The Writer (7 page)

Trying to stay calm, I stare forward for a moment.

“They were ghosts,” he continues, his voice filled with shock. “I never thought it was possible, but I saw them. Two ghosts, right in front of my eyes.”

Seven

“What are we doing here?” I ask as the truck crawls to a halt on the gravel road, its headlights picking out a small cabin up ahead.

“This is where I come to write,” John replies, his voice taut with tension. “We’re safe here.”

“We need to go back,” I tell him. “We need to face them in the house.”

“Are you serious?” he asks, stopping the truck and switching the engine off. When he turns to me, it’s clear that he’s terrified. “Beth, what happened back there was -”

“You saw them,” I reply, interrupting him. “Say it again. You saw them.”

“I saw them.”

“It wasn’t just me.”

“It wasn’t just you.” He pauses for a moment. “I saw them too. I never thought anything like this was actually possible, I thought it was all…” Sighing, he seems lost for words, which I guess is fitting; after all, for as long as I’ve known him, John has always insisted that ghosts can’t be real. “I need to think,” he mutters, opening the door and climbing out. “I need to… I need to work out what the hell happened tonight.”

“I told you they were there,” I reply, getting out of the truck and following him toward the cabin. “Something was different tonight, though. They seemed more angry, Hannah was asking why I abandoned her. I’d been starting to think that I didn’t mind having them in the house, but tonight…”

I watch as his trembling hands fumble with the key. After a moment, he manages to unlock the padlock and swing the door open.

“If we go back,” I continue, “I can talk to them.”

“You want to talk to two ghosts?” he asks, switching on the light to reveal a small kitchen, with a couple of doors leading off to rooms at either side. “You want to negotiate with them? Ask them not to bother you again?”

“I have to go back to my house,” I tell him. “What am I supposed to do, stay up here forever and just leave the place alone? I have to…” I pause as I think back to the moment when Hannah’s face seemed to collapse in on itself. “I can’t let this carry on. Anyway, even if I don’t go back, they’ll probably just follow me. I need to make peace with them somehow.” I watch as he opens one of the cupboards and takes out a bottle of whiskey. “It’s like in that book you wrote,
The Devils of Caulfield
. Remember? The one with the haunted house and the -”

“I remember the goddamn book,” he mutters, filling two glasses, “but that was all made up. It was fiction. This…”

He downs the whiskey before sliding the other glass over to me.

I shake my head.

“Suit yourself,” he mutters, gulping it down in one go and immediately filling it up again. “That book, all my books… Everything in them is just fiction, stuff I plucked out of the air. You can’t go looking in them for advice on how to deal with this kind of situation. That’s not how the world works, Beth. This…This is real.”

“And you’re certain you saw them?” I ask, desperate to believe that finally someone else has seen the ghosts.

“I saw them!” he shouts, momentarily losing his temper before taking another swig of whiskey. “Sorry, I just… You don’t have to keep asking me over and over again. I saw them, they were there, your dead husband and your dead daughter, they…” He refills his glass and stares down at the whiskey for a moment. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “I was wrong all that time. All my life, I was convinced ghosts were just a story, just something made up for amusement, and now…”

We stand in silence for a moment. He lifts the whiskey glass to his lips, pauses, and then sets it back down again.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him finally.

“Sorry?” He turns to me. “For what?”

“For dragging you into this.”

For the first time tonight, a faint smile crosses his lips.

“I’m sixty-two years old,” he says after a moment. “I might have gone my whole life without ever realizing that I was wrong about all of this. I might have reached my deathbed, still convinced that ghosts aren’t real. At least… At least you’ve opened my eyes.”

“I don’t know what to do next,” I reply.

“Neither do I.”

“There’s still no proof,” I continue. “Where can I go? Who can help?”

“You said they were different tonight,” he replies. “Exactly what did you mean by that?”

“They were angry,” I tell him. “Hannah, in particular. It was as if she was upset that I went out with Jason, and upset that I asked him to describe her injuries. I just… Maybe she’s right. Maybe it was a bad idea.”

“You had that psychic in,” he replies. “She didn’t like
that
, I guess. Probably felt like you were trying to get rid of her.”

“My…” I pause as I realize that in all this chaos, I’ve barely had time to come to terms with everything else that happened tonight. Making my way over to the table, I take a seat and stare into space for a moment. “My friend died,” I say after a moment. “Jacqui, the one from the other night. Her house burned down.”

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters.

“And my psychiatrist,” I continue. “He was attacked by a patient. Do you think…” I turn to him. “Do you think this can all be a coincidence?”

He stares at me, as if he doesn’t know how to respond.

“It’s me, isn’t it?” I add. “I’m somehow causing all of this to happen.”

Walking over to the window, he looks out at the truck for a moment, before finally turning back to me.

“Here’s what we’re going to do, Beth. I think maybe… maybe it’s better if I go back to your house and take a look around, but I should do it alone. I don’t want you to be there right now, not if this thing is getting out of hand. You’ll be totally safe up here -”

“No way,” I reply. “I’m not staying here without you.”

“There’s nothing that can hurt you,” he says firmly. “Please, just let me help. I want to go to your house and see what’s happening. I’ll only be gone a few hours, and then when I get back we can make a decision. You trust me, don’t you?”

“Of course I trust you, but -”

“Then let me do this.”

“You’re going to -”

“I’ve owned this cabin for twenty years,” he continues, “and I swear to you, there’s no place on the planet where you’ll be safer right now. You’ve got your phone, so you can keep in touch with me, and I’ll let you know how things are going.”

“That’s insane,” I tell him. “If you leave me here -”

“It’s for your own safety,” he says firmly. “Beth, I realize that you’re panicking, but you’re not in a fit state to make decisions. If you come back to the house with me, it could all kick off again. It needs to be someone objective and rational, and…” He pauses, as if he’s still struggling to come to terms with everything that has happened. “Please, Beth. Even if you’re not entirely convinced that it’s a good idea, just
trust
me. Have I ever let you down before?”

“No, but -”

“Then trust me now, one last time. You’re not seeing things clearly.” He pauses. “I’m going to make everything right again. God, do you seriously think I’d do anything other than the best for you? I just… I’ve done a lot of research into this kind of thing, and now that I can see some of it’s true… You’ve become a focal point for whatever’s happening, and that means I can’t risk taking you with me when I go back to the house. I need you to be brave again, Beth, and wait here until I get back. Can you do that for me?”

Sighing, I realize that there’s no way I can argue with him. The thought of being in this cabin alone is terrifying, but at the same time I figure I should take John’s advice. He’s never let me down yet, and I
do
trust him.

“Don’t be too long,” I tell him finally.

“I won’t,” he replies, coming over to me. With a smile, he leans down and plants a gentle kiss on the top of my head, before heading to the door. “I’ll drive there, go inside, take a poke around and then come straight back. I’ll be contactable by phone the whole time.” Opening the door, he turns back to me. “This is uncharted territory, Beth. I never, ever thought I’d believe in this sort of thing.”

“But you really saw them, didn’t you?” I continue, close to tears again. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better, are you? You’re not driving off to call a psychiatric hospital and have me committed?”

“I would never do that to you,” he replies. “I saw them, I promise, and now I’m helping you the only way I know how. Trust me, by morning you’ll be feeling different. Just stay here, stay calm, and try to get some rest. I’ll be back soon.”

I stare at him, desperately hoping that he’ll change his mind. At the same time, I definitely trust him. With my life, if necessary.

“I’ve never let you down,” he adds, “and I never will. Just hang on in there, and I promise you, everything will be okay.”

With that, he heads outside. I make my way over to the window and watch as he gets into the truck, starts the engine and finally drives away. As he disappears into the distance, I’m left standing alone in the small cabin, with nothing around but absolute darkness. Slowly, I start to feel as if something is watching me, but when I force myself to look back across the room, I’m relieved to see that there’s nothing in the shadows. Nothing except the darkness that’s threatening to engulf my mind.

***

“I’ve only been gone an hour,” he says over the phone a little while later. “I’ll be at the house in about thirty minutes and I’ll call you when I get there, I promise.”

“This was a bad idea,” I tell him, still staring out the window at the trees that I can just about make out in the night. I’m starting to wonder how I let him talk me into staying here. “I don’t like it, John. I’m miles from anywhere and…” I pause for a moment as I try to decide whether to tell him about all the little creaks I’ve heard since he left. I’m sure they were just natural sounds, but still, my senses are on high alert. “Maybe I should call a taxi and get out of here,” I continue. “I could check into a hotel and wait for you there. Why did you bring me here of all places?”

“You’re completely safe. Would you really rather be here with me, heading back to the house?”

“No,” I reply. “Maybe. I don’t know, I -”

Suddenly he says something, but static hisses through the phone with such force that I can’t make out a word. I pause for a moment before the call is dropped completely, and when I try to redial I’m put straight through to his voice-mail, which I guess means that he’s out of service range. I try a couple more times, with the same result. Suddenly I feel much more isolated, as if my last link with the real world has disappeared. When I try Jason’s number, it’s still unrecognized, and finally I stare at the phone as I realize that there’s no-one left for me to call.

“Great,” I mutter, turning and heading back over to the table. “Just -”

Before I can finish, I hear a distant thumping sound, like some kind of collision. Turning toward the window, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up as I listen to the silence that has fallen once again. This time, however, the silence feels different, as if it’s the kind of hush that falls after something terrible has happened. There’s a part of me that wants to dismiss the sound I just head, but I know it was real, I know it was something out in the -

“Mummy!” a voice shouts from far away.

I freeze, as if all my blood has turned to ice. My mind is racing as I tell myself over and over again that the voice was just in my imagination, just some kind of trick that I’m playing on myself. There’s no way it can be her, not here, not now. John promised that I’d be safe here, and John has never let me down.

“Mummy, help!”

Still staring out the window, I try to stay calm.

“It’s not real,” I tell myself. “None of this can be real.”

“Mummy!”

She’s far away, well beyond the line of trees that surrounds the cabin, but it’s definitely Hannah. Checking my phone, I bring up John’s number again and try to call him, but he’s still out of range.

“Damn it,” I mutter, hurrying to the window and looking out at the darkness. “Please, please, not here, not -”

“Mummy!” Hannah shouts from a few hundred meters away. “Mummy, please! Help us! Something’s wrong!”

“I…” I start to say, before checking myself. “It’s not you. It can’t be, not up here.”

“Mummy!”

Closing my eyes, I find myself doing something I haven’t done since I was a child, since the days when my parents used to take me to the local church: I whisper a silent prayer to God. Even though I’ve never believed in him, it’s the only thing I can think to do.

“Mummy!” Hannah shouts. “Why aren’t you coming? Mummy, I need you! Daddy’s hurt!”

Keeping my eyes closed, I continue to mouth the silent prayer:

“Please, let this stop. Make them go away and leave me alone. They’re not real. This is all just in my head.”

I pause.

Silence.

“Please… Please, please, please…”

Silence.

“This isn’t happening,” I say firmly, as if I’m hoping that by simply saying the words again, I can make them come true.

Opening my eyes slowly, I see to my shock that there’s a figure standing near the trees, bathed in moonlight as she stares straight at the cabin. Although I can’t make out her features, there’s no doubt in my mind that it’s Hannah.