Helen Phifer - The Face Behind the Mask

She was back inside the house with the bright blue door and she wondered why. This time she let herself go inside. She felt as if she was the first officer at the scene. Trepidation about what she was about to find filled her. The downstairs was pristine. The smell of lemon furniture polish filled the air, but it was tinged with something that smelt much darker. An underlying smell of copper lingered in the air. As she got closer to the stairs the coppery smell was much stronger.

Annie knew what blood smelt like. She’d been in her fair share of violent scrapes. The only sound in the house was the sound of a tap dripping. It was coming from upstairs. Annie looked down to see if she was wearing her uniform and had her baton and CS gas, but she was in her pyjamas. As she climbed the first step she knew she should try and wake herself up. What if this wasn’t a dream and it was dangerous? She had nothing to protect herself with.

Her feet ignored her brain and carried on walking up until she reached the top step. She heard a door slam and heavy footsteps heading in her direction. Pressing herself against the wall and trying to blend in, she held her breath as someone came towards her. It took all her might not to let out a scream at the clown who came running towards her. She’d never been fond of clowns and to see this one in this strange house where she could smell blood wasn’t good at all.

It was dressed in a black and white stripy outfit with the scariest clown mask she’d ever seen. Thanking her lucky stars it hadn’t seen her, she watched as whoever it was ran down the stairs and out of the back door. Annie was torn. She didn’t know if she should follow the scary clown or carry on towards the open bedroom door where the smell was coming from.

Relieved when her feet began to move towards the door and not in the direction the clown had gone, she found herself looking straight into a scene from one of her worst nightmares. There was blood everywhere, which was where the awful smell was coming from. Lifting her eyes to the ceiling, she saw it was even sprayed on the once-white light shade. She looked down to the floor and saw a foot sticking out from the other side of the bed.

A cry made her jump and she felt horrified that whoever was lying there was still alive after losing so much blood. As she tried to force herself to go and help them, a much louder wail pierced her dream. Her eyes fluttered open and for a minute she wasn’t sure where she was; then she felt the weight of Alfie in her arms and breathed a sigh of relief that she was at home. She blinked, looking around the room to make sure there was no scary clown standing watching her in the corner. Relief flooded through her body to see it was the same as it always was. The early morning sun was breaking and she had to take deep breaths to try to calm herself down.

Why was she dreaming about that house? It had already been on the news that a body had been found. The police were dealing with it. Will would probably end up working the case when he went in tomorrow. She wondered if she’d just been dreaming and surmising about what had happened or whether it actually had happened and she had somehow witnessed the killer fleeing the scene.

Will would be so angry with her if she tried to get involved or even mentioned it, so she wouldn’t ask him. It was as simple as that. If she wanted to know, or had to know, then she would ask Jake to tell her the gory details. He wouldn’t care; he thrived on doom, gloom and drama.

She lifted Alfie to her shoulder to wind him and he stopped crying. Will was gently snoring and she wanted to get into bed with him. She had no idea why, but Alfie didn’t settle at all in his bedroom. He woke up at almost the same time every night. Maybe she should move his cot in here with them; at least she could have him next to her and she might get some more sleep. In fact, she was going to do it first thing in the morning.

Alfie was fast asleep again in her arms so she got up and went into his bedroom for his Moses basket. It was much colder in here than it should be and a horrible thought crossed her mind. What if he couldn’t settle because he was getting ghostly visitors? It was all very well and good her having visions and seeing dead people, but surely a baby wouldn’t be able to see any of those things?

She didn’t want to speak her name; it was forbidden inside the house, but just what if it was her? What if Betsy Baker had come back? She’d had no qualms about killing children when she’d been alive. Why would she be bothered about scaring them when she was dead? Annie hoped to God that she wasn’t around.

She would phone Father John in the morning to make sure her grave hadn’t been disturbed. Just the thought of Betsy filled her stomach with a heavy, sick feeling. Placing the basket on its stand near to her side of the bed, she put Alfie in, kissing his forehead, then she climbed into bed. As she sank into the mattress she thought to herself what a horrible day it had been. Funerals were awful; they drained the very life from your soul.

As she lay watching her baby, her back resting against Will’s and soaking up his body heat, she tried to clear her mind of everything. First she pushed the funeral to one side, and then the dream about the white house, until all that was left in there was an image of Alfie. Her eyes began to close. As she drifted off to sleep she prayed for God to keep her family safe.

Summer 1950

Gordy had walked out of his house, reached the garden gate, then remembered the safe his father had bolted to the floor in the storage cupboard on the landing. It would be foolish to leave all that money there. He turned and went back inside the house, stepped over his parents’ bodies and ran upstairs. He didn’t feel a flicker of remorse for what he’d done minutes ago.

His only regret was that his Uncle Bernard hadn’t been here as well. Gordy would have loved burying the axe in his head. Out of them all he supposed it was Bernard who deserved it the most. The nights he’d babysat for Gordy, waving his parents goodbye as they went to a dance, eagerly waiting until he had him all to himself. Gordy hadn’t realised at first that what he was doing to him was wrong. It was only when he got a little older that he understood it wasn’t right for a grown man to want to do the things he did to him.

Before Gordy had the chance to tell him this, the man had collapsed one night and had a massive stroke. He was now a vacant, drooling wreck in a nursing home. He had to be fed and wore a nappy. Gordy supposed this was at least some kind of justice. Although not as satisfying as killing him would have been.

He opened the bedside table drawer and pulled out the small, black velvet pouch where the master key was kept. Then he opened the safe and took the wads of cash out. His dad had always been very cautious with his money, which really, come to think about it, had been a complete waste of time because he was dead and hadn’t spent any of his hard-earned savings.

Gordy stuffed the notes into his suitcase and pockets. This would see him right for the next year or two if he was careful, and he could be very careful. If there was a legacy his parents had left, it was not to squander your hard-earned money and to keep it for a rainy day.

As he left the house once more, he closed the kitchen curtain and locked the door behind him, just in case any of his mother’s nosy friends came around. It would be wise to make sure he had left town before their bodies were discovered. As he walked along the empty streets towards the circus he wondered where everyone was.

A poster tied to the park fence railings answered his question for him. The last matinee was now in full swing and then the circus would be leaving town, moving on to the next one to start all over again. This time they would have an extra clown with them and he couldn’t wait to start his new life. He saw the peaks of the striped tent and his heart began to race. Walking faster now, he wondered if he could catch the end of the show. He’d already been to all four evening shows, hanging around outside and chatting with the performers until the early hours.