No Heaven, No Hell Page 23

  The door softly closed. The lock turned, and Lianne knew she was dismissed. ‘It’s no good you sulking,’ she murmured, entering her own room, ‘I haven’t forgotten what you did to those creatures. In the morning, we’ll see what Daddy has to say about it.’

  Jack had lain awake a long time. He heard the girls moving about downstairs, and he heard them come up to bed. It wasn’t unusual for them to be wandering about, and he rarely took them to task over it. At least they were talking to each other, and not at each other’s throats.

  Mumbling, Liz stirred and turned towards him. Her leg was soft and smooth against his thigh. Her hair tickled his armpit, making him smile.

  Kissing her gently on the forehead he whispered, ‘Go to sleep, sweetheart.’

  ‘You go to sleep, for goodness’ sake.’ She groaned from deep inside. ‘You’re keeping me awake with your fidgeting.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘So you should be.’

  Her leg slithered over his, waking a desire in him. He kissed her again, this time on the mouth. ‘Do you want to make love?’

  ‘I want to go to sleep,’ she said, irritated, slapping him with the flat of her hand on his chest.

  Bone-weary, he closed his eyes, praying for sleep, wishing he had mapped his life in a different way. He couldn’t rest. He couldn’t forget. And, because Liz had her leg across his, he couldn’t move without disturbing her again. His nose began to itch and he couldn’t scratch it. Liz was sleeping like a baby. He glanced at her in the half-light. She was lying on her side, mouth open, gently snoring, her nose twitching curiously with every snore. One of her eyebrows was dishevelled. With a tingling shock he realised how ugly it was. How jagged and hairy.

  Suddenly the situation seemed ludicrous. Laughter bubbled up inside. He squeezed his lips together and bit his tongue, trying desperately to control the giggles. Christ! He couldn’t believe it. Here he was, in the middle of some kind of nightmare, feeling like the world was about to fall down and crush him, and he was taken by a fit of the giggles. He couldn’t hold it any longer. It began like a small slim spiral in the pit of his stomach, then it grew and grew until he was giggling like someone demented.

  In a minute Liz was bolt upright in bed, glaring at him through red-rimmed eyes. ‘What the hell’s wrong with you?’

  Swinging himself out of bed, he put on his robe. ‘Go back to sleep.’ His fit of giggles was over, but his smile was devilishly handsome. ‘I’m going down to get a drink.’

  Rubbing her eyes she yawned noisily. ‘Must you?’

  Hopeful, he returned to bed and sat beside her. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any chance of me having my wicked way with you?’

  ‘No chance.’

  He nodded, seeming to accept she was not in the mood.

  ‘What time is it?’

  He peered at the bedside clock. ‘After two.’

  ‘What woke you?’

  ‘I haven’t been to sleep.’

  She stroked his face. ‘What’s wrong, Jack?’

  Lowering his gaze he toyed with the button on her nightgown. ‘Everything.’ He sounded beaten.

  ‘Your mother?’

  ‘Sort of.’ It wasn’t just Katherine. It was her reason for coming here, the way she was returning home. The past. Ginny. Cyrus. Maureen. Everything.

  ‘Why don’t you ring your uncle?’

  He sounded incredulous. ‘I can’t do that.’

  ‘Why not?’

  Suddenly he was lonely. Lonely for his childhood, for his mother, his grandmother. Missing America for the first time in years. Hating this house. Wishing he had never been born. Like a drowning man he could see his entire life going before him. ‘Help me, Liz,’ he murmured. ‘I feel like a rabbit down a hole with the dogs about to close in.’

  Liz didn’t know how to help. ‘They’re family, Jack,’ she insisted. ‘Hating won’t mend things.’ She tugged at his sleeve. ‘Ring him!’

  He shook his head.

  ‘Please. For all our sakes.’

  ‘I can’t, Liz. You don’t know what you’re asking.’ With that he went out of the room and down the stairs.

  When he returned five minutes later, carrying two glasses, Liz met him with a sheepish smile. ‘They’ve gone,’ she said. ‘I rang the hotel. The night clerk said your uncle checked out yesterday morning.’

  Relief tempered his anger. It was as though a great weight was lifted from him. ‘You shouldn’t have done that, Liz,’ he told her sternly, ‘but maybe we can get on with our lives now.’ Holding out one of the glasses, he said, ‘Brandy. Drink it down.’

  ‘I see.’ She took a sip and pulled a face. ‘Trying to knock me out, eh?’

  Placing his own glass on the bedside cabinet he took hers and put it alongside. ‘Now that we’re awake…’ His green eyes sparkled mischievously.

  Closing one eye, she peered at him through the other, a playful look on her pretty face. She didn’t speak. Instead she reached out her arm and switched off the light. For the next few minutes there was a little teasing, a little giggling, subdued cries of pleasure, and then silence. Contented. While they slept the sleep of the innocent.

  Ginny bided her time. She had it all planned. In fact she’d had it all planned ever since Katherine Louis looked up at her from the doorway. Still dressed in jeans and sweatshirt, she stood by the window. Outside the wind had gained momentum. For weeks now, Liz had been asking Jack to secure the loose television cable. Up until now he had not found the time, and so it was blown in every direction, clattering against Ginny’s window like a great fist wanting to be let in.

  ‘Soon,’ she kept murmuring, ‘soon.’ Her avaricious eyes swept the sky. The eyes and the sky looked the same: a beautiful vast stretch of dark velvet, interspersed with scintillating diamonds. One was unspeakably beautiful. The other unspeakably wicked.

  Like a caged lioness she walked the floor, then she sat a while, and walked, and schemed. There was a kind of ethereal beauty about her face, a strange unearthly charisma that throbbed and glowed in the soft lamplight.

  ‘It’s time,’ she whispered, stripping off her outdoor clothes. In a moment the effect was complete. In her nightgown, with her thick auburn hair roughed up, she looked for all the world as if she had just woken from a deep sleep. A final swift glance in the mirror, a smile of congratulation, and she was ready.

  Opening the bedside drawer, she took out the same box of matches she had brought from the cellar, a wodge of cotton-wool, and a small bottle of liquid. That done, she went about her wicked deed.

  First stop, Lianne’s room.

  Here she went straight to the bed, took the top off the bottle and soaked the cotton-wool with the liquid. Gently now, she pressed the cotton-wool to Lianne’s nose and mouth. Exhausted and soothed by the hot chocolate, Lianne stirred only slightly. One final gossamer kiss to her sister’s mouth, a whispered goodbye, and it was done. Softly she took the red shoes and long black coat from the wardrobe, before setting fire to the other clothes.

  Lingering for just a moment, she watched the flames curl and caress. She felt the heat and grew excited by it. When the bags and shoes began smouldering, emitting a grey acrid smoke, she felt her throat contracting and knew she would have to hurry. Pressing the doors shut, she checked to see that the smoke was wafting from beneath the doors. Satisfied, she crept from the room.

  Carrying the red shoes and the long black coat, she quickened her steps to her parents’ room. Before entering, she laid the coat over the banister, and placed the shoes beneath. These things were precious. They were hers now.

  This time she was more cautious. If Lianne had caught her creeping about, it would not have caused a stir. She and Lianne entered each other’s rooms at any time of the day or night. But she had never once been in her parents’ room while they were there.

  In each other’s arms and out to the world, neither was aware of the intruder. Pressing the cotton-wool to her mother’s nose first, Ginny froze to the spot when Jack suddenly o
pened his eyes and called out, ‘Don’t go in! For God’s sake don’t go in!’ There was terror in his face, tears glistening in his eyes.

  Liz stirred, reaching out to comfort. ‘Shh!’ With strong merciless fingers, Ginny crushed the cotton-wool to her face and she was silent.

  As quickly as Jack had opened his eyes he closed them again. Emitting a heart-rending sob he rolled over, away from her, his head in the pillow, making it more difficult for her to reach his mouth. When he began to struggle in his sleep, she held the cotton-wool to his face a moment longer. ‘It doesn’t matter whether you die now or later,’ she said cruelly.

  He finally lay very still, seeming to accept death, as though it was a just punishment.

  Deeply satisfied, she made sure the curtains were blazing before closing the door and making her way downstairs.

  In the kitchen she sat at the table, smoking a cigarette and wondering at which moment should she raise the alarm. Twice she picked up the telephone and twice she replaced it. ‘Mustn’t be too eager,’ she chided herself. ‘By the time the fire engine gets here, I want to be sure there’s no hope left.’ She laughed. ‘Have to be careful, though,’ she said, wagging a finger at the empty air. ‘Have to be very careful I’m not caught in it. That would never do. I want to enjoy my grandmother’s money… travelling. Gorgeous men.’ She sighed, filled with a terrible pleasure, waving her arms about as if she had an audience. ‘After the grieving, I can have anything I want. Go anywhere I choose.’ Her insane laughter echoed from the walls.

  Going to the foot of the stairs she looked up. As yet there was no sign that the fire had taken a real hold. She sniffed the air. ‘Whew!’ The air was already tainted with the unmistakable smell of burning. ‘A few more minutes,’ she giggled, ‘then I really should call for help.’ But she was in no hurry. Better to be sure than sorry, she thought. Softly whistling, she returned to the kitchen and boiled the kettle. ‘Get your story right, Ginny,’ she told herself. ‘You couldn’t sleep, so you came down to the kitchen to make yourself a drink.’

  Mimicking a man’s voice, she put herself through an inquisition. ‘And what time was this?’

  Turning on the tears, she answered, ‘I can’t remember… two… half past.’ The tears became sobs. ‘I can’t believe it! I should have been able to save them.’

  The man was sympathetic, the voice breaking with emotion. ‘It’s all right. Come on now… let’s get you into the ambulance.’

  The sobs intensified. Her acting was faultless. She congratulated herself. ‘Virginia Lucas!’ Throwing her arms wide, she imagined her names in lights. ‘The newly discovered acting talent of the century.’ Collapsing in a fit of giggles, she took a moment to recover, before setting the scene. First make certain the kettle had boiled. Now, make the tea. Pour a cup. Drink a good measure of it. Set the chair at an angle from the table. Knock it over as she ran. She went through the motions, taking quite a time over it. ‘Panic,’ she muttered. ‘You smelled the smoke… realised there was a fire, and you panicked.’

  While Ginny was setting the scene, Dave Martin strode down the drive towards the house. He had to make her see it didn’t matter, or he would lose her for good. He stopped, looked up at the house. But how? If her father caught him here, he’d have every right to kick his arse out of it.

  As he stared at the bedroom window, wondering which one was Lianne’s, he couldn’t quite make out what was wrong. He stared a minute longer. The window was closed, but the curtains were being blown about. He looked closer. In the background he could see the lights, short flickering bursts of colour. His mind exploded with realisation. As he sped towards the house, he yelled at the top of his voice, ‘Fire! Lianne!’

  Enacting her gruesome task, Ginny didn’t hear him pounding on the door. She raised the telephone receiver to her ear and dialled. Outside he was frantic, hammering and screaming. Inside, the fire had taken hold. Smoke filled the stairway. The sound of wood crackling seemed to be splitting the house apart. Composed, she waited for the voice at the other end. When it came she began screaming.

  ‘Help! Someone help! There’s a fire!’ When the person at the other end tried to calm her, to extract her name and address, she blubbered and protested, and was so caught up in her own performance that the terror became real.

  Eventually, she gave her address and was told to get out of the house at once, that help was on its way. Grabbing the coat and shoes, she ran into the hallway. It was almost impossible to see by this time. Smoke billowed down from above. The bulbs in the overhead lights were popping, and the stairway was already smouldering. From all around came the sound of wood splintering and crackling. ‘Sounds like bonfire night,’ she chuckled.

  She was still chuckling when the door caved in and Dave Martin stood there, staring at her with the look of a wild man. Something in her face, the guilt, the lingering smile, made him suspicious. Almost without thinking he whispered with horror, ‘What have you done?’

  ‘Leave them!’ she screamed. ‘Get out of my house!’

  Pushing her aside, he bounded up the stairs. With a speed born of desperation, Ginny went after him, snatching at his clothes, grappling with him, trying frantically to pull him away. ‘It’s too late!’ she screamed. ‘She’s dead. They’re all dead!’

  Each time he threw her off, she came back at him like something demented. In the end he proved to be the stronger. Running down the landing he kicked open the doors. Long tongues of fire spat out at him. Incessantly he shouted her name: ‘Lianne!’

  Jack felt as though he were in some kind of nightmare. He was choking. So dazed he could hardly think he raised his head. The whole room was alight. He closed his eyes and stared again. His sight was blurred, his tongue so swollen it seemed to fill the whole of his mouth. ‘For Christ’s sake! Liz!’ He reached for her. Realising they were both about to die, he found a strength from somewhere. Barely able to stand, he half-carried, half-dragged her to the door. He couldn’t open it. For all his determination he could not open it. His senses failing, he called out, his arms cradling Liz as the two of them sank to the floor.

  Suddenly there was help. Dave had heard the feeble cry, and was leading them along the landing. With his hand feeling the rail as he went, he guided them safely away. The smoke was blinding. Fire was spreading fast now, infecting every surface, swallowing the house whole. ‘Where is she?’ he begged. ‘Lianne… which room?’

  Pointing along the corridor, Jack told him, ‘There.’ Echoes of the past filled him with terror. Catching hold of Dave’s sleeve, he kept him a moment longer. ‘Ginny?’ He needed to know.

  Before he broke away, the look on Dave’s face told him everything.

  As Dave ran into the inferno, Jack pressed Liz close to his heart. ‘We’ll make it, sweetheart,’ he murmured. She didn’t stir.

  As he neared the stairway he felt a presence behind him. He swung round but couldn’t see; the smoke billowed and rolled, and his eyes ran with tears. The first name that came to his lips was ‘Mother?’ There was a soft, insane cackle of laughter. In that moment he knew. ‘Ginny!’ He felt the push of a hard strong hand in the centre of his back. The banister gave way and there was no saving himself.

  As he fell, the laughter followed him. All he could remember was holding on to Liz as they fell through the air. And the laughter. The same laughter he had heard once before. In his worst nightmare.

  Realising she had allowed panic to overtake reason, Ginny fled into the night. Dave told how he suspected she might have started the fire. He also told how, while carrying Lianne to safety, he believed he saw Ginny push her parents through the banister. He couldn’t be sure because of the density of smoke, but he heard her laughing. That much he would never forget.

  Part 2

  …and Seek

  8

  On a blistering hot June day in 1982, Eddie Laing nosed his car through the streets of New York. Normally it would have taken him only ten minutes to get from Central Park to the Louis apartment in the heart
of Manhattan. Today, he had been stuck in traffic for the best part of an hour. ‘What the hell’s going on?’ Winding the window down, he leaned out, far enough for the cab-driver to hear him above the din.

  The round-faced driver spat out his chewing-gum. ‘Peace march.’ Without another word he wound up his window, and concentrated on picking his teeth with his nail.

  Ten minutes late, and suffering a head like two after a night on the town, Eddie glanced at the road in front. The sidewalks were jam-packed, the traffic brought to a halt by the masses of people surging down the road. There were some carrying banners and others loudly chanting. The rhythm of voices and the general uprising noise was deafening. ‘Jesus!’ Winding up the window, Eddie slunk down in his seat. ‘Some peace march,’ he grumbled. ‘More like the start of World War Three.’

  He discovered later that there were almost a million people taking part in what was one of America’s biggest marches. For now though, he idled away the time by examining his nose in the mirror and considering how he should make an appointment with a surgeon. ‘Think what a snip here and there would do for your ego,’ he chuckled, twisting his nose and imagining it a different shape. A thought suddenly occurred to him, and it was a sobering one. As long as the guy didn’t let the knife slip, he wryly observed, casting a wary eye to his trouser flies. That would put an end to his love life for sure. He wrinkled his face and stared forlornly in the mirror. Some love life, which at the present time was absolutely zilch!

  Recalling the blonde he took home last night brought the smile back to his face. He had plans, and rolled his eyes with anticipated pleasure.

  Eddie Laing always had plans. The smile evaporated when he remembered how the same blonde had sent him packing with only a peck on the cheek for his troubles. No use having plans if they never came to anything. Last night there had been one fantastic moment when he really believed he had it made. For the first time in ages he had felt like he was at the top of the world. But it didn’t last long and now, after another swift examination of the nose in the mirror, he felt thoroughly miserable. Who in their right mind would want to wake up next to that? he thought woefully.