Hiding From the Light (39 page)

Trapped in the office by meetings and phone calls, Paula had missed the train. And the one after that. She was tired and cross by the time she reached the house and furious to find Sophie alone in the kitchen eating biscuits.

‘Where is your father?’ Paula dropped her briefcase and went straight to the fridge for the white wine.

‘Jamie’s been sick.’ Sophie reached for another biscuit. ‘I haven’t had any supper.’

Paula was pouring out the wine, her back to the child. She turned round, frowning. ‘Has Daddy called the doctor?’

Sophie shrugged. ‘He had a row with Lyn. They were shouting at each other and Lyn cried.’ The little girl frowned. ‘Jamie cried, too. Then when we got home he was sick.’

Paula scowled. ‘You were at Lyndsey’s house?’

Sophie nodded. ‘She collected us from Sally’s. Daddy said he forgot we weren’t supposed to go to Lyn’s any more. Why, Mummy?’ She turned an angry wide-eyed gaze on her mother. ‘Why can’t we? Jamie and me, we love Lyn!’

Paula drained her glass. ‘I’m sorry, darling. I’m afraid Lyn hasn’t time to look after you any more. She’s too busy.’

‘She said she could. She was really cross. She said, did Daddy think she would turn us into toads or something, and then Jamie was sick and it was green.’

‘Oh, dear God!’ Paula stared at her. ‘She wouldn’t! Surely she wouldn’t!’ For a moment she stood stock still, too shocked to move, then, slamming the empty glass down on the table, she turned and ran out of the kitchen. Sophie, sensing trouble, stayed where she was and reached for another biscuit.

Paula found Alex in Jamie’s bedroom. The little boy, his face very white, was lying in his bed in his pyjamas. There was an ominously large bowl on the floor by the bed, blessedly empty.

‘What in God’s name is going on?’ Paula was furious.

‘I did what you asked.’ Alex looked at her, his face as white as his son’s. ‘I went and collected them and told her we didn’t need her services any more. It did not go down very well.’

‘And you had to do it in front of the children?’ Paula was beside herself with anger.

‘What else could I do? I knew if you found out I had left them there you would go apeshit!’ He stood up. ‘Enough, Paula. We will discuss this later. Jamie needs to sleep.’

The little boy gave a whimper and reached out to clutch his father’s hand. ‘Don’t go.’

Paula tightened her lips. ‘I’ll go and change. We’ll talk later.’

Wearing jeans and a loose sweater, she was in the kitchen again ten minutes later. Putting on some water to boil an egg for Sophie, she was reaching for the wine bottle again when she noticed the light on the telephone blinking. Leaning over she stabbed at the button.

‘Alex, it’s Emma. I’m sorry to bother you …’ The disembodied voice broke tearfully.

Paula scowled. She listened to the message and then pressed the delete button.

When Alex appeared she rounded on him. ‘So, your girlfriend summoned you, did she? Did you go?’

‘Girlfriend?’ Alex frowned. He found a glass and helped himself to the last of the wine. Paula had been cutting toast soldiers for Sophie and he took one off the plate, licking the butter off his fingers.

‘Emma Dickson.’

He sighed. ‘Oh, Paula, for god’s sake! I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Her message on the answer phone.’

‘I didn’t hear any messages.’ He threw himself down on the chair. ‘I was more than occupied with Jamie puking all over the place. What did Emma say?’

Paula pulled the egg out of the water with a spoon, dropped it into an egg cup and pushed it in front of Sophie.

‘She wanted you to go and see her. All weeping and lonely.’

‘Oh, shit!’ Alex glanced at his watch. ‘What time did she ring?’

‘I have no idea. And you are not going now.’

‘No,’ he frowned. ‘No, of course not. It’s much too late. But perhaps I ought to ring her?’

‘Leave it, Alex.’ Paula glared at him. ‘There are more important matters to discuss. As soon as Sophie is in bed.’

He looked up, frowning. Then he nodded slowly. ‘Lyn. Of course.’

‘Were you out of your mind to sack her in front of the kids?’ Paula resumed the quarrel as soon as Sophie’s light had been turned out. Jamie was long since fast asleep.

‘I’m sorry. I suppose it was stupid. But what was I to do? She was expecting to pick them up tomorrow. Are you sure we’re doing the right thing, Paula? I can’t believe she would ever hurt them. She adores them.’

‘Judith was certain. She and her prayer circle are praying for us, Alex. For our children. To keep them safe.’

‘This is all nonsense, Paula. You must realise that. Nonsense.’

‘Is it? Think about it, Alex. You sack her and immediately Jamie is sick. Supposing she did that. Just a little spell, to warn us what she can do!’

‘No!’ He shook his head violently. ‘No. Absolutely, no!’

She was silent and Alex sat down. He sighed. ‘She was really upset, Paula. Ollie Dent has sacked her, too. Judith spoke to him, apparently. She has lost both her jobs. Is that what we really want?’

Paula shrugged. ‘What other people do is none of our business, but I am not prepared to risk my children. Are you?’ She sat forward, staring at him.

‘Of course not.’

‘Then why are we arguing?’ She sighed dramatically, throwing herself back in the chair. ‘I know. I’m sorry. I started it. I was just so frantic when I saw Jamie.’

‘He’s OK, Paula. Just a bit over-excited. He’ll be fine.’

‘I hope so.’

It occurred to neither of them – then – to pray.

It was growing dark as Emma climbed out of the car and walked up the path to the house. Miserably, she slotted the key into the lock and pushed open the door.

‘Min? Maxie?’ she called.

There was no answering chirrup from the cats.

She walked through into the kitchen and glanced automatically at the phone. The light was steady; unblinking. No one had called.

She stood for several moments staring at the darkening garden, then she turned back to the phone. Piers did not answer. She waited for the message. ‘Piers, it’s Em.’ Her voice sounded strange in the empty kitchen. ‘Please call me. I need to talk to you. Soon.’ She hung up, glancing at her watch. Of course, he wouldn’t be back from the office yet. It felt much later than it was because it was growing dark. Unbolting the back door she slipped out onto the terrace and called the cats again. There was no answer and after a moment she went back inside, bolting the door behind her nervously. She felt terribly alone. And scared.

At least the Aga hadn’t forsaken her. She walked over to it and savoured its solid warmth for a moment before lifting the lid of the hot plate and putting the kettle onto it. Then she dialled Alex’s number.

Paula picked up the phone. Her voice was sharp. ‘Yes, he got your message. No doubt he’ll have a word with you next week sometime.’

‘Next week?’ Emma echoed. ‘Is he there? Could I have a word with him now?’

‘No, you couldn’t.’ Paula sounded even sharper. ‘He’s tired and he’s busy with the children. It’s really not convenient, Emma, I’m sorry.’

Emma put down the phone. She bit her lip, hurt. Oh God, there must be someone she could talk to. This time she dialled the rectory – of course, he wasn’t there. But there was always his mobile. He had said she could ring him any time. He had meant it, too. Surely he had. The phone was switched off. ‘Leave your name and number,’ the message recited and she did. Somehow she knew he would not call her back that night.

She made a pot of tea and drew the curtains against the darkness, wondering where Max and Min had got to. It would soon be their supper time. They would certainly appear then, and keep her company.

The house was quiet. Too quiet, and she was very conscious of the dark silent garden outside. Walking over to the radio she switched it on, glad of the sudden chorus of voices which flooded the room.

Touring the whole house, she turned on all the lights and drew the curtains, checking each room in case the cats had got themselves stuck somewhere. They were nowhere to be seen.

Nor were they there when half an hour later she looked at her watch and reached automatically for their bowls.

‘Max? Minni? Supper!’ She banged a fork against the tin. ‘Come on you two.’

There was no sign of them. ‘Max? Min?’ Her voice sharpened in anxiety. She unbolted and opened the back door again. It was cold outside. A spattering of rain blew into her face as she tried to see into the darkness. Stepping out, she walked over to the edge of the terrace, straining her eyes to focus across the garden. ‘Max? Min?’ The wind was rising now, blowing away her words. It was sharp with salt and mud, a sudden reminder that winter was on its way. From the fields beyond the hedge, she heard the short sharp scream of a fox. Shivering, she turned back inside and closing the door behind her she bolted it once more. They would come in when they were ready. Perhaps they had killed a rabbit and were even now gloating over their own private do-it-yourself supper in one of the sheds or in the barn.

The music ended and someone began to read the news. She listened with half an ear.

Emma!

She frowned, shaking her head slightly. If the cats didn’t want their supper, the next thing on the agenda was a drink. She glanced down at the neat wine rack, newly stocked with carefully selected bottles of Shiraz and Merlot and Sauvignon. She didn’t feel like wine. Wine was a convivial drink; a drink to savour with friends. She reached into the cupboard for the bottle of malt.

Emma!

She paused, staring round. On the radio they were previewing the evening’s programmes. Leaning across the table, she turned up the volume, then she added some water to the Scotch.

Emma!

‘Oh, stop it!’ She took a gulp from the glass. ‘Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!’

She stared at the Aga, frowning. The kitchen, normally warm and cosy, suddenly seemed unnaturally cold. She took another swig from her glass. Her mouth was dry and she realised she was beginning to feel rather sick.

‘Max? Min? Where are you?’

The atmosphere felt strange. There was a tenseness in the air which was palpable.

Almost automatically she reached for the phone – her lifeline. But who could she ring? Not Alex. Not Mike. Not Piers.

Lyndsey.

Lyndsey would know what to do. Putting down her glass, she reached for the phone book and with shaking hands she began to turn the pages. It took a long time to find it, but at last she spotted the number against Lyn’s address, and punching it in she put the receiver to her ear.

The number rang on and on. Biting her lip, she looked round the room. Surely it was growing darker and colder by the second? ‘Lyndsey. Answer. Please.’ As the phone rang on she pictured Lyndsey’s little house, the small front room, the warm coals on the fire, the crystals, the flowers, and suddenly she slammed down the receiver. She wasn’t there. Flora, then. Even if she was far away in London, Flora’s voice would cheer her up. She dialled the number and waited. Flora’s answer phone was typically forthcoming: ‘I’m away for a few days. If you’re a burglar my neighbour’s rottweiler will get you, so don’t bother coming round. If you’re an aromatherapy client I’ll see you in a couple of weeks as arranged. Anyone else, leave a message. Bye!’

Emma smiled wanly. No Flora then, either. There was no one to help her. Not anywhere.

Emma? We’re friends. I’m going to help you, and you are going to help
me, Emma
.

‘No.’ Emma shook her head.

Emma, we have to do it. We have to punish him
.

The voice was no longer inside her head. It was there, with her in the room.

‘Go away!’ Emma put her hands over her ears.

We know how to find him, Emma
.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about!’ She shook her head miserably. She walked across to the Aga and stood, gripping the towel rail. Automatically she glanced at the temperature gauge on the front. It was up to its full heat, so why did she feel so cold?

Turning her back on it, she went over to the table and reaching for the radio, she turned up the volume as loud as it would go.

You have to hear me, Emma. Listen
. The voice was back inside her head.
We have to kill him. Don’t you see? We have to make him suffer as
Liza suffered. We have to drag Hopkins down to Hell, Emma. And now
we can reach him. We can reach him through Mike, Emma
. The voice went on and on.
You can help me reach him, Emma. We have to kill
Mike, Emma, then once he is dead, Hopkins will be in our power and we
can send him to Hell!