LUCY TURNED IN THROUGH the majestic stone pillars standing guard either side of the entrance to Hobswyke drive. She pulled in next to the gatehouse and parked.
The engine fell silent, and she sat quietly in her thoughts…
She pondered Peter’s part in it all: was he a traitor? A spy? Or is he more like an ally – keeping careful watch over her mother as a kind of guardian? She struggled to form an opinion with which she felt comfortable.
She adjusted the rearview mirror towards herself, and attempted to imagine her face ageing ten years in the space of a handful of hours. What would it feel like? she wondered. Would I even notice it happening if I couldn’t see my own reflection?
A frantic rapping on the side-window ripped her from her daydream, her heart leapt from her mouth.
Her mother presented a concerned face to the glass. ‘Where have you been?’ she cried – her voice muffled by the glass.
Lucy grabbed her bag and popped the door. ‘Sorry, Mum, I lost track of time.’
‘Where did you go?’ her mother reiterated. ‘I’ve been worried sick!’
‘Well, you know. I thought I’d drive around for a bit, to get used to it,’ she said, faking exasperation.
‘I tried ringing you, but it just kept going straight to voicemail… I was about to call the police!’
Lucy took her phone from her bag, pretending that she hadn’t actually turned it off. ‘The battery must be flat,’ she said, pretending to press the buttons. ‘Yeah, look, the battery’s dead.’
Lucy laughed affectionately at what she perceived to be a love-fuelled overreaction. ‘Oh, Mum! If you’re like this when I just pop out for a bit of a drive, what are you going to be like when I get a motorbike?’
‘You are not getting a bloody motorbike!’ her mother asserted.
Lucy laughed, then began to choke… She clasped her hands tightly around her neck. ‘Oh God! Help me!’ she gurgled. ‘Please! I – can’t breathe!’ She staggered around in front of her mother. ‘You must loosen those apron strings!’ She flopped her tongue from the corner of her mouth and made a series of gargling sounds.
Her mother just looked on unamused. ‘You should feel lucky that you have a mother that cares,’ she complained.
Lucy giggled, linked her mother’s arm, and started escorting her to the house – working hard to hide her limp. ‘Come on you, you worry-a-holic, I’ll make us some tea.’
*
Darkness descended and Lucy lay in bed, curled up on her side. She wondered what the children were doing, and if they were fine on their first night in a strange, new place.
She’d been attempting to concoct possible ways to herald the existence of the two new additions to their world. How much to tell, how much to keep silent about? But she was unable to think of a single way that didn’t involve having to spill every single bean from the metaphorical tin.
She tried putting it to one side for the night, exhausted by what had in reality been a number of extremely stressful days.
She shut her eyes…
The bulge of Lucy’s corneas began to dance beneath her lids, sinking away into a dream-state, pulled down, down, down by her exhaustion, sinking away, far away from the real world…
She found herself standing in the centre of the marble floor of the entrance hall of Hobswyke. She could hear music playing ethereally behind the doors of the ballroom.
She wandered through the dank atmosphere of the unlit room towards the muffled song, the sound of her footsteps echoing around the darkness.
There was light shining beneath the doors, occasionally broken by the passing shadow of something, or someone inside.
Lucy stepped onto the fan of light, turned the handles, and swung the doors open…
They revealed an old gramophone heavily laden with spans of wafting cobwebs, spinning a warped record beneath its pin-sharp needle. The disc bled to the tune of the scratches as the horn blasted its grainy waltz into the space.
Pairs of faceless dancers rotated about the room, their fixed frames gliding eerily to the crackling melody.
Lucy twisted her head down towards the floor, she could see no feet beneath the gowns, they floated about the room to the muffled tones drifting through the air.
She rose again and came face to face with her mother leaning into her, peering into Lucy’s eyes, a deviant smile stretched wide below a faraway gaze that seemed devoid of emotion.
‘You can’t come in here, little girl,’ her mother said, as though addressing someone far in the distance, ‘you’re not old enough to be in here. You’re just a child,’ she mewed.
A deadpan smile slowly extended across her face, stretching wide until it reached her ears. ‘You’re just a child, and you’re not welcome, so you have to go now, see. So, get out!’ she whispered, aggressively, gently closing the doors…
They banged shut. The music ceased. The light beneath the door fell dark.
Lucy stood alone again in the obsidian silence, her breathing the only sound she could hear echoing throughout the cold, empty space.
A woody crack behind her broke the tension, she turned from the doors to find the cause of the sound.
She saw her mother sitting with her back to her at a dressing table on the farthest side of the hall, illuminated by a single candle slow dancing to the thumping beat of Lucy’s heart. She was leaning forwards, making long sweeping passes with her hairbrush down towards the floor. Slow, mesmeric strokes hypnotising Lucy with its consistent rhythm.
She walked slowly across the leaf-strewn acreage of marble towards her mother’s arched back, watching the hypnotic sweep of the brush…
‘Mummy…’ she called as she neared her. But her mother failed to hear her calls. ‘Mummy?’ she called again.
The brushing ceased mid-stroke, pausing for a beat, then her mother sat upright… She was headless, a clean-cut neck rising from the elegant sweep of her shoulders. Lucy staggered back, pressing a fist hard into her teeth.
The body began a creeping turn to look back at her, the severed neck twisting to front her interruption. She threw her hands across her eyes, and turned her back on the vision, stumbling away from the creak of the seat as she heard her mother stand…
The doors to the library began opening before her. She felt drawn to the orange flicker fanning across the marble as they slowly swung apart. She wandered into the room…
All of the books that lined the walls were ablaze, a hellish furnace of flames licking around every shelf in half time. The altar glowed devil-red at the core of the immolating room.
Black bony fingers extended from behind the sandstone block, crawling over the edge like arachnid limbs, feeling their ways towards the intruder.
A silhouetted face peered over the edge at Lucy, all she could see were the eyes looking at her. The digits tightened, scraping chipped nails along the blood-soaked sandstone…
‘Luuuuuuuuucyyyyyyyy…’ it called, watching her, taunting…
‘Lucyyyy…’ it sang again.
She stood, frozen to the spot, quivering eyes staring in fear.
The fingers danced, the thing began to rise into the light. It had a face, the face of her grandmother.
‘Luuuuucyyyyyyy?’ it sang mocking, slowly shuffling around the block of stone, extending its protracted arms out in her direction. ‘Lucyyy… Are you listening to meee…?’
Lucy wanted desperately to leave the dream, but she didn’t know how. Her grandmother crouched low and started to scuttle towards her, her face fixed with a wicked grin. ‘I saw your mother,’ it taunted, ‘I saw her change. As Satan is my witness, she got older, right in front of my eyes.’
The thing shut its eyes tight, then opened them again. The eyes had gone, leaving hollow cavities weeping thick tears of coagulating blood.
It started to chuckle cruelly, continuing to advance towards Lucy’s petrification.
‘We watched her, me and your grandpa,’ the thing said, turning a look to the far side of the room.
Lucy’s mortified gaze followed the thing’s. Her grandfather was grinning at her from behind the glass of the long-cased clock, waving at her with black, emaciated fingers of bone and sinew.
She snapped her head back to her advancing grandmother. ‘Yesssss. We both watched her growing much, much olderrrrr…’ she mocked. ‘Ah! Look! It’s happening to me now…’ it mumbled.
The skin of the thing began sucking slowly onto its skull. ‘I’m ageing, Lucy,’ it said, in its deadpan voice. ‘I’m ageing right before your eyes. And there’s nothing you can do to stop it.’
Lucy backed away into the marbled room, passing her headless mother who was now standing by the doorway facing her.
‘Look! Look, Helen,’ it cried, ‘I’m growing old, just like you.’ Her skin suddenly rotted down to slime, teeth tumbling from receding gums. Her mother’s skin started to drop off too, slapping onto the floor like wet flannels.
Her grandmother started to screech at Lucy through its toothless face. ‘I’m dying, Lucy. I’m dying because of you! And when I’m dead, you’ll be next, and there’s nothing anyone can do to…’
Lucy jolted awake! ‘Holy shit!’ she slurred, cupping her face in her hands.
She sat up in bed and took a few calming breaths. She’d never had nightmares as bad as these before.
She took a sip of the water she kept on the side table. The words from the dream continued to swirl around her thoughts, replaying like a stuck record…
She suddenly jumped from the bed, and looked to the clock – 4:18am. She stared through the illuminated numbers, replaying the words from the dream…
She put the glass down, felt around in the dark for her clothes, and quickly got dressed…
Clothed and booted, Lucy made her way into the bathroom and straightened her hair in the mirror, and waited a while, trying to judge how long it would usually take her to pee.
She placed her hand on the flush in readiness, then pressed down hard on the handle, unleashing a torrent of water into the pan. The noise filled the bathroom.
She quickly opened the door and snuck downstairs, masked by the sound of the rushing water.
Quietly, she left the house, tiptoed down the steps, and away along the path…
She made her way through the night, serenaded by the rustle of the leaves and the lunar breeze.
Eventually, she neared the stable block, nervous of what she might find waiting for her. She made her way tentatively to stable number three, and pulled lightly at the handle, but it was locked from the inside.
Lucy didn’t know what to do, was she being ridiculous? She needed to know.
Her fingertips tapped lightly on the door, and she presented an ear, listening for signs of life. She tapped again, and heard sounds from inside.
‘Jill…? Jack?’ she called, there was a noise from right behind the door. ‘Are you in there? It’s Lucy, can you let me in?’
After a considerable pause, there was a clack from the lock, and the door swung loose in its frame.
‘I-It’s open,’ said a voice, but not a voice she recognised.
Gingerly, she pulled the door towards her. Something scurried away into the shadow. Lucy flinched back, fearful of the dark.
Her shaking hand grabbed the phone from her pocket. She swiped to the torch function, and tapped it, directing the beam into the room… ‘Jill…? Jack…? I-Is that you?’ she asked, her voice shaking.
The light passed a mound of empty food wrappers on the table, the back of a chair, then flashed across two faces cowering behind the bed. There was a familiarity to the features, but the faces looked different. Older, more mature in their essence.
‘Something’s happening to us!’ said a voice, still tinged with the innocence of a child, but carrying a far deeper tone.
‘Jack, is that you?’ Lucy said.
The voice sobbed, ‘Yes.’ He sounded petrified.
Lucy rounded the end of the bed to take a better look… The children had aged, both now wearing years visually closer to Lucy’s! ‘Listen, I know you’re both frightened,’ she said, straining to not display the fear she was herself feeling, ‘but this thing that’s happening to you, happened to someone else I know. It’s just something to do with coming through to this world.’
She stepped tentatively closer, and crouched before them, Jack was cosseting his sister, her exaggerated limbs curled tightly into a foetal ball.
Lucy shuffled closer, and gently placed a comforting hand on Jill’s knee. ‘It’s okay, Jilly, I think whatever is happening, has probably finished now.’ Lucy could only pray that she was right.
She backed away from the bed, coaxing them to follow. ‘Come on, let me see you. Don’t be afraid.’ She looked about the stable and considered turning on a light, but decided it wouldn’t help her in her cause.
She swiped her phone and typed a quick message to Sam…
Jack rose tentatively from behind the bed, splaying a hand towards Jill to stay hidden. He wandered apprehensively into the room. Lucy leaned across to switch on one of the lights… The lamp flicked on, illuminating the undeniable fear in Jack’s face.
He shied from the sudden brightness, his only knowledge of any changes being his increase in height, and Jill’s commentary on what had been happening to his face.
He was wearing the old clothes Sam had given him, but the jeans now sat high on his shins and were tight to his legs, and the T-shirt clung to him like a second skin. Lucy could see every malnourished rib showing through the cloth.
He looked understandably bewildered and afraid, to the point that she could sense he would rather be back in the other world right now, than endure what was happening to him.
Lucy stepped in and looked up into his face with fond, but pitying eyes. ‘Look at you,’ she whispered in the most optimistic voice she could carry – addressing his new features. ‘Look how tall you are,’ she said, ‘and look, Jack, you’re so handsome now,’ she asserted, still talking to him like he was a child, which in reality, wasn’t far from the truth. She smiled genuinely into his abashment. ‘Pleased to meet you, “Jack”,’ she said, hands gently cupping his face.
Lucy turned her attention to Jill, reaching a hand out towards her. ‘Come on. Come here, let me see you too.’
Jill peered up at her brother from behind the bed, then back to Lucy… Reluctantly, she raised her arm and wrapped long fingers around Lucy’s encouraging hands.
Lucy pulled her to her feet, and guided her into the light. She turned and look at her, and began combing the hair back off her face with her fingers, brushing it clear of her features like she was a doll. Lucy’s eyes lit up.
‘Jilly!’ she simpered. ‘Oh my word, you have one of the most beautiful faces I have ever seen.’ She examined the meek visage looking back at her, trying to see past the film of grime still coating her skin. ‘What a gorgeous girl,’ she sang, ‘I wish I looked like you.’
Lucy stepped back to drink in their new bodies. ‘You’ve no need to be afraid, okay? I know this is going to sound sort of ridiculous, but in a way, what’s happened to you is actually kind of normal.’ She realised how stupid that sounded, but also knew – with a level of certainty – the truth in what she’d said.
Lucy started to laugh, she couldn’t help herself. The dress Jill had on still seemed to fit reasonably well, despite her increase in size. But Jack on the other hand looked as though his clothes had been painted on. ‘Come here you,’ she said, still chuckling – glad of the opportunity for levity to break the awkwardness, ‘let’s see if there’s something larger among this lot.’
She led him across to the pile of clothes on the chair in the corner, and began holding them up to his bewilderment one at a time…
The stable door slowly creaked open. Sam crept in.
He saw Jill standing awkwardly in the insipid dim light, and walked across to her. ‘I got your message,’ he said, ‘what’s happened? Is everything okay?’ Jill turned a confused look across to Lucy in the corner.
Sam continued to gaze at her, waiting for a response…
He made a sudden lumbering lurch back away from the girl’s confusion. ‘What the hell!’ he cried. ‘Who the hell are you?’
Lucy and Jack started to giggle. Sam turned towards the laughter, and saw Lucy helping Jack into a baggy T-shirt.
He returned his bewilderment back to Jill, and recognised Hilly’s dress. ‘What’s going on!?’ he cried.
‘Sam,’ said Lucy, ‘it’s fine. Something’s happened, and it’s really nothing to be afraid of. Let’s just sit down, and I’ll try to explain. My nan has told me everything…’