Enter the Dead: A Supernatural Thriller Page 14

  His life depended on it.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ‘Do you think he’ll be alright?’

  ‘Yes, at least I think so. He seemed to be improving slightly by the time the ambulance showed up. Must have had some sort of fit or seizure.’

  ‘How do you feel?’

  ‘That’s the strange thing; I feel great. As a matter of fact, I can’t remember the last time I felt this well. It’s weird…my headache disappeared the second I saw the Gilchrist kid. It’s as if someone suddenly flipped a switch in there.’

  ‘Maybe seeing him in person helped relieve some of the pent-up stress inside you.’

  ‘Maybe. Either way, I’m not about to start complaining.’

  “We will shortly be arriving at London King’s Cross. Please can passengers ensure they have all their belongings with them before leaving the train. Have a good day, and thank you for travelling with East Coast Mainline. We hope to see you again in the near future.”

  Sam looked across the table at Sarah and smiled. Until the incident earlier that morning at the police station, he’d been in too much pain to be able to fully focus his attention on her. His brain was still struggling to process all that had happened over the last few days, but one thing was certain: he wanted to try and work things out with her. Finding a job and making ends meet would have to wait; the key priority was saving his marriage. He realised that most men in his position wouldn’t have given their wives a second chance, but he wasn’t like other men, and furthermore, he was sufficiently self-aware to realise that he hadn’t always been the perfect husband either. Okay, so he’d never been unfaithful to Sarah. He wasn’t the unfaithful type, (if indeed there was a type), and he would never have dreamt of leaving her for someone else. But he had his own issues, his own demons, and occasionally they had a habit of driving him into his shell. And as Sarah and Max knew only too well, when Sam Railton was in his shell, he was not a fun guy to be around. He could go for days on end without engaging in any kind of meaningful conversation with either of them. Whilst such episodes of introverted behaviour couldn’t in any way justify his wife’s infidelity, he was acutely aware that he hadn’t always been the perfect husband, and there’d been plenty of times when he hadn’t been there for Sarah, or for Max. If he held up a mirror to himself, he had to admit that at least some of the problems in their marriage were down to him. What was it that Reverend Jackson had taught him all those years ago at Sunday School? He who is without sin can cast the first stone…well, perhaps there was some truth to that.

  ‘Have you any idea when Stephen Gilchrist will be in Court?’ asked Sarah, handing her empty coffee cup to a passing service attendant.

  ‘No. To be honest, I haven’t given it any thought.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have thought they’d make him wait for too long. I mean, I imagine the authorities won’t want all this hanging over him, what with school and everything. That’s if he even goes to school.’

  ‘He seemed like a bright enough kid to me,’ Sam said, standing to retrieve his bag from the overhead luggage rack. ‘Besides, I’m not one hundred per cent sure I want to press charges.’ He sat back down, waiting for the reaction from Sarah that he knew would follow.

  ‘What do you mean? You have to press charges. The boy put you in hospital, for heaven’s sake.’

  ‘I know, but it was a first offence, and it was blindingly obvious that he was high on drink and drugs. I’m not saying that excuses his behaviour, but…but he’s only a kid, Sarah. You should have seen him in that cell, terrified and all alone like that. I couldn’t help feeling just a little sorry for him. Fifteen years old…Jesus Christ…that’s not much older than Max. Surely everyone deserves a second chance, don’t you think?’

  ‘No, I do not think,’ replied Sarah. ‘Tell me you aren’t being serious, Sam.’

  ‘I am, as it happens.’

  ‘But he needs to learn a lesson for what he did to you! Why do you always have to be so bloody soft and understanding?’

  Somewhat uncharacteristically for a man who rarely lost his temper, Sam felt his blood boil at this last comment. It took every ounce of resolve to refrain from telling her that the chances of their marriage surviving rested almost entirely on his ability to remain so bloody soft and understanding. Instead, he shook his head and said: ‘Look…I don’t want to talk about this anymore, okay? I’ve been through enough these past few days without having to battle it out with you. Anyway, it doesn’t matter what I decide to do.’

  ‘Of course it matters,’ she replied, angry for allowing herself to lose her temper in front of a carriage full of strangers. ‘You’re the victim in all this.’

  ‘I know, but whatever I decide to do is unlikely to have any impact on the case. They have it all on camera, remember? He’s committed a criminal offence, so it’s out of my hands. But perhaps what I can do is influence the severity of his sentence by issuing a supporting statement.’

  ‘Why would you do that? Why would you want to help him?’

  Sam sighed, tired of the conversation. All he wanted was to go home, see Max, have a bath and go to bed. After everything he’d gone through: the affair, being beaten to within an inch of his life, the hallucinations – especially the hallucinations – surely he could be forgiven for wanting his life to regain at least some sense of normality. Granted, it would take time for the wounds – physical and emotional – to heal, but going over the same old ground again and again wouldn’t benefit anyone.

  Choosing his words carefully, he said: ‘I don’t want to help him, Sarah; the damage has already been done. However, nor do I want to twist the knife. I’ve seen things these past few days that I’m struggling to get my head around. And if I don’t start and try to put all this behind me, then I’m genuinely worried that I might end up losing my mind.’

  ‘What things?’ asked Sarah. ‘Sam, what things have you seen?’

  Sam stared out of the window as the train pulled into King’s Cross Station, relieved that the journey was coming to an end. He turned to Sarah and said the first thing that came to mind.

  ‘Believe me, darling, you don’t want to know.’

  CHAPTER TEN

  ‘Is that everything?’ asked Gracie, turning the radio down as Max entered the room carrying a small suitcase. ‘Are you sure you haven’t left any dirty underpants lying around?’

  ‘Aunt Gracie!’ Max said, his face flaring up with embarrassment. ‘Of course I haven’t. I’ve even made the bed.’

  ‘Well, aren’t you a good boy?’ she said, winking at him. ‘Whoever heard of a twelve year old boy who doesn’t leave a mess? I think that deserves a hug, don’t you?’

  ‘What about a cookie? I opened the curtains and remembered to turn the light off as well.’

  ‘Don’t push your luck, young man’ Gracie said, smiling as she wandered into the kitchen to fetch the biscuit jar. When Sarah had called her from King’s Cross station to say they’d be collecting Sam within the hour, Gracie’s initial reaction had been one of disappointment. Not because she was lonely – her regular visitors and clients made sure of that – but because she had genuinely enjoyed having Max stay with her, even if it had only been for a couple of days. It was good to have somebody to fuss over: having spent the majority of her working life caring for other people’s children, she often missed the feeling of having people depend on her; whether that was cooking for them, or changing their nappies, or merely giving them a hug and making them feel safe and loved. Besides, Max hadn’t been any bother; most of the time he’d kept himself to himself, only showing his face at mealtimes or to say goodnight, but that was good enough for Gracie. She’d never had any children of her own – she hadn’t been able to on account of what doctors had said were her undeveloped ovaries – but instead of bemoaning her misfortune and turning bitter about it, she’d devoted herself to doing the best job she could for the thousands of children who’d passed through the nursery where she had worked. In a way, Max was the final link to tha
t happy time, which in her eyes made him all the more important. In another two or three years’ time, he would no longer need her to babysit him after school; he’d be old enough to take care of himself. She rarely allowed her mind to dwell on that inevitable day, but when she did - when she was sitting alone by the fire at night and having one of her more introspective moments - she couldn’t help but feel sad and lonely and redundant. As her old friend Elsie was fond of saying: you come into this world alone, and you go out of this world alone, but it’s what you do in between that really matters. And whatever happened, one thing was certain: Gracie had lived a full and rewarding life, and it wasn’t over yet. Fortunately for her, when that day of reckoning did eventually arrive, she believed with all her heart that there was a better place waiting for her on the other side. She’d witnessed enough first-hand evidence to convince her that death wasn’t the end; it was only the beginning.

  The calm inside number thirty-nine, Chaytor Avenue, was suddenly interrupted by a knock at the front door. ‘I’ll get it,’ Max said, hurrying across the room towards the hallway. While he loved his Aunt Gracie very much, she couldn’t compete with his parents. Especially his father.

  When Max opened the door, however, his reaction at seeing his father was not one of unbridled enthusiasm. It didn’t take long for Sam to understand why his son was staring at him as if he’d contracted an incurable dose of leprosy. In the turbulence of the previous few days, he’d almost forgotten about his swollen eyes and bruised cheeks.

  ‘Hi, son,’ he said, embarrassed by his appearance. ‘You should have seen the other guy.’ His smile was unconvincing. ‘Have you got a hug for your old man?’

  Max didn’t need asking twice. ‘What happened?’ he said, his face pressed against his father’s chest. ‘Did somebody beat you up?’

  ‘If I told you that I fell over, would you believe me?’

  ‘Yes…if I was an idiot.’

  Sam laughed, wondering at what age children switch from unquestioning belief to calculated sarcasm. ‘I’ve missed you,’ he said, not wanting to let go. ‘I’ve missed you so much.’

  ‘Me too,’ Max said, forcing himself out of his dad’s arms. ‘But what really happened to you?’

  ‘Your dad’s tired,’ Sarah said, taking her turn in hugging Max. ‘There’ll be plenty of time for questions later, okay? Why don’t we go inside and see Aunt Gracie? I want to find out how naughty you’ve been while we’ve been away.’

  ‘I think you’ll be disappointed,’ Max said, moving aside so his parents could enter. ‘I’ve been the model guest.’

  ‘I’ll believe that when I hear it,’ Sam said, leading them into the house.

  Gracie’s initial reaction at seeing Sam was not much better than Max’s. She was about to quiz him about what had happened when Sarah headed her off at the pass by asking about Max.

  ‘What’s that, dear?’ Gracie said, unable to take her eyes off Sam, who in turn stared awkwardly at the floor.

  ‘I was just wondering if Max has given you any trouble. He told me he’s been a model guest, but somehow I don’t quite believe him.’

  ‘Well,’ Gracie said, prising her attention away from Sam, ‘I’m afraid your son is telling the truth. He’s been no trouble at all, in fact it’s been an absolute pleasure having him. We’ve had a great time, haven’t we, son?’

  ‘Certainly have,’ Max replied, crumbs falling from his mouth as he gobbled down the last of his cookie.

  ‘Max, where are your manners!’ Sarah said, bending down to pick the crumbs up from the floor.

  ‘Come on,’ Sam said, eager to get back home. ‘I’m sure Gracie is ready for a little peace and quiet.’ As Max and Sarah busied themselves with making sure they hadn’t forgotten anything, Sam took Gracie aside, and when he was confident of not being overheard, said: ‘I need to talk to you. Alone.’

  Gracie looked at him calmly. ‘I had a feeling you would.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Not now,’ she said, lowering her voice to a whisper. ‘Come back in the morning, when Max is at school. Right now, you need to be with your family. And get some rest, do you hear? It’s amazing what difference a good night’s sleep can make. I’ll see you tomorrow…sometime around eleven would suit me best.

  ‘Okay. Thanks.’

  ‘Don’t mention it. But promise me one thing, will you?’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Don’t trouble yourself with what you may or may not have seen. There’s nothing out there that can’t be dealt with.’

  Sam froze at this comment. ‘I haven’t seen anything. Nothing real, anyway.’

  ‘Tomorrow at eleven,’ Gracie said, ignoring him.

  Sam stared at her and nodded weakly. He was certain he’d been seeing things and that it was all in his mind. All the same, he needed to speak to someone about it…someone who wouldn’t merely laugh and accuse him of losing his mind. Maybe Gracie’s experience would be helpful to him. After all, strip away the hocus-pocus bullshit and she was as close to a therapist as Sam was prepared to get. He had his doubts about her, but he wasn’t about to confide in Sarah or Max. They were worried about him enough as it was.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ‘Is he asleep?’ Sam asked, his eyes on Sarah as she entered the lounge and collapsed onto the sofa next to him.

  ‘He went out like a light,’ she said, closing her eyes and yawning. ‘I don’t think I’ll be far behind him. I’m exhausted.’

  ‘Did you get much sleep when I was away?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I don’t know…I guess not. I’m not sure what to think anymore.’

  ‘Well, to answer your question, no, I didn’t sleep well at all.’

  Sam closed his eyes and tilted his head back. Sarah wasn’t the only one in desperate need of an early night.

  ‘Listen, Sam,’ she said, placing a hand on his thigh. ‘I know we’re both tired, but I’m afraid this can’t wait. I need to know where I stand.’

  ‘You’re not standing anywhere…you’re sitting right next to me,’ he replied, his attempt at a joke not having the desired effect on her as she shook her head in frustration and continued.

  ‘I’m serious, Sam, okay? We haven’t talked, I mean really talked, since this whole nightmare began.’

  Sam looked at her. ‘What do you want to talk about?’

  ‘Isn’t it obvious? I want to know how you feel, what happens next, will you ever be able to forgive me or trust me again. I need to know if you think we have a chance of staying together and finding a way through this.’

  Sam sighed. He wasn’t in the mood for joking anymore. ‘I guess that all depends.’

  ‘On what?’

  ‘On you?’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘What do you want, Sarah? What do you want to happen to us? Do you want us to stay together, and if so, why? Is it because you love me and genuinely want to be with me, or is it because you’re feeling tired and guilty and worried about what Max might think when he finds out? I guess my answer depends on you…on what you want to happen to us.’

  ‘Of course I want us to stay together. I don’t expect you to suddenly forget everything that’s happened, and I know there’ll be times when it comes back to haunt us, but I want us to at least try to work things out. I did a terrible thing to you, Sam, and I’m so, so sorry. But you’re my husband and I still love you very much.’

  ‘You have a funny way of showing it.’

  ‘You’re right, I’ve been a complete and utter bitch and I don’t deserve you. And I know it won’t be easy to repair the damage. But to answer your question, yes, I want us to stay together, and yes, I want to do it for the right reasons. Most importantly, I want to do it because I love you.’

  Sam watched as she spoke, searching for signs that she was lying. If there were any, he wasn’t able to see them. Then again, after missing the fact that she’d been sleeping with someone else for four years, when it
came to interpreting body language, he was no expert. Nevertheless, he wanted to believe her. He had to believe her. Because the prospect of spending the rest of his days without her was simply unbearable.

  ‘Listen,’ he said, leaning towards her. ‘I…I think that we shou-’

  He was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. He looked up at the clock on the mantelpiece.

  ‘Nine-thirty!’ he said, rising to his feet. ‘Who the bloody hell can that be?’

  ‘No idea. You didn’t order pizza, did you?’

  ‘Very funny,’ he said, sliding his feet into his slippers.

  When he reached the hallway he turned on the light. ‘Won’t be a sec,’ he shouted, fiddling with the safety chain and turning the key in its lock. He didn’t like visitors at the best of times. Most likely it was one of the nosy neighbours – George Gransham, perhaps – desperate to find out the reason for Sam’s bruises so that he could claim the honour of being the first person in the street to know; as if there was nothing better for him to do with his dwindling years than spend them gossiping about the misfortune of others.

  In truth, it could have been anyone standing there…except for one man. The man who was responsible for turning Sam Railton’s life on its head. The only other man, as far as Sam was aware, who had been inside his wife during their thirteen years of marriage. He was standing at the bottom of the steps, smoking a cigarette and smiling at Sam like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. Sam almost had to admire him; if there was one quality that Tom Jackson had in abundance, it was balls. Sam knew it, and sadly for him, so did his wife.

  ‘Hi Sam,’ Tom said, smoke billowing from his nostrils. ‘Jesus Christ!’ he said, his faux-smile fading as Sam stepped out from behind the door and he noticed his face. ‘What on earth happened to you?’