Shell House (19 page)

       
“Stay where you are, Dad. I’ll deal with it.”

       
The two men had moved into the sitting room to continue their discussion. It was warmer in there once the fire was stoked and Harry wanted his cigars, which were in his desk.

       
“Let me at least have a look with you.” Harry attempted to get up from his chair.

       
“No Dad! I mean it. Hand me that poker.”

       
“Don’t do anything silly, will you?”

       
The banging ceased, causing them both to stop talking and stare at one another. A muffled noise, which seemed to be coming from the window behind Harry’s desk, startled them both. They squinted to look out of the window but all they could make out was a shadowy figure. Jonathan ran to the window to get a better look.

       
“It’s Gabrielle!” Harry exclaimed before Jonathan had barely focused. He was standing in front of the lamp and all he could see was his own reflection in the glass.

       
“Don’t be daft! It’s one of those bloody reporters sniffing about!” He banged back on the window, startling the figure outside.

       
“Bugger off before I call the police! How bloody dare you!”

       
He could just make out someone shouting something about it being freezing. He switched off Harry’s desk lamp so he could see through the window properly, but when he turned back to look there appeared to be no one there, as much as he could see in the darkness.

       
“Well I never. There was definitely someone there, Dad.” He turned to see why his father was so quiet but he was talking to an empty room and then he heard voices coming from the other side of the house.

       
Harry had made his way out to the kitchen, unlocked the door and braved the wind and the rain that was billowing around the side of the house to fetch Gabrielle. It was as though his dear old friend had sent her across to him on the wind.

       
Jonathan, who had gone in search of his father, had found him with Gabrielle in the kitchen. Harry was bustling around with the kettle and then a glass for some whiskey; he didn’t know what to do with himself.

       
Jonathan gasped when Gabrielle removed her hood and he realised it really was her. “What have you done to your hair?”

       
“Thanks Jonathan, I nearly got hypothermia out there.” Gabrielle wrapped her arms around herself, trying to get warm.

       
“I’m so sorry! I thought you were a reporter or a crank...why didn’t you ring the bell?”

       
“I did. It doesn’t work.”

Jonathan ran his hands through his dark wavy hair unable to comprehend what was going on. He and his father had been talking about her and suddenly she’d appeared out of nowhere. The spirits he’d drunk had made everything look more miraculous than they really were, as though they’d conjured her up like magic from their words.

        “I’m so pleased you’re here!” he ran to her and grabbed her cold hands.

       
“Really?” Gabrielle frowned at him.

       
“Of course I am! Dad’s been so worried...well, we all have.”

       
“I shouldn’t be here. I’m in so much trouble.”

       
Harry handed her a towel he’d found in the utility so she could dry her rain soaked face and hair.

       
“What are you doing here? I mean, how did you get here?”

       
“I got the bus.”

       
Her father and brother looked at one another and frowned.

       
“The bus?” they both said in perfect unison.

       
“Yes, the bus. Can I have that drink please?” Gabrielle was tired and becoming increasingly irritated by the pair of them. Her heart was still pounding from her ordeal and she felt like a frightened rabbit having escaped a fox.

       
“Let’s go into the sitting room. Warm you up a bit, its better in there.” Harry gestured to the door with the glass of drink he’d poured her as though he were enticing his dog with a treat.

       
“Lock that door first.”

       
They both frowned again.

       
“The back door! Lock it, Jonathan, please, my fingers are too numb.” Gabrielle stood up slowly, her jeans were soaked through and she was beginning to understand the meaning of being chilled to the bone.

       
“Are you in trouble as in police trouble?”

       
Harry glared at Jonathan for making such an insensitive remark.

       
“Well, I had to ask, she looks terrified and she’s cut her hair.”

       
“It doesn’t necessarily mean I’ve done anything wrong, Jonathan.” Her voice was terse but slow from the cold; her face felt numb.

       
“I’m not in trouble to that extent but I’ve just done something really stupid. Let me get in the other room so I can warm up.”

       
“Fetch a blanket please Jonathan and a dressing gown.”

       
“I’m fine, Dad, don’t fuss. I’ll have a bath in a little while if that’s okay?”

       
“Of course it is dear heart.”

       
Harry smiled; pleased she was going to stay, for the time being anyway. It was all he could think about when he’d let her in, how he could keep her there. Especially after what Jonathan had told him; he wasn’t about to lose her again.

       
“Why is my car still parked in the driveway? I thought the police were going to take it away?” Gabrielle settled herself slowly in the old, winged leather armchair by the fire; Bruce sat keenly at her feet.

       
“I persuaded them to leave it. It isn’t registered to this address and I thought, well...maybe you’d need it back. Anyway, you worked and paid for it, why should they have it?”

       
“When you’re under licence, Dad, you don’t really get much say in anything.” Gabrielle sipped her whiskey which Jonathan quickly topped up before seeing to his own and Harry’s.

       
“That might all be about to change.”

       
“Dad!” Jonathan glared at his father willing him not to say anything.

       
“What?” Gabrielle looked from one to the other. “What’s going on?”

       
“Nothing. Tell us what’s happened.”

       
Gabrielle was about to press them further but couldn’t muster the will, she was so tired.

       
Harry and Jonathan waited patiently for her to begin.

       
“Before I start I want you both to promise me that you’ll hear what I have to say before you make a comment. I know what I’ve done is extremely childish and foolish but I don’t need anyone to tell me that.”

       
They both nodded hesitantly, more out of curiosity than chastisement.

       
“I went to see Ellen Tailby.”

       
She saw a flicker of change in her father’s eyes but he didn’t say a word.

       
“I got there, hid in their shed waiting for John Tailby to go out because I wanted to talk to Ellen alone, realised how rash and stupid I’d been and then decided to come away.” She paused, ebbing the flow of words with a sip from her glass. It didn’t matter how many sips she took, she still grimaced at the starkness of the alcohol.

       
“Is that it?” Jonathan couldn’t help but speak; he wanted to hurry the conversation along so he could tell her what he’d found out.

       
“No. John went out and Ellen caught me leaving, said she’d seen me going into the shed from the window.”

       
Harry and Jonathan’s eyes widened in shock. Harry who, up until now had been standing by his desk next to Jonathan, walked across the room and sat in the chair opposite Gabrielle.

       
“I was so frightened I can’t begin to tell you. And ashamed. I’m fifty-four years old for Christ sake, I should know better.” She shook her head, disappointed with herself.

       
“We all do things, dear heart, which we don’t think through beforehand.”

       
“I think I’ve done enough of that to last me a lifetime, Father.”

       
“What did she say to you? Did she know who you were?”

       
“I thought she did at first, Jonathan, then I realised she was talking to someone completely different. Someone who died a long time ago.”

       
“You know she’s having tests for senile dementia, don’t you?”

       
“No. No I didn’t.” Gabrielle pondered for a moment. “That kind of makes sense though when I think back to the things she said to me. It was so, so weird. I should have known there was something wrong because she was really calm and nice to me from the get go. I followed her into the house as she asked. She said she wanted to show me some photographs.”

       
“What did you say to her?” Jonathan stood up from the settee and went to help himself to one of his father’s cigars. He didn’t normally smoke as a rule, knowing first hand how bad it was for you but certain occasions prompted him to.

       
“Not a lot really. I was a bit gob smacked to say the least. I asked her if she knew who I was and she told me not to be so absurd, of course she knew who I was. Then she asked me why everyone kept asking her that question. She even showed me pictures of the twins. Oh god it was awful.” Gabrielle put her head in her hands and Harry reached forward to console her.

       
“I’m okay, Dad. Just a bit shaken.” She looked up at him and smiled her eyes red from the cold and tiredness and what Harry suspected was a lot of crying.

       
“Who did she think you were?” Harry looked at her with concern.

       
“When she showed me pictures of the twins I just kept telling her how sorry I was, which sounded totally inappropriate but I couldn’t think of what else to say. Then I knew something was very, very wrong when she began her sentences with, ‘when you died’ and after you died’. Then she started crying and touching my face and calling me her little Muriel and how sorry she was.”

       
Harry rubbed his head. “How awful. She really is very poorly.”

       
“Do you know who she was talking about, Dad?”

       
“I think she might be talking about her baby daughter who died.”

       
Gabrielle let out a shocked sob.

       
“She is. She had a daughter called Muriel who died when she was six months old. Convulsions or something, I can’t quite remember now without looking it up.” Jonathan said.

       
Harry and Gabrielle both looked over to where he was standing by the window, smoking a cigar.

       
“How do you know that?” Gabrielle frowned at him.

       
“Did she say anything else to you, Gabrielle?” Harry tried to intervene not sure if he liked where the conversation was going.

       
“Answer my question. How do you know that?”

       
“I’ll tell you in a minute. Did she say anything else to you while you were there?”

       
Gabrielle was too tired to argue. “Not really, she just kept repeating what she’d been saying and gripping my hand really hard. So hard at one point I thought it was all a trick and she’d lured me into the house to kidnap me or something. I know that sounds ridiculous but it felt horrible in there and I had that feeling, you know? The feeling you get when you know you need to get out of somewhere really quickly?”

       
They both looked away, slightly embarrassed by what she’d said, neither of them having ever been in that situation and thinking she was making a reference to what had happened at the Tailby’s house all those years ago.

       
Gabrielle didn’t even notice; in her mind she was back in that awful, depressing house, remembering the feeling she’d had and recalling it from when she was ten. Something she knew was strange in her head but she couldn’t quite pinpoint why.

       
“When she finally let go of my hand I made a run for it out of the house.”

       
“So you really thought she was going to do something to hurt you?” Harry asked, wondering how you could feel threatened by an old lady.

       
“I don’t know. I just knew I had to get out of there and it’s a good thing I left when I did because I bumped into John Tailby on my way out of the front door, quite literally.”