Sinister, page 26
part #1 of Sinister Series
“Wow,” Sophie said thoughtfully. “I’d forgotten just how disconnected you are from the city out here.”
“I know. Brilliant, isn’t it? It’s one of the things I love most about this place. I love it so much I could fuck it!” Vicki said with an exaggerated clench of her teeth.
Sophie squinted at her and laughed. “You’re mental, you are. You know that, right?”
“I’ve been told,” she said, linking her friend’s arm. “But can’t you feel it though, Soph?” Victoria asked with a big sigh.
“Feel what?”
“Nature! In the earth, the trees, the wind. It’s all around us, crackling with life. It’s like an electric current.” Victoria held her belly. “Flowing right through you.”
Sophie eyed her friend seriously for a few seconds before erupting with laughter and wagging a finger at her. “Ah, you almost got me then! Almost!”
Victoria rolled her eyes. “Heathen. Oh well, I tried. Come on, let’s go inside. I’m so excited you’re here!”
“Crackling with life?” Sophie mocked with a giggle before stopping so abruptly Victoria bounced into her.
“What?” Victoria followed her friend’s gaze up into the starlit sky.
There, like a queen among her glittering minions, the comet appeared to shimmer.
“I hate that thing,” Sophie said with disgust.
“The comet? Why?”
Sophie mused then shook her head. “I don’t even know. What I do know is that everything turned to crap the moment it arrived.”
“Right,” Vicki said slowly, as if her friend was losing her mind. “And you say that I’m mental.”
“No, I’m serious. Ever since that thing arrived…” she paused here, unable to find more words to explain it.
“Yep. Okay. Time to get you some vino,” Victoria said, tugging at her friend and steering her towards the entrance.
Inside, Victoria had barely closed the door behind them before the hallway light came on.
“Don’t you find that creepy?”
“What? The lights?”
“Yeah, the way they seem to have a mind of their own.”
Victoria frowned. “They don’t have a mind of their own, you doughnut. They’re motion activated. They sense movement and do their job. Which is more than I can say for a lot of people I know.”
Victoria’s shoes clacked loudly on the marble floor as they passed by the aviary, where the lights remained off for the comfort of its feathered inhabitants, and the floating stairs to the next floor. They used to be made of brick and plaster, but Victoria had had them replaced with solid wood sourced from local trees.
Sophie took in the space as if she were seeing the building for the first time, though she wasn’t, of course. She had been here many times before. Mostly for highbrow social events for strangers with a lot of money, such as the Ainsworths’ friends. More specifically, Jonathan’s friends, though they were rapidly adopted by Victoria.
Victoria had known the moment she saw him that Jonathan Ainsworth had always been popular. At school he was the preppy guy who was smart, played sports with the lads, and could hold a conversation with anyone, including his teachers, about an array of topics. He matured into a handsome Clark Kent of a thirty-something-year-old man, with a neat demeanour, thick black spectacles, and a cultured articulation. The fact that he spent most of his time at schools away from home had afforded him an altogether different kind of wealth, that of life experiences. He didn’t enjoy talking about class or his family or relying on them for anything. Jonathan worked hard to forge his own career and make his own money in trading. Some business magazines used to refer to him as the perfect bachelor, though it was a title coined by his own family, Victoria had later learned. One squandered, in his mother’s opinion, on the likes of someone like her.
How on Earth did my son end up with you? Did you hex him or something?
“Vic!”
“What?”
“Are you all right? You spaced out there.”
“Yeah. Yes. I’m fine. Fine.”
“You sure?” Sophie asked.
“Yes, sure.”
“I asked if Jonathan was at work,” Sophie said as they walked into the kitchen.
Victoria pulled a pained face. “Yeah, yes. He sent me a text, saying he was going to be late, but that he’d be getting the next train back from London.” She was lying because she was already regretting her overshare with Sophie. She was fine sharing anything else, just not that. Not cracks in her marriage. That was hers. That was personal.
Truth was, she hadn’t heard from her husband, and she was actually starting to worry, for multiple reasons.
“Ugh. I don’t know how he does it,” Sophie said, cupping her hands to her face in an attempt to see out of the glass panel of the balcony door.
“What? The commute?” Victoria asked, retrieving wine from the rack and placing two glasses on the counter. When she noticed her friend peering into the dark through the glass, she touched a wall panel. Instantly, the balcony was revealed, its steps leading down to a giant patio and then, like a runway coming into view, a sprawling manicured paddock framed by woodland.
“Shit,” Sophie whispered. “I forget how big your back garden is.”
Victoria smiled as she poured wine into the glasses. “So, how are you feeling? Want to watch a film or something? Or would you prefer to take this bottle and some snacks with you into a hot bath?”
Sophie grimaced as she thought about where they police had said they’d found Lucy. “Not really in the mood for a bath, but a shower would be nice. Do you mind?”
“Of course not. Me casa is your casa and all that shit,” Victoria said with a grin, clinking her friend’s glass.
They sipped their drinks and then Sophie remembered. “Speaking of casa. Did you come round the house the other night?”
Victoria cocked her head. “What do you mean?”
“The other night. What was it, Tuesday? I was at Janay’s. Lucy said that she saw you at mine.
“Did she?”
“Yeah. She said she saw you downstairs in the living room. She said she wasn’t sure but that she’d seen other people there too.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” Sophie said, stepping closer and eyeing her friend with mock suspicion. “You said you were going to be away. You’re not secretly having parties at my house, are you?” she said with an exaggerated lift on an eyebrow.
Victoria thought about this for a few seconds then smiled. “As clever as you know I am, Soph, even I can’t be in two places at the same time, can I?” she asked before taking a sip from her glass.
21
MOONLIGHT
FRIDAY NIGHT
Thirty minutes later, Sophie was installed in one of the guest bedrooms.
Victoria had carried a tray to her room with snacks, wine, and a bottle of water. Then she had rummaged in her closet for spare clothes for her friend to sleep in, as well as a change that she could wear in the morning since, on police advice, they had left Meadow Lane without so much as a glance back. At least for the night.
Sophie was fine with that. There’s no way she could have stayed in the house alone after what she had just learned. The detective may not have said much but what little she did share, about dead dogs and dead neighbours, was enough to put her off ever going back.
When she’d asked about potential suspects, the police didn’t say much about that either, only that they were following any and all leads, which just sounded like their stock answer. It naturally wasn’t good enough for Victoria, who had made it clear that there could only be one suspect. He used to live with her and had a history of violence.
Sophie wasn’t sure. Lucy’s ex wasn’t the nicest guy in the world, but murder? And he was supposed to love that dog more than he loved her.
Finding clothes wasn’t too difficult for the two friends who were similar in size and stature, although Victoria, who was fanatical about keeping the weight off, was somewhat thinner. Unhealthily so, some would say. She attributed her thinness to the fresh country air and early morning runs in the woods. She managed to find a couple of old shirts she’d worn once, some new underwear she didn’t like, and jeans that were too big for her. Once she’d given them to Sophie, Victoria hugged her friend and left, closing the door behind her.
Alone, Sophie collapsed onto the bed. Marauding thoughts and memories stomped across her mind like wild animals, each sniffing, scraping, and vying for attention. Everything that had happened on Meadow Lane over just the past few nights. That strange stuff at the house. The missing baby. The boy next door. Was it all connected? It had to be. And what about Lucy, and that stuff she had told her about people being at the house? Was she mistaken? She certainly appeared to be when it came to Vicki, who insisted that she was out of town that night. And what about her and her husband? Could Jonathan really have been cheating on her? They seemed so in love.
Her mind was relentless. Thoughts gushed through her like an endless torrent of water she was unable to shut off.
She considered calling Doctor Krauss to talk things through. He had a knack for helping her arrange her thoughts in such a way that she could process them more clearly and therefore feel much better. He was, after all, skilled at that, good at helping her see things for how they really were rather than how her mind was presenting them to her.
But then he also had a way of making her feel as if she was losing control, making each of her thoughts lose the substance she had attached to them. Maybe he was right. After all, she did imagine that her mother had been devoured by some kind of demon.
NO!
She launched herself off the bed, as if she could leave her quarrelling thoughts behind, picked up the glass of wine, and gingerly sipped on it as she peered out of the picture window to see what was out there. Although she couldn’t explain it, she felt the skin-prickling sensation of being watched. Which she knew was ridiculous, because Greenfields was out in the middle of nowhere.
Yet, she stepped back from the window. The persistent inky blackness was making her feel worse. She’d forgotten just how tangible the dark was out here.
She made her way into the ensuite. It was spacious and luxuriously decorated, with black marble floors that winked a constellation of colours under the spotlights and grey tiles with flecks of white. There was a large granite basin overlooked by an ornate gold Gothic mirror, a large walk-in shower, and even an ostentatious chaise longue of crushed red velvet.
Trust Vicki.
The thought made her smile, but it disappeared the moment she spotted the bath, standing on gold claw feet on its own podium in the centre of the room.
She turned away from it as her mind conjured a series of gory images that she reassured herself must be worse than how they’d really found Lucy’s body.
And yet, despite its lonely appearance in the centre of the room, its rapidly building suds and steamy breath were nonetheless inviting.
Victoria had ignored her protestations and taken the trouble to run the bath, as well as light a series of black and white pillar candles carved with unintelligible hieroglyphics that meant nothing to Sophie. They looked good though, even if the scene did look more like something out of a satanic temple than a bathroom, but then that was classic Victoria. And, oddly, there was something comforting in the strangeness, as though it were familiar on some unconscious or symbolic level. And that was something she needed right now, a little familiar comfort.
She set the wine down on the stand next to the tub and then dipped her finger in the bathwater. It was the perfect temperature, and the giant bath was already almost full. She reached over and turned the two gold claw taps until the sound of running water gave way to the rickety creak of the skylight directly overhead as the rumble of the wind pulled at it, demanding to be let inside.
Sophie began to unbutton her blouse but paused when she caught her reflection in the black picture window. By day it offered a spectacular view of the fields and woodland and yet now, by night, it only reminded her of how tired she looked. No, not tired. Haggard. She allowed her vision to blur, focussing from her reflection to the inky blackness of the glass instead. After a while, it appeared to quiver and bend to the will of the wind pressing on it like a tidal wave of ink, threatening to smash its way through and drown her in its murky goo.
She turned away, rubbing at the ache in her neck and then rocking her head from side to side to crick away the tension that had built there. The tension, she realised, was made worse by the fact that she didn’t feel comfortable undressing in a room with no blinds or frosted glass.
You’re in the middle of nowhere.
Still. She didn’t like the idea of being spotlighted inside while out there, loitering in the darkness, anything or anyone could be…
She pulled the bands from her hair and allowed it to spill freely to her shoulders. She looked rough. At least she thought she did, and yet her beauty wasn’t a stranger to her. She had received a fair amount of attention and flattery over the years but had never given it any significance.
Until recently.
She returned to the bedroom to pick up her phone when she noticed that the door was open. She frowned as she recalled the memory of Victoria pulling it shut on her way out earlier. She did. She was sure of it.
And yet…
She scanned the room. The walk-in wardrobe. Under the bed. Behind the door.
Stop it.
She walked over to the door and popped her head out onto the landing. Nothing but the creak and sigh of the house’s resistance to the elements outside.
“Vic?” The word was barely a whisper.
The night lights glowed a subtle amber in their attempt to make the house appear cosy, yet it felt empty.
She retreated into the bedroom and checked the door for a lock. There wasn’t one, so she satisfied herself with making sure the catch was engaged. It was. She retrieved her mobile phone from her bag and returned to the bathroom once more, closing the door behind her.
Drip. Plop. Drip. Plop. The bath taps beckoned with a watery serenade accompanied by the innocent fizz and pop of the suds. She looked around the room. It was empty, obviously. And yet something felt off.
She walked over to the bath and peered at her reflection in a sud-free section. Above her, the tiles blinked under the flickering candlelight.
There’s nothing wrong with this place. It’s you. Just have a soak. Get some rest.
It made perfect sense. But then she saw Lucy’s lifeless glassy eyes looking over her shoulder and the vision startled her.
“Nope. I’m sorry, I can’t.” She plunged a hand into the bath, resisting the urge to snatch it back at the thought of something grabbing her, and then yanked the plug.
The drain rumbled loudly as if protesting her action, as the atmosphere in the room seemed to shift and morph into anticlimactic disappointment.
All in your mind. You should probably lay off the…
She didn’t finish the thought because that’s when she noticed. The sight of it ran a chill so powerful through her body, it made her rebutton her blouse.
The wine glass, it was… empty. But it couldn’t be. She distinctly remembered Victoria filling it almost to the brim. She was sure of it. It nearly spilt over the sides. They laughed. She’d had to take a sip and then another and then another, and yet…
It was almost full when I set it down. I didn’t drink it all. Did I?
She surveyed the room once more, as if someone could be hiding behind the bath towel or perhaps inside the toilet bowl. Yet again, even though she could see the space was empty, she couldn’t shake the sensation that she was being watched. She instinctively rubbed at her arms where it felt like an army of invisible ants were busy erecting goosebumps all over her skin. She hastily attempted to rub the sensation away.
Drip! Plop! Gurgle! Drip! Plop! Gurgle!
She yelped at the sound of the ravenous drain devouring the bathwater and then again when her phone started vibrating.
“Shit!” she hissed, turning the device over and then smiling at the image of Janay’s chubby face and protruding tongue.
“Oh hello,” she said apologetically. Gratefully.
“Bloody hell, there you are!” Janay complained.
“Oh, I know, I’m so sorry. I saw your messages. I meant to call you back and I was about to, but today has been so full on, like you wouldn’t believe, and…” Sophie lowered her voice, “and my phone was still on vibrate from today’s meeting.”
“Why are you whispering?”
“I’m not whispering.”
“Yeah, you are. Are you with someone?”
“Yes, he’s lying on the bed right now with a rose in his teeth.”
“A rose? Girl, you’ve been watching way too many romcoms. You need to watch yourself some porn.”
Sophie giggled. “You’re awful. I was lowering my voice because there’s a loud echo in here.”
“Oh, so you are at Cruella’s? Sorry, I mean Victoria’s.” She added the last bit with a plummy accent.
Sophie smiled. “You guessed that from an echoey bathroom?”
“No. I know she was with you today. I assumed you’d be round there after what’s happened. My God! Have you been home? Did you hear the news? I sent you like a thousand messages!”
“I know. I’m sorry. That’s why I brought my phone in here, so I could call you back.”
“Uh huh. So, how did it go? Are you okay?”
Sophie sighed. “Well…”
The two friends spoke for the next half hour as Sophie filled Janay in on the day’s events, from the truth about her parents through to the police presence outside her home. When she was finished, they shared a very long silence, where the only sound was the rumble of the window and that now familiar creak of the skylight above.
“Are you still there?” Janay asked eventually.
