The Writer (5 page)

Like a man and a little girl.

I stay completely still, convinced that at any moment the light will shift and I’ll realize that the whole thing is just some kind of illusion.

The figures don’t move. They seem content to just stare at the house.

“Go away,” I whisper. “Just -”

Before I can get the words out, I hear my phone ringing in the bedroom. After staring at the figures for a moment longer, I hurry through to the corridor and then along to my room, where I see my phone vibrating and flashing on the nightstand. Picking it up, I see that a hidden number is trying to get hold of me. For a moment, I consider not answering, but curiosity gets the better of me and I hit the green button before raising the phone to the side of my head.

All I hear on the other end of the line is a faint hissing sound, like distant traffic.

“Hello?” I say after a moment. “Is anyone there?”

The hissing continues.

“Whoever you are,” I add, making my way back toward the front room, “I’m going to hang up now. There’s no -”

“Don’t hang up, Mummy.”

I stop dead in my tracks, as a cold wash runs through my body. It’s almost as if all the blood has drained out of me at once.

“Why don’t you want us with you?” the voice asks.

“Hannah?” I reply, my voice trembling with emotion.

“Why don’t you want us to live with you anymore?”

Hurrying to the window, I look out at the driveway and see that the two figures are still out there, still staring at the house.

“I… What kind of joke is this?” I ask. “Who is this?”

“Mummy, why can’t we be in there with you?” she continues. “Daddy says you’re keeping us out.”

“This is sick,” I hiss. “Whoever’s doing this, I’m going to have your call traced and -”

“Why are you shouting at me?” she asks, her voice sounding as if she’s close to tears.

“I’m not shouting at you,” I reply, before realizing that this entire conversation is insane. With anger rising through my chest, I head to the front door. “Let’s see your face, then,” I continue, fumbling with the lock before finally getting the door open and stepping out into the driveway. “Why don’t you -”

Stopping in my tracks, I stare at the two figures ahead. They’re still there, still staring at the house, and although their features are hidden in the night’s dark thrall, I can tell instinctively that it’s
them
. I swear to God, I’d know Hannah’s silhouette anywhere, even after two years.

“I…” I start to say, feeling the anger and pain starting to drain from my body.

“Mummy,” the voice on the phone says, this time also coming from the figure itself, “we just want to come back inside. Why won’t you let us?”

“Because you’re not…” I pause, unable to finish the sentence.

“Mummy, I miss you. Can’t you let us back in? Please? Why are you stopping us?”

“I’m not stopping anything,” I tell her. “There’s no -”

Suddenly I remember. Turning and hurrying back into the house, I make my way into the kitchen and turn no the light. After checking the floor for a moment, I spot the small crucifix that Jacqui gave me the other night. I’d completely forgotten that it even existed, but as I pick it up I can’t help wondering if this could be the item that is keeping David and Hannah out of the house. If that’s the case, it would explain why Louise didn’t detect anything: the crucifix was keeping the house empty.

“Mummy,” Hannah continues over the phone, “Daddy says that if you let us back in, we won’t bother you anymore. We won’t wake you up in the night or scare you. Please, just let us back in.”

“This isn’t real,” I tell her.

“Mummy,” she sobs, “please…”

“This isn’t real!” I shout, cutting the call and setting my phone on the counter. A couple of seconds later it starts to ring again, but I quickly switch it off. After just a moment of peace, however, I hear the land-line phone ringing in the next room. “Stop,” I whisper, “please, just stop, just -”

Finally, unable to handle the noise any longer, I make my way to the back door, pull it open and throw the little crucifix out into the garden. Almost instantly, the phone stops ringing.

I stand in complete silence, as the cool night air breezes past me and enters the house.

Slowly, I become aware of something behind me. There’s a presence – no,
two
presences, and they’re just a few inches from the back of my neck. Staring straight ahead, I dare myself to turn and face them, but I can’t quite bring myself to see their faces again. I know with absolute, crystal clarity that they’re going to be there when I look, that by throwing the crucifix out I’ve allowed them back into the house, but as tears start to roll down my face I realize that in some strange way I like the idea that they’re back. Before I can do anything, however, I need to turn and face them.

Closing my eyes, I turn and wait for a moment, before finally opening them again.

Nothing.

I stare across the kitchen, but there’s no sign of anyone or anything. I wait for a moment, and finally I realize that once again I’ve stopped breathing. Forcing myself to start again, I reach out to shut the door -

And that’s when I hear Hannah’s bedroom door slowly creaking open.

A faint smile crosses my lips.

They’re home.

Shutting the back door, I head over and grab my phone, switching it on before bringing up John’s number. At the last moment, however, I realize that there’s actually no need for me to call him. He’d just tell me that this is all in my head, that I’m imagining the whole thing and that Louise and Jacqui have been filling my mind with nonsense. Maybe Jacqui’s right, maybe I
have
let John get a little too deeply embedded in my life. Putting the phone down, I make my way along the corridor, stopping for a moment to look into Hannah’s room. The bed is undisturbed, but I know deep down that she’s somewhere nearby.

And that’s good. It’s what I want. Having spent so long living in fear, I’ve become used to having them around, even if they’re dead.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” I whisper, before leaving the door open as I head to my room.

Five

“I’m surprised you agreed to meet me,” Jason says with a faint grimace as he looks up from the menu. “I thought after our first encounter… Well, I just felt we’d got off on the wrong foot.”

“I’m surprised too,” I mutter, before correcting myself: “I mean, I just didn’t think… John suggested I should come along, and I thought maybe…”

My voice trails off as I realize that I’m not quite sure what I’m trying to say. To be honest, I can’t quite believe that I’m actually sitting here in a restaurant with a guy I’ve barely met, but something about the events of the past few weeks has made me feel as if it’s time to make small, tentative baby steps back out into the real world. I guess it helps that there hasn’t been any unusual activity in the house since Louise’s visit almost a month ago, and slowly I’ve been coming around to the idea that I still have a life to lead. Besides, John has for some reason been really getting on my case, urging me to at least give Jason a chance.

Not that this is a date, though. It’s just a chance to get out of the house for an hour or two. Also, in the back of my mind, there’s a part of me that’s confused about the fact that I haven’t experienced anything strange in the house for a while, in which case maybe I can provoke David into making his presence known. If he and Hannah are still there, of course.

“John talks about you a lot, you know,” Jason continues a few minutes later, once we’ve placed our orders. “He really cares about you.”

“I know,” I reply with a smile. “He’s been so kind.”

“He worries about you, too. I hope you won’t think I’m speaking out of turn here, but I think maybe he sees you as the daughter he never had.”

“That thought occurred to me too,” I tell him. “John’s such a kind man, and he’s always been so successful with his books. I don’t understand why he doesn’t have a family of his own. Every time I’ve tried to steer the conversation onto that subject, though, he just kind of closes it off.”

“His books are his life,” Jason replies. “I honestly think he’s happy just holed up in his house and his cabin, writing away all day. I mean, the guy’s output was so rapid in the old days, until he hit this writer’s block a couple of years ago. He was putting out two or three full-length novels a year, and then… I don’t know what happened, but even though he still seems to write all the time, he says nothing’s ready to publish. I can’t imagine how much material he must have produced. I guess one day we’ll all get to read it.”

“I remember when everything changed,” I continue. “It was a couple of months before the car crash that…” I pause, realizing that I might be stumbling into uncomfortable territory. “Well, it was a couple of years ago, and one day I asked John how his latest book was going and he said he was stuck. Since then I’ve been trying to help him out, acting as a kind of sounding board, but there seems to be some kind of blockage in his mind. Then again, he seems happy enough. Like you said, those books mean everything to him.”

“And here we are, talking about nothing apart from John Myers. We’d fail the Bechdel test, wouldn’t we?”

Smiling, I glance across the restaurant, almost expecting to see David watching me from the distance. Suddenly a shiver passes through me, as if something very cold moved nearby.

“I know this isn’t a date,” Jason says suddenly.

I turn to him, shocked by his openness.

“Just in case you were worried,” he adds, with a smile in his eyes. “It’s just a chance to get out and talk. John told me that you’re not…”

I wait for him to finish.

“He told you that I’m not what?” I ask.

“Well, you know… Not… over…” He pauses for a moment, as if he’s struggling to find the right word, until finally he adds: “…it…”

“He told you that?” I ask, taking a sip of water as I try not to show that I’m a little annoyed. “Well, maybe he’s right, but…”

My voice trails off again.

“I’m -” he starts to say.

“What did she look like?” I ask suddenly, cutting him off completely.

“I’m sorry?”

“Hannah. My daughter.” I take a deep breath. God knows why I’m asking this, but now that I’ve started, I can’t stop. “After the accident,” I continue cautiously, “I didn’t want to see her body. Or my husband’s. I was afraid that it’d get burned into my mind and I’d never be able to think of anything else, but now I think I made a huge mistake. I should have seen her, because now I just have all these imagined images. You worked on her after the crash, so please… What did she look like?”

“She looked beautiful,” he replies.

“Don’t sugar-coat it,” I tell him. “I know she was beautiful, but I don’t know specifically about her injuries. What parts of her were…”

Clearly uncomfortable, he glances across the restaurant, as if he’s hoping that the waiter will come and interrupt us.

“She, uh…” He turns back to me. “The main damage was caused by a diffuse axonal injury, so that was contained entirely in the brain itself and not externally visible.”

“So her body wasn’t damaged?”

“There was some…” He pauses again. “Are you sure you want to -”

“Tell me.”

“Her left arm was broken,” he says stiffly.

“How badly?”

“Well… completely broken.”

“Bent back?”

He nods.

“Anything else?”

“There was a very large bruise on her face from where she hit the window during the impact. If you really want to know the truth, the left side of her skull had been crushed, including the eye socket. She’d hit the glass very hard.”

Thinking back to the sight of Hannah in her bed a few weeks ago, I realize that there was no sign of any damage to her face. Still, the thought sends a shiver down my spine as I think of the damage to my beautiful little girl.

“What about her hands?” I ask, trying not to let him see that I’m finding this difficult.

“Her hands?”

“Were they grazed?” I hold up my palm for him to see. “Here, was there damage? Maybe gravel in the wound?”

“I don’t… Not as far as I remember, although that would probably not have been my priority. It’s possible, but…” He pauses again. “I don’t see why there would be gravel in there. She was still in the car when the emergency services got to her.”

Staring down at my glass of water, I try to imagine the state of my daughter as she lay on Jason’s table in the emergency room. It’s crazy to think that after two years, I’ve suddenly bumped into the one person in the world who can actually describe her to me. I just wish I’d been braver and actually taken the chance to look at her before the funeral. One final moment might have changed everything.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he continues. “She
was
beautiful.”

“I know,” I say quietly, feeling as if a wall of tears has somehow been held back. I want to cry, but I can’t.

“I worked on your husband as well,” he adds. “If you want -”

“No,” I say quickly, “that’s fine. It’s just Hannah I was wondering about. She was my only child, you know?” I look over at him, and in the distance I can see the waiter heading our way with two plates. “I guess I just can’t get over the fact that I spent all those years raising her, loving her… and then in one brief moment, she was taken away from me. I just wish…”

“You wish what?” he asks.

“I wish I could see her again,” I tell him, as I feel something tightening in my chest, almost as if my heart is being twisted around. “I wish I could see her one final time and tell her how much I love her.”

***

Two hours later, with dinner having gone fairly well despite the intensity of the initial conversation, I slip my key into the front door. Glancing over my shoulder, I watch as Jason’s car reverses out of the driveway. He waves briefly before heading off into the night, leaving me standing alone by the door.

Next door, all the lights are off in John’s house. I guess he’s off at his cabin again, still trying to get through his two-year case of writer’s block.

Once I’m inside the house, I purposefully hold back from switching on the lights. It takes a moment for me to slip out of my coat and remove my shoes, but finally I head into the kitchen. The whole house feels so empty and barren, as if there’s no way there could be anyone else here, yet at the same time I have this deep sense of longing. After spending so long dreading the possibility of seeing ghosts, finally I want them here: I want to see David and, more than anything, I want to see Hannah.

I stand completely still in the dark kitchen, listening out for any hint that they might be here.

Silence.

Where are they?

I wait a little longer, convinced that they’re going to come back to me if I just give them time. It’s possible that they’re upset after the incident with the crucifix, and perhaps they worry that the psychic was here to drive them away. I’d understand why they got that impression, so I need to make sure they realize I want them here now.

“Hey,” I say finally, my voice sounding so small in the dark, empty house. “It’s okay. I want you here, I… I want to see you. No-one else has to know. I was wrong to tell anyone, I guess I was scared but -”

Suddenly I turn, convinced that they’ll be standing right behind me.

Nothing.

“Where are you?” I whisper, making my way through to the corridor and finally stopping by Hannah’s bedroom door. Looking into the room, I see that her undisturbed bed is just how I left it earlier.

I want her here.

Walking over to the bed, I look around at all Hannah’s things, which have been left exactly as they were on the morning when she died.

“Hannah?” I call out.

Silence.

“It’s Mummy,” I add, looking down at the bed, waiting for her to appear. “Mummy’s here. I can hold your hand if you like, just… Let me see you.”

All around me, the silence seems to be getting louder, like a kind of static emptiness in my ears.

“Hannah!” I call out, as if somehow she might simply be in another part of the house and failed to hear me before.

I wait.

Nothing.

Heading back out into the corridor, I look along at the master bedroom. Just as I’m about to turn and make my way to the kitchen, however, I spot something moving just beyond the door, as if a shadow shifted.

“David!” I call out, hurrying into the room and looking all around, convinced that he’ll be here.

There’s no-one.

“I saw you!” I tell him. “David, it’s okay. You don’t have to hide! You can both come out, I just want to see you!”

The silent hiss continues, but this time it seems to be a little distorted, almost as if the silence is contorting itself and starting to form a sound. I wait, listening to the change until finally I realize that there’s a word trying to break through, or maybe even a couple of words.

“We’re here.”

I turn and look back along the corridor, but there’s no sign of them.

“Where?” I call out.

I wait, but the silent hiss seems to have gone back to normal. Did I imagine the whole thing?

“David!” I shout. “Hannah! I’m here! If you can show yourselves to me, then do it! I just want to -”

Before I can finish, I hear my phone ringing in the kitchen. Hurrying through, I grab my bag and tip the contents out onto the table. After fumbling through everything for a moment, I finally find the phone and check the screen, only to see to my disappointment that Jason is trying to get hold of me.

“Great,” I mutter, considering not even answering before figuring that I should at least say goodnight.

I take a deep breath.

“Hey,” I say as I answer, “how are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” he replies. “Almost back at your house, actually. I turned around when I saw your purse in the foot-well.”

“My purse?” Looking down at the table, I scan all the items, convinced that my purse should be among them, but finally I realize that it’s missing.

“You hadn’t noticed?” he asks. “It must have fallen out. Don’t worry, I’ll just drop it off.”

“That’s okay,” I tell him, “it can wait until -”

Suddenly I spot lights outside the window, as a car pulls up in the driveway. Seconds later, I hear the car come to a halt, followed by the sound of a door being opened and then closed.

“Knock knock,” Jason says over the phone.

“Right,” I mutter, hurrying to the door, unlocking it, and making my way outside, keen to get to him before he can get too close to the house. After all, I don’t want him coming inside.

“Missing something?” he asks, cutting the call as he holds my purse up.

“Thanks,” I reply, stopping in front of the streaming car headlights. “I guess I was distracted tonight.”

“I could tell,” he says with a faint smile.

“I’d invite you in,” I continue, “but, uh…” I pause as I realize that I don’t really have an excuse.

“It’s fine,” he tells me, taking a step back. “I understand. Anyway, I’ve got work early tomorrow. It was good to see you tonight, though. Maybe we can do it another time. Strictly on a non-date basis, though.”