Читать книгу Under The Mistletoe - Jennifer Joyce, Kerry Barrett - Страница 20

Chapter 11

With an ear-splitting scream, I tumbled down the stairs. My back smacked onto the floor. Metallic-tasting liquid – blood obviously – trickled out of my mouth. Wind whirled around the hallway. Jess charged out of the kitchen and spotted me in a twisted heap, limbs lying at funny angles. White Christmas played loudly and thick smoke filled the air. ‘Have mercy on me,’ I begged, as ominous footsteps descended the stairs…

Nah. Not really. No such excitement. But that was what I imagined might happen, if this spooky Walter had any guts. Instead I was still talking to him in my head, a couple of hours later, stretched out, star-shaped, underneath silk crimson sheets, wishing I was wearing some equally exotic negligee, instead of my tatty old Hello Kitty pyjama bottoms and T-shirt. I didn’t mention my revelation about the ghostly happenings to Jess – or the fact that I’d been locked in my room and nearly burnt to death. I figured she’d already got enough on her mind – a few minutes ago I crept onto the landing, to investigate some loud sniffs. But she must have heard me from her room, because when the floorboard creaked it went quiet. She’d cried again earlier, despite me cooking her favourite tofu and nut stir fry. The Jess I knew rarely did tears.

‘It’ll be okay,’ I’d said, willing my eyes not to water as I brushed back her red fringe. The last time she’d blubbed like that was when her pet rabbit died in Year Five. Even then she’d put on a brave face, her designing a memorial plaque for the coffin (shoe box), me singing word-perfect I Want You Back, by N Sync.

‘How will everything be all right?’ she’d sobbed. ‘There’s no crèche at work. As it is, I barely earn enough to pay rent. Mum and Dad are enjoying retirement in Spain – I can’t ruin everything for them. And Ryan can hardly look after himself, let alone a nephew or niece.’ Then she’d gone all independent again – told me not to worry, and it was her problem, she’d sort it herself. Why, oh why, was she shutting me out?

I yawned and gazed around my – Lily’s – bedroom. Walter, maybe you could ditch the Christmas tune and play something more to Jess’s taste, I said in my head, all fear gone as he was clearly a figment of my imagination or too chicken to answer back. I pictured him as my fantasy Grandpa, seeing as I’d never had one all these years. He’d be smartly dressed, in a golf shirt of course, smell of cigars and perhaps wear a flat cap. He’d want to know all about my cake-making dreams, sit me down and dish out helpful advice.

Arms still aching from all that cleaning, I got up and plaited my hair. What luxurious surroundings, I thought, for the hundredth time, with the fancy carved dressing table and velvet curtains… I gazed at the oil painting of poppies before switching off my bedside light. I still wasn’t used to the complete dark of Badgers Chase and missed the glow of street lamps and take-aways that always crept into Adam’s flat. I’d done well to resist texting him, to resist begging him to take me back. Nor had I ruined my surprise by telling him about KimCakes Ltd finally taking off. No, I’d wait until tomorrow night when I could inform him, in business-like tones, of exactly how much I’d earned at Melissa’s.

I yawned again and closed my eyes, missing the sound of Adam’s heavy breaths. Yet, annoyingly, images of Luke crept into my mind. His floppy hair, those god awful cords, the way they showed off his… okay, he had a nice bum. Mmm, musky-smelling Luke, with his bristly cheeks, in a tight white vest, muscles flexing as he carried me out of a burning Mistletoe Mansion – me as light as a feather ( I had to be dreaming), armed with a first aid kit full of cupcakes…

Wow! I woke with a jolt. That was some freaky dream. I sat up and leant against the luscious pillows and threw off the silk sheets and duvet. Perhaps I’d become too hot… Yeah, that was the only rational explanation for imagining moody Luke as some hero figure. Eyes wide open, fingers gripping the duvet, I strained to listen to every noise – was that an owl? There was a distant bark… I snuggled back down. What had woken me up? In Luton it was usually a low aeroplane or car alarm going off.

It was eerily quiet and despite my bravado about speaking to Walter, the night blackness spooked me a bit. I sniffed. What was that familiar sweet smell? I sat back up, suddenly cold with the December night air. The hairs stood up on my arms at the unexpected sound of rushing wind. According to my phone, it was half past twelve. I grabbed one of the purple embroidered cushions at the foot of the bed and gave it a big hug. Maybe Walter was a little bit ticked off at my earlier comments. Come on, um, Mr Carmichael, I was only joking, play that Christmassy tune again, it’s, um, kind of cool. But that sweet smell only got stronger. I switched on the light. Uh oh – it was the smoke from earlier today, once again billowing under the door.

Every molecule of my being springing into action, I threw the cushion onto the floor and jumped out of bed. My phone fell onto the mattress. Again, like earlier, the door wouldn’t budge. Yelling to wake up Jess, I pulled on the handle, hard. Then I heard banging noises from the adjoining front room as if someone – or something – was moving around. My heart knocked furiously against the inside of my chest.

‘Fire! Jess! Wake up!’ I called in a shrill voice.

‘Kimmy?’ called a distant voice. ‘Is that smoke coming under my door?’

‘Yes! Stop it with a damp towel. Be careful,’ I shouted back. Then, without warning, my bedroom light flicked off. I gasped and stood statue still for a moment before feeling my way back to the switch. On the way I collided with a chest of drawers and tears sprang to my eyes. When I finally found the switch, it didn’t work.

In the pitch black, I climbed over the mattress, searching for my phone. If I could just get to the window and shout for help… But… Oh no… Please tell me this wasn’t happening… My body went into spasm as something or someone curled their fingers around my foot. Instinctively, I kicked to and fro, imagining all kinds of gruesome scenarios and a weird noise escaped my mouth, like a cross between a wail and a sob. Finally, my leg broke free. Gulping, I dived to the floor and dropped my phone. It skidded under the bed. Astral beings were never so bold on Most Haunted. I must have really wound Walter up.

Yet could that really have been the grip of some ghostly elderly man? And according to Terry, Walter was a sound bloke. Plus White Christmas hadn’t played since I’d woken up. I swallowed hard. Only one thing could explain this: there had to be two spirits – gentle Mr Carmichael and some evil demon that got up to mischief and blew smoke.

‘Stay away!’ I hollered, as heavy breathing came from the other side of the bed. Slowly I got on my knees, turned around and peeked over the bed. My mouth went dry. Standing by the chest of drawers was a tall figure, its arms flailing around. All I wanted to do was curl into a ball and hide but I couldn’t – not now I had Jess and the little one in her stomach to protect.

‘Leave me alone!’ Did this evil spirit have an axe? What about a machete? Perhaps a drill? At least if I was famous, I could have assumed it was just a fan waving an autograph book. “Mysterious Murder of Kimmy Jones – Police Grill Ex-boyfriend” would be the headline. Adam would feature in all the celebrity magazines, saying he was innocent and had been about to take me back. Then they’d arrest a crazed fan of mine, a previous offender, whose fingerprints were found on the front door handle…

The figure’s arms dropped and it strode towards the bed. With a whimper, I ducked down and scrabbled frantically under the bed for my phone. Man up, I told myself; time to put into action those karate moves Adam taught me, after I once got pickpocketed. Hands shaking, I forced myself once more to peep over the bed. Phew. It had gone. Perhaps Walter had somehow scared it off.

I leapt to my feet, opened the window and screamed for help, feeling even more spooked as a bat flew past the cloud-veiled moon. At least I’d stored Luke’s number in my phone. With bionic speed I searched for his name and pressed dial.

‘Luke! Is that you?’ I whispered, voice shaking.

‘What? Who is this?’ he mumbled.

‘It’s me. Kimmy.’

‘Huh? Have you any idea what time it is?’ he whispered back.

Maybe someone was sleeping next to him.

‘Please… I… Come over,’ I stuttered, managing to suppress a sob. ‘I’ve just been… It might come back… And the smoke…’

‘Slow down.’

‘There’s a…’ Ghost would sound stupid. ‘A burglar about and the lights won’t switch on. There’s that smoke again too… He got hold of my leg and–’

‘For God’s sake,’ he said. ‘Not that nonsense again. It was nothing last time You’re a capable woman. Just check through the house for fire hazards. If you’re really worried, call the fire brigade or police.’

‘No! We might lose our jobs, if there’s a fuss. Please Luke. Please come round just one more time.’

‘Look, I know you like me, Kimmy, but please save your sad ploys to catch my attention to a reasonable hour of the day.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ I said, his arrogance helping me forget, for one moment, that my life was at stake.

‘Your cooking’s not bad, though,’ he said. ‘If you want to impress, forget these silly stories, just bake me some coffee and walnut cakes.’

‘Might have a problem using the oven gloves, if my arms have been hacked off by some weirdo,’ I hissed. ‘Look, I’m sorry to bother you…’ Which was the absolute truth. How I hated asking for help, like Mum had over the years, bugging neighbours and various boyfriends to wire plugs and put up shelves. ‘It, the burglar, whatever, they’re stronger than me and I haven’t got a pepper spray, gun or bat. If not for me, then… then come round for Jess. All this upset won’t do her any good,’ I said.

‘What do you mean?’

‘She’s… not well.’

He sighed down the phone. ‘This better not be another false alarm. If it is, I’ll ring Murphy myself.’

‘Oh don’t worry – I really am at risk of being murdered.’ I snapped. ‘And for the last time, you’re the last bloke I’d have a crush on!’

A phut of exasperation floated down the line. ‘What is it with you housesitters? What’s so difficult about looking after a property and getting it sold?’

The line clicked dead. I sunk to the floor and hugged my knees. If I’d have rung Adam, there’d have been no questions – he’d have been here in a flash, armed with his quads and biceps. Unless… unless he was over me already. After all, it was over twenty-four hours since we’d last spoken and he’d obviously been fed up with me for weeks prior to that. Although I had to admit, just occasionally, Adam’s protective nature felt suffocating and in a funny way it had felt good to hear Luke say I was capable – that he didn’t feel the need to rush around to fight my battles. Which was a messed up way of thinking because I totally loved caring Adam, didn’t I? Whereas Luke’s unprovoked rudeness was TOTALLY, definitely, unquestionably off-putting – even though I just knew his earthy smell and teasing mouth must make my pupils dilate (nature’s giveaway that something’s got the potential to turn us on).

My mind raced and I blocked out inquisitive thoughts about what Luke would be like as a boyfriend. Something dug into my side as I leant back against the wall– a pair of my high heeled shoes – perfect, to gouge the eyes out of anything that came near. Every centimetre of my body froze as the door creaked. Someone entered the room. It was too soon to be Luke. Stiletto in hand, I stared across the room.

‘Aarggh!’ I hurled myself over the mattress and lashed out with the shoe.

‘Ow! What the hell…’ someone shouted. Firmly, the thing prised my weapon out of my hand, then backed me up against the drawers. The demon or whatever it was felt solid and blew warm breath onto my neck, as if I was standing under a tropical shower. I sniffed. Hmm. A musky smell teased my nostrils. A firm hand slipped around my back and covered the pointed drawer knob, as if to stop it digging into my back.

‘Surprise, surprise, you’re all right,’ muttered the voice and flicked on the lights.

‘Luke?’

He was still pressed against me. Wow. What amazing moss green eyes. How come I hadn’t noticed them before?

‘Y…you didn’t take long to get here,’ I stuttered.

‘I was already walking nearby. Couldn’t sleep, so reckoned I’d get some fresh air and check on Walter’s house. It’s been empty for so long, guess that’s become a bit of a habit.’

I squirmed uncomfortably. ‘You can back off now.’

‘Are you sure? You won’t attack me again? First a Christmas tree and now…’ He glanced at the floor. ‘A shoe.’ He stepped away and rubbed his chest. The hood of his jacket fell onto his shoulders. It was spotted with rain.

‘Sorry,’ I mumbled. ‘It’s just you looked like… Is Jess okay?’

‘I came to you first. Just in case this was another trick. Talking of which, where’s the smoke this time?’

‘It’s gone again. But Jess’ll tell you…’

I followed him onto the landing and towards her room.

‘It’s only me, Jess,’ I called.

She opened the door, Groucho standing on her feet, her face as white as his tail.

‘Maybe you can tell me what’s going on?’ he said. ‘Everything okay? Kimmy said you weren’t well.’

‘I’m fine,’ she snapped. ‘Was there really a fire?’

He shook his head.

‘You saw the smoke, right?’ I asked, willing her to say yes.

‘Thought so, but it was dark. Things always look different at night.’

‘She saw smoke,’ I said, confidently to Luke. ‘And something…someone came into my room. It grabbed my leg. I was worried you were next, Jess.’

‘I heard you scream,’ she said. ‘My door wouldn’t open, otherwise I’d have tried to help. And there was this dead strange noise, like a whirlwind. We should call the police.’

‘And say what? I’ve seen a spooky face, there’s the sound of wind and some well weird smoke? The police don’t deal with hauntings, do they?’ Oops. There. I’d said it.

Luke burst out laughing. ‘You think there’s a ghost? And I was hoping you two were more sensible than your predecessors.’

‘Why? Has something like this happened before?’ asked Jess.

‘And what’s all this about a…’ he smirked, ‘…spooky face?’

I shrugged at both of them. ‘Laugh if you want but I’m convinced there’s a spirit stuck in limbo here.’ Best not to mention Walter. They’d probably get me sectioned. I thrust my hands in the air. ‘Why didn’t anyone warn us about these ghostly goings on?’

‘Because this place needs to get sold and Deborah wasn’t going to jeopardise that because of the witterings of a bunch of housesitters. Sure they all mentioned noises in the night, but ghosts are for kids at Halloween.’ He put his hands in his anorak pockets.

So I wasn’t the only person to have suspected supernatural goings-on. Suddenly Jess put her hand to her mouth, darted to the bathroom and threw up.

‘Just as well you’re off work tomorrow,’ I said to her when she came back and collapsed on the bed. Groucho snuggled up to her side. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll deal with Deborah and her clients.’

‘She’s coming tomorrow?’ said Luke and passed Jess the glass of water from her bedside table. ‘Cancel her. You’ve both had a shock. Get her to re-schedule the appointment.’

‘We can’t,’ said Jess, weakly.

I gazed at the black rings under her eyes. ‘It might be an idea,’ I said. ‘I’m over at Melissa’s in the morning and without your help, I’m not sure I’ll get this place spotless in time. It’s Deborah’s fault anyway. She knew about this ghost thing. I’m sure that’s what I saw written in her notes.’

‘That red scrawl could have said anything,’ said Jess.

‘Time I left this nuthouse,’ muttered Luke and disappeared onto the landing.

‘You aren’t going?’ I called after him. ‘What if that thing is still here?’ I caught him up in the hallway, downstairs. He turned around by the front door.

‘What the spooky ghoul?’ He smirked. ‘Make a cross out of two wooden spoons and sleep with that above your bed.’

‘Can’t you at least open the room at the front, upstairs? I’m sure I heard movements in there.’

‘Chill out.’ Luke went to leave. ‘Whoever it was is unlikely to come back. And, as I’ve found out the hard way, you’re good at defending yourself.’

Tears pricked my eyes. I wasn’t crying really. Not in front of him. I was tired, that’s all; in shock. ‘Whatever,’ I mumbled. ‘Thanks for coming.’ I headed for the Game of Thrones Room, wishing there really were some helpful warriors in there. Sitting at the bar, I grabbed the tube of Pringles and shoved in a handful, sideways on.

‘That is one wide mouth.’ Luke appeared at my side. He helped himself to a crisp. ‘Okay. I’ll kip on the sofa in the office upstairs – that’s if you control your attraction to the Adonis that is Luke Butler.’ He took another crisp and chuckled.

I was still spluttering with indignation an hour later as I took six cupcakes out of the oven. We all needed something to calm us down and what could be better than a mouthful of fresh, fluffy sponge, dolloped with melt-in-the-mouth buttercream icing? Comfort food at its best. Luke had said coffee and walnut was his favourite flavour and so I’d obliged, finding some nuts left over from Jess’s tofu stir fry.

As the sugary aroma floated upstairs, Jess had surfaced. Her nausea passed and she looked just like she needed a midnight – well, okay, two o’clock in the morning – snack. The topping, to suit my best mate, was made with decaffeinated coffee. But when it came to decorating Luke’s cake, a little bit of that demon spirit must have infiltrated me and I added some extra-strong caffeinated stuff I found in a cupboard. With any luck, that would keep him awake all night and he’d see smoke and scream in terror when a hooded figure clutched his leg.

However, by the time I’d changed, flossed and moisturised, irritating snores had replaced the whistling escaping from his room. Once again I lay star-shaped, under the crimson sheets and snug duvet. I turned towards the window and gazed through the chink of open curtain. The cloud had cleared. The light rain must have stopped. In retrospect (could say this now that the imminent danger had passed), the evening had been a thrill! I’d always wanted to see a ghost and better than that, I’d actually made physical contact.

At that moment, the familiar tune of White Christmas drifted into my room and I didn’t feel scared, convinced that the old man had helped protect me from the evil intruder, before. Walter, you’re here again? Did you get rid of that other spirit for me? Why is it in your house? Perhaps it lived on this land, years before you appeared. Is it keeping you here against your will? Let me help.

The music got louder and I sat up in bed. I could either wake Luke, to prove that I wasn’t lying, or grab this chance to communicate with the old fellow.

‘Knock three times if you’re there, Walter,’ I said, out loud to the moonlit room, deciding that maybe the spirit couldn’t read my thoughts. ‘You don’t scare me. I know now why this house feels like a home. It’s because you’re still around. You were – are -– a good person. So, why haven’t you joined Lily at the Pearly Gates? I know it’s not you trying to harm me. We could be friends. Just let me know you’re here.’

OMG! There were three low thuds.