Laura Possessed (25 page)

‘Come on, love!' Richard took her arm. ‘You look a bit shaky. Apprehensive about the flight? I can supply you with all the statistics about road accidents!'

She forced a smile. ‘Don't bother—I was in one of them, remember!'

Richard put a hand theatrically to his forehead. ‘How tactless can one be! It shows how much better you must be for me to have been able to forget it!'

Edward
and Caroline were waiting with the children in the departure lounge. Edward smiled across at Laura. ‘Glad you came after all?'

‘Didn't she want to?' Richard turned to her in surprise.

‘She wasn't at all sure. Too many commitments at home!'

Richard frowned slightly. ‘Time enough for those.'

‘We all know you don't believe in commitments, Richard,' Caroline said shrewishly.

Richard, unabashed, glanced in her direction with malicious amusement. ‘Mi-aow!' he said deliberately, and she flushed and turned away. Their flight was called and they gathered their cases together, glad of the diversion to dispel the embarrassment.

It had indeed been a wonderful holiday, Laura reflected, a welcome respite from all the strains and stresses of the last months. But now it was over and she had to return, to Noel as well as to Lewis. Had she been able to build up enough strength for the renewed battles that awaited her? With a little tremble of foreboding, she went up the steps leading to the plane.

CHAPTER
SIXTEEN

Noel was waiting for her, resentful and impatient. If Laura had hoped to build up her resistance during her absence in Italy, she soon realized that Noel had been engaged in much the same exercise and, as always, she proved the stronger. Despairingly, Laura began to feel the firm ground slipping away from beneath her as her mind swirled with the rush of thoughts and remembrances that were not her own.

Briefly, she considered taking up Richard's invitation and leaving Brocklehurst at once, but in her heart she knew it would be of no use. A temporary respite she had been unwillingly granted. Now there was to be no escape. Lewis and Noel would find her wherever she went. As the bleak realization came to her, she abruptly gave up the struggle, allowing herself to sink without further resistance into the waiting depths of Noel's personality.

Her sudden and complete surrender seemed to throw Noel off balance and, intoxicated at this proof of her power, she used it recklessly to indulge in recollections of people and places which had been important to her during her lifetime.

A nightmare existence began for Laura.
Even
going into Brocklehurst became an endurance test as the scene before her eyes shifted and changed constantly—at one moment a busy city street full of roaring traffic, at the next a deserted beach with stretches of white sand. The village itself seemed to have existence only in her own mind, but even when it materialized in its turn, it was as strange and alien as the other unknown places she glimpsed in these crazed flashes. Vaguely she remembered her first impression of the square houses as frumpy matrons, and now she could easily imagine them huddling together and tilting their chimneys to exchange malicious gossip—‘There goes the mad girl from up at Four Winds.'

As these hallucinations gained in clarity and frequency, so the normal, everyday life of Four Winds receded, giving way to superimposed images until Laura, groping blindly, had no way of knowing which was the reality.

Unlike the gradual possession which had preceded it, this sudden and rapid decline could hardly fail to be apparent to Edward and Caroline, and they reacted with stunned incredulity.

‘Laura, what is it?' Edward demanded urgently one evening, holding onto her hand. ‘Caroline says you walked straight into the road today and it was only because the lorry was able to swerve up on the pavement that it
managed
to avoid you!'

She frowned with the effort of trying to understand what he was saying. Edward's face seemed to be hidden by a floating gauze curtain which obscured his features.

‘I guess I just didn't see it. I was watching Clark take the salute.'

‘You were—? Who's Clark?' She heard his voice shake. ‘Laura dear, I want you to go and lie down quietly for a while. I'm going to ask Dr. MacIntyre to come and have a look at you.'

She refocussed on his face with difficulty. It was drawn and frightened and she wondered helplessly how she could reassure him.

‘I don't need a doctor, Edward. I'm not sick, just a little confused.'

‘I know,' he said gently, ‘but we have to get to the bottom of what's causing the confusion. You've been making such good progress all summer, and in Italy you were almost your old self again. It's hard to believe we've only been back just over a week, there's such a change in you. I'll be much happier for MacIntyre to see you.'

She said quietly, ‘He won't be able to do anything.'

‘Of course he will!' Edward contradicted sharply. ‘He can give you tranquilizers and sedatives, and if they don't work, he can put us in touch with a specialist who—'

Laura sighed. ‘All right, I'll see him if it'll
make
you feel better.'

The doctor called the next morning. He talked to her in his low, attractive voice as he examined her, and since Noel was carefully suppressing herself, she was able to reply to his questions clearly and calmly. When he had completed his examination, he sat back and looked at her gravely.

‘Miss Hardy, you must know that your brother and sister-in-law are very concerned about you.'

‘Yes. I'm sorry.'

‘They've asked me to persuade you to spend a few days in a nursing home near here, where you can have specialized attention.'

She held his eyes for a moment, then made up her mind. ‘Doctor, can I ask you something? Do you believe in psychic phenomena—spirits, ghosts, if you like, and the possibility of—possession?'

He drew a deep breath but his steady gaze never left her face. ‘That's quite a question! As a man of science I can only give you a qualified answer, though admittedly almost daily things are being scientifically proved that no one would have given credit to ten years ago.'

‘ “More things in heaven and earth”?'

‘Exactly.'

‘You see, Doctor, there's nothing wrong with my mind. The trouble is that someone—something—else is trying to—take it over. Can you come anywhere near accepting that?'

‘It
does rather go beyond my sphere,' he said slowly, ‘and as a medical man I've been trained to look for more concrete causes of mental disorder. On the other hand, I also know for a fact that in the last decade or so there has been a fantastic increase in requests for exorcism.'

‘ “Creature of water, creature of salt” and “Satan and his fallen angels”—but you know I don't think that's the answer. The Church persists in regarding these spirits as demons of some kind, whereas I don't think she's an
evil
spirit at all, just a desperate one.'

‘She?'

‘Noel Balfour. The girl who has possession of me.'

‘You actually know who she is?' He was leaning forward incredulously.

‘Of course, I know everything about her. After all, part of the time I
am
Noel. There's another thing against exorcism, from my point of view.' A tremor ran through her. ‘She's stronger than I am, Dr. MacIntyre. If any spirit was driven out, I'm sure it would be mine.'

The doctor leant forward and covered her shaking hands with his. ‘I'd no idea things had gone as far as this. You must have help, and quickly. I'm not qualified to treat you myself, but I would urge you most strongly to go to Moorlands for a few days and put yourself in their hands.'

She drew back. ‘I've heard of those places.
If
I go, I may never be able to get out again.'

‘Of course you will,' he said briskly. ‘You'd go in as a voluntary patient; either for treatment or just observation, and you'd be free to come out any time you wished.'

‘Lewis wouldn't like it.'

‘Who?'

‘Lewis Castleton. He wants me to marry him. He was in love with Noel, so he's hardly likely to agree to her being driven away.'

‘My God!' MacIntyre said under his breath. ‘Miss Hardy, let me phone Moorlands now, please, and book you in as soon as they can take you.'

His urgency reached her, but Noel, alarmed at this threat, clamped firmly over her mind.

‘No, really, Doctor. I've tried to explain. I'm sorry if you can't accept my explanation, but I assure you I'm not ill and a nursing home would be no use at all. Thank you for your advice—I'm only sorry I can't take it.'

He looked at her despairingly for a long moment then, with a helpless shrug, he left her. As soon as he'd gone, she slipped off the bed and opened the door again quietly. Edward had been waiting anxiously in the hall and his voice reached her.

‘Would you like to come in here for a moment, Doctor?'

She stole out onto the landing and down the stairs. No one was about. Carefully she put her ear against the closed sitting-room door.

‘To
be honest,' the doctor was saying, ‘this is hardly my province. Physically she's tense and run-down, but nothing to cause undue concern, but mentally—I don't know. She appears lucid and even rational, yet some of the things she said point strongly to schizophrenia.'

‘Oh, God!' Caroline's voice was high and shaking.

‘But you said she seemed quite normal!' Edward broke in sharply.

‘That's just the point. Schizophrenia is a personality split. One half would seem entirely normal, the other—well, it would depend.'

‘Is she
dangerous
?' Caroline demanded hysterically.

Laura moved away without waiting for his reply. She had been dangerous once, to Caroline; or rather, Noel had. Was she Noel? Split personality. It seemed a fair conclusion, though she herself knew it wasn't split but dual, two distinct and independent minds vying for position in one body.

It was suddenly imperative that she should see Lewis. She let herself soundlessly out of the house, keeping well over to the right of the drive, out of sight of the sitting-room windows. The warm September air touched her face, soothing her, as she hurried along the road trying to work out what had really happened that afternoon.

It had all been so clear at the time. They
were
at West Point and she was thinking how tall and strong Clark looked, with the sunlight glinting on his row of medals. How could a lorry suddenly have loomed up on the parade ground? No wonder she hadn't been expecting it.

Clark's picture filled her mind—the iron-grey, slightly curly hair, the straight, fierce eyebrows and clear, honest blue eyes. How could she desert him when he was badly wounded and needed her so much? Lewis must be made to understand.

The trees and village green of Brocklehurst quivered and wavered in front of her eyes like reflections in a deep pool of water ruffled by a passing wind. She must go to Lewis. She had no idea where she was, but somehow she would find him. Laura, do go away and stop distracting me!

She began to run, stumbling along blindly, bumping into the rough stone walls, twisting her ankle on the uneven cobbles. Would he ever understand how hard it was for her to turn him away?

‘Just one more evening together,' he had said. And it really would have to be the last, because the plane had already left Saigon. She had refused to listen when Clark had warned her, all those years ago, that one day she might fall for someone nearer her own age. She had insisted, and implicitly believed, that he was all she would ever want. And, to be honest, her
position
as his wife had appealed to her strongly, with all the attendant respect and privileges. Clark Balfour was well-known and liked throughout the States long before the war in Vietnam had brought him world-wide fame, having distinguished himself in the Second World War under Eisenhower. And again, she had always considered herself too cool, too reserved ever to be passionately in love with anyone. How could she have known that when love finally came to her it would prove so strong, so indestructible as to transcend time and space and death itself?

Death? She stumbled to a halt, frowning and gasping for breath. Why had she suddenly thought of death? Because all at once she felt so strange and ill, and the steering wheel wouldn't respond under her hands.

Lewis—She couldn't turn her head to look at him, but in an intuitive flash, she knew he had no intention of helping her. Lewis!

The anguished cry, whether it was in her head or shouted aloud, jerked her spiralling attention back to the present and she found herself panting and dishevelled outside a tiny cottage. Wonderingly, she looked back along the way she had unknowingly come. With no recollection of how she had arrived here, she pushed feebly at the door in front of her and it swung open. And then all was well because somehow Lewis was here, had gathered her up with a low cry and carried her to the small
leather
sofa, rocking her in his arms. Somehow, incredibly, she had come home.

At one point during the hours that followed, the telephone sounded shrilly and he stretched out an arm to it.

‘What? Yes, of course she's here! Where else would she be? What the hell have you been doing to her? No—' His voice sharpened. ‘Please don't. I'll bring her back myself when she's calmer. My God, Hardy, I've some things to say to you!'

He dropped the phone back on its hook, cutting off the stream of argument that was still coming over the wire, and she nestled back in his arms contentedly. Outside the diamond paned windows the air was thickening bluely.

‘Darling—' His breath was warm, and she lifted her face to it like a flower to the sun. ‘Could you manage a bowl of soup now if I get it for you?'