Sidney Sheldon - Are You Afraid Of The Dark

As the lovely models glided back and forth, they were accompanied by a voice on a loudspeaker giving a running commentary on the fashions.

An Asian brunette started down the runway: "… a satin wool jacket with edge top stitching and georgette pants and a white blouse…" A slim blonde undulated across the runway: "… is wearing a black cashmere turtleneck with white cotton cargo pants…" A redhead with an attitude appeared: "… a black leather jacket and black shantung pants with a white knit shirt…" A French model: "… a pink, three-button angora jacket, a pink cable-knit turtleneck and black cuffed pants…" A Swedish model: "… a navy satin wool jacket and pants and a lilac charmeuse blouse…" And then the moment everyone had been waiting for. The Swedish model had walked off and the runway was deserted. The voice over the loudspeaker said, "And now that the swimming season is here, we are pleased to display our new line of beachwear." There was a crescendo of anticipation, then Kelly Harris appeared at the peak of it. She was wearing a white bikini, a bra that barely covered her firm, young breasts and a figure-hugging bottom. As she floated sensuously down the runway, the effect was mesmerizing. There was a wave of applause.

Kelly gave a faint smile of acknowledgment, circled the runway, and disappeared.

Backstage, two men were waiting for her.

"Mrs. Harris, if I could have a moment-?" "I'm sorry," Kelly said apologetically. "I have to make a quick change." She started to walk away.

"Wait! Mrs. Harris! We are with the Police Judiciaire. I am Chief Inspector Dune and this is Inspector Steunou. We need to talk." Kelly stopped. "The police? Talk about what?" "You are Mrs. Mark Harris, yes?" "Yes." She was filled with sudden apprehension.

"Then I am sorry to inform you that-that your husband died last night." Kelly's mouth was dry. "My husband-? How-?" "Apparently, he committed suicide." There was a roar in Kelly's ears. She could barely make out what the chief inspector was saying: "…

Tour Eiffel… midnight… note… very regrettable… deepest sympathy." The words were not real. They were pieces of sound with no meaning.

"Madame-" This weekend, I want you to get all dressed up, darling. You're going to love where we're going.

"There is some-some mistake," Kelly said. "Mark wouldn't-" "I am sorry." The chief inspector was watching Kelly closely. "Are you all right, madame?" "Yes." Except that my life has just ended.

Pierre bustled over to Kelly, carrying a beautiful striped bikini. "Cherie, you must change quickly.

There is no time to waste." He thrust the bikini in her arms. "Vite! Vite!" Kelly slowly let it drop to the floor. "Pierre?" He was looking at her in surprise. "Yes?" "You wear it."

A LIMOUSINE BROUGHT Kelly back to her apartment. The salon manager had wanted to send someone to be with her, but Kelly had refused. She wanted to be alone. Now, as she walked in through the entrance, Kelly saw the concierge, Philippe Cendre, and a man in overalls, surrounded by a group of tenants.

One of the tenants said, "Poor Madame Lapointe. What a terrible accident." The man in overalls held up two jagged ends of a heavy cable. "It was no accident, madame. Someone cut the elevator's safety brakes."

AT FOUR O'CLOCK in the morning, Kelly was seated in a chair, staring out the window in a daze, her mind racing. Police Judiciaire… we need to talk… Tour Eiffel.. suicide note… Mark is dead… Mark is dead… Mark is dead. The words became a dirge pulsing through Kelly's brain.

She could see Mark's body tumbling down, down, down… She put her arms out to catch him just before he smashed against the sidewalk. Did you die because of me? Was it something I did?

Something I didn't do? Something I said? Something I didn't say? I was asleep when you left, darling, and I didn't have a chance to say good-bye, to kiss you and tell you how much I love you.

I need you. I can't stand it without you, Kelly thought. Help me, Mark. Help me-the way you always helped me… She slumped back, remembering how it had been before Mark, in the awful early days.

KELLY HAD BEEN born in Philadelphia, the illegitimate daughter of Ethel Hackworth, a black maid who worked for one of the town's most prominent white families. The father of the family was a judge. Ethel was seventeen and beautiful, and Pete, the handsome, blond, twenty-year-old son of the Turner family, had been attracted to her. He had seduced her, and a month later Ethel learned she was pregnant.

When she told Pete, he said, "That's-that's wonderful." And he rushed into his father's den to tell him the bad news.

Judge Turner called Ethel into his den the next morning and said, "I won't have a whore working in this house. You're fired." With no money and no education or skills, Ethel had taken a job as a cleaning lady in an industrial building, working long hours to support her newborn daughter. In five years, Ethel had saved enough money to buy a run-down clapboard house that she turned into a boardinghouse for men. Ethel converted the rooms into a living room, a dining room, four small bedrooms, and a narrow little utility room that Kelly slept in.

From that time on, a series of men constantly arrived and left.

"These are your uncles," Ethel told her. "Don't bother them." Kelly was pleased that she had such a large family until she became old enough to realize that they were all strangers.

When Kelly was eight years old, she was asleep one night in her small, darkened bedroom when she was awakened by a guttural whisper: "Shhh! Don't make a sound." Kelly felt her nightgown being lifted, and before she could protest, one of her "uncles" was on top of her and his hand was over her mouth. Kelly could feel him forcibly spreading her legs. She tried to struggle, but he held her down. She felt his member tearing inside her body, and she was filled with excruciating pain. He was merciless, forcing himself inside her, going deeper and deeper, rubbing her skin raw. Kelly could feel her warm blood gushing out. She was silently screaming, afraid she would faint. She was trapped in the terrifying blackness of her room.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she felt him shudder and then withdraw.

He whispered, "I'm leaving. But if you ever tell your mother about this, I'll come back and kill her." And he was gone.

The next week was almost unbearable. She was in misery all the time, but she treated her lacerated body as best she could until finally the pain subsided. She wanted to tell her mother what had happened, but she did not dare. If you ever tell your mother about this, I'll come back and kill her.

The incident had lasted only a few minutes, but those few minutes altered Kelly's life. She changed from a young girl who had dreamed of having a husband and children to someone who felt that she was tarnished and disgraced. She resolved that she would never let a man touch her again. Something else had changed in Kelly.

From that night on, she was afraid of the dark.

WHEN KELLY TURNED ten, Ethel put her to work helping around the boardinghouse.

Kelly rose at five every morning to clean the toilets, scrub the kitchen floor, and help prepare breakfast for the boarders. After school she did the laundry, mopped the floor, dusted, and assisted with dinner. Her life became a dreadful, tedious routine.

She was eager to help her mother, hoping for a word of praise. It never came.

Her mother was too preoccupied with the boarders to pay any attention to her daughter.

When Kelly was very young, a kind boarder had read to her the story Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, and Kelly was fascinated by the way Alice escaped into a magic rabbit hole. That's what I need, Kelly thought, a way to escape. I can't spend the rest of my days scrubbing toilets and mopping floors and cleaning up after messy strangers.