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PAUL EDMUND NORMAN: DAYLIGHTS

The mist — what was it, and why was it here? She couldsee that it was not mist. She could make out shapes in it, and she thought she knew what those shapes were, remembering, half-remembering what Richard had told her. She shuddered. Something had occurred to trigger it off. Something had happened, something bad had happened in Sharringford, something Richard had not anticipated.

At last the Discovery came out of the mist and into the grey rain. Ahead of her, the Manor House loomed large and comforting. But now she was frightened. She wished she had told Mike Thompson what she knew, but he would only have laughed and sent her packing. In actual fact she wished she could have brought Thompson back with her to the Manor House. He made her feel safe. And there was something else about him. She parked the Discovery and went into the house. A telephone call would satisfy her curiosity, assuage her nervousness.

She picked up the handset and pushed the buttons gently, dialling a Norwich number.

Nothing.        

She frowned. The lead was secure into the wall. Yet there was no dialling tone. Something she normally never checked for, just picked up the handset and punched the buttons. But now she did check, and there was no dialling tone. There was a mobile phone in the car. She ran back out to fetch it, pulling up the arial and pushing the buttons. For a moment it sounded right, a ringing tone, but abruptly it went quite dead. Tossing the phone onto the seat she picked up a pair of binoculars and started a panoramic sweep of the village. The Manor House was the highest point of the village. As far as she could see, there was the mist. To the north, she knew, the fields and the roads were under water, as was the section of road she had just come in on. No way out, then. It had started. But who had started it?

There was no doubt about it. Someone had called up the mist. Someone had interfered with the telephone lines. Someone in the village had the power to do that, and it could only be one person. Joanna Robertson. Somehow she had got wind of what was going to happen to her, and she had got in first. Called up the mist to protect herself. Alison knew she thought she was capable of doing that. Whether she could or not was a different matter. Something had caused it, and it was no ordinary mist.

In Richard's study, the study he had never occupied, because he had died before the move, she started up the computer and began to read his files. There was a file on every person in the village, he was that thorough. There was even a file on Danny Robertson, the son.

Time to read about them. Read about them all. If it was going to happen today, she needed to be prepared. For anything. She knew some of what she had to do, they had gone over it very carefully. She switched on the modem and started to send the files down the line to the only other computer in the village. A momentary panic caused her to look up, wide-eyed, as she realised that the telephone lines were apparently not working, but the transfer was going through all right, and after a short while there was confirmation that the files had reached their destination. Her theory was correct, then. There was no possibility of contacting anyone outside the village, but within the village — anything was still possible.

-          -Twenty -

            As Joanna walked up the drive she saw that Frank was standing in the doorway. He was still there. He had stayed. Well, he couldn't leave now, could he? Now that she had made her plans, started things in motion. She smiled to herself. It was transparently obvious that he did not recognise her, thought he could take control of the situation. He would start to throw his weight around, show her who was boss. She was only a woman, after all! Maybe it would be necessary for her to play along with it for the time being, while things started to take shape. At least until the others turned up in the evening.

It was inconceivable that she had allowed him to do what he had done to her. Just a few years earlier she would have had the power to make him stop. Before Danny came along, she could have kept him where she wanted him just like that. She was out of practice, that was all. The group had met four times in the last three years, and on each occasion all they had done was to say some invocation to get one of the members a new partner or a beneficial hearing from the bank manager. Stupid, simple parlour tricks that involved little more than hypnosis and propitious times. Nothing serious. Nothing to change the course of history. These rural Satanists were really not up to much. Nevertheless, she believed in herself, believed that she had real power, real power — the mist had worked, hadn't it? If she had not caused the change in the mist, who, or what, had?

            'Any luck?'

            'No, I went as far as the shops, but the lines are dead, all dead.' She took off the raincoat and hung it on the hook below the mirror in the hall. The rain dripped off it onto the carpet. She glanced at herself in the mirror and ran her tongue over her lips, moistening them. 

            'I've made some coffee. Come on. After I'll run you over to your friend's place if you like.'

            She followed him into the kitchen and took the mug of coffee with both hands, looking directly at him.

            'Why are you doing this?'

                 'What?' He frowned.

            'You force your way into my house, then me, you eat my food, you're drinking my coffee, now you want to help me. Hardly consistent, is it?'

            Frank sat forward.

            'I want to make amends.' He was lying through his teeth. He was simply awaiting the opportunity to get the upper hand. He would drive her out of the village, rape her again, given half the chance, then probably kill her. Only this time he wouldn't get the chance. She was in control. And didn't she just love being in control?

            'Why?' she persisted. 'You must have some motive.'

            'You have a husband, I suppose?'

            'Yes.'

            'You didn't mention him. Just this other guy. What was his name? Jack?'

She nodded, lifted the coffee cup to her lips and drank.

'And does he treat you good? Your husband? Or is that where Jack comes into the picture?'

            'I don't know what you mean!'

She felt her colour heighten, knowing that he would take this answer for a 'no'. He moved away from the worktop, aware of her eyes following him all the while. She knew how attractive she was to him, and that he didn't really want to leave without having her again, whether she agreed to it or not. He looked out of the window. She could read his mind, almost. The old way was the best way, for him, she could see. He wouldn't change. Not now. Take what you want, by force.

            'I thought not,' he said. 'Otherwise you wouldn't be worrying about some other fella who was supposed to show up as soon as hubby was out of the way. I know I raped you. Maybe I should have introduced myself first. Doing things by force is my way. That doesn’t lessen my enjoyment of it any. And I’ve had a mighty hard smack on the back of my head for my sins. Now I don’t know if that makes us equal or not. All I know is I like you and if taking you out to your fella’s place puts me in good with you, then let’s go.’

            ‘At least you’re honest.’

            ‘You want to go, then?’

            ‘I don’t think he’s ill. He was all right when we spoke earlier.’

            ‘Was he driving?’

            ‘Yes.’

                 ‘Maybe it broke down. Ran out of gas.’

            ‘He would have walked or come by bus.’  And so it went on. Everything he suggested she countered with a reason why it could not be. She did not want Jack to come. Not today. Jack had blown it. Things could never be the same between them. If he came now, it would only complicate matters. For what she had to do, she needed to be alone with him. With Frank. With Frank Hartford. And the others.

                 Joanna got up to take her mug to the sink. As she passed him he caught her hand and pulled her against him.

                 Neither spoke.

            They just looked.

            Then he kissed her.

                 Gently.

            Silently they went back to the bedroom and undressed. They made love.

            It was long and slow.

            And good.

It was the way she wanted it to happen, this time. Now she was totally in control.

            For Frank it was a new experience.

Outside, in the yard, by Frank’s car, more birds were arriving. Seven starlings, three sparrows, a blackbird and a thrush. They dropped from the sky and died as they landed on the gravel drive.  

 

 


 


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