Moonlight (16 page)

As Winnie helped Thaddeus pack the flask and their empty plates into the wicker basket, she said, “What shall we do together this afternoon?”

With a look of regret on his face, Thaddeus said, “I’m sorry
,
Winnie, but I need to go home and pack.”

“Pack?”
Winnie asked, standing
up. “Are you going somewhere?”

“My publisher called this morning,” he explained, without turning to look at her. “They need me to go back to London and sign a contract.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“Just tonight,” Thaddeus said. “I’ll be back tomorrow evening.”

Winnie looked at him as he wedged his feet into his trainers.
“Can I come with you?” she asked him.

Then, picking up the wicker basket, he looked at her and said, “
Sorry
,
Winnie, but I need to go alone
;
perhaps next time.”

“Okay,” Winnie said with a shrug of her shoulders
,
as if it didn’t matter to her either way.

Thaddeus walked up the beach towards the path, and Winnie followed. They walked in silence, both lost to their own thoughts. As they reached the house, Thaddeus paused at the
front door and looked at Winnie.
“Can you do just one thing for me tonight when I’m gone?”
he asked her.

“What’s that?”

“Come out here and stand in the moonlight,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because it will be a full moon tonight,” he half-smiled. “And you will look so beautiful in its light.”

Not saying another word, Thaddeus stepped inside the house, where he packed for London.

Alone in the giant house, Winnie stood at the dirty window and watched Thaddeus make his way through the crop of trees and disappear from view. She turned away and moved from the lounge, to the kitchen, to the dining room, and back to the lounge again. She had taken Thaddeus’s iPod from the dock in the kitchen, and t
rying to drown out the feelings of loneliness she now felt being in the giant house all alone, she
listened to
The One That Got Away
by Katy Perry, over and over again.

Winnie thought back to the beach that morning, and she knew in her heart she had enjoyed being
with
Thaddeus. A
s she now wandered aimlessly about his huge home, there was a small part of her that wished
he hadn’t had to go to London
.
She would have really liked them to have spent the rest of the day together. Winnie wondered if Thaddeus had felt the same.
The little voice inside her was telling he
r yes – Thaddeus had felt the same but only because Winnie reminded him of Frances. So Winnie turned up the volume on the iPod to drown that little voice out.

Perhaps Thaddeus was telling the truth when he said
he just wanted to be friends? But would he ever want more than that? Maybe if she dropped her guard a little, she might find out.
Feeling like she wanted to scream, and knowing she had to stop thinking about him or go insane, Winnie went to the kitchen. From the cupboard beneath the sink, she took a bucket and cloth, and filled it with warm, soapy water and went outside.
It was late afternoon and the temperature had dropped. Placing the bucket on the ground, she went back into the house and took the coat with the grey hood from the hook. With it buttoned up the front and the hood on, she went back outside. She went around the side of the house to the kitchen window. Here she scrubbed away the dirt and the grime which was smeared over the windows. How had they gotten
so dirty?
Trying desperately not to think of Thaddeus, she scrubbed until the water was a muddy brown in colour and was cold. With her hands looking like two lumps of raw meat, she went back into the kitchen where she refilled the bucket. 

Outside again, she noticed that the sunlight had almost faded away for the day, and it had grown almost dark. Not wanting to go back into the house and listen to those voices of doubt inside her head, she went to the window where she had sat the night before, wearing Frances’s clothes, and reading the book that Thaddeus had left out for her. She would rather carry on working in the dark; she had all night to listen to her own self-doubts. She would rather keep busy.

With the light fading fast, she placed the bucket on the ground and took the cloth from the water. It was then that Winnie noticed something she thought to be strange. With the sodden cloth turning cold in her hands, she knelt down and inspected the flowerbed beneath the window. The heads of the flowers looked as if they had been trampled flat. Winnie brushed some of them aside, and frowned at the footprints she could clearly see in the earth. Who would have been standing in the flowerbed,
and
why?
What could be the reason? Then, looking down at the footprints again, then back at the window, her skin turned cold. Somebody had been standing in the flowerbed so they could spy through the window and into the room. The window was so filthy that whoever had been spying through it would have had to stand in the flowerbeds to get a half-decent view of what lay on the other side. Winnie stepped into the footprints and looked through the window. Peering through the dirt smeared across it, she could just make out the chair where she had sat reading the night before, dressed as Frances. 

With her heart starting to pound
in her chest, she remembered how Thaddeus had been talking, and she had caught him glancing up at the window. Had he seen someone there? Her heart sped up.

“The kitchen window,” she whispered aloud, remembering how she had thought Thaddeus had been looking at someone or something the night before. Picking up the bucket of water, she stepped away from the window, her heart and mind racing. Then, with gooseflesh crawling up her back, she remembered how in the Light House Restaurant, Thaddeus had insisted that she sat with her back to the window. There, too, she had caught him glancing over her shoulder and out of the window, as if someone had been there. Had someone been watching Thaddeus? Had someone been watching
her
, she suddenly thought, and dropped the bucket.

While Winnie had been trying to figure out what the footprints meant, and if either she or Thaddeus had been spied on, the moon had
gradually risen in the night sky behind her. She looked up into the star-shot sky. Thaddeus had been right; the moon was full and round and shining brightly down at her.

Stand in the moonlight
, she heard him ask her, as if he was breathing in her ear. Winnie spun around at the sound of rustling beneath the trees. She peered into the darkness, but could see nothing. Guessing she was just spooking herself, she turned back to face the window and screamed. Reflected in it, and staring out of the dark from beneath the trees, were those three pale faces.

Winnie stumbled out of the pool of moonlight and back towards the house. The bucket she had dropped rolled behind her, and she fell backwards and onto the ground. Air exploded from her lungs, and she felt as if she had been punched. Without taking her eyes off the three faces staring back at her from the darkness, she dragged herself to her feet.

“You don’t have to be scared,” one of the faces whispered, its voice seeming to float on the air towards her.

On her feet again, Winnie screwed up her eyes and peered into the darkness. The face spoke again and said, “You know you don’t have to fear us. It’s Thaddeus you should be scared of.”  

The voice sounded male as it floated towards Winnie.

“What do you want?” she called out, her heart in her throat.

“What we’ve always wanted,” the voice said back.

“And what’s that?” Winnie trembled, inching her way backwards towards the open front door, not daring to take her eyes away from the faces for one moment.

“For you to come with us,” the voice said again. “It’s only going to be a matter of time before he kills you, Frances. You know it to be true.”

“What did you call me?” Winnie whispered, reaching the open front door and stepping backwards through it.

“Frances, stop these games,” the voice said again, the face as bright and as white as the moon.

“I’m not Frances.” Winnie shook, her fingers curling around the frame of the front door, readying herself to close it.

“What did you say?” the voice asked, and it sounded as if it were growing angry.

“Frances is dead,” Winnie shivered, pulling back her hood.

As if what she had said had caused the face beneath the tree great anguish, it released a gut-wrenching scream, so loud that the windows rattled in their frames. Winnie threw her hands over her ears, and screwed her eyes shut. Within an instant, the screaming had stopped, and she snapped open her eyes to see the three faces were standi
ng before her at the door. T
hey weren’t just faces. They had bodies, too, which were clad in black clothing. Two of them were male, the other female. The first was thin and tall, with black hair that was swept back off his brow. The second male was just as tall, but thicker set, with short, cropped, black hair. The female had hair which was dark blue, and blustered about her shoulders in the wind. Just like the other two, she wore a long, black coat, tight black denims, and
boots. A
lthough Winnie was scared of them, she couldn’t help but be momentarily stunned by their striking beauty. The three of them, as they stood motionless before the door, looked immaculate. Their pale skin seemed almost translucent in the moonlight, and their crystal-clear blue eyes shone from their faces.

“What do you want?” Winnie breathed.

“Frances,” the thin one hissed, just inches from her face.

“Frances died,” Winnie mumbled.

“I don’t believe it,” he roared, his face now cast into an agonising grimace. “Tell me it’s not true!”

The other two drew closer to the male who wailed as if in pain. They looked at Winnie.

“Invite us in so we can see for ourselves” the female said, her beautiful mouth curling upwards into a smile.

“No,” Winnie snapped, closing the door.

Before it had locked, the door was forced open again, sending Winnie sprawling backwards onto her arse. She looked up and the three strangers, with their deathly white faces, crowded together just outside the doorway.

“Just invite us in so we can see if you are lying about Frances,” the female smiled. “We won’t hurt you.”

From her position on the hallway floor, it looked to Winnie as if the beautiful wom
an’s legs went on forever. H
owever much the female smiled down at her, Winnie could see a cruelty in her eyes. She looked at the male, whose face was contorted with grief.

“Frances!” he screeched over and over again, tearing at his clothes as if trying to free
himself
from them. The other male tried to restrain him in his fit of madness. “Leave me, Claude!” the male screamed as if in agony.

“Nate, we don’t know that Frances is dead,” the female said.

“She is
dead
,” he screamed. “I feel it in my blood. I know it to be true. He has murdered her.” Again, he tore at his clothes with his hands, as if he were burning alive beneath them.     

  The female went to him, and lashing out at her, he pushed her away. “Leave me, Michelle. Don’t touch me. I am in agony!” Then he stared down into the hallway, where Winnie looked on, her heart racing inside of her. The male called Nate then screamed at her, beating his chest with his fists in anguish. “Is this how I am repaid for letting him live? Her father was a fool to have put his faith in him!”

Winnie trembled uncontrollably. She couldn’t remember feeling so scared. Her legs felt like rubber as she tried to stand, the male screeching, hissing, and spitting at her from the doorway. Holding onto the wall for support, she hobbled towards the open door. However much the male cast out his threats, she sensed that unless she invited them into the house, they could not enter
, although she couldn’t figure out why. Praying she was right
,
she inched towards them.

“My beloved Frances is burning in Hell, and so shall he!
” he screamed at her, spit
flying from his lips, and his eyes bulging with tears. “You, too, will die for what has happened here. I will avenge her death. I will not stop until I have drained both of you of your blood!”

Unable to bear his threats and the screeching of his voice any longer, Winnie threw herself at the door and forced it shut. With her back against it, she slid to the floor as quickly as the tears now spilt down her face.  With the sound of the male’s screams of grief burning in her ears,
Winnie crawled away from the door on her hands and knees. Her body shuddered as she desperately fought to control her sobbing. The front door rattled in its frame, as the strangers outside threw
themselves
against it. The banging and thudding was so loud, Winnie feared it was going to explode off its hinges and into the hallway. Scrambling to her feet, and the sounds of her petrified sobs almost as loud as the door crashing in its frame, Winnie made her way into the lounge and then screamed.