It was dark when Lou woke, the bones in her arms and legs fused by the cold. She lay perfectly still, attempting to unravel the events of the previous evening into manageable strands. They resisted, springing back into a tangled mass of confusion. She turned on the lamp and blinked. Like a boxer coming around on the canvas after a knock-out blow, she was punch drunk, dazed, numb.
Unfurling her body, she sat up, rested her elbows on her knees and let her head hang. It was Christmas Day. She would have laughed at the irony if only her funny bone hadn’t been amputated in her sleep.
She picked up the phone and dialled the number on the card the senior officer had left on the table. She asked after Stephen, and while the man on the other end of the line went away to check, she went through to the kitchen. Balancing the phone between her ear and shoulder, she filled the kettle and switched it on. An inspection of the tea caddy and fridge revealed only the dust of old tea bags and a dribble of sour milk, a week past its use by date.
The man returned. ‘Your brother’s been remanded to go up before the magistrate the day after tomorrow. Don’t bother laying him a place at the table. Looks like he’ll be eating his turkey sandwiches with us. Sorry.’
He didn’t sound sorry. Lou asked if she should get Stephen a solicitor. No need, the duty brief was working on his case. Could she visit him?
‘It’s not The Savoy, love. We don’t lay on afternoon tea for guests.’
Lou chucked the phone down on the table. Steam rose from the kettle, and the water rumbled as it came to the boil. Her stomach growled. She scavenged a couple of stale crackers from a tin in the cupboard.
The clock on the oven flashed seven-thirty. With any luck, Dean had been asleep at his mate’s by the time the police ransacked the house. None of their neighbours had bothered to knock on the door to see if she was ok, but they would have wasted no time in posting videos of Stephen’s arrest on the net. Lou rescued the phone from where it had landed in a pizza box and wiped it on her jeans. Dean wouldn’t thank her for waking him, but it was better than him finding out about Stephen through social media.
She dialled Dean’s number and waited.
‘Hello, Dean’s phone,’ a stranger’s voice said. It sounded too old to be one of Dean’s mates. In a split second, a barrage of awful images vied for position in Lou’s head. Dean had been in an accident. This was an A&E doctor answering his phone. Dean was hurt. He was …
‘Hello?’ the man said again. There was something familiar about his voice.
‘Where’s Dean? Is he all right? Is he hurt?’
‘No, he’s fine. I didn’t mean to worry you. He’s just popped out into the garden, so I picked up his phone.’ There was a pause. ‘Louisa? Is that you?’
The years fell away. She began to shake and fought to keep hold of the phone.
‘It’s … I’m your … it’s your dad here. Are you all right? Sorry.’ Her father let out a long sigh. ‘Of course, you’re not. Shit. I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry about Maureen, about your mum. I wanted to get in touch. I thought about sending flowers or coming to the funeral, but I was worried I’d only make it worse … Are you still there?’
‘Yes.’
‘Dean turned up on my doorstep a couple of days ago. He was in such a state. So upset about … everything. He’s a smashing lad, isn’t he?’
‘Have you been here? To the house?’
‘Yes. I came over yesterday, to collect Dean. I was hoping that you might be home … He’s done your mum proud, hasn’t he? Dean, I mean … Christ, Lou, I don’t know what to say. I should have been there to see him grow up. I should have been there for you all. I shouldn’t have let it come to this. But you’re an adult now; you understand that relationships are … complicated. No, you don’t need to understand anything. It’s my fault.’
Children and adults began to laugh in the background. Lou recognised Dean’s voice. There was a pause, and the noise of a door closing. When her father next spoke, the echoing acoustics sounded like he had moved room. ‘Sorry. Dean was just outside with the kids and their new bikes. Listen, why don’t you come over? Michelle and the kids would love to meet you. I could pick you and Stephen up, and you could spend Christmas with us. I could be there in half an hour. No, you’ve probably got plans. Sorry … I’m not saying the right thing, am I? I’m not trying to fix things. I know I can’t do that. But I want to help you all. If I can. If it’s not too late. Are you still there?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you want to talk to Dean?’
‘No. I … just tell him I phoned. No, don’t do that. Can you hide his phone? I need to tell him something but not over the phone. I don’t want him finding out through his texts.’
‘Sounds serious. Are you sure you don’t want to talk to him?’
‘No. Thank you.’
‘If you’re sure. Look, I’m dropping him home at about seven. Maybe we can have a proper chat then. But, Lou, if you need anything, you will call, won’t you. Anything at all.’
‘OK.’
‘Bye, then, Lou. Take care of yourself today, love.’
Lou dropped the phone. It landed amongst the shrivelled pepperoni and dried crusts. When she tried to take a swig from a half empty glass of whisky, it knocked violently against her teeth.
Eighteen years without a single word, and there he was, a voice on the phone, sounding like he had just nipped out to the shops. The glass fell from her hand. It shattered on the kitchen tiles, splinters flying, whisky splashing up the cupboards and across the floor. Crashing out of the kitchen, she stopped in the dark hall and was confronted by a vivid memory of her ten-year-old self, sitting on the bottom stair in the moonlight.
Long after everyone else had gone to bed, she had snuck from her room to begin her nightly vigil. In her pyjamas and slippers, she clutched the paw of her panda, watching the front door, waiting, and promising to be such a good girl, if only the door would open. She would help Mummy with the baby and try her very best not to fight with Stephen, if only her prayer was answered. On the nights she heard the sobs from Mummy’s bedroom, she squeezed her eyes tighter, prayed harder, even promising to give her beloved panda away to another little girl who needed him more, if it would do any good. Most nights, she fell asleep on the stairs, waking up cold and alone, to drag panda back to bed and hold him tight, soaking his fur with her tears. Because her daddy hadn’t come home.
Her eyes fixed on the bottom stair, Lou finally allowed herself to admit the truth. Her father’s departure had ripped out her ten-year-old heart. When she had accepted that her nightly vigils and promises wouldn’t bring him home, she had built a dam, brick by brick, to protect her tender heart from the pain of knowing that the whispers of adults behind closed doors were true; her daddy had chosen a new family over his old family. He didn’t want to be her daddy anymore.
Eighteen years on, and with her defences breached, she felt that crippling pain of abandonment all over again. Every fibre of her little self had adored her father, yet she had succeeded in convincing herself that if he didn’t want her, she didn’t need him. He had taught her that to love was to feel pain. That it was safer to harden your heart than let anything or anyone get close enough to hurt you.
And now, that voice down the telephone line had brought it all back. It was the voice of bedtime stories, the voice that soothed when she woke from nightmares, the voice of the happy childhood and family life that its owner had stolen from her, stolen from Mum and Stephen and Dean. Even knowing that – even knowing the pain he had made them live through – she wanted to run to him, to have him scoop her into his arms and tell her everything would be all right. But it could never be all right. Any reconciliation now would only happen because Mum had died. She would be trading her mum’s life for her dad’s comfort.
She grabbed her parka, left the house and lurched up the road with only a haze of drizzle and the moon for company. She should hate him. She should blame him. If he hadn’t run out on them, maybe none of this would be happening. Stephen wouldn’t have been arrested. Dean wouldn’t be a broken boy looking for his father. Mum would still be alive.
Phone me, if you need anything. He had sounded so genuine. So sorry.
She looked up to find that without realising it, her feet had taken her across the footbridge. That bloody thread was reeling her in again. What do you want with me? I can’t help you, can’t you see that? The shattered skeleton of Hill House loomed dark and empty at the end of the drive and her battered heart took another blow. The strands of the tangled mess of that past life and this, twisted into an impossible coil.
‘I knew it was you.’ A woman emerged from behind the abandoned mattress and bags of rubbish, her face obscured by a hood.
Lou’s muscles twitched, preparing to make a run for it. ‘I haven’t got any money, so you can piss off.’
‘I don’t want your money.’ The woman stepped into the pale light of the streetlamp and revealed herself as not a woman at all, but a slight girl. The tension in Lou’s muscles melted.
‘What do you mean you knew it was me?’ Lou said. She was in no mood for playing ridiculous games with a stranger.
The girl stared at the ground. ‘You don’t recognise me, do you?’
‘Should I?’
The girl pulled down her hood. Lou studied her pale complexion, her eyes fixed on the ground, her finger twisting a cotton from her frayed cuff. Finally, Lou took in the hair. It was pulled back into a loose ponytail but there was no disguising the beautiful red waves.
‘Alice?’ she said. Could this really be the maid who had led the way up the stairs on that first day in Hill House?
‘How do you know my name?’ Alice asked.
‘It’s not every day a maid runs away in the middle of the night.’
‘They gossiped about me?’
‘No. All the staff spoke kindly about you. They miss you.’
Alice dug the toe of her trainer into a crack in the pavement. ‘It’s crazy, isn’t it? I mean, me and you standing here talking about travelling back in time?’
Lou nodded. At least it meant she didn’t have to think about her father for a while.
‘They’re real, then? I didn’t just imagine it all?’
‘No, you weren’t imagining it. They’re all very real.’
Alice let out a sigh. ‘Thank God. Because I thought I was going mad. One minute, I’m a maid scrubbing floors, and the next I’m squatting in there again, thinking it was all just a dream.’
‘You’re squatting? In Hill House.’
‘It’s as good a place as any,’ Alice said. ‘Better probably. It’s a bit out of the way, so nobody really bothers with it. I did a runner from the hostel the Council dumped me in when I left care last year. It was full of dirty creeps and perverts …’
She pulled her cuffs over her hands. ‘I found out about Hill House when I was in foster care. A kid who was with the same family said if I ever needed anywhere to squat, then it was a good place. It’s always quiet, and once a week, a charity hands out food parcels from that church hall up the road. I came here about a month ago. There was no electricity or running water, and the house was trashed, but at least there was nobody to hassle me or scream at my door in the middle of the night. It was just me and my sleeping bag and a camping stove. I only go into town when I have to … You were right when you recognised me the day you arrived. I go into Iceworld sometimes. But only when I’m really hungry. I only take stuff when I’m desperate.’
‘You don’t need to explain anything to me.’ Lou said. ‘We all do what we have to to get by.’
A smile briefly flickered across Alice’s lips again. ‘I’d been squatting a few weeks when I went looking around the house to see if anyone had left anything useful lying around. That’s when everything changed.’ Alice started playing with the loose cotton again. ‘I went down into the kitchens, and it was all normal. Not like upstairs, where it’s all ruined. There was glass in the windows, food on the shelves in the pantry, gleaming copper pots hanging on the walls. I thought I was dreaming. And then, Mrs Moriarty found me. She knew my name and everything, and said she’d been expecting me. I played along, waiting to wake up. Only, I never did.’
Alice opened her hands, revealing the scabs of healing blisters on her palms. ‘Being a maid was hard work. Some nights, I was so tired, I fell asleep in my clothes. But I didn’t care. I was glad to work hard because for the first time in my life, I felt like I belonged somewhere. The other staff were so nice. They treated me like I was one of them. I had enough to eat every day and a proper bed to sleep in every night.’ She paused and chewed her lip. ‘I never had a proper family. I was taken off my mum when I was a kid because of her drinking. I never knew who my dad was; I’m not even sure she did. When a social worker told me a few years ago that my mum had died, I didn’t feel anything. Growing up in care, you learn quickly not to feel anything. If you do, you hide it.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Lou said.
Alice shrugged. ‘Why? It’s not your fault. Anyway, what you’ve never had, you can’t miss, right?’ She wiped her cuff across her face. ‘I only came out of Hill House last week to see if I could. After I saw you, I had to know what I was dealing with. When I tried to go back in, everything was gone; the furniture, the ornaments, the people … It was just me and my sleeping bag again. I just figured it was another place that had given up on me. Another group of people that didn’t want me. You’d think I’d be used to that by now.’
Alice tucked her chin into her collar and wrapped her arms around her body. The brave face she had been putting on slipped inside her hoody.
Tread carefully; you don’t want to scare her off. ‘Is it just the staff you miss?’ Lou asked.
‘What do you mean?’ Alice looked at Lou from beneath her eyebrows.
‘I know Edward misses you. He told me.’
A proper smile lit Alice’s face, her cheeks bloomed with colour. For the first time, Lou got a glimpse of the pretty young girl Edward had fallen in love with.
‘I didn’t mean for it to happen,’ Alice said quietly. ‘I did like I was told and turned away from members of the family if I met them when I was cleaning. But Edward – Mr Edward – he had this way of making me see him even when I tried not to. There was a day, in the library. I was dusting, and he came in to look for a book. He asked me if I liked reading. When I said I did, he made me take a book of poems. He told me to read it and tell him what I thought next time I saw him. Every night, no matter how tired I was, I read a page. I didn’t understand it all, but I liked the words. Whenever I saw him after that, he’d talk to me about the poems, about what they meant and …’ She forced her hands into her single pocket. ‘It’s so stupid. I mean, how can I feel … he hasn’t even kissed me … how’s it possible to fall …’
It’s easy, Lou wanted to say. ‘Have you tried to go back recently?’
‘Only every day.’
‘Try again now.’
‘There’s no point.’
‘Humour me. Please.’
With a sigh, Alice walked to the gates. It wasn’t until her foot was hovering over the boundary that Lou realised the significance of what she was trying to make her do. If Alice disappeared then, she was in, which, in turn, meant that Lou was out. She watched Alice take a step through the gates and stand on the drive and continued to watch as Alice stepped back on to the pavement. With a shrug that said, I told you so, Alice said, ‘Now you try.’
‘It won’t work. I did something.’ Hill House wouldn’t want her back. In attacking George Caxton, she had surely severed all ties. But what if? A glimmer of hope rose in her as she remembered Bertie’s insistence that her doll remain in the house.
‘How can you just stand there when there’s a chance you can go back,’ Alice said. ‘I’d be in there like a shot.’
She was talking more sense than Lou had a right to hear. Lou looked towards Hill House. The first glimpse of daylight dawned beyond the abandoned building. She took a deep breath and walked to the gates. Here goes nothing.
She crossed the boundary. Night fell. Snow swirled around her. Lady Mandeville’s Chinese lanterns glowed in the darkness. Chauffeurs huddled beside the cars lined up on the driveway, the tips of their cigarettes glowing orange. And, at the end of the drive, the lights of Hill House blazed in the dark. It was Christmas Eve again!
Lou took a step back. Out on the pavement, she looked through the broken gates. The day once again dawned pink behind the empty hulk of Hill House.
‘It worked, didn’t it,’ Alice said. ‘You disappeared. Hill House wants you, nobody else. Not me.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Unfinished business? Whatever it is, there’s no chance of anyone else going in.’
What unfinished business, and why would Hill House want to take her back to last night? Like a bolt of lightning, it struck her. The envelope in the nightstand. How could she have been so stupid? She couldn’t just leave it there. If it was found by the wrong person, and they handed it to George, he would crucify Elliot for speaking out against him. She couldn’t leave him to face the wrath of George. If she was found to be missing, George would waste no time in ransacking her room to find the evidence she had threatened him with. She touched her throat. It was still tender. If she went back and George caught her, he would finish the job. She had to make sure that he didn’t catch her then. She checked the clock high up on the steeple of St Mary’s. It was almost eight o’clock. ‘Meet me here this afternoon. At three o’clock,’ she said.
‘You’re coming back out?’ Alice said as though Lou was giving up her claim on a winning lottery ticket.
Of course she was coming out. She could hardly leave Dean to return to an empty house with police gloves scattered across the floor. She had to be at home to break the news of Stephen’s arrest to him and to be by Stephen’s side at the magistrate’s court. She looked into Alice’s confused eyes. It was Christmas morning, and this poor girl who was trying so hard to put on a brave face, had nothing and nobody. In leaving Hill House, Lou would make way for someone who might actually do some good and deserve her place there. ‘You want to see Edward again, don’t you?’
‘I’d die if it meant I could see him just one more time, but—’
‘My purse is in my pocket,’ Lou said. She shrugged off her parka and forced Alice to take it. ‘Put this on. Go and find an open shop and get something to eat.’