Halton Cray (Shadows of the World Book 1) (20 page)

‘Alex, I’m going to let them out now. You won’t be
lying if you say that you saw nothing – not a thing!’

I waited there while he went to the shop and
released the prisoners, relieving a frantic Evans and all inside. They came
rushing out, barely listening to him, and heading straight for the main door.
Once outside, Amy and Stacey wept. Evans lit up a cigarette. Dan and Mel hung
close to the doorway where I stood near Thom. Everybody talked loudly over one
another and made stabs in the dark as to what had happened. I said nothing and
felt like a traitor.

‘I found the keys on the floor and so unlocked the
shop door,’ said Thom. ‘This door was open already. I don’t know who he was,
but I’ve a feeling we had a thief in there when the lights went out.’

‘I never saw him get out the shop!’ said Evans. ‘I
had my torch on the door nearly the whole time! Whose keys did he use?’

‘Mine, I’m afraid!’ Thom continued the lie. ‘He
must have picked them from my pocket. Ah, Dan, is this your phone?’

‘Yes! Wow – thanks, Rues. Hey, where was it?’

‘Down here.’ He pointed to the floor.

‘He must have picked my pocket, too. I never felt
a thing.’

‘It’s not difficult for a professional.’

I tried not to look at Thom as I listened to him
getting lost where one lie ended and another began. For some reason he’d let me
know about these lies, when he could have easily left me with the others none
the wiser. Still, I couldn’t hide the annoyance on my face when I did look at
him. He turned his eyes to me just once, a look that held complete shame. He
never looked at me again until everyone had left the grounds.

Frances returned to the staffroom for Stacey’s
coat since she refused to step back inside. At the doorway, while pulling on
her gloves, she turned to her husband. ‘Maybe your phone is around here
somewhere too?’

‘Possibly–’ Terry began to say, before pulling his
hand from his pocket holding his phone. ‘What the–? It wasn’t there! Honestly, I
checked–’

Frances was shaking her head. ‘I can’t believe
you!’

‘Fran, I wasn’t lying!’

They argued their way to the main gates. Evans and
Su accompanied Stacey, Darren and friends to the car park, bidding everyone else
a hasty goodbye.

Mike and Amy waved down their breakdown service as
a van rolled up outside. Dan and Mel seemed the only couple who took it all
rather well. Geoffrey took Jan’s hand and congratulated her on having a ghost
story of her very own, before leading her towards the gates.

Remaining behind with a certain individual, I
grabbed hold of him at the first opportunity.

‘Is it easy for you to tell them it was some
thief, Thom? How can you look them in the face after locking them up in there?
I thought Mrs Evans was going to have heart failure! I thought Stacey might
throw herself through a window to get out!’

‘Yet they’re both well, are they not?’

‘But look at what could’ve happened to them
because of you!’

‘That’s a lot of power, Alex, to thrust upon
someone. Do you think I have that kind of power, to dish out heart attacks and
broken bodies, merely by locking that door over there?’ He pointed. ‘Or even
that one?’

‘Cause and effect, Thom. You provide the cause,
and then there is the effect.’

‘Where is the effect?’ He stepped closer to me. ‘I
don’t see Stacey on a stretcher, or Evans in a morgue.’

‘You’re very harsh!’ I moved back. ‘I’ve never
known you to be like this. You take no responsibility for what might have
happened to them. And who was that person anyway? What did they want, and how
did you–’

‘Alex, please don’t–’ He turned his eyes away and
put his hands on his hips. ‘Don’t make me tell you things before I’m ready!’

‘But how could you leave them in danger?’

‘I didn’t create
that
danger.’

‘But you added to it! You certainly didn’t help
them–’

‘And why should I help them?’ he snapped angrily.
His eyes grew blacker and larger than I’d ever seen them. His skin flushed a
darker tone before it drained pale again. I felt a tear roll down my cheek. It
was for nothing other than my disappointment in him.

‘They were mainly scared at being locked up,’ I
muttered.

He looked to the floor and rubbed his face.

‘I’m sorry, Alex; you’re right. I was trying to
evade responsibility there, without realising it. I was trying to get away from
that nuisance called Blame! I didn’t start the thing. It all comes back to me
though. And no, I suppose I couldn’t know for sure that they’d be completely
safe.’ With his voice stifling, his eyes glazed over. ‘I knew no more than that
they would live.’

‘What?’

‘I knew they’d live,’ he repeated lowly. He seemed
to be somewhere else. ‘I am half sick of shadows,’ he mumbled, pausing and
gazing past me. ‘I’m prisoner, Alex, and the mirror is already cracked.’

‘I don’t follow?’

‘I am cursed.’

‘Thom, what do you mean?’

‘I knew for certain none of them would die,’ he
said, looking back to me. ‘If you only knew all, you’d have trusted my
judgement!’ He turned and walked away.

Something always made me feel like I was in the
wrong to question him. I felt bad for making him feel bad. I knew he wasn’t a
monster. He wasn’t someone who would deliberately hurt to get his way. He was
conscientious. In fact, he would protect others and I knew this. So why, after
just witnessing such a terrible deed, did I begin to feel he was probably in
the right to do what he’d done?

I needed some space to think, to consider if I was
being one-sided on his part. When you feel a strong connection with someone,
you tend to place them up on a pedestal, magnifying their virtues and
dismissing their faults, only to discover later that they are no different from
anyone else, when you have run out of excuses. I needed a confidante. I needed
Beth. I would tell her everything, and endeavour to absorb the feedback. Just
as soon as she had a free day to lend me her ear and bestow her advice.

Before Beth and I could
meet, I had another two shifts at the Cray. I went there utterly conflicted.
How should I feel towards my other co-workers versus my strange friend, who had
lied to us all, but kept me half in on his secrets? I was convinced I’d be
interrogated by all of them on what I thought had happened Saturday night. I
dreaded answering their questions with lies. They’d want to know what had
happened to me, while the so-called thief had locked them in the shop.

When I entered the staffroom they were all so
normal. Evans, Frances, Geoffrey, all sat in there chatting over afternoon tea
and cake.

‘Hi,’ I said meekly on arrival.

‘Hello!’ returned Frances. ‘We’ve all been worried
about you!’

‘Really?’

‘Of course. Doreen called your house phone a
couple of times yesterday. We wanted to tell you all about it, as soon as we
found out, in case you were as restless as Stacey. Not that you’re as brittle.
But she didn’t get a wink of sleep all weekend. And she didn’t come in
yesterday, which we sort of expected. She probably won’t be in tomorrow either.
She’s a bag of nerves!’

‘Maybe I’ll pop round to see her,’ announced
Evans, hastily placing her tea on the coffee table. ‘I can’t go on the hunt for
another sales assistant so soon. I’ve got enough to do. I’ll tell her to take a
few days off. Alex can give her a call as well – there’s a good girl – she’ll
listen to you. Tell her we all feel a bit silly, being scared out of our wits
over something that’s all been explained now.’

‘It was quite trippy, wasn’t it?’ exclaimed
Frances. ‘We were all shaken up. To think the blackout was caused by some
vandals stealing cables!’

‘Is that what caused the power cut then? I didn’t
know.’

‘So you haven’t seen the paper, Alex? You don’t know
anything about it?’

‘About what?’ My heart skipped a beat.

‘About the mental patient escaping.’

‘The
what
?’

‘During the blackout, a mental patient escaped
from Bixney Hospital. He actually broke out soon after the power was lost. He
was found in the middle of the night–’

‘Half-naked!’ interjected Evans, with a mouthful
of cake. ‘Just like what we saw in the shop!’

I started to worry that this was another fiction
fed to them by Thom, because people often cover one lie with another.

‘We were all discussing it yesterday,’ Frances
continued. ‘And there’s a map in the paper of the route he took across the
fields. He was most certainly the man here with us that night. He must have
looked for shelter from the rain. What a poor creature he must be!’

‘He’s a crank!’ snapped Evans, spitting crumbs
everywhere. ‘We’re lucky to be alive!’

‘He must’ve been terrified with all our screaming.
That’s probably why he locked us in the shop, because he was scared of us.’

‘Though I can’t imagine how he got hold of
Thomas’s keys, or Daniel’s phone!’

‘He must have been so desperate to get away from
the hospital,’ said Frances.

‘I have to say,’ added Geoffrey, crossing his
legs, ‘I didn’t even think there was such another person in the room with us. I
thought the darkness had got to you all! And when we saw the face of a carving
on the ceiling, and we all thought it was some demonic creature! Well’ – he
laughed – ‘it was quite convincing.’

‘So it
was
just a carving?’ I asked.

‘Oh, certainly!’ said Geoffrey. ‘Thom was saying
yesterday how he often feels in this place of a night, as if they’re staring at
him. He said sometimes he hears a noise and comes down to the main floor to
check it out, and that he’s been startled before by some of the gargoyle-type
creatures.’ – In this time, he passed me the copy of yesterday’s paper so I
could peruse it for myself. – ‘But this story’ – he tapped the table – ‘still
doesn’t explain why we’ve been hearing the noises for weeks.’

‘Geoffrey, you’re right!’ said Frances. ‘How can
that be?’

‘It can’t have been the same man then,’ grasped
Evans.

‘Unless he’s been escaping regularly all this time
and it’s gone unnoticed. He might have been coming here for ages,’ said
Geoffrey. ‘Who’s to say? I suppose now they’ve realised he’s made a run for it,
they’ll keep a closer check. So the test will be whether or not the noises stop
altogether.’

Yes, I agreed inwardly; that will be a test.

Nineteen

‘If you intend thus to disdain, it does the more
enrapture me, And even so, I still remain a lover in captivity.

– Henry VIII of England,
Greensleeves

I stole away from the
front desk at half past four in order to find the newspaper in the staffroom. It
was so incredibly coincidental that I had to reread it. It could have easily
convinced me, as it had them, that it’d been this unfortunate escapee in the
Cray with us,
if
I had not known exactly who locked the doors. If only I
knew why.

I walked the corridors, passing the Colman Smith
Gallery, hoping to bump into him. I couldn’t stay angry with him – I wanted him
to know that he could confide in me, as he seemed to want to do. I had though
forgotten he was busy in there this afternoon, which I’d heard Frances mention
to Geoffrey earlier. With the door closed Thom was changing the layout of the
room to incorporate some children’s artwork based on the Cray. I passed by at a
leisurely pace and told myself not to get my hopes up. The gallery door opened.

‘Hello,’ said Thom, leaning out of it slightly.
‘Still mad with me?’

‘Everyone is okay, sir.’ I shrugged. ‘So, I guess
not.’

‘You saw the paper?’

‘I read it on my break.’

‘Did you–’ He hesitated. ‘Did you see the article
on the escaped mental patient?’

‘Possibly.’

‘Well’ – he levelled his eyes with mine and
smirked – ‘never fear, I won’t turn you in!’ He closed the door on me, and I
walked on. – I heard it open again. I looked back. He stepped out.

‘Alex, would you come here a moment?’ He did this
as if I’d just been speaking to someone else entirely!

I stepped up to him.

He widened the door for me to enter. ‘I want to
show you something.’

He didn’t take his eyes off mine. That is until he
stood me in front of the wall next to his office door, before a painting he’d
probably just hung there. It was very striking.

‘Is it yours?’ I asked.

‘No, but you know the artist. Look at the
painting, Alex.’

At the centre of the portrait was a demonic
looking figure, probably the Devil, trying to pass in human form. Around him,
caressing and shielding him was an Angel sprouting large white wings. Her face
was turned in on the crook of his neck, but so that her cheek was just touching
his. She had a soft smile, expressing relief. The Devil stared out of the
painting with familiar and foreboding eyes. He smiled too in a similar way. In
the bottom right-hand corner were the artist’s initials.

‘It’s by Frances!’ I smiled.

Thom nodded. ‘And I have to say, though an amateur
she is, it is impressive. Do you paint, as well as sketch, Alex?’

‘Yes – I enjoy it.’

‘I’d like to see something of yours, sometime.’ He
cast me a sidelong glance.

‘I’m not very good. I usually give up before
finishing a painting.’

‘Have you ever finished a painting?’

‘Yes. But I’ve been known to start again on another
canvas, to see if I can better it.’

‘Ah, I see, somewhat of a perfectionist. You
expect too much of yourself. You’re afraid of yourself, terrified to fail. So
you invent excuses to not complete it, thereby not failing at it.’

‘When you’ve quite finished psychoanalysing me,
Doctor Jung!’

My brain was meanwhile at work trying to figure
him out. What was with all these antics? Or was it merely a change in
direction? Why was I, a moment ago, teased and deserted, before being invited
into his presence?

‘I’m very glad we’re friends, Alex.’ He turned to
me.

‘So am I,’ I rapped out, sincerely.

‘Are you?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘And I can talk to you about anything, do you
think?’

‘Absolutely. If only you would. Perhaps I wouldn’t
be so shocked or angry with you when–’

‘I’m so unsure about that, Alex.’ He shook his
head.

‘Why should you be?’

‘You ask so many questions. Sometimes I’m
convinced you have no faith in me – not a whit. You give me various looks; take
a range of tones with me. It often feels like you’re trying to catch me out.
You don’t see how much I do to try to prove you can trust me.’

‘Like what?’

‘Everything! You know I’m different. You know very
well that I’ve taken risks in front of others, with things that are, let’s say,
my business and no one else’s.’

He took a step towards me. His arms began to
unfold, and I confess I thought they might re-fold around me at any moment – as
I thought they once had.

‘I’ve often had a mind to share them with you,
Alex, gradually. You know this?’

‘You’ve said you would explain things – your
secrets, at some point. But as yet you haven’t backed them up with any actions,
so what am I to think?’

He clamped my elbow with his hand. ‘I got you out
of the shop, didn’t I, before locking the door?’

‘Which explains nothing to me!’

‘Really?’ He let go. ‘It told you
nothing
?
My doing
that
told you nothing about–’ He cut off.

At this point, in my mind, one of two things were
going on. Either Thom got me out of the shop to prevent me talking about the
stranger with the scythe in the attic, whom he knew I suspected was making
noises in the house. Or, perhaps he really did like me. With the latter in
mind, I was so terrified of continuing to say the wrong thing, my mouth
wouldn’t then utter another word. Instead, I acted as coolly as possible, which
was probably the wrong thing to do.

‘The truth is, Alex,’ he took another tone, giving
me a short stare. ‘I wanted to tell you that you’re my favourite of everyone in
this place, and a few hundred thousand miles beyond. I’m sorry to leave it, to
leave you, but it can’t be helped.’

‘What?’ I started. ‘You’re leaving! Where are you
going?’

‘Back to Ireland.’

‘For good?’

‘I’m afraid so.’

‘Is it to do with your family?’

‘No.’

‘Then why?

‘Why not, Alex? Is there any reason I should
stay?’

‘I don’t understand, Thom. You said this was your
home.’

‘But it’s not a home I can really settle down in
is it, Cassandra.’

‘And you wouldn’t consid–’ (my voice broke)
‘consider settling down in England?’

‘I would, but
she
wouldn’t.’

‘Oh.’ I gulped, barely able to look at him. ‘You
mean–’

His eyes went down. He smiled mischievously. ‘Yes.
Carla-Louise Stewart.’

Those captivating eyes of his shot up and landed
on mine. I couldn’t bear to hear him say her name. I closed my eyes even as he
spoke.

‘Don’t you think that that beautiful creature
would suit me, Alex?’ – My heart stopped. – ‘And that I’d be a halfwit not to
snap her up and do whatever she asks – which at present is to visit Ireland to
meet her future in-laws and remain there indefinitely. Alex, are you listening?
She commands me and I must obey.’

‘Stop it,’ I said under my breath.

‘I am besotted, Alexandra.’ He moved a step
closer. ‘Do you know what it feels like to be completely besotted with someone?
To want to be near them, with them, all the time?’

I opened my eyes to find them brimming. ‘Will you
be leaving soon?’

‘Very soon, my –’ He paused and brushed his thumb
beneath my eye where a bead escaped my lashes. ‘Listen, Alex. People who are
friends, heartfelt friends, as I feel
we
are, often part with a polite
exchange of phone numbers, email addresses, or whatever, saying
keep in
touch, et cetera
. I imagine they mean it too, at the time. After a while
they just forget, until things change enough that it no longer matters or makes
any sense. I know I won’t forget you, or that I would ever stop caring. Do you
think you would forget me?’

I shook my head, unable to speak.

He smiled. ‘That’s all I wanted to know.’

I held myself together all
the way home. I was no longer confused in the slightest about how I felt. The
term ‘fell in love’ is apt, because it implies there is pain in the discovery.
I didn’t ‘land softly in love’.

Heartache stole away the hours of that evening. I
later found I was glad I wouldn’t see him for a couple of days. It might give
me time to think more clearly on what I should do. As to that I did nothing but
think – how would I live without him? All it amounted to was the conclusion I
could do nothing. Nothing except make an idiot of myself.

‘What if I can change his mind about going?’ burst
from my lips as I stared into the mirror, feeling a little crazy. ‘Because what
if he does like me and just doesn’t think I like him?’

Of course, I could never tell him how I felt, just
in case he didn’t feel the same. What a fool I would feel and look when he’s
been talking about Carla-thing and how he adores her. Part of me was convinced
it was a lie, a sham. But nothing could persuade me enough that he would want
me instead.

I always believed that when you don’t know what to
do, you should do nothing. And so it was. On my next shift I went about my own
business, concentrating on my job as best I could. He looked at me strangely,
but we didn’t speak. I reminded myself that it was his decision to leave and
I’d have to respect that. Though on the inside I was falling to pieces.