The Mercer's House (Northern Gothic Book 1) (16 page)

‘Garrett?’ she said. ‘Is that you?’

There was no reply, but the light went off as soon as she spoke.

‘Garrett?’ she said again, more uncertainly this time, and stopped. Just then she remembered her own mobile, and kicked herself for her lack of sense. If she’d thought of it earlier she could have used it to help her find her way. She dug it out of her back pocket and switched it on, but to her dismay the screen gave her a low battery warning and refused to give off anything but the dimmest of lights.

Whoever it was must still be there, waiting for her. This time she was sure it was a real person; she could sense him or her standing in front of her, perhaps three feet away, just out of reach. Why hadn’t they answered? Her ears strained to hear. Was that a sound, a footstep, a rustle of clothing? She couldn’t be certain above the rush of the sea and the whisper of the breeze, but involuntarily she took a step back, suddenly sure that there was danger ahead. She couldn’t see him, but could he see her, even though he had switched the light off? Her reasoning mind, already on a knife-edge, began to race, abandoning logic for fear which very soon turned to panic. Thrusting her phone back in her pocket, she turned and ran. Whether the person was following her she couldn’t tell, but by now all sense of rationality had deserted her and she was fleeing blindly into the darkness, not knowing or caring where she went, focused solely on escaping on whoever or whatever was with her on this beach. As she ran she felt a wave rush over her ankles, and she swerved to get away from the rising tide, although she had long lost track of which way she was going or where the town was. Still she didn’t stop but kept going, her breath coming in jagged gasps as she stumbled forward, falling once or twice in her haste, but picking herself up immediately and carrying on. Now she couldn’t even see the light from the Mercer’s House, and had no means of getting her bearings, and all she could do was to hope that she would stumble upon the path back up to the town, where there were people, crowds of people, who would protect her from whoever or whatever pursued her.

She was starting to feel that she could run no further when her feet tripped on rock, and she cried out and fell forward, banging her cheek on something rough. The fall had grazed her knees and her hands, but she didn’t stop to think about it and was up, feeling her way across the rocks. Now her eyes were growing a little more accustomed to the darkness, and she forced herself to think logically. She had no idea how she had ended up here, but if she could keep to the rocks then she could find her way back. Trying to breathe more calmly, she stepped as quickly and as carefully as she could from rock to rock, feeling her way where necessary, and constantly mindful that someone might be chasing her. When she at last felt the dry sand under her feet she almost sobbed thankfully, and ran, stumbling, up the beach. A security light, which had been out of view before, shone above the doorway of a building at the bottom of the High Street. Now she had a little visibility she could see the path that led up to the town, and she raced towards it, only to bump straight into someone who was coming the other way. She shrieked, and whoever it was caught hold of her by the arms.

‘Are you all right?’ he said, and she saw that it was Will. ‘What the hell happened to you?’ He was staring at her in astonishment, and she realized she must look awful. Her cheek was starting to throb and her hands were stinging.

‘There was someone on the beach,’ she managed.

‘What do you mean? Did somebody hurt you?’

‘No,’ she said, and her voice sounded high and strange to her own ears. Her breath was coming in gulps, and she was fighting the urge to break away and run again. He saw her terror and said:

‘Let’s get you inside. You look like you’re in shock.’

At that, she forced down her rising hysteria, and said shakily:

‘I’m all right, really. I just had a fright.’

‘So I see.’

‘Were you on the beach just now?’ she couldn’t help asking.

‘No,’ he said. ‘I saw you go down this way and not come back, and I knew you’d be in trouble when the lights went off, so I went back to the pub to get a torch to come and look for you. I don’t know what I could have done, though—the battery’s gone.’

He held it up and clicked the switch to show her.

‘You could have used your mobile,’ she said.

‘Yeah, I didn’t think of that,’ he said. ‘I left it in the pub.’

Zanna said nothing. He was dressed in a pale blue shirt with under it a white T-shirt. He couldn’t have been her mysterious pursuer, as surely his light clothing would have been visible in the darkness.

‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s get you seen to. We can go in the side door so you don’t scare anybody.’

‘That bad, huh?’ she said, and followed him dejectedly up the street to the Coach and Horses. His cool, unemotional manner had done more to calm her than any amount of concerned sympathy could have done, and she was starting to feel like an idiot. Of course she couldn’t have known about the streetlights going off, but she had let herself be panicked by the darkness and the rising tide, and had nearly caused herself an injury, or worse. She was starting to believe that there had been no-one on the beach at all, that it had all been her imagination—and even if there
had
been someone, there was no reason to suppose whoever it was had been looking for her. All the same, as they went in through the side door and Will went to fetch her jacket for her, she couldn’t help pausing to look through into the bar and scan the crowd. There was Garrett, standing with Alexander in among a crowd of people. Garrett was wearing a beige pullover, and Alexander a pale grey one. Neither of them looked as if they had moved from the spot all evening.

Will returned with her jacket and gave her a searching look. She avoided his eye, afraid he would read her thoughts, and turned to climb the stairs. He stood for a moment, as if debating with himself, then followed.

29th May, 1989

W
ILL IS
here again. Why couldn’t Janella have kept him this holiday? I don’t know if I can bear another week of this—the constant watching, waiting, expecting any minute that something awful will happen. Alex and Corbin are both at home, so I have to be on my guard. I can’t let them suspect what I’m thinking. I know what would happen. They’d take Will’s side and I’d end up in hospital again, and be back where I started. But I won’t have it. I’ve spent too much time battling to escape the past. If I can only figure out a way to defeat whatever it is that wants to kill me and Rowan, then we can all get back to normal and be happy again.

Because that’s what Will wants, you see. He wants us dead. I know it, because the voices are almost constant now, and that’s what they tell me. I don’t know how he’s doing it, but somehow he’s set things up so I can hear his voice even when he’s not here. I haven’t seen him in weeks, but all the time he was away he still managed to talk to me, telling me that Rowan and I were going to die very soon, that we weren’t wanted at the Mercer’s House, and that we’d better watch out. For a while I was complacent, thinking there wasn’t much he could do to us while he was in Edinburgh, but then it suddenly occurred to me that perhaps he’s set traps for us. It wouldn’t take much to tamper with the brakes of the car, for example, or add something to the milk. So I just have to be extra vigilant. There’s no point in telling anybody, since they’d just say there’s no way a child could do anything like that. But of course I know he’s not a child—not inside, at least.

If only there were someone else who could hear the voices, who could back me up. But it’s obvious there isn’t. It’s me the voices want, so why would they talk to anybody else? And now there’s another one. I don’t mind this one. This one is my friend. It appeared two days ago, and it’s sweet and honeyed and persuasive, and it soothes me even as it tells me that I need to run away and escape from all this—from Alex and Will and the Mercer’s House. It tells me to pack a bag and take Rowan far away, and start afresh, and then we’ll both be happy. I wonder who it is? Perhaps it’s Sarah Humble. I thought Jonas was the only ghost in the house, but there are obviously several. But why do I hear them differently from everybody else? Other people who’ve reported hearing the voices have only heard them on the beach, and can’t make out the words. That’s quite different from my experience. I like it when this new voice comes, though, as it calms me and makes me feel better—even though I refuse to take its advice. How can I leave Alex, I tell it? I love him. He makes me feel wanted and loved—when he’s here, anyway. I wish he were here more often.

I can’t sleep for the clamour of the voices. Shall I ask for help? No, I can’t. I can’t go back, so I’ll just have to learn to live with it. I don’t know why they’ve chosen me, or whether they’re ever going to leave me alone. What I do know is that Will is very dangerous, and that I’ll have to be on my guard whenever he’s in the house, or something terrible will happen.

‘I
’D GO and get you some brandy or something, but I think a cup of tea might do you more good,’ said Will, as Zanna sank into a chair and kicked off her ruined boots. He switched on the kettle from the coffee tray, and put a teabag in a cup. The tea was sweet, and Zanna wrinkled her nose.

‘Sugar,’ she said.

‘For shock,’ he said. ‘It’s probably an old wives’ tale, but it can’t hurt.’

‘Thanks,’ she said, and took another sip. She was feeling drained and tired, and her skinned hands were stinging, making it difficult to hold the cup. She put it down and examined her injuries. Her right hand was the worst affected, with a cut on the fleshy part of the thumb which was bleeding slightly.

‘I’d better clean myself up,’ she said.

‘Let’s have a look,’ he said. She showed him her hands, and he inspected them but didn’t touch them.

‘They’ll have a first aid kit downstairs,’ he said. ‘Wait here.’

He was back shortly with the little green box, from which he took some gauze and a roll of tape.

‘They’re not that bad,’ said Zanna.

‘No, but they’ll be sore and you’ll have trouble picking things up if you don’t put something on them. Do you need any help?’

‘I don’t think so,’ she said, and went into the bathroom to run her hands under the tap. The cool water washed away the grit and sand, and eased the burning of her palms. She patted them dry, then caught sight of herself in the mirror and was shocked at the pale, frightened face that looked back at her. It was the face of Zanna a year ago, not the Zanna she had fought so hard over the past few months to rebuild. Was that what was happening? Was she losing all the ground she had gained? She ignored the thought and examined the graze on her cheek. The skin was hardly broken, but there was a streak of dirt down her face which made it look worse than it was. She dabbed it gingerly with some damp cotton wool. It was painful and slightly swollen, but it didn’t feel like she’d broken anything, as far as she could tell. She went back into the bedroom. Will was still standing there uncertainly.

‘Actually, if you wouldn’t mind,’ she said, indicating the bandages. ‘It’ll be easier if you do it.’

‘OK,’ he said. ‘Sit down, then.’

She sat and watched him as he dressed the grazes, frowning in concentration. His hands were cool and steady, and his touch was surprisingly deft. He placed a gauze pad on her right palm and strapped it up with two lengths of tape just tightly enough to keep the pad in place, but not so tight as to cut off the circulation.

‘So, are you going to tell me what happened?’ he said as he worked.

‘What’s there to tell? I went onto the beach and lost my bearings when the lights went off, then panicked and ran around in circles like an idiot because I thought someone was chasing me. You know. The usual. Happens to me all the time.’

‘Who did you think was chasing you?’

‘I don’t know,’ she said.

‘Didn’t you see him?’

‘I didn’t see anyone. I saw a light a few feet away. I thought it was from a mobile phone, but it went off as soon as I called out.’