What She Saw (37 page)

‘Hurry up, Mr Rosen.'

On a wall board, outside the hall, was a display called Family. He glanced at the pictures, his eyes drawn to a central image of a plump, kindly looking old lady with silver hair and round-rimmed glasses.
My grandmother by Macy Conner
. He drank in the image with his eyes and the caption:
She smells sweet, like cinnamon
.

He bound the gauze around his head, positioning the narrow slit he had managed to make close to his eyes. It was as if they were almost but not completely closed.

‘Ready?'

‘Ready,' replied Rosen.

‘Walk in five paces.'

He walked the five paces, precisely and with caution, fearing a fall from the petrol splashes he detected beneath his feet. He could make out the wall bars.

‘Turn ninety degrees clockwise.'

Slowly, he followed the instruction, catching the form of Luke tied
to a chair. The lack of any noise from the child filled him with rising dread.

She was standing to his right. Chester, in the space between Macy and Luke, was motionless, like a living statue.

‘Walk forward five steps.'

Five steps later, she was still several steps away from him.

‘Can you still hear my voice, Mr Rosen?'

‘Yes, I can hear your voice.'

‘Is that a phone in your pocket at the front of your jacket?'

‘Yes, it is a phone at the front of my jacket.'

‘Is it turned on?' Macy sounded anxious and angry.

‘No.'

‘Take the phone out of your pocket and throw it to the sound of my voice.'

His heartbeat increased. Taking the phone from his pocket, he turned it off and, tossing it towards Macy's voice, threw away his only thread to the outside world.

95

9.45 P.M.

A
s their link to Rosen died, Bellwood and Corrigan paused at the skylight. The fire on the roof was extinguished and, below, Alec Finn's body had been removed by paramedics.

‘Damn! Damn it to hell!' whispered Bellwood fiercely. She put her fire extinguisher down. Gold and Feldman arrived, each with an extinguisher, which they too abandoned.

‘The little bitch has taken his phone,' said Gold, quietly. ‘That's the end of that plan then.'

‘No, it's not,' said Bellwood, picking up her extinguisher again. ‘We'll go ahead with it – we just won't have the benefit of sound. We'll take the fire extinguishers down the stairs and wait. We'll improvise. If she starts a fire, Corrigan goes to assist Luke, I go for Chester, Gold, you go to the boss and Feldman to Macy.' She sensed a frisson of resistance to this and waited for someone to say,
Maybe we should just leave her, put her out of her misery
, but no one said a word.

She scanned their faces. They were all good men and their faces were wracked with the same stress and tension that was eating her. Bellwood thought,
In this situation, what would Rosen say?

‘There are four people in there alive at the moment, and our operational objective is to bring four people out alive. Hopefully,
uninjured. And if injured. . . with those injuries minimized by us because we were quick and we're good at our jobs. And tomorrow, we'll know we took personal risks to save others. We were fair.'

Gold picked up an extinguisher. ‘I'm with you, Carol!'

She pointed at the skylight. ‘Quietly! Let's go!'

96

9.46 P.M.

‘
I
've been waiting for you to come back to be with me, so I didn't die alone. I'm going to tell you what is happening because you cannot see, Mr Rosen.'

Rosen stayed motionless, the perfect stillness of the blind. Only his eyes moved. The hall was divided into two halves down the middle, the halves separated by a liquid line. The space reeked of petrol. Behind the line, Macy held a metal can in her hand.

‘I'm preparing the human sacrifice.'

She poured a slow stream of petrol on her head and body.

Liquid dripped from Chester, formed a pool at his feet. Luke, tied to a chair, had his head slumped, eyes closed.

She tossed the can across the line in Rosen's direction.

‘What do you think about that, Mr Rosen?'

The can bounced from his feet, lines of petrol lacing his clothes.

‘I said, what do you think about that?'

‘I'm sorry about your grandma.'

‘Grandma?
You
couldn't see
her
.'

‘Oh, yes,
I
could see
her
,' said Rosen.

‘When I went to hospital, she was there, so were you, but you couldn't see her.'

‘She has long white hair and a pair of glasses, round-rimmed glasses, and behind the glasses, kind, blue eyes. . .' Rosen said.

‘And?'

‘She wears a long white gown, a dress maybe, maybe a nightdress because she's been ill in bed since she came to live with you in the summer. But you've been good to her, an angel. I'm touching her hand. It is warm and I can feel the bones and the veins and she smiles at me. She tells me she loves you to read to her and that's why she gave you a letter to take to Tim, the kind man in the library, so that you can take books out of the library for Grandma.'

‘She's dead. She died last night.'

‘Last night, I went to visit her.'

‘You didn't.'

‘You were in Chelsea's, minding Luke.'

‘She's dead.'

‘She told me she loves you.'

‘She's dead.'

‘She loves you with all her heart.'

‘Love is dead.'

‘She told me to ask you to come to me.'

‘She's dead.'

It was as if the ugly truth was dawning on her. Rosen stretched his arms in her direction.

‘Come to me, come to me. . .' urged Rosen.

‘I need to bring her back.' She shut her eyes, deep in concentration. ‘How?'

Rosen took a step forward.

‘How? Come on, come to me, I'll show you how.'

‘How, I know how. But I can't remember.' She touched her own head. ‘It's here, right in here but I'm blocking it out. . .' Tears of frustration rolled down her face. ‘Grandma, how do I get you back?' she screamed. ‘Grandma? How?'

Rosen's ears rang and his whole being was pierced by the agony in her voice.

He stepped forward, could feel himself shaking.

She looked at Rosen.

‘Grandma?' Macy howled and howled.

The sound of her name seemed to remain in the air long after the tormented scream ended.

Silence.

Rosen took a step closer.

‘Stop!' She held a hand out, rattled the matches. ‘I know how. It's come back to me. Sacrifice. Then she'll return and I'll return and we'll be together, nothing in between us, just us, together. No more Ash. No more Oak. Just me and her. On Beltaine Night, the night of the Beltaine Fires.'

Rosen flicked a glance at Chester. His breathing pattern was shifting, each breath coming faster than the last, and then he made a noise that sounded like a sleeper's helpless cry from the depths of a nightmare.

She shook the box of matches.

‘Sacrifice, that's how.'

‘Sacrifice, that's not how. When I saw your grandma last night, she told me to tell you.'

‘What did she tell you?'

‘To tell you it wasn't your fault what happened to the Rainer sisters.'

‘But their dad said—'

‘Do you believe
him
?'

‘—it was. . . me that set the fire. . .'

‘Or do you believe your grandma?'

‘But everybody said it was me.'

‘Everybody except your grandma. And me. I've passed on the message now, from your grandma. And another thing, she asked me to take care of you.'

‘She did?'

‘Yes, Macy, she did, and she smelled of cinnamon. Sweet and lovely Grandma asked me to take care of you.' He stepped forward and her hand stayed down. Another step towards the petroleum line and she stayed perfectly still. ‘And that's exactly what I'm going to do. I'm going to do as I was told by your grandma and she told me to take care of you. You're not going back to the flat, you're not going back to your mother. . .'

‘Where. . .?'

‘Go on, Macy, where. . .?' prompted Rosen.

‘Where am I going?'

Luke lifted his head, the gag fell from his mouth as he opened his eyes and after a moment of perfect stillness and silence, the little boy cried, a sudden cry that built to screaming pitch.

Chester threw his arms out. The boy was in the early stages of an epileptic fit.

Macy looked at the source of the sound. Chester collapsed and flailed his limbs on the floor.

The noise and action acted as a trigger.

‘Where am I going?' she screamed.

‘You're coming with me.'

‘I'm going mad!'

‘Come with me.'

‘Fucking maaaad, that's where I'm going!'

She pushed the box and lid apart.

‘And Death has said
Now
and I have said
Yes
!'

On the floor, Chester slammed his arms closer and closer to the chair on which Luke was tied, his mouth jabbering. Luke shrieked.

She took out a match. Her eyes skimmed from the tip to the side of the box.

Chester's right arm connected with the metal leg of Luke's chair.

Luke's chair turned over and skidded across the floor. He screamed at top volume.

She covered her ears and screamed, ‘Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! Go away, all of you, go away, leave me alone!'

Rosen took two steps forward.

‘Go away!'

Luke's head was in the petroleum line. Chester lay directly in the same line, kicking and grabbing thin air. Rosen ripped the gauze from his eyes.
Go for Macy?

She placed the tip of the match against the emery.
Human inferno
. . .

‘Grandma, I am coming with you. Death. Now. Yes.'
Him and her first
. . .

The rasp of the match on the rough paper. No strike.

Get them out!
He threw himself at Luke and Chester, slipped and fell.
Get them out, away, fast!

‘Fire! Fire! Fire! Fire!'

On his knees, Rosen grabbed hold of Luke's leg and dragged. His other hand reached out to Chester but he couldn't make the distance. He held the toddler to himself, turned the child's sobbing face into the bulk of his body.

‘Macy!' A voice drifted from the shadows at the back of the hall. Footsteps on broken glass. Macy froze, looked across the ocean that was the hall and Rosen followed her gaze.

Paul Conner stepped from the darkness, a gun in the hand of his outstretched arm.

‘Paul?' whispered Macy.

‘You want a sacrifice, a human sacrifice?' Paul looked directly at Macy.

Rosen reached out a hand to pull Luke further out of the direct line of petrol.

Paul pointed the gun at him. ‘Don't move, Rosen! You want a human sacrifice?' He walked slowly towards his sister.

She dragged the match roughly over the sandpaper. Still it failed to light.

‘You want a human sacrifice?'

She dropped the match and, hands shaking, took another from the box.

Paul turned the gun away from Rosen and pointed it at Macy.

She jabbed and jabbed at her temple and begged, ‘Right here! Right here!'

‘I've got one bullet left.' Paul pointed the gun at his own temple.

‘Paul? Take the matches off her, Paul!' said Rosen with a calmness that defied the fathomless depths of his terror.

‘It's got to stop!' she screamed. And then in a whisper, ‘It's got to stop.'

‘Do you know why I followed you here, Macy?' asked Paul. Within touching distance of her, he took the gun away from his head.

He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek, his gun and eyes now on Rosen.

‘I listened to you, Macy. I listened to those voices of yours. I listened to your plans. I knew you were coming here tonight, so I followed. Do you know why I followed you here?' The question sounded desperate and sad.

‘No,' said Macy.

He stooped and their eyes locked.

‘I followed you here because I love you.'

She was frozen.

The gun still on Rosen, he watched Paul's finger on the trigger. The air was thick with petrol fumes. If he pulled the trigger, the whole room would turn into a fire storm.

Paul Conner reached his free hand out and took the matches from his sister.

He threw them way out of her reach.

‘This is the last time I'll see you, Macy,' said Paul, his voice marbled with tenderness. ‘You don't remember the first time I saw you. I do.'

The harrowed cast of his face softened. ‘I was eight years old; you
were eight hours old. I came to the hospital to see you. I – I'd waited for you for months. You were in a cot. I looked at you and your eyes were shut and I thought you were asleep. I couldn't take my eyes off you because you were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. And then it happened. Slowly, slowly, your eyelids flickered and you opened your eyes. You opened your eyes and I fell in love. It was the first time that I'd known love. So, Macy, whatever happens to you, please believe me, and remember as long as you live, you were the only love I ever knew. You were the love of my life, my one reason for being. You were loved by me and you are my love.'

He kissed his fingertips and touched her face. He turned the gun away from Rosen. Slowly, he walked backwards, away from Macy.

‘Macy, we were born in Hell. None of this is your fault. Close your eyes and keep them closed.'

She closed her eyes and replied, ‘Yes, Paul, we were born in Hell. Paul? You were loved by me and you are my love. You do know that?'

‘I know and I'm happy about that.'

‘Can you take me with you, Paul?'

On the edge of the darkness, he paused. ‘Death has said?'