Holiday of the Dead (49 page)

By contrast, the night in the hotel had been fairly quiet. They’d not consummated the marriage at that time, if only because Roy was past the stage of optimum efficiency and Susan had developed a very close relationship with the toilet bowl. They’d made up for it since, she thought, looking up at the ceiling and smiling to herself.

It had been so nice of Uncle Ben to lend them his holiday cottage. It had given them the chance to have a half-decent honeymoon. They could have gone for a cheap package holiday abroad, but instead they had jumped at the chance of a week here, rural Wales, as far away from the city as it was possible to be. Both of them loved the quiet little villages, the bleak moors, the cold hills. Roy had been brought up in an area like this, though hundreds of miles further north. Susan was a city girl, but she loved the sense of peace that the hills brought her. It had been a lovely drive up, despite her worries that their old banger of a car would not survive the journey. She’d told Roy that they needed a new one. He’d just laughed and told her that the old thing had plenty of good miles left in it. Maybe that was true, maybe not, but it had got them here. Tomorrow they planned to go walking, following the stream that trickled past the back of the cottage up into the thinly-wooded heights behind. She was already looking forward to that, just as she looked forward to every moment they spent together.

“We ought to get Uncle Ben something nice, to thank him,” Susan mused aloud.

“Yeah,” Roy agreed, emerging from the en-suite bathroom into the darkened bedroom. “Not too nice, though. That shower is a pain in the backside to get working. I bet the old bastard has never had it looked it since he’s owned this place. What time is it?”

“Quarter past seven.”

“No wonder I’m so hungry.” He pulled on a pair of creased trousers and dragged back the curtains. Neither had expected a beam of brilliant sunshine but it was still a little disappointing outside, dull and overcast, with the hills all but obscured behind fine drizzle.

“Typical Welsh summer evening,” Roy muttered.

“Never mind,” Susan said gently. “I’m sure it will be nicer tomorrow.” She ignored his answering look. “What do you want to do about dinner?”

“We could go into the village. There’s a nice café there.”

She shook her head. “I don’t really want to go out. I can’t be bothered to make myself look beautiful.”

“I’d starve to death before then anyway,” he said, smiling as he expertly dodged a viciously flung pillow. “So you want me to go out and get something then? What do you fancy?”

“I’m only thinking of you,” she protested, and then, glancing down at his increasing-noticeable paunch, “and that.” He followed her gaze and patted his stomach contentedly. Pulling up the collar of his coat, he walked over to her and leaned down.

“You just stay there,” he said, kissing her gently on the forehead. She reached up and pulled his head down for the sort of kiss more befitting a new bride.

“Don’t be long,” she breathed heavily. “Have you got your mobile?”

“I’ll only be gone a few minutes,” he said, smiling as he tapped the phone in his pocket. “I’ve got a great new ringtone on it, though. You’ll love it when you hear it.” He winked, and left the room. A few seconds later she heard the front door slam behind him.

II

Ten minutes later the telephone rang. Susan, newly dressed but still looking like someone who had just got out of bed, raced across the room and lifted the antique-looking receiver. “Hello?” she said brightly.

There was no answer.

“Hello?” she repeated. “Roy?” Through the phone she thought could hear the gentle patter of rain. Susan shrugged, and put the phone down.

“Wouldn’t surprise me if the phones around here are a bit missed up,” Roy told her. “We used to have problems at home. I’m only ringing to see if I can get a signal. Plus I wanted to make sure you’re alright, all alone there.”

III

Quarter of an hour had passed when she heard the front door open. “I’ve got some plates ready in the kitchen,” she called, rinsing the last of the toothpaste from her mouth and wiping it with a horribly brown-hued towel.

There was no answer.

Susan draped the towel over the radiator and walked out of the bathroom back into the bedroom. “Roy?” she called. Outside the rain was still gently drumming against the window.

She slowly opened the bedroom door, and looked through it into the living room. The kitchen door was slightly ajar, and she could see the plates and cutlery that she had laid out on the table. There was no sign of any food, and no sign of Roy. She sniffed. The room smelt of disuse, of being left empty nine months of the year. She could faintly smell the air-freshener she had sprayed about the room on their arrival. There was no hint of the distinctive odour of fish and chips.

“Roy?” she repeated, quietly. There was a slight tremor in her voice, she knew. Her heart was beginning to beat more quickly. She felt cold, the fine hairs on her arms rising in sympathetic unison.

From the part of the kitchen that she could not see, behind the thin wooden door, there came the faintest of noises.

Susan stepped forward, very slowly edging towards the kitchen. Another noise came, causing her to breathe in sharply. She reached out with one hand and gently pushed the door open.

“That was the idea,” he said, slightly defensively. He kissed her, despite her best attempts to turn her head away. Then he began to laugh.

It took Roy a few moments to compose himself, while Susan watched him, still a little angry but mostly just bemused by his behaviour. She probably should have guessed that it was him waiting to scare her, she decided. It was just the sort of thing Roy did. Once he’d bought an empty fish-tank and told her there was a pet tarantula in it. When she said she couldn’t see it, he had very convincingly panicked and told her it must have escaped. She hadn’t been able to sleep that night. He hadn’t been allowed to sleep with her that week.

“OK,” he said finally. “I just went into the village and found that chip shop. I rang you just before I went in, yeah? Just to make sure you weren’t scared on your own. If I’d known just how jumpy you were …”

“No, honest,” he replied, somehow managing to look hurt and amused at the same time. “That’s what he said. He can’t give me fish and chips twice because the zombies will get me. He repeated that twice. I thought he was joking but he just wouldn’t budge. In the end I thought sod it because there was a queue forming behind me.”

“OK, whatever,” she told him exasperatedly. “What are you going to do about dinner?”

“I asked some woman, there’s another chip shop a mile or so up the lane. I just popped in on my way past to tell you about this. It’s pretty weird. Maybe they just don’t like the English.”

“Maybe they just don’t like you,” she suggested. “Go and get my fish and chips.”

IV

“Yeah.” He put on a high pitched voice. “I can’t give you fish and chips twice, love, the zombies will get you!” He shook his head. “This is probably some local wind-up trick. I bet your bloody Uncle rang them up and arranged all this.”

“I doubt it,” she said firmly. “Uncle Ben is a right sweetie but he has no sense of humour whatsoever.” She looked at him closely, still suspecting that Roy was winding her up, but the look of annoyance in his eyes and the low rumble that came from his stomach at that moment suggested otherwise. “Did you try ordering anything else?”

She put her hands up, placating. “All I’m saying is I’m happy to have something else. A fishcake, maybe. I’m not sure I could eat a whole fish anyway.”

V

Despite the fact she was waiting for it, and that she had deliberately sat by it, the ringing of the phone still caught her by surprise.

“Any luck?” she said as she picked it up.

There was only silence at the other end.

“Roy?” she called. “Can you hear me?” She listened carefully. Again there was no reply – just the sound of rain beating against something. Then the line went dead.

She put the phone gently down and dialled 1471, hoping to find out the number. The emotionless, disembodied voice of the computerised operator told her the number was unavailable.

Susan cursed aloud, and put the phone down, harder this time. She still suspected it was Roy playing silly buggers, just as she still had a faint suspicion that this whole thing with the zombies was just a wind-up on his part. But then again, Roy liked his food, enough so that he would have ended the joke a while ago in order to get some grub down him. Maybe she was being unfair to him. Maybe it was Uncle Ben developing a sense of mischief late in life.

She picked up the phone again and clumsily called Roy’s mobile number, unused to the obsolete manual dial. The number rang seven times before it was finally answered.