow over his tail with his other. Houdini immediately turned around. He snatched at the bow, but missed it, and turned around again. Soon he was flying around and around, furiously trying to catch this irritating white butterfly that seemed to be following him wherever he went.