The Lake House (5 page)

‘Patience. We have to take our time. These things can’t be rushed. It’s how you make mistakes, and if you make mistakes you end up being nearly burnt to death, stabbed and then locked up in a mental hospital.’

He indicated to take the sharp turn into the caravan park, driving slowly because there were always kids running everywhere. The last thing he needed was to run one over and have the police crawling all over the place.

***

The doorbell chimed and Martha looked up from the ball of pastry she was kneading with her gnarled hands. She wiped them on her apron and began to walk towards the front door. As she passed the cellar door she paused, sure that she’d heard a high-pitched giggle coming from somewhere down in the dark. Walking faster now she felt both relieved and terrified at the thought of opening up the cellar. She could see the dark shadows through the glass pane in the door and hoped it was the plumbers. At least there were two of them. She opened the door and was surprised to see two men who were nearing retirement age. She’d expected a couple of youngsters.

‘Hello, we’ve come about your blocked drains.’

She opened the door wide enough for them to step inside. ‘Thank you so much; I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. Unfortunately the smell seems to be coming from down in the cellar.’

‘That’s all right, we’re used to working in the dark. What we’ll do is take a look and see if it’s something we can get sorted now. If it’s going to be a big job it will have to wait until next week, I’m afraid. We’re so busy this week.’

Martha tried not to let the panic show. Next week was no good. No good at all. It needed sorting now. She sighed and turned, leading them to the cellar door.

‘By heck, what do you keep down there: lions? I’ve never seen so many locks on a door.’

The men laughed at their joke and Martha smiled. She didn’t want to tell them it was something far more lethal than a big cat.

‘My father was very conscious about us playing down there in the dark. The sewer pipe reaches to the lake and it can flood very easily in the winter. He was such a cautious man. I’m afraid I can’t open the locks very fast with my fingers – arthritis.’

She passed them an old, iron key ring and watched as the more talkative of the men began to try and unlock the padlocks. Finally he’d taken all the locks off and slid the bolts back. With the opening of each one Martha felt an impending sense of dread. Should she tell them about the thing down there or hope that it had died? Maybe that’s what the smell was. She prayed that it was. He pulled the door open and the stench was overwhelming. Both men groaned and began to take face masks from their pockets.

‘Smells like something’s died down there, love.’

‘It does indeed. Please be careful, won’t you. Don’t leave each other’s side. The light-pull is just to the left of you.’

She saw the look that passed between the men, as if to say, ‘Bless her; she’s a bit mental,’ but she ignored it. Better for them to think she was some crazy old woman than not to warn them. The light illuminated the stairs and they both began to walk down. Martha didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t go down with them because she couldn’t get back up fast enough if she needed to. Instead she paced up and down the hall. She could hear their muffled voices but nothing much else. She breathed out when they finally came back up.

‘It’s hard to see the problem. The smell is coming from the drains and it looks as if there is something down there that could be causing it. The problem is the drain is a lot bigger than we thought so we’re going to have to come back and investigate it properly, but it won’t be until next week.’

Martha felt herself deflate. Thirty seconds ago she had been overjoyed to see them coming up the steps alive and together. Now she was going to have to put up with the smell and them risking their lives again.

‘Is there nothing you can do today? I can’t live with the smell. It’s horrific.’

‘I’m really sorry, but it’s a lot deeper than it looks and we haven’t got the tools. They’re out on another job. There’s nothing we can do today.’

Martha pushed the heavy door shut and began to slide the bolts across.

‘Very well, but you must come back as soon as you can.’

She watched them leave and continued to work the locks, the sweat forming on her brow because it was taking so long. The van doors slammed and the engine started. They drove off, leaving her on her own once again.

***

Seamus Jones was walking along the road. There were no pavements around here. He’d been dropped off an hour ago to check out the houses along this stretch of the lake. His two friends had gone into the town and told him to ring them once he’d found a suitable house with no burglar alarms or security cameras. He stepped onto the grass verge to let the plumber’s van pass. It had only driven past him ten minutes ago. Bingo. They must have been to price up a job. He went to the overgrown drive the van had come out of and opened the gate at the side. He walked along the gravel drive and smiled to himself. Double bingo. This could be the payday they’d been waiting for.

He finally reached the house and nodded in appreciation. It was a beautiful old house. The garden was very neglected and unloved, along with the tired paintwork on the outside of the house. He couldn’t see any burglar alarms or cameras and it looked deserted. After walking up to the front door he hammered on it, not expecting anyone to answer, but after a minute he could hear a shuffling sound coming along the corridor. He put on his best smile and grinned at the old woman who opened the door. She looked distraught and he actually felt uncomfortable for the first time ever.

‘Yes, can I help you?’

‘I was thinking I might be able to help you, miss.’

‘Really, and how exactly could you help me?’

‘Well, I was out walking and couldn’t help but notice the plumber’s van. Are you having trouble with your drains?’

‘I am.’

‘Well, I could sort it out today if you like, if the price is right. Cash in hand.’

Seamus was thinking how he could make a bit of money all to himself before coming back with the others to burgle the house later. Before she had chance to answer he put his foot into the open doorway and stepped forward, forcing Martha to move back. He took his chance and within two strides was inside the house. His eyes fell to the huge oak sideboard with the solid silver candlestick holders and antique blue and white vase, and he practically felt the wad of cash he was going to earn from this in his back pocket.

He had startled Martha, who now felt wary of him. She knew his sort and knew what he was up to because she could almost imagine the pound signs that were ringing in his ears, but she was so desperate that now she didn’t care. He could only rip her off if she allowed him to. He was on his own but she didn’t feel quite as bad about a con man coming to a sticky end as two reputable businessmen.

‘I can only pay you what I was quoted by the others and not a penny more. I have no bank card that you can force me to give you the numbers for and I haven’t left this house for ten years so don’t think you will be able to get me to come to the bank with you.’

Seamus grinned. ‘Fine by me, miss; I’m only after an honest day’s work and some cash for my back pocket. Do I look as if I would try and rip such a lovely lady off?’

Martha didn’t answer that, but she smiled.

‘Good. I’m glad we have an understanding.’

‘Well, come on in then and take a look. See if you can do anything about my drains.’

She led the way and he followed, eyeing up the oil paintings and antique grandfather clock, which was ticking away in the hall. When they reached the cellar door he looked it up and down but didn’t say anything. All the time she kept telling herself that it would be okay. Those other men had been down there and come back out. He slid the bolts across and leant in to reach the light-pull. He tugged it but nothing happened. He pulled it again and still there was no light.

Uneasy now, Martha felt her heart begin to race. The light had worked less than half an hour ago.

‘It doesn’t matter. You can’t go down there in the dark. Why don’t you come back tomorrow?’

‘What’s up with you? I’m not scared of the dark, you know. Have you not got a torch?’

Martha nodded and walked back to the sideboard where she opened the drawer and pulled out a big torch. He took it off her.

‘I’ll have your drains sorted in ten minutes. You see if I don’t.’

He went back to the cellar with Martha lagging behind. She watched as he ran down the steps into the blackness and prayed to God that, even though he was probably a crook and a thief, he would be safe. The memories from eighty-five years ago came rushing back as if it was yesterday. He was whistling away to himself until she heard him mutter, ‘Fuck me.’

‘Is everything okay?’

‘Apart from the smell it’s fine, miss; don’t you worry. I’ll get this sorted out for you in a jiffy.’

Martha couldn’t stand there any longer. Her legs were shaking so much she needed to sit down, so she went into the kitchen and filled the kettle up. She would make a pot of tea for them both. After what he’d done he deserved it and it might make her stop feeling as if the world was about to end. She could hear some banging and clattering then some muffled curses, which made her smile. Footsteps came running up and he came into the kitchen.

‘I found the drain and it looks like something big is jammed in the bottom of it. No idea what it is but I need something to poke it with. If I can dislodge it then it should move along the sewer pipes. Then I can chuck some buckets of water down to flush it out.’

It didn’t sound very technical but she didn’t care. As long as it worked and got rid of the smell she would be more than happy.

‘There’s a shed outside full of my father’s old tools. I’m sure you’ll find something in there.’

He nodded and went out of the back door to the shed, which she could see from the kitchen window. He came back in with an assortment of tools and smiled at her.

‘You know, you have a beautiful old house and garden, miss. Do you not get lonely living here all on your own?’

‘Thank you, I do. I get terribly lonely but it’s always been this way and it always will be until the day I die. I know what’s in the shed by the way, but if you manage to sort out my problem I will let you take whatever you want.’

He began to laugh. ‘Well now, that’s very kind of you.’

He went off to finish the job and she felt a lot better. Maybe, after all these years, whatever it was had moved on. After all, it had nothing to feed on so there wasn’t really any reason for it to be hanging around beneath her house. She went back to the shortbread she had begun to roll earlier.

Seamus walked back along the corridor and was surprised to see the cellar door was now shut when he knew he had left it wide open. Probably a draught – this was a big house and he’d gone outside. He pulled it open and pressed the button on the torch. Before he could move he heard some strange, tinny music coming from somewhere down in the dark. It reminded him of the old jack-in-the-box his dad had given to him when he was a kid. It had a scary clown that freaked the shit out of him every time he wound the little handle, never knowing when the fucker would pop up and make him scream. In the end, he’d given it back to his dad and told him that it gave him nightmares. His dad had laughed until he’d cried and called him a big girl but Seamus hadn’t cared. He hadn’t wanted it in his bedroom.

He was much older and wiser now and shrugged to himself. He must have knocked something over on his way out of the cellar. The quicker he got out of here, the quicker he could pocket the cash before his mates turned up. He made his way down the steps and got a whiff of something that smelt of rotting flesh, smoke and lake water.

Martha was clattering around in the kitchen. The kettle was boiling. She had just slid the tray of shortbread into the oven and slammed the door shut. After she’d poured the milk and set the teapot on the table to brew, she heard the noise and her heart missed a beat. She knew that sound. It was for ever etched into her memory. That jack-in-the-box had been Joe’s favourite toy and he had spent hours turning the handle and playing the music. She felt her legs begin to wobble. Either that man was messing around or something terrible had happened.

Forcing herself to move, she walked slowly towards the open cellar door. The first thing she noticed was that the smell had gone. He must have cleared the blockage and be rooting around in her belongings. She reached the top step, her fingers brushing against the ancient Cree Indian symbols her father had carved into the back of the cellar door a long time ago to protect them all from the monster that lived down there. He had promised her when they had been done that the thing could not come past them because they were full of ancient Indian power, and she had believed him wholeheartedly. She looked down to the bottom of the steps and saw the circle of light shining into the blackness from the torch, which was now on the floor.

‘Are you all finished? I’ve made you a cup of tea and if you’ve got a few minutes to spare there will be some fresh shortbread coming out of the oven to go with it.’

She was greeted by silence. Then something began to shuffle in the dark and she heard a high-pitched shriek of terror, but it sounded as if it came from somewhere underneath the ground miles away. Terrified, Martha stepped back and slammed the cellar door shut, sliding the bolts across as fast as her shaking hands would let her. She couldn’t do anything to help and she crossed herself, begging God for his forgiveness. Picking up the phone she did the only thing she could think of and rang the police.

Chapter Four

When Annie got into the station she passed the sergeant’s office and heard Inspector Cathy Hayes muttering on the phone to someone. She carried on to the small changing room and hung her jacket up, zipping herself into her body armour and taking hold of her belt. She walked through into the office and was surprised to see an older man sitting at Jake’s desk. Looking at his collar number she saw it began with a seven, which meant he was a special constable and, judging by the sheen of sweat on his brow and the way he kept tapping his foot, a very new one at that.