The Concrete Grove (29 page)

Hailey’s body began to shake. Lana was almost used to this by now, but combined with everything else she was going through it seemed much worse this time.

“Oh, Hailey. Oh, honey.” Lana cradled her child in her arms and reached out to something she didn’t believe in. If there was a God, or some kind of greater power that watched over the fallen, then why would it not answer her pleas? The doctors were useless; they didn’t know what was wrong. None of them could make a proper diagnosis. Maybe all she had left to rely on was whatever might be listening to her prayers.

The shuddering motion stopped. Hailey pushed herself out of her mother’s embrace. Her eyes were normal again. White flecks of spit speckled her chin.

“The Slitten,” said Hailey, her voice low and cold and even. “They’ll help us. Just ask.
Ask
.”

After everything she’d seen lately – and all the horror she’d experienced in Monty Bright’s basement room – Lana was ready to believe in anything. Any slim hope offered to her looked appealing, even the private fantasy belonging to a damaged teenager. She let go of Hailey and shuffled backwards on her knees, clasping her hands in a clumsy prayer. She lowered her head and gathered whatever energy still inhabited her battered body.

“
Just ask
.” Hailey’s voice was a whisper, an echo.

Lana stared at her hands, clasped before her in an idiot’s plea. Suddenly this seemed like an absurd children’s game. She pulled her hands apart and wiped them on the front of her dress, as if they were covered in dirt. “No. This is stupid,” she shook her head. “Like I said before, it’s just fucking stupid.” She stood and walked over to Hailey, manhandling her in a more aggressive way than she first intended. “Let’s get you cleaned up. I always seem to be doing that lately.”

Hailey said nothing. She just allowed herself to be led to the bathroom.

Lana ran the hot water until it was steaming, and added just a little cold so that the water was tolerable to sit in. Then she helped Hailey undress and guided her into the bath. The room was filled with steam. The window glass was opaque. The surface of the mirror was like a cataract-blinded eye. She felt close to a place where all of this made some kind of sense, an alternative world in which pain was simply a method of gaining entry, where trauma was just the price of admittance.

She put Hailey to bed and then took a shower to relax – the faulty shower head decided to work on the third attempt, the water spluttering at first but then flowing with renewed force. But no matter how many times she bathed herself, Lana knew that she would never be rid of the stain of this evening. She was polluted; her body had been changed by what she’d allowed those men to do to her. And the sight of Monty Bright as he shed his wetsuit had imprinted itself on her mind, altering the geometry of her brain forever.

After her shower, she dressed in clean clothes and returned to Hailey’s room. The girl was sleeping, lying in exactly the same position as when Lana had left her before midnight. The girl’s eyes moved rapidly beneath waxy lids; she was seeing something other than the depressing sights around her. Maybe even something wonderful. Lana reached out and stroked Hailey’s forehead, fighting back tears.

Hailey’s eyes opened.

“
Just ask
.”

Lana took away her hand. She stared at her daughter’s pale face, at her dull, hard eyes. Then she relented. If it made Hailey happy, she could at least do this for the girl, feed her crazy little fantasy.

But somewhere deep inside her, where her hopes and dreams lay dry and withered, like dead flowers, hope stirred.

Lana closed her eyes, once more pretending to pray.

“Help me. Please help.” Lana’s voice sounded different. Her words felt strange as they left her throat. They were like solid objects regurgitated into the room. The words had shape and form: they were alive; and once released, they went out in search of something incredible.

When Lana opened her eyes, Hailey was sitting up in bed, wide awake now. The expression on her daughter’s face was one of bliss, like a child on Christmas morning. She held her hands together in front of her chest, and then slowly, and with great intent, she began to unbutton her nightdress.

Lana leaned back. “What are you doing, honey?” That faint fluttering of hope was gone; the fragment of belief was spent. There was nothing here in this room but a girl who had lost touch with reality and a mother who had failed to protect her.

“I’m
summoning
them.” Hailey’s breasts looked bigger than when Lana had bathed her earlier; they spilled out of the open neck of the garment, full and firm and lactating. Watery milk striated with pale crimson streaks leaked from the rigid nipples, drawing wet lines down Hailey’s bloodless, paper-thin chest.

Lana stared at her daughter’s body. It had changed. Something beyond understanding had happened.

The sound of rain clawing at the windows. But it wasn’t raining; hadn’t rained for days. Spindly, twig-like shadows crept across the walls and ceiling, pasting darkness upon the walls; the bricks and floorboards creaked as if in preparation for the arrival of something glorious. The air turned dusty and grey light seeped from invisible cracks to baptise the room.

Gossamer filaments drifted down from the ceiling, like the webbing of a spider, but longer, firmer, thicker. At the top of each frosted strand there was a small bundle, like an oversized, blackened fist, which slowly began to unfurl and reveal a lighter underside. Dusty petals opening. Striving for the light.

Lana stared at the ceiling, and at the things making their way down towards her.

“What are they?”

“The Slitten.” Hailey bared her chest to the room, throwing back her head and closing her eyes in an expression of near ecstasy. The Slitten responded
en masse
. Scores of them dropped like desiccated spiders from the ceiling, rolling across the floor towards the bed. They were shadow and half-light, lines and slashes, more thought than substance. Their features were vague, like stolen shards of daylight trapped in sealed rooms, and their limbs were many and sharp-clawed. When Lana stared straight at them they became blurred, lacking focus. But when she looked off to the side, they solidified and took on form in her peripheral vision. Their desiccated reptilian mouths gaped. The ragged holes in their crisped bodies showed only hollowness within. They were like living fossils, the calcified shells of reanimated prehistoric beasts.

Hailey’s behaviour – along with the baggy clothes, the moodiness, the increasing secrecy –all made sense now, at last, in terms of this virgin birth. She had not been impregnated by some boy on the estate, but she had been filled with wonder. And now those wonders had been delivered into their care.

Her daughter, she now realised, was a being of contrasts: guardian and wet nurse; victim and criminal; strength and fragility; darkness and light.

The Slitten crawled up onto the bed, swarming over their birth-mother and obscuring her lower torso. One by one, they reached up and began to suckle, taking it in turns to slake a thirst born in darkness. Lana watched in awe. Her beautiful daughter was now a mother to monsters and for some reason the thought did not fill her with terror or repulsion. Instead, she felt a strong sense of purpose, and the potential solution to their problems began to take on a kind of clarity that she had not even dared to dream of.

Soon the Slitten were satisfied. They rolled off Hailey, slid from the bed, and gathered around Lana, their movements slow and heavy. They had taken their fill. Their hunger was sated, at least for now.

“Ask them,” said a tired voice from the bed, its owner lost in the growing shadows – shadows that had not been there even seconds before. “Ask them again. It’s why they’re here, to help us. Tell them what you want them to do.”

Lana looked at the resting entities, but only out of the corner of her eye. Then she reached out her hands and began to speak.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

W
HEN
H
AILEY GOT
out of bed her whole body felt drained and empty, as if something vital had been siphoned from her during the night. She had a vague memory of her mother coming home in the early hours, and of them having some kind of heated conversation. But the details were fuzzy. Whenever she tried to think about what had been said, she drew a blank. It was as if the majority of her immediate memories had been scraped painlessly out of her brain.

She brushed her teeth, washed her face, and put on her school uniform. Her stomach ached, and the emptiness seemed to grow. She wasn’t hungry, but she felt the need to fill a gap inside her body that had not been there when she went to bed last night.

She remembered a dream. Something about a wood or a forest, and a creature (or creatures) that were important to her in some way. That was all; nothing else came when she tried to pinpoint the memory.

“How are you feeling?”

She turned around and saw her mother standing in the doorway, her face pale and drawn. She looked like she’d aged a decade overnight.

“A bit weird.”

“I’m not surprised.”

Hailey paused in tying her shoelaces. “What do you mean?”

Her mother shrugged her shoulders and pulled her dressing gown tighter. “Don’t you remember last night? When I came home?” She leaned against the doorframe.

Hailey shook her head. “The last thing I remember was Tessa’s mum coming round drunk and waking me up to give me that telly. She wouldn’t take no for an answer because she was so pissed. I think she was trying to make herself feel good by giving us some charity.”

Her mother smiled. “Who on earth is this Tessa? Have I met her?”

“She’s a friend from school – one of my only close ones. You remember, the girl with the big feet who keeps knocking stuff over.”

Mum smiled, but still she looked vaguely ill. “Ah, yes. The clumsy girl. She came round for dinner that time. Broke my bloody vase.”

Hailey laughed, which seemed to break the mood. “That’s her. She still feels bad about it.”

“You look tired, honey. Are you sure you want to go to school? You’ve had a… well, a rough time.”

Hailey stood up and approached the mirror above her dressing table. She combed her hair and tied it up in a loose ponytail. “What’s wrong with me? What happened last night? I’m so hungry I could eat a scabby horse, but if I did try to eat anything I know I’d be sick.”

“You really should have some breakfast. I’ve made toast. Just try and eat a slice. If you really insist on going to school, we’ll talk properly when you get home.” Her mother folded her arms across her chest. “There are still things we need to talk about.” She scanned the room, as if looking for something specific. “Have you been having strange dreams?”

Hailey watched her mother in the mirror. Nodded.

“Me too, baby. Scary ones. But I think they’re more than just dreams. Last night… things happened last night, when I left you here. Stuff we need to discuss.”

Hailey kept her eyes on her mother’s reflection in the mirror. “I’m ill, aren’t I? There’s something seriously wrong with me.” Did she have a brain tumour, was that it?

“I think there was something wrong,” said Mum. “But now I think you might be getting better.” The ghost of a smile crossed her face and then she turned away, heading back to the kitchen. “Come and have some toast.”

Hailey finished getting ready. She packed her school bag and made sure that she had all of her books and her pencil case. Giving herself one final glance in the mirror – she didn’t look too bad now that she’d made a bit of an effort – she left her room and went to the kitchen.

“Would you like some fruit juice? I could pop out and get some from the shop. Or maybe a cup of tea?”

Hailey sat down opposite her mum. “No. I’m fine. I’ll just try a bit of that toast.” She reached out and picked a slice off the serving plate. The butter had melted and the toast wilted. When she bit into the toast it was cold. The texture of the limp bread almost made her gag.

“Just a few bites,” said her mother, trying to smile and almost making it.

“Where were you last night?” said Hailey, once she’d swallowed the mouthful of bread. “I remember waking up. It was late. Or early. Was that when you got home?”

Her mother looked away. Her eyes roamed over the kitchen surfaces. “Yes, that was me. We had a little chat and I put you back to bed.”

“So. Where did you go?”

“I had to go out and see a friend. Nothing you need to know about, not really. Just an errand I had to run.”

Hailey chewed the toast. The more she had the more she got used to it. Her stomach still felt empty but it no longer ached. “You’re not getting involved in anything crazy, are you?” Her eyes began to sting. The kitchen lights were too bright and they made her head throb.

“No,” said her mother. “It’s nothing like you think. But this is one of those things we need to talk about. I made a big mistake and it’s going to affect us both.”

Hailey’s ears were ringing. The sound was distant yet incessant, like an alarm. “Okay, we’ll sit down and talk tonight, when I get home from school.”

Her mother shuffled in her chair. “I might have to go out again later, so it’ll probably be late. Will you be okay on your own again, just until I get back?” She paused, not really waiting for an answer. “I promise not to be too long. We can talk then.”