Darkness Demands Part 34

"I won't be able to sleep. I'm too hot."

"Just try. Give me a kiss goodnight."

Their voices dropped into m.u.f.fled sounds now. As he toweled his face he heard Val call, "John, Elizabeth's ready for her goodnight kiss"

He walked into the bedroom. "Ugh, I have to kiss this monster?"

"Dad!" She giggled.

"Now, John, don't be getting Elizabeth giddy. I've had to scold her for being so untidy."

"Then I'll bite the monster's head off." He bent down as she lay in bed and pretended to gnaw at her neck. She squirmed, giggling louder.

"Dad! I'm red hot as it isa Mum, he's making me hotter!"

"John." Val suppressed a smile. "Leave her to cool down."

"Aye, aye, skipper."

Then he kissed his daughter. "Love you, Lizzie."

"Love you, Dad. Don't forget the swimming pool."

"I won't. I'll start digging this very minute."

"Isn't he an idiot, Mum?"

"He's a world cla.s.s idiot, but we love him to bits, don't we?"

"Another hug." Elizabeth held out her arms. He leaned over the bed again as she gave his neck a firm squeeze.

"Sleep well," he said.

"I will."

"Don't let the bed bugs bite."

"I won't."

"Have sweet dreams."

"I will."

"OK you two," Val intervened. "Don't take all night about it."

A moment later, the lights were out and he followed Val down to the lounge. There, the millrace sighed beneath the gla.s.s. Outside bats darted by the windows where insects were lured by the light.

"Peace at last," Val whispered.

"It'd be all happy families if it wasn't for Paul." He flicked a switch on the wall. Instantly light filled the observation chamber. Below the gla.s.s, water foamed a dazzling white. "I wish I knew what was eating him up. If there's some trouble at school we should-"

"John. I know what it is."

John blinked, surprised. "You do?"

"Yes."

"Since when?"

"He told me about an hour ago."

He shook his head, puzzled. "Why didn't he tell me?"

"You know what teenagers are like."

"But I'm easy-going. I always figured I was the kind of guy people could confide in when-"

"John-"

"Especially my son." He felt irked. No two ways about it. He'd been kept in the dark.

"Well, it was one of those personal matters, John. He wanted to keep it private."

"He's not got the clap, has he?" The words raced ahead of common sense. From the stung look on his wife's face he wished he could reel them back in again. Too late.

"No, he has not got the clap. What the h.e.l.l made you say a thing like that?"

"I don't knowa well, yes I do. He was acting so bizarre I thought it had to be something out of the ordinary."

"It is out of the ordinary." Val folded her arms. "And keep your voice down. I'm not supposed to be telling you."

"But I'm his-"

"John-"

"After all, I-"

"John. Shh!" She glared at him. "It's all about a girla Paul's girlfriend."

Again John felt a p.r.i.c.kle of surprise. "I didn't even know he was seeing someone."

"He's not a little boy, John. It's only natural, you know?"

"I knowa buta" He shrugged. "This thing with your kids growing up just sort of creeps up on you." In a calmer voice he said, "So what happened? She dumped him?"

"Don't ever become an amba.s.sador, John. You don't score well in areas of tact or diplomacy."

He sighed, out of his depth. "So what did happen?"

The girlfriend's pregnant. This time he did manage to keep those three little words from slipping out.

Val sat down on the sofa. "Apparently, he's been seeing a girl called Miranda Bloom. They were close."

"He never mentioned anything about a Miranda Bloom."

"I imagine he was a little shy. It was his first real love."

"Oh."

"Well the long and short of it is, Paul went to call on her this lunch-time only to be told that she'd upped and gone."

"She's left home?"

"For good as far as Paul can make out."

"Why?"

"Paul didn't get all the details. It looks all very sudden. The girl's mother was too upset to talk about it much."

John let out a breath. "No wonder Paul was cranky."

"Cranky isn't a good word, John. He's shattered. He feels like the rug's been pulled from under his feet. That he's been rejected. Emotionally he's going to be pretty raw for a while."

John nodded in agreement.

"So," Val said firmly. "Go easy on him. It's not like he was ten when a hug and a chocolate bar could solve all his woes. OK?"

"OK." John rubbed his jaw. "I don't know," he said. "When you're five you're taught how to cross roads, how you're not to stick your finger in the electric socket or mess with matches. But there's not a lot of guidance about dating or relationships. You have to make it up as you go along."

"And sometimes you do get your fingers burnt."

"Perhaps there really should be a college for life skills." He brushed his hand across the air in front of him as if reading from a poster. "Curriculum: loving and dumping; how to make friends in high places; how to brown-nose when the time is right; how to give someone a verbal kick up the rear when they take you for granted."

Val gave a tired smile. "Add parenting skills to that. And while you're about it, why not put the patience of saints into easy to swallow capsules?"

"It could go on the same shelf as Mother's Lovea"

"And we'll buy you a family pack of tact and diplomacy, dear."

"Ouch." He smiled at her. "I don't suppose we are truly awful parents, are we? "

"We don't do badly. But I could do with a shot of that Patience Of A Saint potion. Elizabeth's going through one of her untidy phases again. There's so many cake crumbs on her carpet it's like walking on gravel."

"Yuk."

"She leaves her tennis rackets on the lawn. I found her bike up by the pond this morning. And when I put that away I nearly fell over a piece of stone she'd been playing with on the patio."

"Oh?" The blood suddenly thudded in his ears. He sat up, alert. "Lizzie had left a stone there"

"Yes. Well, it must have been Lizzie. Who else would leave a slab of rock there, right in the middle of the patio?"

His throat tightened. "Why would she do a thing like that?"

"Some game, I suppose. She still plays that prince and princess thing with invitations to royal b.a.l.l.s and whatnot. There was even a piece of paper folded up under the stone."

"Oh? Did you throw it away?"

"The paper? Why, what's so important about it?"

"Nothing. It's just she likes to keep everything she writes."

"More fool me, I should have thrown it away, but like a soft mumsie I put it in her box."

They talked for a few more minutes. The time was almost eleven when John made an excuse to go upstairs.

Seeing by the landing light alone, he crept into Elizabeth's bedroom. Despite her predictions otherwise she was now fast asleep. She lay on her side, her face pressed against a stuffed bear. From the next room came the sound of Paul's TV.

He allowed his eyes to adjust to the gloom, and then he saw the box in the corner on which Elizabeth had written Miss Lenny. For a long time he thought that had been the name of a character she'd invented. Suddenly it clicked. With a blend of smart vocabulary and a youthful inability to spell she'd attempted to use the word Miscellany; after all, the box contained a jumble of odds and ends. Silently he went on his hands and knees to look into the box. The first thing he saw was the scab she'd picked from her chin: it sat in the bottom of a gla.s.s jar like a black spider.

But there, right on top of oddments of toys, comics, pencils and notepads, lay a folded piece of paper.

For a moment he felt himself become detached from the world. The night was hot but where he found himself was suddenly cold.

Already an aura of unease formed around him like a dead hand. He didn't want to touch the paper with his naked fingertips. But here it was: letter number four. No doubt about it. The paper had that waxy antique texture. It wasn't white but had the creamy yellow of old bone.

Ok, what is it you want this time? A pound of nice ripe plums? A quart of rum? A pretty picture of a cat? Or a slice of cake crumbled over the grave of little Jess Bowen?

To the sound of his daughter's breathing he angled the paper to what little light fell through the doorway. Then he read the letter: Dear Messr. John Newt'n, No soul should exist alone. And I, like all people, desire companionship. Therefore, I will take little Elizabeth Newt'n away with me as a friend. Yew will leave her in the graveyard by the sepulchre of Posthumous Ellerby on Sat.u.r.day night. If yew do not, yew will be very sory.

CHAPTER 30.

The strip-light sizzled into life, filling the shed with light.

There on the workbench lay Herbert Kelly's briefcase-a boxy, dwarf coffin that held the secrets of people long dead. John Newton had come down here immediately after the meaning of the letter had sunk in, the paper still gripped in his fist.

It wants Elizabetha it wants Elizabetha The words roared through his head.

No, he told himself, it wasn't supposed to be like this. Dianne Kelly maintained the demands were always trivial-beer, chocolate, a ball. Not thisa this didn't make sense. The old woman insisted that the letters her father had received seventy years ago hadn't asked for anything more. Unless, that is, Kelly hadn't told his family everything.

John shoved the key in the briefcase lock. Or at least he tried, only his hands shook as anger and fear convulsed him.