Father Tobias came back before long. I was sitting at the kitchen table when I heard his car arrive, then the sound of him clattering through the hallway. He talked to Dad for a bit, then came through into the kitchen and smiled at me.
‘Good morning, Katherine. What are you eating?’
I looked up at him. The red, tear-stained face I saw last night had gone; he was eyeing up the mince pie I was gnawing at.
Before I could reply, Dad stepped in. ‘Would you care for a pie? I realise it’s not exactly traditional breakfast material, but we seem to be overrun with pies, cakes and god knows what else.’
Dad was doing his posh voice again. Traditional breakfast material. I was not convinced by it.
‘Why were you upset last night?’
I asked the question, sort of knowing that Father Tobias wouldn’t like it. I heard Dad falter whilst reaching for some Tupperware. He looked round at me.
‘Don’t ask Father Tobias intrusive questions, Kitty,’ he said, sharply. Father Tobias, on the other hand, did one of his waving motions with his hand, as if to say don’t worry about it, and his smile widened.
‘Oh it’s quite all right. I, er, I had a bit of a nightmare. I do apologise if I unsettled you, Katherine. But grown-ups get nightmares just as much as young ones like yourself, you know. Sometimes, because we’ve experienced so much more of the world, the nightmares can be a lot worse.’
With these last words he settled his gaze more on the table than at me, as if dragged away from the kitchen and into some other world that only he could see. Dad turned back to us and set the square plastic tub of mince pies down on the table with a thud.
‘Here we go,’ he said. ‘Tuck in. I’ll get you a plate.’
‘No need, no need,’ Father Tobias said, dipping his hand into the tub and pulling out the largest, most generously stuffed pie from the ones in front of him. ‘I catch the crumbs with my other hand. Always have.’
Dad nodded, though I could tell he wasn’t really listening. He had his mind-elsewhere face on. That’s what Mum used to call it when she saw him looking like that – his mind had gone elsewhere.
Eventually, he said, ‘Kitty, we need you to stay in your room today and promise not to come out.’
I was about to make a fuss; about to say I was tired of all these strange things happening and nobody properly doing anything about them, but then Father Tobias said, ‘I’ve brought with me some more books for you, Katherine. I realise you’ve probably already gone through all those other paperbacks you had, so I thought you could do with some more, to keep you occupied.’
I gave him a concentrated frown. ‘Are you giving me back the ones you stole?’
He pulled a bit of a funny face. ‘No, Katherine, that wouldn’t be appropriate. And I didn’t steal them. Your dad is looking after them. No, these books are some more detective mysteries from Mrs Christie. I spoke to your father about the content and he’s aware they do feature murder and criminality as a central theme, but I have assured him this is offset by the strong moral focus of her books: the guilty party is always brought to justice. Evil isn’t allowed to flourish in any form and is always met with punishment.’
He had clearly forgotten about the witches, I thought to myself. He tapped his hand on the table, as if to say that the matter is all dealt with, then bent down to retrieve a carrier bag from the floor. He passed it over to me and I peered inside. There were indeed about six or seven paperbacks in there. They looked brand new, their covers crisp and smooth, unlike the lined, dog-eared ones I kept on my little chest of drawers upstairs.
‘So, how about you run along and see if you can polish one off before dinner time?’
I didn’t move straight away. I waited for Dad to look up. After a few seconds he finally focused his eyes properly on me and said, ‘Go on, hop it, Kitty.’
Once at the door, I turned around and asked, ‘And if I wanted to talk … about last night … If I had … some questions?’
Neither Dad nor Father Tobias said anything to this at first, but I saw them look at each other. Then Dad said, ‘I really don’t think we need to go over all that. Not … not right now.’ I noticed he wasn’t looking at me when he said this. He was avoiding my eyes. I didn’t reply to him. I just turned around and walked away, clattering up the stairs as I went.
In my bedroom, I unpacked the bag of books Father Tobias had given me and lined them up. They were indeed all by Agatha Christie – six of them in all: Crooked House, Endless Night, Hallowe’en Party, Peril at End House, Ordeal by Innocence, and Evil Under the Sun. I spent some time looking over the covers, enjoying the illustrations and the bold font. I especially liked Endless Night. I decided to go with Peril at End House, because the back of it sounded most interesting.
Whilst reading, I didn’t really notice the rest of the world. I often went into something Mum used to call my ‘book trance’, where everything surrounding me became another place and time to the one I was living in within the pages. It was like I was underwater, or lost at sea, and it would take an earthquake or avalanche to remind me there was a real world outside. I barely noticed the sound of Amanda knocking on my door, telling me there was some lunch on a tray outside. I vaguely remembered her doing it later on in the afternoon when my stomach started rumbling. On the tray was cheese on toast, three mince pies and a slice of apple pie. I brought it into my room and ate everything bit by bit while holding Peril at End House in my other hand. The cheese on the toast was no longer at its soft-melting best, but it still tasted good. So did the pies, although I saved one for later in case tea didn’t appear.
By the time the light was growing dim and my legs were starting to ache, I came to the end of the book and put it down. I liked it better than the last one I’d read, the one about the old ladies who might be witches, and it had more of an obvious connection to what Father Tobias had said about mysteries and detectives – even if I still didn’t know who Miss Marple was.
I lay back on my bed, the characters of the book still swimming around my head. The woman who appeared to be in great danger, having escaped a number of attempts on her life. The house where she lived, away from the main town, large and intimidating at night. And the surprising twist at the end that showed you that the very worst people don’t always look like the monsters you expect to find lurking in the shadows.
While these thoughts floated through me, I started to become aware I was drifting off to sleep, my tiredness probably down to everything that had happened the night before. At least sleep is something I’m allowed to do, I thought to myself, telling the sleepy part of my brain that it had permission to take me off into the darkness. They’d come to get me if they needed me.
But they didn’t come. Night time arrived, and if someone came to check on me, I didn’t hear them. When I awoke, in the almost-pitch darkness, I wondered how long I’d slept for. It felt like hours, but a glance out of the window told me it was still well and truly night time. It had started to rain again – large droplets were hammering onto the glass and I could hear the little streams they made trickle down the side of the building.
I got out of bed, feeling a little cold as the skin of my ankles and wrists came out from under the duvet. I must have pulled it over myself during my sleep, because I didn’t remember being under it. The door opened with the tiniest of creaks and I tiptoed out, very slowly, onto the landing and listened. I could hear voices, loud voices, coming from the lounge. And there was that smell again – a weird, slightly perfume-like smell, as if they were burning flowers in there, or those weird dried colourful bits some people had in bowls on their tables.
I started creeping down the stairs to get closer. The sound of the lounge door opening made me stand dead still. It was Amanda, saying, ‘Honestly, it’s probably best if I’m not here …’
Someone inside – Father Tobias, I thought – told her she should come back in, but she left out of the front door, letting it clatter behind her. She didn’t see me. She was in too much of a rush, and although I couldn’t see her face in the darkness, I could tell by the way her voice was shaking that she was upset. A scream erupted from the lounge then. It was Mum, it had to be; it was a shriek I now knew very well, the sound she made when she was at her worst. Then I heard that voice. And I couldn’t help but fall to my knees, crouching halfway up the stairs, scared by the strange, deep, twisting sound of it.
‘GIVE IT TO ME. I WILL NOT LEAVE HER UNTIL YOU HAVE SPILLED YOUR SEED INTO HER CUNT. UNTIL I FEEL HER FILL WITH YOUR WICKED DESIRES. DO IT. DO IT.’
Then there was more screaming.
Years later, I’d still wonder why I stayed. Why I didn’t just go back upstairs and close the door to the horrors unfolding before me. Nearly every part of me was pulling me back, away from whatever was happening, inches away from where I stood. Nearly every part. But a small part wanted to see – wanted to see if it was really Mum making that horrible sound. I tiptoed down the stairs as if I was floating, feeling the perfume-like scent get stronger, mingled with a lingering chill from when Amanda had gone outside. I reached the door and peered through carefully, keeping as quiet and slow as I could.
It was as dark as could be, with only the light from the almost burnt-out fire making it possible to see the chair in the middle, the two people standing around it, and the writhing, struggling shape within the chair. Screaming.
‘We don’t have to do this,’ Father Tobias said. He was facing Mum in the chair, but it seemed like he was talking to Dad.
‘It was you who said we’re running out of options.’
I saw the shape of Father Tobias’s head nod. ‘Fine. I can either stay and say the words, or I can leave you both. I could go outside to find Amanda. I think she’s distressed.’
I heard Dad breathing quickly. Saw him scrunch up his fists, as if he was worried, or nervous. Mum’s screams had dialled down to a low burble now and as Dad shifted, I could see her face going from wide eyes and open mouth to slit-like eyes and a weird, scary smile.
‘DO IT.’ The voice rumbled out of her, like distant thunder. She was looking at Dad.
‘Is it more likely to work if you say the incantations?’ Dad said.
There was a moment of silence, then Father Tobias said, ‘I cannot promise. This is untested territory.’
‘If you had to guess?’
Father Tobias paused again, then nodded. ‘Then I would have said yes. It is probably more likely.’
Dad raised his hands up to his face and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. The shadows on the walls from the flickering firelight made him look like some kind of monster, his fingers poking out from the top of his head like claws or wiry antlers.
‘Stay, then,’ he said.
Mum started to scream again. A mixture of words, stretched far away from their normal sound and meaning.
They both had their backs to the door by this point. With a rush of bravery I didn’t think I would ever have again, I scurried as quietly as I could from the doorway and made for the coffee table. It had been pushed back so that it was sandwiched between the sofa and the back wall. One of the blankets Amanda had been using for sleeping – the one that had been given to Levi the night before – was on top of it, flopping down, so the space underneath was like a hidden den. Crouched underneath, I thought I’d made it without being spotted. But then Mum’s screams stopped, and the horrible voice returned.
‘I SEE AN IMP. IT WATCHES. IT HIDES.’
I watched from under the folds in the blanket. Mum was staring right at me. And the scary smile was spreading over her face once again.
Dad and Father Tobias, however, didn’t seem to be paying much attention to what she was saying. They were too busy having their own conversation.
‘Let’s get this over and done with,’ Dad said. And then he took off his t-shirt.
Father Tobias shifted a bit. He seemed uncomfortable. ‘Are you sure you feel … capable? I mean … able …’
‘Well, we’ll see, won’t we? I have to try.’ He unbuckled his belt, unzipped his jeans and started to take those off too.
I didn’t want to understand what was going on. The things Mum had been saying, when I heard her from the hallway, now seemed even more horrible, even more nasty, and watching Dad now stepping forward towards Mum, and Father Tobias starting to say words I didn’t understand in a low voice, I started to feel very, very sick.
‘JOIN US. JOIN US. DO IT. DO IT.’ Mum was shouting the words now, then laughing, big, loud laughs, like a scratching cackle – as if the lounge was full of witches and they were all laughing and laughing and wouldn’t stop. Father Tobias’s nonsense words got louder – they almost sounded like a poem in another language, and they flowed together like some strange song that I’d never heard before. I watched without properly seeing. Dad in front of Mum, hunched forwards. He lifted her legs from the ground and she wrapped them round him. I saw him rocking forwards, the back of his legs looking tense and tight, like an animal straining at the leash. It went on for ages, or what felt like ages, Father Tobias walking around them, still saying his words, pausing only a few times to draw a breath, letting a few seconds of silence go by when all there was to hear was the crackling of the fire, the grunting of Dad, and the continuous laughter and shrieks from Mum.
I found I could not watch any more. I took hold of the blanket hanging down in front of me and pressed it to my face. I smelled its washing-powder scent. Its slightly scratchy feel on my face. I focused on these things. I tried not to look. Not to listen. Wishing I had never come down here at all.
It all seemed to come to an end when I heard Dad let out a loud breath-filled noise, like he’d just put down something heavy he had been carrying. I didn’t move, but I did let the folds of the blanket hang loose between my fingers, letting in a crack of light. A slice of strangeness that I couldn’t make sense of at the time. Dad stepping back from the chair. Father Tobias flicking something small and glinting in his hand, with droplets of water falling from its tip each time he passed it through the air. And Mum just sitting there, nightdress bunched up around her waist, legs apart, face completely still. She wasn’t moving, or making a sound. It was like she had died, even though I could see her shoulders rise slightly with each slow breath she took.
After a few moments, Dad spoke.
‘Did it work?’
Father Tobias stayed silent as he walked all the way around Mum, flicking more of the liquid at her. Then he turned round to Dad and said, in a quiet voice, ‘I think so. I can’t be one hundred per cent sure. But she’s not responding to the holy water. It’s the first time she’s remained impassive to it.’
‘And that’s a good sign?’ Dad asked. He was staring at Mum like he was afraid she would pounce at any moment.
‘Oh, I think so,’ said Father Tobias, and tapped a hand on Dad’s shoulder. ‘Come on. Get dressed, and we’ll help get Marjory into bed. I’m hoping we’ll see further positive results in the morning.’
Dad bent down and started pulling on his clothes, all the time watching Mum. She still didn’t stir. She didn’t do anything. She was like a limp doll.
Once Dad was fully dressed again, he and Father Tobias each took one of Mum’s arms and pulled her out of the chair. She didn’t resist them, or try to scratch at their skin and say terrible words. She didn’t look as if she was in the right mood to help them, either. Instead, she just stumbled and leaned against them, like she had no bones left inside her. It took them a little while to get her out of the lounge. I listened very carefully, hearing them go up the stairs, a thud at a time. Once I was very sure that they were in the big main bedroom above the lounge, I crawled out from my hiding place and ran out of the room. I made it up the stairs OK, but on the landing I heard a creak to my right and saw Father Tobias coming out of Mum’s room.
‘Katherine. What are you doing?’
He sounded surprised and ever so slightly disappointed, like I was an old friend who had let him down. I looked at the floor.
‘Just … needed to go to the loo.’
I heard another creak and looked up to see Dad coming out of the room.
‘Kitty? What—’
‘It’s all perfectly fine.’ Father Tobias raised a hand. ‘Katherine was just going to the bathroom.’
Dad looked at me, his eyes full of worry. ‘Is that right, Kitty?’
I gave a short nod. ‘That’s right.’
‘Very well, then.’ Father Tobias smiled. ‘We were just checking if your mother was OK, Kitty. And she is. Better than she’s been for a long while.’
I wasn’t really sure how I should react, so I just said, ‘Umm … that’s nice.’
Then I walked past them both and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I was pretty sure they were both downstairs now; probably going to find Amanda. But as I cried, I tried to make sure the noise of the tap running covered the sound of my sobs. Just in case.