No Heaven, No Hell Read online

  In the low light from the bedside lamp they made an eerie sight. ‘Oh, Mother! Mother! Why did you do it? Why did you do it?’ All these years later she still had not discovered the reason. It haunted her. Her mother haunted her. The faces that stared up at her now, normal faces, smiling, happy faces. They haunted her too. And one face in particular, a handsome face with green eyes and brown hair, and a full laughing mouth which she had often kissed. That was the face that tore at her heart more than any other. That was the one that gave her sleepless nights and burned her up with guilt. And love. Oh, so much love.

  Tenderly she traced the contours of his face. ‘Why did she do it?’ The murmur was heartfelt. ‘How could she do such a frightening thing? And you! Oh, I loved you so. I love you still.’ She bent her head to kiss the mouth, her features filled with the most wonderful emotion. ‘Jack’s made a fine figure of a man,’ she told the face. ‘He’s built up a thriving business too. You should be proud of him.’ Her smile deepened. ‘Like father, like son.’

  She gingerly perused the articles. Occasionally, when she could hardly bear what she read, she covered her mouth with the flat of her hand, as though stifling the cries that threatened.

  When she could no longer go on, she opened the valise. Taking up the first article, she gazed at it a moment longer, her heart tightening with hatred for herself. ‘One day I must let Maureen burn you,’ she hissed. ‘One day we will all burn… in hell. Like my mother.’

  She opened the corners of her mind to let the images emerge; awful, horrifying images that would stay with her for all time. Something else too. Something so terrible that at times she thought she would go mad. ‘Leave me be,’ she murmured. ‘Why won’t you leave me be?’

  Emotions rushed through her, leaving her breathless. Closing her eyes she thought of her mother. She thought of the broken bloody bodies, of many eyes, empty, marbled with terror and disbelief. She saw the look on her mother’s white face, a wild, frightened look. Like the look of a cornered animal. She thought of all this and, like so many times before, it was too much to bear. She loved her mother still. Nothing would ever change that.

  Repulsed by the cuttings, she began to replace them one by one, in order as always. The first victim. Using only the tips of her fingers she plucked the offending article from the bed and slid it towards the valise. It was only half inside when she heard the softest sound, somewhere at the far end of the room.

  Jerking her head in a sparrow-like movement, she softly called out, ‘Maureen? Is that you?’ Knowing what she did, having only just pushed the terrible images away, she wondered… feared. Her voice shook. ‘Who is it? Answer me!’

  From the gloom, the figure half-emerged, tall and stately, with a certain grace and a face that spoke of madness. ‘Hello, Katherine,’ it whispered, ‘I’ve come to talk with you.’

  The effect on the old lady was devastating. Inarticulate with fear, she rolled her eyes downwards, to the cutting that echoed the face before her now; a proud face, darkly beautiful, with eyes like midnight. Shaking through every limb she slowly raised her gaze, trying desperately to see into the shadows but unable to move a single muscle. Her breathing was laboured, her face agonised. ‘Mother. Is it you?’ In the harshest whisper she asked again, ‘Why did you do it?’

  There was a rush of laughter, soft and wicked. The shadows came alive, lunging, pinning her to the bed, long strong fingers holding her down.

  As the light faded and blackness threatened to overwhelm, Katherine realised. In her terrified mind she believed her mother had come for her.

  In the adjoining room, Maureen’s slumbers were plagued by dreams. Fretting over the harsh words she and Katherine had exchanged earlier, she turned and rolled, and it wasn’t long before she was wide awake, sitting up in bed, wondering what it was that woke her. ‘Who’s there?’

  As she strained to listen, the sound came again, like the patter of scurrying feet. ‘Lord love us, there’s mice in the room!’

  Indignant, she swung her legs out of bed. ‘Country hotel indeed! No bar. No central heating. And now we’ve got vermin. Well, you’ve come to the wrong house, me little friend, because I’ll have yer head off yer shoulders sure I will!’ Taking her slipper by the toe she held the heel like a weapon.

  Following the sound to the door, she almost jumped out of her skin when the door flew open and Katherine crumpled at her feet. ‘Jesus Mary and Joseph!’ Dropping the slipper she fell to her knees. Cradling Katherine in her arms, she was convinced the old lady was beyond help. All the same she yelled and screamed, and it was only a moment before help came.

  Afraid to move her, Maureen covered the old lady with a blanket. While some merely stared and others fussed, she went discreetly to the old lady’s bed and picked up the valise. When she caught sight of the article hanging halfway out, she assumed the others were safely tucked away. Hastily she stuffed the offending paper inside. Then she locked the valise and slid it beneath the bed. Soon she would destroy it.

  A surprisingly short time later the doctor arrived. After a swift examination, he declared that Katherine had suffered a fit of sorts and would be removed to hospital immediately.

  To the astonishment of the doctors, Katherine survived for almost a week. For reasons known only to herself she found a new lease of strength. There were things she needed to do; confessions to make before she was called to account.

  Cyrus was contacted. Maureen told him only that his sister was very ill and he must come to England at once. She said nothing about having found Jack and his family. Nor did she contact Jack. Katherine was not long for this world and there was nothing he could do. She might have wished things could be different, but now there was nothing any of them could do.

  Cyrus was devastated. ‘I blame myself,’ he said, looking down on Katherine’s frail white face. It was so still, sleeping but not peacefully. There was a strained look about the face. The eyes twitched beneath the lids and the mouth moved as though it was speaking to someone. Cyrus swallowed his grief. ‘I should never have let her come here. The journey was too much for her.’ He turned to Maureen and was amazed by the composure in her homely features. ‘God forgive me, but I should have stopped her.’

  Maureen’s smile was enigmatic. ‘You could never have stopped her. Sure, none of us could. She has a will of iron, you know that.’

  Heavy with grief, they left her for a moment, to walk the grounds and talk of the one they loved, and how they would live without her.

  They did not speak of the horror etched into her face when she crumpled at Maureen’s feet. They did not discuss her purpose for coming to England; nor Jack; nor the newspaper cuttings. Nor did they speak of the atrocities that took place twenty years ago. There were secrets. Awful, dangerous secrets that must never be spoken aloud. These two knew. And Katherine. Katherine knew everything.

  While they walked the grounds, breathing the fresh air and coming to terms with another disaster in their tormented lives, there was another, a cruel young woman, who wondered only how she might benefit from her grandmother’s passing.

  ‘I’ll do the talking,’ Ginny ordered as she and her sister came to the desk.

  Lianne was frightened and it showed. ‘I don’t want to see her,’ she protested.

  ‘You’ll do as you’re told.’ The nurse at the desk was approaching. ‘Shh! Be quiet.’ Digging Lianne in the side, Ginny gave her a glance that warned of retribution if she was crossed.

  The nurse was pink faced and flustered. The morning had been one of the worst she could remember. Every ward was full to bursting; a number of nurses had fallen victim to a flu virus, and only ten minutes ago there had been a mass admittance after a serious traffic accident.

  True to her training she greeted the sisters with a wonderful smile. ‘Can I help you?’

  As instructed, Lianne kept silent. Ginny feigned sadness. ‘Our grandmother is ill. We’ve come to see her,’ she said.

  ‘What name?’

  ‘Mrs Katherine Louis.
’

  ‘I’m sorry. She already has visitors.’ In truth, with the old lady on her last legs she couldn’t see that it mattered, but the new consultant was a stickler for rules. ‘I’m afraid I can’t allow more than two at a time.’

  Ginny was insistent. ‘But she’s our grandmother. We have to see her.’

  The sister came forward. Calling at the desk for a batch of files, she couldn’t help overhearing. ‘Are we talking about Mrs Louis?’ she enquired. When the nurse nodded, she looked at Ginny, thinking how beautiful she was. Then she glanced at Lianne and saw something in her face, a kind of fear, that made her relent. ‘It’s all right, Nurse,’ she told the other woman. ‘Mrs Louis’ visitors have gone out for a breath of air.’ Giving Ginny a stern look she conceded, ‘All right. You can see your grandmother… but only for a few minutes.’

  Tired and irritated, though trying not to show it, the nurse led the way down the corridor. ‘She’s very ill,’ she said. ‘I think you should know she doesn’t recognise anyone.’ She recalled how the brother had cried because the old lady had opened her eyes and seemed to look right through him.

  The private rooms were situated in the west wing. After a smart walk along stark-white corridors, they came to a row of well-polished doors. Ushering them through the nearest one, the nurse reminded Ginny, ‘Just a few minutes, then I’ll be back to fetch you.’

  As she walked away, the corridor echoed to the sound of the nurse’s footsteps. ‘Please, Ginny. I don’t want to go in.’ Though Ginny had vehemently denied her intentions, Lianne feared she was lying. Like she always lied when it suited her.

  Without a word, Ginny grabbed her. ‘I want you with me. The old hag would expect the both of us.’

  ‘All right. But, if you harm her… I’ll tell.’ She clenched her teeth, more from fear than determination. ‘I mean it, Ginny. This time I really will tell.’

  Her words choked in her throat as Ginny locked her hands round it. ‘I couldn’t let you do that,’ she muttered.

  Tearing at the strong fingers, Lianne pleaded, ‘You’re hurting me.’

  Suddenly the fingers relaxed, and Ginny’s face was wreathed in a smile. While Lianne drew a long frantic breath, Ginny put her arm round her. ‘I don’t want to hurt you, sis,’ she softly lied. ‘You’re my best pal.’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’ Lianne had neither the strength nor courage to face her down.

  Ginny knew this and, as always, she played on it. ‘You know I love you more than anyone,’ she insisted. ‘You and me. That’s all that matters, isn’t it?’

  Lianne was won over. ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘It’s only right that we visit our grandmother together.’ That way Ginny would have Lianne on her side if questions were later asked.

  She cursed the fact that the old lady had somehow managed to survive. It only made things more difficult. However, because she had laid her plans well, she didn’t expect there to be any questions.

  In her deepest dreams, Katherine heard the voice. For one fleeting heartbeat it sounded like the voice of her mother: ‘We’ve come to see you,’ it said. Strange. When she heard the voice before, it had said, ‘I’ve come to talk with you.’ But it was the same.

  She heard her own voice answer. ‘Please don’t trick me, Mother. How can I be sure it’s you?’

  Ginny took hold of her hand. Leaning forward she bent her head to the old lady’s ear. ‘It isn’t your mother,’ she murmured. ‘It’s your grandchildren… Lianne and Ginny. We’ve come to see you.’

  Ever so slowly the eyes opened. When they stared into Ginny’s face they opened wider, unbelieving, astonished. ‘You! It was you all the time!’ Katherine knew then. She knew it was not her mother who had visited her before. It was the Devil.

  Ginny’s smile enveloped her. ‘Yes. It was me,’ she said. ‘I came to see you then. I’ve come to see you now.’ Her face was twisted with hatred.

  Katherine felt the life draining from her. In her mind’s eye she could see the newspaper cuttings just as she had seen them on the bed. It came to her then. She had had no time to put them away! In the smallest whisper, she accused, ‘You saw them, didn’t you?’ A tear fell from one of her eyes. ‘I never meant you to see them.’

  Ginny was merciless. ‘Yes, I saw them, and now I understand.’ Her smile was wicked. ‘I’m like her, aren’t I? Inside and out… I am the reincarnation of my great-grandmother.’

  Now Katherine’s hatred matched that of her granddaughter. ‘You may look like her, but you will never be the woman she was.’ Cursing her weakness, she demanded, ‘Why are you here?’

  ‘I heard you tell Father how you want him to have what’s rightfully his. That means you’ve made a will in his favour.’

  Katherine was tempted to reveal how she had not yet changed her will, and that it still left everything to her brother, Cyrus. And Maureen. Oh yes. Maureen must be repaid for her unswerving loyalty. That disturbing row the other night was already forgotten. It was merely a flicker in a long and mutual friendship.

  But this one. Jack’s daughter. She wanted her dead. Suddenly she was back there. In that house. With all those people. All those corpses. ‘Did your father send you? I know he wants me dead too.’

  ‘It’s very simple. You die, and leave everything to Father. He dies and leaves it all to Mother.’ Her wickedness was tenfold. ‘If Mother and Father have an “accident”, everything will come to me. Isn’t that so?’

  Lianne stayed by the door. Because Ginny was bending so low to the bed she could not hear what was being said. ‘Can we go now?’ She hated it here, in this room, with these two. The presence of evil was overwhelming.

  Ginny rounded on her. ‘Look in the corridor. See if it’s all clear.’

  ‘No!’ Taking a step towards the bed, she was unusually defiant. ‘I won’t let you hurt her.’

  Enraged, Ginny stumbled across the room. When Lianne barred her way, she thrust her aside. ‘Coward!’ she snarled. ‘You want her dead as much as I do.’

  ‘Don’t, Ginny. She’s just an old woman.’ The thought of being rich didn’t drive her as it did her sister. The thought of killing someone like Katherine for money was unthinkable.

  ‘Get out of my way!’ With an almighty swipe of her arm she sent Lianne flying across the room. As Lianne stumbled and fell, only the bed came between her and the array of instruments that kept the old lady alive.

  Dazed and humiliated, Lianne glanced at the old lady. ‘I won’t let her hurt you,’ she promised.

  Knowing that her time had come, Katherine wanted to wipe the slate clean, to confess the things she knew, but she was afraid. Even now, with her soul in jeopardy, she shirked the truth. ‘Your sister is right,’ she began. ‘She is the reincarnation of your great-grandmother. The same magnificent dark eyes and wild beauty. She’s right, too, when she says she’s inherited the evil. But she’s not the same. She could never be the same woman as my mother.’

  Lianne’s tears fell on to the old woman’s face. ‘She doesn’t mean to be wicked,’ she murmured.

  Katherine saw the love in Lianne’s pretty eyes and her heart went out to her. ‘You love her very much, don’t you?’

  ‘I have to.’

  ‘I do understand.’ Katherine knew all too well that when you loved someone, it didn’t matter if they were bad. ‘Sometimes, when they’re bad, you have to love them all the more.’ Grabbing Lianne’s wrist, she croaked, ‘Help me, child.’

  As Lianne ran for help, she heard what sounded like a door closing behind her. In flight she glanced round.

  All was quiet.

  6

  On the first day of March 1982, the family of the late Katherine Louis gathered in the coroner’s offices.

  It was market day in Leighton Buzzard. Outside, the sun was shining. The streets were packed. People went about their lives in a particular order, up one row of stalls and down the other. In and out of the many shops, always with a purpose.

  Inside the courthouse, the coro
ner’s rooms were cold, forbidding, with empty rows of seats and high ceilings that trapped every sound, every thought, coveting them, keeping their secrets. The long bench at the head of the room was littered with official documents. Nearer to the people’s benches was a wooden podium, decorated with a splendid crest and angled so that its occupant was clearly visible to both the people and the coroner.

  On the narrow hard benches outside the room, the family congregated. Wary and unsure, they each clung to their nearest and dearest, making two little groups, each separate, each wishing they were some place else: Jack and Liz with their daughters on one bench; Cyrus and Maureen on the other.

  Ginny sat slightly apart from everyone. Head high, eyes raised to the coroner’s door, she waited for it all to be over. ‘How much longer?’ she asked impatiently. Nudging Lianne she gave her a warning glance and lowered her voice. ‘Remember what I told you. One word from you about how she died, and you’ll live to regret it.’

  In a harsh whisper, Lianne retaliated, ‘I’ve a good mind to tell how you threatened her.’

  Jack glanced round, staring disapprovingly at the pair of them. ‘Ssh!’ His serious gaze went from them to his uncle and Maureen. They were painfully silent. Their features set like stone as they stared at the ground: Cyrus with his legs apart and arms folded, and Maureen with tears in her eyes as she stared at the ceiling. Not knowing what to say or how to pacify these people who were now little more than strangers, Jack vented his irritation on Lianne. ‘Remember where you are, and stop arguing!’

  Ginny smiled sweetly. ‘Sorry, Father.’

  While he turned his attention to Liz, Ginny resumed her exchange with her sister. ‘I shouldn’t have threatened you,’ she said. It infuriated her that Lianne was becoming immune to her threats. Moreover, she had been surprised and worried when Lianne took the death of her grandmother so badly.

  Realising she would be in deep trouble if there was the slightest suspicion the old lady’s death was anything more than an accident, Ginny promised herself she would have to treat Lianne with the utmost consideration. ‘I know you always wanted grandparents,’ she whispered, feigning affection. ‘Even when you were little, on Christmas Eve with our presents all lined up under the tree, you always used to say how it would be nice if Father Christmas could bring us a grandma and grandpa.’