"Door," I said.
He leant forward. "What's that, darling?"
"I said 'hi'," I said. My voice was croaky. "What happened?"
"You got hit by a car, darling," he said, speaking gently. "They think you have concussion."
I shut my eyes, trying to process this. I could hear a gentle creak but I couldn't work out if it was in my head or in the room. I felt as if the entire surface of my skin was covered in bruises and here and there were sharper areas of pain; on my knees, my right elbow, the palms of my hands. I managed to free my arms from beneath the clamp of the hospital blankets and looked at my hands - they were skinned raw.
“Your poor hands," said Matt. "You must have fallen in front of a car. Don't you remember?"
"Sort of," I said, vaguely. "I think I was-" I stopped, remembering Jessica's white face. "I must have fallen over."
Matt looked doubtful. "You gave the driver a hell of a fright. They thought they'd killed you."
"Killed me," I repeated. "No, they didn't. They didn't kill me. I wasn't killed."
He looked at me strangely.
He took my hand, carefully. "You poor thing. Listen, I'm going to leave you to get some more rest now, but the doctors say you can probably come home tomorrow. You're very lucky, you know, Maudie. I can't believe you got off as lightly as you did."
He kissed me on the forehead and I tried not to wince.
"Oh, sorry," he said.
"The door's open," I said.
"What?" Matt looked at me sharply. "What was that?"
"I don't know," I said. I was mumbling, falling backwards into sleep. "Doesn't matter."
I closed my eyes again, shutting out the light.
When we got home, Matt wanted to carry me to the bed.
"I can walk," I said.
"Maudie, you're as white as a sheet," he said. "Just shut up and hold on for a moment, there's a good girl."
I put my arms around his neck. I felt dreadful, limp as a wet piece of paper. My head throbbed. "It's like we've just been married," I said, as he struggled over the threshold.
"Yes," he panted, lowering me to the bed. I couldn't sustain my smile any longer as my head touched the pillow. I felt so weak and awful, I began to cry.
"There, there," he said, pulling the duvet up around me. "Just rest. That's what you need."
"I know," I said, voice thick with tears. "I can't sleep while the door's open."
Matt gave me a strange look but he didn't say anything. He tucked the duvet under my chin and patted my shoulder.
"Just rest," he said. "I've got to pop out now to get some stuff; we've got no food in the house. I'll leave you to sleep. I'll be back later."
I heard the front door shut. Immediately, I pushed back the covers. Despite the pain in my head, I couldn't lie still any longer; I buzzed with adrenaline. I was terribly, horribly afraid.
I made my way to the door, hanging onto pieces of furniture to stop myself from falling. In the hallway, I gave up and went down onto my knees, crawling along the carpet. I reached the living room. I don't know where I was going, what I was trying to do; all I could do was try to get away, to crawl away from the fear. In my head, a door was opening and yellow light began to creep out, at first a narrow ribbon, a chink, widening to a strip that grew and grew and flooded my head with light. I could hear myself crying out. Stop it, stop it, crying out to an uncaring world, stop it, stop it... but it wouldn’t be stopped, it was too late. It was too late now, because the door was open.
It’s the door in the cottage in Cornwall. But it's not the front door with the abyss behind it, is it? It never has been. I creep along the hallway, I open that door and look out at the night beyond; the rolling black sky, the rustling, creeping countryside. And I close that door. It’s the door to the living room that stands half open, faint yellow light spilling into the hallway through the gap. I see the light as I creep back along the hallway. I hear the voices coming from the room; the voices of Angus and Jessica.
Why don’t I open it fully? Am I scared I will get into trouble for being up so late? Is it the tone of Angus's voice that scares me; the unctuous, pleading tone I'd never heard him use before? Is it the way Jessica's voice goes hard and angry, the beginning of a shout, a scream - and then nothing, a choking noise, gasps? I push the door just a little, just enough to see into the room. Enough to see Jessica and Angus. Enough to see his large hand over her face, his large hand on her small neck. Her puff of cornsilk hair shaking back and forth. The monster from the stones is here in this room, all bulging eyes and bared teeth. I watch from the doorway, watch as the black cloud flows over her. Her bare legs buckle. I can see the dirty soles of her feet as Angus lowers her to the floor.
I don't scream. I make no sound. I have to get away before I too am swallowed up, eaten by the monster with a taste for small blond girls. I am aware that my trousers are wet, wet with a warmth that rapidly cools. I am climbing the stairs, not daring to look behind me. I can hear sobs coming from the living room, a terrible, harsh tearing noise that goes on and on. I have never heard my father cry before. I am in my bedroom again, but I am not safe - while that door is open, I will never be safe. I hide my wet trousers and pants in a pile of dirty washing in the corner of my room and put my nightdress back on again. I can hear the monster moving about downstairs now, still sobbing. I pull the covers up over my head. The door is open but I can close it. If I close it, I will be safe. For a moment, it resists but I push it with all my might, inside my head. The strip of yellow light shrinks, narrows. One last effort and the light is gone. The abyss has closed. Blackness surrounds me and I surrender to it gratefully. I am safe now. I sleep.
Chapter Thirty One
I sat there on the floor, my legs stretched out in front of me, floppy as a rag doll. The light gradually faded from the sky and the room became darker; the air inside gradually thickening until I couldn’t see my hands lying limp in my lap. I wasn’t aware of much, really; just the gradual darkening of the room, the draining of the light, the quiet rasp of my breathing.
I became aware of a figure standing in the doorway.
“What’s going on?” said Matt.
The sound of his voice roused me. I managed to move my head up, wincing. For a moment, I thought I wouldn’t be able to speak, that my voice would have been lost completely.
“Why are you sitting here in the dark?”
I dropped my eyes to the floor again. “I don’t know,” I said. I cleared my throat. “I think it’s because I’ve gone mad. Again.”
Matt didn’t say anything. I listened to the swoop and hiss and thud of my blood, pulsing inside me. My temples felt as if they were shut in a vice that was slowly closing. “Mad,” I said, once more.
I was aware of Matt moving towards me. Dimly, I felt his hands under my armpits, pulling me up gently.
“Up you come, Maudie...”
I was on the sofa. There was a rustling at the side of the room and then a warm bloom of light. I recoiled, blinking. Matt had drawn the curtains more firmly and switched on one of the table lamps. He stood in front of me, looking down on me with a slight frown, looking very tall and dark in his tweed jacket.
“What’s going on?” he said.
I managed to look up at him. Strangely, I felt like laughing. There was no Jessica. There never had been. I should have known, I thought, I should have known. All the signs were there.
“I’ve gone mad,” I said, once more.
Matt sat down next to me, quite lightly, as if he were about to spring off the sofa at any moment. I scare him, I thought. He put his hands out to my shoulders and then drew them back.