The Mercer's House (Northern Gothic Book 1) (15 page)

O
NCE THE thundering of her heart had subsided and the room had stopped spinning, Zanna felt more able to take in the details of the thing that someone had left in her room, although she couldn’t bring herself to look at it for long. The carcass was obviously a few days old, as it had begun to decompose, and as this thought registered Zanna noticed the smell. It was the stench of death and decay, and it made her stomach turn. Suddenly unable to bear it any longer, she ran to the door and wrenched it open, and bumped into Garrett, who had just come up the stairs. He knew immediately by her face that something was very wrong.

‘What is it?’ he said. She gestured wordlessly and he went into her room. He flinched when he saw the thing on the bed.

‘Oh my God,’ he said. ‘That’s gross. How did that get there?’

‘It was there when I came in,’ she said. ‘Someone must have put it there.’

‘But why?’

‘I don’t know,’ she said. She couldn’t stand to look at it. ‘Get rid of it. Please.’

‘I’ll get a bin bag,’ he said. ‘You’d better go and wait in the bar.’

She did as he told her, and sat, hugging herself, as she waited for him to return. After a few minutes he joined her, a little pale, with a look of faint disgust on his face.

‘That was the most revolting thing I’ve ever had to pick up,’ he said. ‘And I’ve searched through a few bins in my time. I had to roll it up in two bags and put it in a third. It’s in the bin in the back yard now, but your bed will need changing. I’ve told Joe and he’s sending someone up.’

‘What did you tell him?’

‘Nothing, just that you’d accidentally put some wet clothes on the bed. It didn’t leave a stain or anything, just a bit of sand and dirt, so I don’t think he’ll have you executed for ruining his four hundred thread count Egyptian cotton.’

‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘Maybe we should tell him what happened.’

‘Why? What can he do?’

‘Well, someone must have got hold of the key to put it in there. It didn’t just fly in through the window.’

‘Not
after
it died, anyway,’ he agreed.

‘Although, come to think of it, the window was open when I went in,’ she said, suddenly remembering.

‘Was it?’ he said. ‘Did you open it?’

‘No. I thought it must have been the cleaner.’

‘Could someone have thrown it in through the window, then?’ he said.

‘From the High Street? They’d have been seen, surely? How could they have lifted it, or even picked it up? It was disgusting. And anyway, why on earth would somebody go to the bother of wrapping a dead seagull in seaweed and throwing it through my window?’

‘It’s no more weird than somebody stealing the spare key and bringing it in through the door,’ he said. ‘Although not so easy, of course. The security procedures are hardly rigorous in this place. I know for a fact they keep all the keys hanging on nails under the desk, and it’s not like they spend all day watching them. It would be easy enough for someone to come in and nick one.’

‘Go and ask Ewan if the key to room five is missing,’ said Zanna.

‘Well, I will if you like, but what’s the point?’ said Garrett. ‘It would be just as easy to put it back afterwards, and in any case we know someone got in—that’s not in question. What we want to know is: who was it?’

Zanna said nothing, but rested her elbows on the table and put her head in her hands.

‘Are you OK?’ he said in concern. ‘You’re not, are you?’

‘Not really.’

‘Would a hug help, do you think?’

‘Yes,’ she said in a small voice, and he put his arms around her and held her as she tried not to cry.

‘Better now,’ she said after a minute or two, and moved away from him. ‘Thanks.’

‘My pleasure. Although can we do it without the dead bird next time?’

She gave a laugh that was half a sob, and nodded.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘You’ll be back home tomorrow, and you can put all this nonsense behind you.’

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I think that will probably be best.’

Joe soon came to say that the bed had been changed, and told her off jokingly for going to bed in a wet swimsuit. Zanna made a suitably contrite apology, and said she hoped the quilt cover hadn’t been ruined.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘I’d been thinking of retiring that one anyway. It’s getting a bit old now, and I found a new one I liked the other day.’

He went off, and Zanna wondered whether she should have told him what had happened. He might have seen someone hanging around the desk while she was out. But she didn’t think she could face their concern and their embarrassment when they found out that one of their guests had been the victim of a nasty prank. They were doing their best to run a small business, and she knew they worried about staying afloat during the quiet periods, so this was probably the last thing they wanted. She decided to sleep on it, and perhaps tell them tomorrow as she checked out—if only to give them a hint to look after their keys more carefully in future.

‘And now, whether you like it or not, I’m going to buy you a gin and tonic,’ said Garrett.

‘That will be lovely,’ she said. ‘Just the one, though.’

‘As many as you need,’ he said firmly.

In the end, she managed to get away with just one, after which she felt much better, and full of resolve not to let herself be too disturbed by what had happened. This was to be her last evening in Elsbury, and she was going to enjoy it. Never mind that some mad person was playing tricks on her and trying to frighten her; she’d be gone by tomorrow, and whoever it was could go back to being mad in their own time, without picking on her.

‘I’m going for a shower,’ she said.

‘Will you be all right?’ said Garrett.

‘Yes, thanks,’ she said. All the same, she opened her bedroom door warily and looked around carefully before she went in. Then she looked under the bed and in the cupboard and the bathroom, before shutting the door and locking it. After a moment’s thought she propped a chair up against the handle for good measure.

‘You look beautiful,’ said Garrett appreciatively when she joined him downstairs afterwards. ‘Shall we have something to eat? They’ve got music on later, apparently, so let’s get the food out of the way first.’

Joe had been right when he said it would be a busy night. A popular local band were playing, and the pub had a late licence until one, and so the place was packed with seemingly the whole population of Elsbury. Will arrived with Alexander, and they came to join Zanna and Garrett, who had had the sense to guard their table jealously after dinner rather than risk losing it. Will was a little distant, but she couldn’t tell whether that was down to his usual manner or whether he was being tactful in Garrett’s presence. She was disappointed, but at the same time slightly relieved, since it had been a day of ups and downs for her, and she didn’t know whether she could cope with much more. Mindful of her missing antidepressants, not to mention the hangover she had suffered the other day, she nursed her drink and tried to make it last. Their party gradually got bigger as some of the people they had been sitting with the other night joined them, but when the music began conversation became impossible. Zanna soon discovered that sitting down had been a mistake, because she couldn’t see a thing, and she ended up standing on a seat by herself, as everyone else went to find a better view elsewhere.

The bar was hot and the sound was deafening, and she started to feel the need for some fresh air. Just as she had this thought, she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. She didn’t recognize the number on the screen, but she didn’t need to, as she knew perfectly well who was ringing her. She felt the hairs on the backs of her arms prick up, and at the same moment the phone stopped ringing. At that, a dart of anger went through her at this person, whoever it was, who was trying to frighten her, and she felt a sudden determination to do something about it. She stepped down from the seat and pushed her way through the crowd towards the exit. She was going to phone them back and tell them what she thought of them, and then she was going to call the police.

O
UTSIDE IT was chilly, and a group of smokers were huddling together for warmth. The phone screen told Zanna it was almost midnight—far too late to be making phone calls, since most people would be in bed by now. From that Zanna deduced that her mysterious stalker hadn’t wanted to talk to her at all, but had merely wanted to frighten her again. This time there wasn’t even a voicemail message, just a number on a screen. Well, at least she could return the call and ask what they thought they were playing at.

As she tapped the key to return the call, the door opened and there was a blast of noise and cheering from inside. The band had launched into a number that was evidently a favourite, and several of the smokers burst into raucous song, so Zanna was forced to move away. She walked down the High Street in the direction of the beach, until she was far enough away to hear the ringing at the other end of the line. It rang for a long while, and at last she heard a click and the familiar disembodied woman’s voice urging her to leave a message after the tone.

‘This is Zanna Chambers,’ she said. ‘I don’t know who you are, but I want you to stop bothering me. I’ve got your email address and your phone number, and if I hear from you again I’m going to hand them over to the police and make an official complaint. I hope I’ve made myself clear. Now, leave me alone.’

She ended the call and took a deep breath to calm herself. She felt strangely elated at what she’d just done. She wouldn’t be a victim; she’d taken charge of the situation and thrown the ball back into the aggressor’s court. She might call the police or she might not, but the threat couldn’t hurt, and with any luck it would frighten this person off once and for all.

Without knowing it, she had walked all the way down the High Street and onto the beach. She turned to look back and was struck by the view of the streetlights of the town, shining out brightly against the velvety dark blue of the night. The tide was out, and she began walking backwards on the packed wet sand, framing the view in her head and wishing she had her easel and paints with her. The Mercer’s House stood apart from the town, its downstairs lights ablaze, and she thought of Will, and remembered that tonight might be the last time she ever saw him if the gallery thing fell through. She’d better return to the Coach and Horses before people started worrying about where she’d got to.

At that moment, in one single instant, her view of Elsbury disappeared, and the town and the beach were plunged into darkness, just as if the lights had been switched off. Zanna was startled and nonplussed, until she realized that the lights
had
been switched off. She hadn’t known they went off at midnight, and she was filled with alarm, because now here she was, three hundred yards down a beach, in the pitch black, with almost no light to help her find her way back, since even the moon was hidden behind the thick clouds.

The sudden darkness had intensified all her other senses, and for the first time she noticed that a stiff, salty breeze had got up, and heard the sound of the waves a little way away. Was the tide coming in or going out? She couldn’t remember, but it was probably best not to hang around and find out. She had left her jacket in the pub, and now she realized she was cold, and wanted to be indoors, and so she set off towards what she thought was the town. She had never before experienced this sort of darkness, and hadn’t known how easy it was to get disoriented, and she stumbled on the ripples of wet sand, then swore to herself as she stepped in what felt like a rock pool, which soaked through her suede boot and made her grimace. The only light she could see from here was the one from the Mercer’s House, and after a second she concluded that by keeping it to her right she would soon be off the beach. But she quickly found she had misjudged the direction when a wave rushed round her ankles, and she gave a little cry of shock and reversed her steps. Now she had no idea at all which direction to take to return to the town, but it was obvious that the tide was coming in fast, and she had no desire to drown because of her own stupidity, so she set out determinedly for the Mercer’s House, her boots kicking against pebbles and getting caught in trails of seaweed, which brought back the memory of the dead seagull on the bed. She forced it out of her mind, and was thinking of nothing but her objective, when she jumped and gave a little shriek of fright as she felt someone brush past her unexpectedly, whispering something as they passed. She stopped, and whirled round, trying to see who it was, but there was no-one near, she was sure of it. Then it started up again, the same murmur of voices she had heard before, accompanied by the sound of a woman sobbing. If it was unsettling in the daylight, it was doubly so in the dark, and it caused Zanna to lose her nerve completely. She broke into a run, in a direction she judged would take her away from the sound of the voices, willing the feel of the sand under her feet to become soft and powdery, but still it was hard and damp, and after a minute she stopped to catch her breath and try to get her bearings, doing her best to suppress the feeling of panic that threatened to rise up and overwhelm her at any moment. At that moment she saw something that made her heart leap. It was a beam of light, a little way ahead, moving towards her. It looked too dim to be a torch, but perhaps it was someone using the light from their mobile phone to find their way. Whoever it was must be able to see her—might even have come out specifically to look for her, and she gasped in relief and stumbled forward.