Mike Shevdon - The Eighth Court

“Backwards? What do you mean, backwards?”

Alex opened her hands, took a breath and released it slowly. A draft from the kitchen had a sudden chill to it. The pendant lamp in the centre of the ceiling swung gently.

Katherine narrowed her eyes, but for a moment, nothing happened. “You see?” she said.

The radiator under the window made a ticking noise. The pipes along the wall started to vibrate with a low hum. All around the house, the pipes began to groan and creak. A clanking noise was coming from the boiler in the kitchen. The whole system started banging and clanking as the pressure built.

Katherine stared about her wildly. “Alex! Stop this at once.”

“What Mum? I thought I was imagining it? I thought I was making it all up?”

The radiator was making creaking noises. It started rattling against the brackets holding it to the wall. The pressure was building. Any moment and the pressure would blow and then…

Bing bong.

The noise of the doorbell was a signal. Everything stopped. The vibrations ceased, the clanking fell into silence. The whole system eased as the water started to flow again in its usual direction.

“Who’s that?” said Alex.

Katherine looked crossly at Alex. “I don’t know,” she said. “It might be the postman, he sometimes rings if there’s a letter too big for the letterbox.”

They waited in silence.

Bing bong.

“I’d better go see,” said Katherine.

“No!” said Alex. “Leave it. Let it go.” They waited.

Bing bong. Bing bong. It was followed by sharp tapping.

“I’ll go and see,” said Katherine. “Don’t worry,” she said to Alex. “I’ll get rid of them.” She went to answer the door.

Alex stepped up to the window, trying to see who was at the door without moving the net curtains. She hung back behind the drapes, peeking around to view the doorstep. She could hear her mother.

“Yes,” said Katherine. “Can I help you?’

The guy on the doorstep was middle-aged with sandy hair and greying temples. He wore a long loose coat.

“Is Niall in?” he said.

Katherine looked taken aback. “Niall doesn’t live here any more,” she said.

“Only, I have something for him,” said the man. Alex didn’t recognise him as anyone her Dad had ever mentioned.

“I’m afraid you’re out of luck,” said her Mum.

“Will he be back later?” asked the man.

“I told you. He doesn’t live here. We’re divorced, I’ve recently re-married. Who are you?”

“Just a friend,” he said, looking up and down the street. Alex could tell, whoever the man was, he was no friend. “Did you have a caller recently, a lady? About five-six, brown hair, goes by the name of Claire?”

“I’m sure I don’t know who you mean,” said Katherine.

“She’s been missing for a while. I thought she might come here,” he said.

“Why would she come here? I don’t know anyone by that name.”

“Fair enough,” said the man. “Well, look, if you see Niall…”

“I won’t,” said Katherine.

“If… you see him. Would you give him a message for me? Tell him I have something he needs.”

“I told you, he doesn’t live here,” she said.

“Thanks very much,” said the man. He walked away down the drive and across the road. Alex watched him as far as she could. He didn’t turn, and he didn’t look back. Katherine closed the front door and returned to where Alex was watching through the window.

“What a strange man,” said Katherine, from the doorway of the sitting room.

“He was lying,” said Alex.

“I didn’t recognise him,” said Katherine, “but I’m not sure that’s any reason to assume that…”

“He’s lying. I can hear it. We all can.”

“We?” asked Katherine. Alex shouldered her bag and went into the kitchen. Katherine followed her. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to tell Dad,” she said.

“Well I expect he’ll pop in when he’s ready,” said Katherine. “We can tell him then.”

“He needs to know,” she said. “There’s stuff going down,”

“But what about… you were staying for supper,” Katherine said as Alex went to the back door.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get something later. I can always raid the pantry. The cooks don’t mind.” Alex opened the door and scanned the garden.

“Alex?” Katherine was stood in the door between the kitchen and the hall watching her daughter as she stood outlined in the doorway. “Be careful.”

Alex stepped quickly back inside and kissed her mother’s cheek. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ve dealt with worse than his sort.” She slipped back through the door. Katherine didn’t hear the back gate, but she stood with the back door open for a long while.

“That,” she said, “is what worries me.”

The room was at the top of the house. It probably used to be servants’ quarters when the house had been in its heyday, only now the stewards lived in the main house and the attic rooms were empty, except for this one.

The bed had been moved to the centre where it dominated the room; the curtains were swept back so that the low late afternoon sun striped the floor. Beside the bed, a stand held a drip that fed transparent solution slowly into Fellstamp’s arm. He lay on the bed, eyes closed, looking for all the world like he was taking an afternoon nap — except for the saline drip that had been set up, and for the way his skin sagged from his frame like an oversized suit.

“You don’t come up here much, do you?”

Fionh’s voice startled me. She was sat back in the shadows in the corner and I wondered if she had deliberately cloaked herself from being noticed.

“How’s he doing?” I asked her.

She folded closed the book that was open on her lap and clasped her hands together over it. “How do you think?” she said.

“Has he shown any signs?”

She shook her head slowly.

I walked around the bed slowly, noting how the sheet had been carefully folded back just below his shoulders, how his curly hair fell on the spotless white linen pillow and how thin his frame looked under the sheet.

“Garvin said he’s still losing weight.”

“He hasn’t eaten in months,” she said. “It’s hardly surprising.”

When you looked at his face, he looked older, though the Feyre don’t age outwardly, once they reach adulthood. I wondered if that was what happened when you starved to death. You suddenly looked older.

“Is there anything I can do?” I asked her, aware that they had tried everything to wake him.

“You could talk to him?” she said.

“What about?”

“I don’t think it matters,” she said. “He’s not listening anyway.”

Fionh stood up and put the book quietly on the side table, as if she didn’t want to disturb the sleeper on the bed. “You can say whatever you want,” she said, moving to the doorway. “You might start by explaining why the mongrel that did that to him is still alive.”

I heard her footsteps as she walked away down the corridor. She was angry, and no wonder. She’d been with Fellstamp when they went in against Eve, Sparky, Chipper and Alex, when they’d been spotted in an abandoned office building in London.

“You know?” I said to Fellstamp, “You misjudged them. You went in hard with the expectation that they would be disorganised and weak.” I began to walk around the bed slowly, talking more to myself that to the recumbent figure on the bed. “So you held a blade to Sparky’s throat. You made an assumption, that more than anything else he wanted to live, and that the desire to live would give you control. You took him hostage.”