17: THE DORMITORY
Loren and Cally were in the bathroom, Loren brushing her teeth, anxious about the first day at the new school tomorrow, while her sister sat on the toilet nearby, pyjama leggings bunched round her ankles, squeezing out the last few drops of her pee. Cally hummed a tuneless song while she waited, her eyes roving around the stark black-and-white-tiled room.
A deep porcelain bath supported by ugly clawed metal feet took up much of the length of one wall and the octagonal-shaped sink on its sturdy pedestal was set against the wall opposite beneath a tall mirrored cabinet. The light from a pearled bowl centred in the high ceiling was too harsh and made the wall and diamond-patterned floor tiles look garish and cold, the reflection of Loren in the mirror unflattering. The window above the low toilet cistern was frosted and without curtaining; the door at the room's other end was painted black, its brass doorknob tarnished with wear, no key in the lock beneath it. Even more so than most of the other rooms in Crickley Hall, the bathroom was utilitarian and charmless.
Loren had decided, with no urging from her parents, to have an early night. Perhaps it was only because her sleep had been interrupted the previous night, but she felt very tired. She was anxious to be fresh and bright for the next day. She would read for a while as Mum or Dad read Cally a bedtime story (Gabe had fixed up a lamp on the small cabinet between Loren and Cally's beds) and when Cally drifted off as she always did before the story's end, she would try to sleep herself. Perhaps she wouldn't even bother to read; sometimes she liked to listen with Cally—even though her younger sister's stories were childish, there was something very comforting about them.
Loren was also frustrated that her cell phone wasn't working; the whole point of having it was so she could keep in touch with her friends back in London while she was away. She had tried for ages to send text messages, but when she switched on the Samsung the screen just said 'Limited service' and each time she persisted in tapping out a message with her thumb and pressing send, it said 'Message failed'. In fact, she couldn't even call her friends, because 'Limited service' always came up. When she'd complained to Dad he'd tried his own cell phone with the same result. He said it was probably because they were in the ravine—'gorge', she'd corrected him yet again—and most likely there were no masts nearby. Use the land line, he advised her, but she wanted to contact her friends in private and Crickley Hall's 'ancient' phone was in the hall where just everybody could overhear everything she said. It was very annoying.
Loren exhaled a yawn as she brushed.
Cally was sure the last drop had been forced out and so she slid off the cold toilet seat. She bent to pull up her pyjama bottoms.
Then both girls stopped what they were doing and looked up at the ceiling.
•
Downstairs in the kitchen, Gabe and Eve were sharing a bottle of Chablis while their two daughters were upstairs in the bathroom preparing for bed. Gabe leaned across the table and topped up Eve's glass with the white wine and she held up a hand in protest.
'You'll get me tipsy,' she complained but with a smile.
'No bad thing,' he replied, grinning back at her and continuing to pour.
Eve had lit four candles and placed them at strategic points around the room before turning off the overhead light, which exposed the room's plainness too much for her liking. One of the candles was between her and Gabe on the table, its glow bringing a soft lustre to Eve's eyes.
'We used to do this a lot,' Gabe remarked in a soft voice, then immediately regretted having said it. They used to do this a lot before their son went missing.
But Eve did not react, even if she realized the implication. She sipped the wine.
To move on, Gabe said, 'Not like Loren to go to bed early.'
'She seemed very tired.'
'Yeah, and a little antsy about her cell phone.'
'And your mobile too. Won't you need it?'
'I'll use the regular phone.'
'That old thing.'
'At least it's digital. I'm surprised it's not Bakerlite with letters as well as numbers.'
'It looks first-generation digital.'
'It's a man's phone.'
'Yes, completely out-of-date.'
'It'll do. Eve, you seem…' He hesitated, then came right out with it. 'You, uh, you seem more relaxed than of late. You know, I've been kinda worried about you.'
She lowered her gaze. Should she tell him what occurred this afternoon, the dream that wasn't quite a dream? Would he believe Cameron had reached out to her somehow, if only for a few seconds? She was quite sure in herself that it had happened for real, but would Gabe accept it? She had been half asleep, dozing, that was true, and the horrible man with rancid breath and the odd after-smell must have been some kind of waking nightmare, but the presence that could only have been Cam was genuine, she was sure. The undefined vision had come to her. No, she couldn't tell her husband, not yet. Not until she was truly sure that Cam was trying to contact her. Oh, she'd had sight of him before, but these had been in proper dreams, sleep fantasies that quickly faded when she woke. But this afternoon was different. There had always been a uniquely strong bond between her son and herself, and Gabe would never deny it. But would he believe that Cam was now trying to reach her through their psychic link? She doubted it. The idea was too off the wall for someone whose attitude to life had always been pragmatic. No, she would have to prove it to him. But first she had to prove it to herself. And there might just be a way of doing that.
Eve smiled inwardly: for the first time in nearly a year she felt hope, and it was a wonderful thing.
'Honey?'
She realized she had been distracted. 'Yes, Gabe?'
'You really do seem a little different today,' Gabe persisted, hunching forward over the tabletop and brushing her hand with his fingertips.
'Perhaps…' she began to say, but Chester, lying on his blanket by the kitchen door, suddenly shot to his feet and gave out a sharp yelp.
Surprised, they both turned to the dog as one. Chester's fur was bristling, his short tail erect, his teeth bared. Eyes wide and bright, he was staring at the open doorway to the hall.
'What's wrong, Chester?' Gabe pushed back from the table, the chair legs scuffing the linoleum. 'What is it, boy?'
Then both he and Eve heard it.
A faint scuffling noise coming through the doorway.
As if frozen—they had become wary of Crickley Hall's inexplicable noises by now—they listened.
The distant sound continued and Chester's yelps and barks relapsed to a whining. He cowered, his whole length close to the floor, front paws pushing himself against the door to the garden.
Gabe rose and went to the threshold of the hall. Eve followed.
Behind him, her hands resting on his shoulder, she tried to locate the source of the sound.
They both peered up at the hall's high ceiling.
•
Loren and Cally were standing outside the bathroom door, also looking upwards, Loren with her hands on the balustrade, Cally peeking through the rails. They were open-mouthed, their upturned faces pale.
Below, in the hall, Eve hissed into Gabe's ear, 'What is it?'
His gaze did not leave the ceiling. After a moment, he whispered back, 'Sounds like footsteps. Lots of 'em.'
•
They crowded round the door on the landing that led to the attic room—or rooms—the one place that neither Gabe nor Eve had yet visited.
'Is it locked?' Eve asked, for some reason speaking in a half-whisper.