Think Yourself Lucky (29 page)

The realisation seemed to let it take shape in the mirror, though not much. He was able to distinguish the hint of a looming figure crouched beside the bed, unless it was on all fours. Its head was lowered towards his. Although it had no face that David could see, he sensed that it was watching Stephanie as well as him. He felt its dead breath on his neck again before he heard a whisper that might have been the night wind finding words. "So here we all are. Aren't we sweet," it said.

The voice was so close that David could have fancied he was hearing it just inside his head. He was struggling not to shrink away from the unnatural presence at his back in case that roused Stephanie, which was one reason not to speak, but he had to answer. "What do you want?" he mouthed.

"What you think."

"You mean what I don't." David felt as though speaking was the only way to fend off dread, together with a kind of nightmarish mirth at the grotesqueness of the situation. "We can talk, then," he said barely loud enough to feel his lips move.

"So long as you keep me interested. That'll be an experience."

"We can't talk here."

"Why, I thought you wanted her to know all about us. Don't you even know what you want yourself? Maybe that's always been your problem."

If the breath on David's neck had grown colder still, he was afraid that meant the intruder was gaining more substance. Perhaps the deranged conversation was lending it to him. Were there the beginnings of a face within the silhouette in the mirror—the glint of eyes and teeth? All this brought David closer to panic. "I can't talk properly like this," he mouthed. "If you want to hear what I have to say you'll have to come with me."

The only response was a silent breath on his neck. He flexed his fingers cautiously and set about easing them from between Stephanie's. He was nowhere near freeing them when she clasped them more firmly. "Don't," she said.

He could have imagined she was warning him not to accompany the intruder. Her voice was disconcertingly clear, on the edge of wakefulness. "Go back to sleep," he murmured. "I shouldn't be gone long."

He squeezed her hand and let it go, and was inching to sit up when she turned on her back. "Where are you going?"

"Just for a walk. I can't sleep."

Her hand groped out from beneath the quilt and fumbled at the air. She was searching for the cord to switch on the light above the bed, and David was terrified that it would show her they weren't alone. If she saw Newless, what would have to happen? David reached for the cord, only to miss it in the dark. His mouth was parched with alarm by the time he captured the cord and swung it out of Stephanie's reach. "Leave the light off," he whispered. "You don't want to wake yourself up."

"I'm awake now, David. I'll come with you."

"Please don't." He was almost too panicked to come up with a reason. "I want to be alone," he said, "so I can think."

"I'll only lie here worrying about you if you go out."

"There's no need to worry. I'll only be in the park. Just close your eyes and maybe you'll sleep," David urged and risked glancing past her at the mirror. He appeared to block her view of anyone behind him, but how long would the figure remain in its crouch? In desperation he said "I'll take my phone and you can call me if you need to."

"I may do that if you're out long." While this might have been meant as an admonition, it sounded more like a plea. "Just remember," she said, "you don't have to be alone with your thoughts."

"I'll remember," David promised and swung his legs off the bed so hastily that he lurched towards the intruder. The idea of touching Newless made his innards clench with dread. His face almost collided with the insufficiently detailed head that had risen level with his, and then the figure dodged aside. "Don't keep me waiting," it breathed, "or I'll have to make my own amusement,"

As the last word reached David the intruder was no longer in the room. Was Newless demonstrating how swiftly he could be somewhere else? David dressed as fast as the dark would let him and tiptoed across the room. He was inching the door shut when Stephanie said "I'm still awake."

"Try not to be," David murmured and turned away from closing the bedroom door to feel a cold breath on his face in the darkness of the hall.

He had to welcome it, however violently he shivered, because it meant he was keeping Newless away from Stephanie, "Let me move," he muttered into the face he sensed only inches from his. "You heard where we're going."

He was reaching for the light-switch when he faltered. Suppose Stephanie hadn't stayed in bed? Surely his voice was too low to be heard through the door, but then he mightn't be able to hear if she moved. He made himself advance along the hall, where every pace felt like venturing into peril, not just because of the darkness that refused to give way to his eyes; he was aware of a figure in front of him, matching his progress at less than an arm's length. When he both heard and felt its whisper he was even more unnerved to realise that it was still facing him. "Keep talking, then," it said. "That's why I'm here."

"You want to talk as well, do you?" The prospect of establishing contact had begun to feel like risking his own mind, but David had no idea what else to do. "What about?" he demanded, not far from some kind of hysteria.

"I ought to thank you for the entertainment in there. It's what you do best, you should know."

David managed to find anger in the midst of his dread. "What is?"

"Not being honest. Can't you even be honest about that?"

David stumbled to a halt, having sensed that more than the intruder was standing still in front of him. "Are you going to open the door?"

"I'll let you see to that. I'm not your doorman."

"Then get out of my way or I can't."

At once David was afraid that Newless would take him at his word and return to the bedroom. He had to be reassured by feeling a frigid breath on his cheek as he ventured forward to grope for the latch. He'd scarcely twisted it and begun to pull the door inwards when a shape darted out through the gap. While the figure was his own height, the gap wasn't even as wide as his little finger. He had to make himself open the door all the way and step onto the landing, which was deserted. "Where are you?" he said and was dismayed to hear a plea in his voice.

"Right by you. Where else would you want me?"

The answer seemed to engage his senses, so that he felt a breath as cold as malice and was able to distinguish a form at the edge of his vision, though it was almost too thin to glimpse. When he turned to confront it he thought for a nervous moment that it had gone in search of amusement elsewhere, and then it appeared to regain such of a shape as it had. He could make out no more than the suggestion of a presence, so insubstantial that it put him in mind of a childish sketch of bones. Or was it more like an elongated foetus? By the time this impression caught up with him he was already protesting "Don't you want to be seen?"

"Maybe you'd better remember what happens to people who get more of a look."

The voice had risen above a whisper, but David wasn't sure how closely it resembled his. "What about people who hear you?" he had to ask.

"Those as well."

If this was a threat, David couldn't allow it to deter him. As he made for the stairs he said "I'm giving you the chance to speak up for yourself."

He was halfway down the sleeping house before he heard the voice beside him. "Dishonest as ever."

Did Newless know all David's thoughts or only those he'd acted out? Even those were caricatures, David told himself, and surely that should mean Newless wasn't so closely in touch with him. "You must want to talk to me," he said, "or you wouldn't be here."

"Keep thinking that."

David couldn't tell if this was a response to what he'd said or what he'd left unspoken. He hurried downstairs, hearing his own footsteps and a similar but thinner sound if not just an impression of one. As he reached the outer door he was aware of restlessness beside him, impatience so intolerant of delay it felt worse than childish. "You go first," he felt grotesque for saying as he opened the door.

A solitary car passed along the main road, and once the lingering whisper of wheels trailed away the night was silent enough to have frozen the wind. Beyond a line of mansions split into smaller dwellings a police station showed lit windows but no other sign of life. For a wild moment David imagined taking Newless in there to accuse him. What would the police see except a madman? "Come in the park," he said.

The trees beside the paths were so still that he could have fancied they were inverted, rooted in the soil of the thick sky. Alongside the park a mass of unlit buildings that had been erected as an orphanage was now a disused hospital. David was trying not to be distracted by thoughts of uninvited birth or of a child without a family when the vague shape beside him snickered, a pinched vicious sound. "You must have been anxious to see me," Newless said, "to use that bait,"

"Which bait? I don't know what you mean."

"Your bedmate. Staidfanny." With a titter involving no audible mirth Newless said "The hole you try and stop up."

"Don't call her that," David said, only to feel he should have been quicker to protest "I didn't use her as bait at all."

"What else do you think you were doing, showing her me? Did you honestly believe it would get rid of me somehow?"

They were in the park by now. The face leaned close enough to David in the gloom beneath the trees to add to the chill on his skin. When he twisted his head towards it the face stayed out of plain sight, though there didn't appear to be much of it in any case. "Maybe I did," he said and felt pathetically timid. "All right, I did."

"Then you failed, because I'm here. And Staidfanny didn't help."

The branches entangled with the darkness overhead put David in mind of the state of his thoughts, and he could only retort "I told you not to call her that,"

"You must tell me how you think you're going to stop me."

"Can't you hear how infantile you sound?" Having said this, David found no reason not to add "Try acting like an older brother."

"Maybe you should hear how you sound yourself," Newless said and sniggered. "I'm no brother to anyone."

The darkness seemed to be lending him more substance—letting him own up to more of himself. "What do you imagine you are, then?" David said.

"Don't you think I'm what you think?"

"That's just words." David felt too close to madness for saying "Tell me about yourself."

"What would you like to hear?"

A face loomed at the edge of his vision, and he tried to believe that only the night made it look so imperfectly formed. With what he took for inspiration he said "Where are you when you aren't on the blog?"

"Waiting to be entertained. Where else am I going to be?" Too immediately for David to answer that, Newless said "Let's go back to the question you asked me to begin with. What do you want?"

"You to stop doing what you do."

"You wouldn't deny me my fun." With a laugh that left any amusement behind Newless said "Mustn't deny yourself either."

"I can do without it. I don't want any part of it."

"You think that's what I meant, do you?" When David didn't speak Newless said "Let's see if we can get to the truth. I asked you once how you're going to stop me."

They were in the depths of the park, where the lamps on the distant perimeter road only made the path less visible. Through the trees to the left, dim inversions of the lamps dangled in a lake. Each time David passed one of the remote lights it seemed to flicker as if his companion had drawn on its energy, which must mean Newless was blotting out the light—was gathering more substance. It made David yet more desperate to find some way to take control. "It depends what you are," he said.

"What you think."

"You already said that. Maybe you aren't so good with words after all."

What could he achieve by antagonising Newless? Perhaps at least it would hold the creature's interest—would keep him there while David tried to grasp how to deal with him. "Don't say you're jealous," Newless said.

David did his best to laugh, though it sounded too reminiscent of Newless. "Why on earth would I be?"

"Because you can't be me however much you'd love it."

"And what would I be if I were?"

"Can't you even admit that? I'm everything I say and everything I do."

"So am I," David retorted and tried another laugh. "In fact, so's everyone."

"And what a poor show you all are." Newless might have been imitating David's attempt at mirth. "You most of all," he said. "You aren't half of what's in you, and you know why, don't you? Because you had me as an excuse."

"So tell me what you think I'm capable of."

Another light beyond the lake went out as the face leaned closer, and David glimpsed teeth bared in a mocking grin. "You can't even be honest about what you want to know," Newless told him.

"Then you'll have to tell me what it is."

"You're really hoping I'll be stupid enough to give you some tips on how to finish me off. Anyone who didn't know you might think you've no idea how to do away with people you don't like."

"I'd better learn from you, had I?"

"If you've got it in you, you could do worse."

David felt as if he was playing deranged word games with himself and losing his way in a maze of language. "Why don't you try being honest for a change," he said. "You don't think I can destroy you, do you?"

"I know you can't. Go on, tell me how you can."

It wasn't just a maze, it was a hall of mirrors made of words, and David heard himself say "Tell me why you think I can't."

"Because you already failed. Mind you, it was a pretty feeble attempt. I'd like to see you try it properly."

David did his best not to hope too soon. "Try what?"

"What else is it going to be except telling all the truth? Saying what you really think in front of everyone. You gave it a go tonight but you missed the point. Or more likely you didn't want to see it, knowing you."