The Mercer's House (Northern Gothic Book 1) (13 page)

She passed over the sketchbook and Will took it, while Zanna looked down at her plate in an attempt to hide her blazing cheeks. She had completely forgotten the drawing she’d done of him the other day, and had had no intention of showing it to anyone, as she had done it for her own private enjoyment. What must he be thinking? He knew full well that he hadn’t sat for her.

‘It’s good, but you look a bit grim,’ said Lou. ‘You should have told him to smile, Zanna. He can look more cheerful if pressed.’

He looked up, directly at Zanna.

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I probably had other things on my mind. It’s a good likeness, considering you don’t know me very well.’

‘Thanks,’ was all she could think of to reply.

Their main courses arrived then, much to Zanna’s relief, and the conversation moved on. Zanna concentrated very hard on not looking at Will until her embarrassment had died down, but he had gone silent and she wondered what was going through his mind. He probably thought she was stupid—and she was, for having forgotten to take the drawing out of the book before she came. She had had no idea that he would ever see it, and now she knew she would sit there for the rest of lunch feeling hot and awkward, like a gauche teenager.

The meal ended and they all prepared to leave. Zanna felt the need to splash some cool water on her face, and went to the bathroom. She was touching up her lip gloss when Janella emerged from a cubicle and began chattering as she washed her hands.

‘I gather you came here to look for Helen,’ she said. ‘Good luck with that. She might have gone anywhere. She was quite mad, you know.’

‘What do you mean?’ said Zanna in surprise.

‘Oh, it was perfectly obvious,’ said Janella casually, as she examined her face in the mirror. ‘Not that Alexander ever noticed it, naturally. I think she did her best to pull the wool over his eyes as far as that was concerned—and goodness knows, it’s easy enough to fool him. I’m quite certain he had no idea that
we
were heading for divorce until it actually happened, although it didn’t come as a surprise to anyone else. He never notices anything that’s less than about two hundred years old.’

‘But what do you mean, she was mad?’ said Zanna. ‘Do you mean mentally ill?’

‘Well, she was certainly odd,’ said Janella, putting her head on one side. ‘We weren’t close friends, for obvious reasons, but Alex and I remained on good terms after the divorce and met frequently because of Will, and I used to see Helen then. She was away in her own little world.’

‘Like Alexander?’

Janella gave a peal of laughter.

‘Oh, he is, isn’t he?
So
exasperating when one wants to conduct a sensible conversation. But no, Alex is sane enough, as far as that goes. But Helen was quite another kettle of fish. I never said anything, since one can hardly point out to one’s ex-husband that his current wife is mentally unstable—not without looking a little bitter and twisted, at any rate—but I did have my concerns. I kept a close eye on Will, certainly.’

‘Why? Did you think he was in danger from her?’

‘No, not really. At least, I don’t think so. But one never knows.’

‘Why didn’t he live with you after the divorce?’

‘He did, on and off. But to be perfectly truthful, darling, I’ve never been the maternal type. I love him dearly, and I did my best, but some of us aren’t exactly cut out to be parents. Alex wasn’t the best father either, to be fair. We mustn’t put
all
the blame on the mother.’

‘But Will gets along with you both now.’

‘That’s probably because Alex and I were both very well intentioned, despite everything. We muddled along as best we could. That’s all one can do in the end.’

‘Was Helen the maternal type?’

‘I think she was, or would have liked to be if she’d been capable. Will was terribly jealous for a long time after Rowan came along, you know. It can’t have been easy for him, being supplanted by a younger child. Helen tried her best, I think, but one’s inevitably going to love one’s natural child more than a stepchild, don’t you agree?’

‘I suppose so,’ said Zanna.

‘But I think he must have loved his stepbrother deep down, because he suffered terribly when Rowan and Helen went away. He had nightmares for years. We even sent him to a therapist for a while, but that did nothing for him and cost us a fortune. I do wonder what became of Rowan in the end,’ she went on. ‘He was a dear little boy, all golden hair and gurgling laughter—nothing like Will, who always had a tendency to brood, right from his earliest days.’

Zanna reflected on the insouciance with which Janella could talk of having left her son with a woman she suspected was mentally unstable, and of that same son’s own mental issues after his stepmother and stepbrother had disappeared, and wondered what Will would say if he heard it.

‘Then you don’t think Alexander suspected Helen had problems?’ she said.

‘Well, as I say, I can’t be certain that she
did
have problems. I didn’t get the chance to observe her closely enough. All I can tell you is that the first thing I thought when I met her was that she was batty. I do tend to make snap judgments like that, I’m afraid. Like with you. The first thing I thought when I saw
you
is that you were frightened of something.’

‘Frightened?’ said Zanna.

‘Yes. I don’t know what it is. We don’t fear
real
things these days, do we? I mean, it’s not as though we’re chased by bears or men with spears any more, so our fears tend towards the immaterial. We’re scared of social occasions, or rejection, or making a fool of ourselves in public. Or we’re frightened of our own darkest thoughts. One can find something to fear anywhere. I don’t know what it is in your case.’

Most of those things, Zanna wanted to reply, but didn’t. Janella’s remark had surprised her. She had never thought of herself as being fearful before, but now it became clear to her that that was exactly what she was. Or had been, she corrected herself. She was feeling so much better now, and the last few days here in Elsbury had been a sort of revelation to her. The change of scene, the new people—above all the focus on something other than her own selfish misery, had begun to sweep away the detritus which had been cluttering up her mind, slowing her down and holding her back for so long. She was not out of the woods yet, but it was all straight ahead from here, she hoped.

Interesting, though, what Janella had said about Helen. She was the first person to have mentioned the one big thing which had coloured Helen’s life for so many years and had made her what she was. No-one else seemed to have suspected it—apart from Alison Maudsley, perhaps—but was it possible that Helen had managed to hide it from her husband and his family for five years? Mad, Janella had called her. It was the same word Zanna’s father had used when he talked about Helen. Unstable. Unbalanced. Nobody used those words these days, but it all boiled down to the same thing in the end. But Helen had wanted to live a normal life, just like anybody else, and had accused her family of trying to prevent it, and so at last she had run away and cut off all contact. And it seemed she
had
lived a normal life—for a while, anyway. There had been no suggestion that she was unhappy up here in Elsbury, and yet after a few years she had run away again. Why? Had her demons finally caught up with her? Perhaps they would never find out.

9th May, 1989

I
CAN’T
tell anybody about this, I can’t. But, then, who am I to turn to? Suddenly I feel alone again, after all I’ve done to try and make a life for myself over the past few years. Who can I tell about Will? Or, rather, not-Will. Whoever or whatever it is. There’s more than one voice, now. Sometimes it’s the deep one, and sometimes now there’s a whispering, hissing one. It’s telling me to do things, but I can’t quite understand what.

I finally confronted Will the other day, and I’m still wondering whether it was the right thing to do. Funny how what used to look like ordinary childish temper now seems far more sinister. I told him to go and tidy his bedroom, and he gave me such a glare that I was quite taken aback. I could hear the crackling sound begin, which is always followed by the voice, and before I could stop myself I snapped at him and said I knew what he was doing, and that I’d be keeping an eye on him. I said I didn’t care whether he was possessed or not, but he’d better not try anything or I’d call the police. A totally ridiculous threat, of course, because what could the police do? But it seemed to work. He looked surprised, and the crackling stopped, and he went up to tidy his bedroom. My heart was racing, but I felt quite triumphant for a few hours. I haven’t won the war, though. I know that whatever’s lurking inside him is just biding its time, waiting to strike again. But I’ll be ready for it. Luckily Will’s gone back to his mother’s now, and I won’t have to see him for a week or two. That should give us a bit of peace and quiet for a while.

I said I have nobody, but that’s not quite true. Corbin is always here, and somehow I feel he’s on my side—for the moment, anyway. I can’t be sure whether I can trust him entirely, but he seems sympathetic. He came to watch me paint the other day. I was starting to feel frustrated as usual, and dissatisfied with what I was producing, and I was about to destroy it before I’d finished, but then he turned up and suddenly it started to go right again. He’s a calming presence, and it soothes me temporarily. He likes to watch me paint. I wonder what would have happened if I’d married Corbin instead of Alex? Would things have been better? Would Jonas have minded it quite so much? Such silly questions I ask myself. I love Alex and that’s why I married him. He’s the one with the magnetic personality that drew me to him, while Corbin is the quiet and reserved one. Corbin doesn’t say much, but I have the feeling he likes me more than he should. I pretend not to notice, but I can’t deny I’m flattered. After all those years stuck inside, away from real life, it’s nice to feel that there’s something of me left, and that I still have my looks, at least. It’s shallow of me, I know, but it’s one more point to support my conviction that I can be normal, that I can live an ordinary life just like anybody else.

Perhaps I’ll confide in Corbin one day. It’s a risk, though. The last time I said I could hear voices they locked me away for years, and I couldn’t bear to go through that again. How can I explain that these voices are different? They’re nothing like the ones I used to hear. It’s not the illness again. I only got ill before because people were hurting me. The cure was happiness—that’s what I kept telling them, although they wouldn’t believe me—and now I have Rowan I am happy, so it can’t be that again. No: these voices are real. There’s something terrible hiding in the Mercer’s House, and I don’t know what to do.

Now the thoughts are swirling round and round in my head again. I wish they’d stop. They make such a noise sometimes, when all I want is peace, and to be left alone. I’m so lucky I have Rowan to comfort me. He’s asleep now, or I’d go and hold him close. My head is aching and I want to lie down too.

I won’t tell anybody. I just can’t. I won’t let them take me away again.

W
ILL DROVE Zanna back to Elsbury, and they talked of the art market and general subjects all the way back. He seemed to have withdrawn into his cold persona again, and again she wondered what it was that prompted these sudden apparent changes of mood. As they got out of the car they saw Alexander Devereux emerging from the Mercer’s House with his dog. He beamed at them.

‘Did you have a nice lunch?’ he said.

‘Yes, thanks,’ said Zanna.

‘I hope Janella didn’t talk too much,’ he said. ‘Lovely woman, of course, but she can be a little overwhelming at times.’

‘Are you taking Tess out?’ said Will. ‘Do you want me to do it?’

‘Would you mind?’ said Alexander. ‘That would be splendid. I’m supposed to be waiting in for the delivery people, but she was chewing my books again, so I thought I’d better bring her out. She’s a bit of a feisty one, and gets bored easily if she’s stuck indoors,’ he explained to Zanna.