Enter the Dead: A Supernatural Thriller (5 page)

When
Max Railton let himself in to number thirty-nine, Chaytor Avenue, the last
person he expected to find waiting for him was his father. Sam was sitting in a
chair opposite Gracie, the pair separated by a welcoming fire and a small,
round coffee table, upon which was placed a blue and white teapot, a chipped
milk jug and two white enamel mugs. It was evident to Max that they must have
been in deep conversation about something or other, because it was only when he
entered the room that either of them noticed that he was in the house. Max was
confused; partly at seeing his dad at three-thirty in the afternoon, and partly
at seeing him talking to Gracie. His dad rarely spoke to her - usually the
small-talk was left to Max’s mother - and he hardly ever came into the house;
preferring to wait outside on the doorstep while Max collected his things. So
to see him there was unsettling to say the least.

‘Oh, hello Max,’ Gracie
said, smiling at him warmly. ‘I didn’t hear you come in. My ears aren’t want
they used to be.’

‘Hi, Aunt Gracie,’ Max
replied, walking across to her and kissing her on the cheek before turning to
Sam. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Nice to see you too,’
Sam said, his smile not as warm or as convincing as Gracie’s. ‘How was your
day?’

‘Fine, I guess. You
still haven’t answered my question.’

‘Do I need a reason to
come home early to see my son?’

‘Yes. What’s wrong?’

‘It’s a long story. Actually
it’s not that long.’

‘Well?’

‘Well what?’

‘Are you going to tell
me why you’re here or aren’t you?’

‘Of course I’m going to
tell you. But first I need to-’

‘Max, darling,’ Gracie
said, interrupting them. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but your father and I need a
little more time to finish our conversation. Would you be a darling and take
yourself off to the front room for a few minutes? I promise we won’t be long.’

Max eyeballed them
suspiciously. ‘What’s going on here?’ he said, reluctant to move. ‘Why can’t I
stay?’

‘There’s nothing wrong,’
Gracie replied. ‘There’s just something I need your father’s help with, that’s
all. Something personal. I tell you what, why don’t you help yourself to the
biscuit jar and go and watch some television? You needn’t concern yourself with
boring grown-up talk.’

‘Are you trying to
bribe me?’

‘I am, yes.’

‘Fair enough,’ Max
said, retrieving the biscuit jar from a nearby shelf and leaving the room.
Having taken orders from her since before he was able to wipe his own backside,
he wasn’t about to start arguing with her now.

When they were
satisfied that he was out of earshot, they resumed their conversation.

‘Are you certain you’ve
got your facts in order, Sam? I mean, if they were planning on making you redundant,
surely there would have been some prior warning. You must have had an inkling
that it was coming.’

‘We don’t all have the
power to see into the future,’ he replied sarcastically.

‘That’s not fair.’

‘Sorry. Couldn’t
resist. You’re right though; I should have seen it coming. It came out of the
blue: no warnings, no prior conversations…nothing. I thought I was doing a good
job. That’s certainly what they were telling me, anyway.’

‘It doesn’t make
sense.’

‘I know.’ They paused and
drank some tea. ‘I don’t know why I’m telling you this,’ he said, placing his
cup back onto the table. ‘In all the years you’ve been looking after Max I’ve
hardly even spoken to you. I’m sorry about that, by the way. I guess I’m
feeling a little fragile this afternoon.’

‘No need to apologise.
What does Sarah have to say?’

‘Nothing yet. I haven’t
been able to get hold of her; her phone’s switched off and she’s not at the
office. Probably out visiting a client. She’s not going to take it well when
she finds out, that’s for sure. Christ, what am I going to do?’

‘Well, if you want my
advice, I suggest you go home, cook a nice meal and wait for Sarah. Then you
should tell both her and Max together over dinner. Keep your head, be honest,
and answer any questions they throw at you calmly and clearly. Get a good
night’s sleep, if you can, and then first thing tomorrow you need to get out
there and see what other jobs there are. It won’t take long for a man of your experience
to find something suitable. What you mustn’t do is allow your head to drop and
start feeling sorry for yourself. That’s when trouble starts.’

‘Easier said than done.
You’re not the one who’s out of a job.’

‘Maybe so, but it’s not
your fault they can’t secure enough business to keep people employed. You’re
not the salesman.’

‘I suppose.’

‘No supposing about
it.’

Sam looked up from the
fire and stared into the old lady’s eyes, studying her properly for possibly
the first time in all the years that he’d entrusted his son to her. She was
wizened, with deep wrinkles and hairs that grew from places that would
embarrass a younger, more self-conscious woman. Her clothes were basic but
well-made: clearly she took pride in herself and was happy in her own skin.
Despite being fired from his job only two hours earlier, sitting there beside
her he felt safe and warm and almost content with the world outside. He was
beginning to understand why there were others – many others, according to Max –
who trusted her and came to her for advice and guidance. So what if he didn’t
believe in the hocus-pocus nonsense that she and her kind espoused? The fact
was she was a comforting person to be around. It was easy to see why Max loved
her so much.

‘Max tells me you’re
sceptical of my work,’ she said, as if able to read his mind.

‘I guess I am.’

‘Do you have faith,
Sam?’

‘Faith in what
exactly?’

‘In God, in Mother
Nature…in some kind of higher power.’

‘Not really, no.’

‘I don’t mean to pry,
but do you mind me asking why not?’

‘I do, as it happens.’

‘Fair enough.’

‘Wait…sorry…I didn’t
mean to be rude or anything. It’s just…well…let’s just say I have a pretty good
reason for my cynicism. Any notion I had of there possibly being a merciful God
in heaven was laid to rest a long, long time ago. When I was only a boy.’

‘A death in the
family?’

Sam’s eyes widened.
‘How did you find out about that? Who told you? Was it Sarah? I know it
couldn’t have been Max.’

‘Calm down,’ she said,
smiling at him. ‘Nobody told me anything.’

‘Then how do you know
about Lucy?’

‘I
don’t
know
anything about Lucy. What I do know is that when children lose their faith in God
it usually comes as a result of some traumatic experience. You see; we adults question
our faith without giving it so much as a second thought, especially nowadays
when it’s socially acceptable to be an atheist or agnostic or whatever else we
might choose to be. But with children it’s different; they are born into a
fascinating world of fairies and witches and ghosts. They hang on to their
belief in Father Christmas long after they suspect that he’s not real, and the
same goes for God. That’s just the way they are. More often than not, something
serious has to have happened for a little boy or girl to lose their innate instinct
to believe. A divorce, a death in the family; those are two of the most common
explanations. That’s why I asked. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pried. Force of
habit, I’m afraid.’

‘Right,’ Sam said,
relaxing slightly as he considered her explanation, but unable to lower his
guard completely. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken his sister’s
name aloud; just hearing it sent a shiver through him. And then, without any
prompting: ‘Lucy was my younger sister. I…erm…I was only eight years old when
she passed away.’

‘Oh, I am sorry, Sam.
That must have been awful for you.’

‘Yes, it was,’ he
replied, staring into the fire. ‘It still is.’

‘You must miss her
terribly.’

‘Every day.’

‘Would you like to talk
about her? I’m a good listener.’

Sam looked up at her.
‘No,’ he replied, shaking his head. ‘I’d rather not.’

Gracie nodded. ‘I
understand. However, if you ever change your mind-’

‘I won’t,’ he said,
cutting her off, his thoughts now somewhere else. Somewhere he would rather
they weren’t. ‘I should be going,’ he said, standing up and taking his coat
from the back of the chair. ‘Thanks for the tea. Maybe I’ll prepare that nice family
dinner you mentioned.’

‘I think you should.
Before you go,’ she said, surprising Sam at how nimbly she was able to rise to
her feet. ‘I need to ask you about something.’

‘Okay.’

‘I know you don’t
believe in my line of work, but I’d like you to bear with me for a moment.’

‘Go on.’

‘It’s probably nothing,
but over the past week or so there’s been someone coming to see me. A spirit.’

Sam shook his head.
‘Gracie, really, I’m not the man for this kind of thing.’

‘This spirit, this
figure,’ she said, ignoring his protest, ‘refuses to show his face or even talk
to me, and that’s highly unusual. In fact, it’s never happened to me before.’

‘Honestly, Gracie, I
can’t help-’

‘The funny thing is,’
she said, ‘he tends to appear whenever Max is in the room.’

‘Max?’

‘Hmm. Don’t worry, he
can’t hurt anyone or do anything. It’s just…well…it’s just strange for a spirit
to appear without any apparent reason for doing so. Usually there’s a message
or something they want me to share, but with him there’s nothing. I can’t
figure it out.’

‘I’m afraid you’re
barking up the wrong tree telling me all this.’

‘The reason I mention
it, is that this spirit is always dressed the same way: a tattered grey suit
and an old brown hat; I think it’s called a fedora. He’s tall and very thin;
I’d go so far as to call him lanky. I know it’s a long shot, but someone of
that description wouldn’t ring any bells with you, would they? I only ask
because I’m trying to figure out the link – if indeed there is a link – between
him and Max. You don’t know anyone like that, do you? Anyone from the past,
maybe?’

‘Not that I believe any
of this nonsense, but no, your description means nothing to me. Sorry I can’t
be of any more help. Now, if you don’t mind, I better go and fetch Max.’

‘Of course, I was just
asking on the off-chance. If you do think of anyone, maybe you could let me
know?’

‘That’s not very
likely, but okay, I will.’

‘Whoever he is, he
seems to know you.’

Sam sighed heavily. ‘Really?
How come?’

‘Because he’s standing
beside you right now.’

In spite of his open
scepticism, Sam shuddered at this last remark. Such talk was of course
nonsensical to him, but that didn’t stop him from looking around on the
off-chance that there really
was
somebody standing beside him. He
couldn’t
feel
anything out of the ordinary, and he certainly couldn’t
see
anything, but even so, Gracie seemed so sure of herself that he couldn’t help feeling
a little afraid. Eventually, however, common sense returned and the rational
part of his mind once again took over. He started laughing; not a natural
laugh, but rather a contrived snigger aimed at relieving the tension in the
room.

He raised his hand and
shook a finger at Gracie as if he were about to scold her for tricking him, but
he was smiling; the butt of a joke which, for a second, hadn’t been in the
slightest way funny. ‘Nice one, Gracie. For a while back there I almost
believed you. And to think that people pay you for this kind of thing!’

Gracie, however, was
neither laughing nor smiling. She was deadly serious. ‘I know you don’t believe
me, Sam,’ she said, taking the tray from the table and making her way towards
the kitchen sink, ‘and that’s fine. But promise me one thing, will you? If you
do happen to think of anyone who may have once dressed like that, cast aside your
cynicism and let me know. Spirits never visit the living without good reason.
Whoever he is, I think he has a message for you or Max; he’s just not yet ready
to pass it on. Now you go and enjoy a nice evening with your family.’

Once more the room fell
silent, the only sound coming from the swinging pendulum of the old-fashioned
walnut clock hanging on the wall. Sam studied her as she turned on the hot
water tap to fill up the sink, wondering why on earth he’d let Sarah convince him
all those years ago that this crazy old woman was suitable to look after their
son. He’d always dismissed the tarot cards and the clairvoyance as harmless
gimmicks, but now he was not so sure. For a brief moment back there she’d
frightened the life out him, and if she could do that to a middle-aged man,
what influence could she have on a gullible child? What effect would all this
have on Max?