The Drowning Pool. Syd Moore
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the computer her head nodded.
‘You believe me?’
Her face was filling the screen now so it was easy to see her swallow and hesitate.
‘Why?’ I said, fixing onto the whites of her eyes.
She paused and then in a very slow voice she said, ‘Because I can see her. She’s standing behind you.’
Chapter Six
It’s difficult in retrospect to try and describe how I felt at that moment. You always imagine you’re going to behave in a certain way then when bad things happen, you can surprise yourself. I had thought I’d be one to run screaming from the house. Maybe stopping to get Alfie first.
But I didn’t.
My body seemed to react to what Marie was saying before my brain processed the words. I had been about to light the cigarette but as realization dawned, my right hand froze mid-air, gripping the lighter tightly. My left, which had been idling on my lap, clutched the arm of the chair. Across my back and down my arms, goose bumps crawled. I stared back at Marie, utterly petrified.
She was easing herself back into her chair. ‘I’m not getting any sense of antagonism from her, Sarah.’ Her movements were controlled and tense but she smiled. ‘I can see her outline. It’s like she’s wearing an old dress. Victorian? I can’t tell. She keeps fading out. Now she’s like a shadow.’
I kept my eyes firmly on her face and avoided the smaller rectangular image in the lower right-hand corner, the one that showed me in situ. This was weird and getting weirder by the second.
When my voice came it was high. ‘How can you tell all this?’
Marie said carefully, ‘I don’t know. I just do. Can’t you see her?’
Fuck, no. ‘I’m not looking.’
‘I think she wants you to. She’s coming towards you, Sarah.’
My breath was coming quick and fast.
‘I really think you should turn and face her. Be quick. I’m not sure she’s going to hold together much longer.’
I was burning up with fear. ‘I don’t think I can do that.’
‘I think it’s important to try, Sarah,’ she said. ‘This is happening for a reason, right? Please.’
I let out a small sob, took a deep breath, and then slowly forced my eyes down to the screen, only to see the vague black shadow at my shoulder dissolve.
The air came out of me and I turned around. There was nothing in the kitchen but a fly beating its wings against the window. My nose tingled as if thawing out after an icy blast. I sniffed, the room temperature was back to normal, and faced the screen.
Marie had moved closer. ‘She’s gone, right?’
I nodded, unable to speak.
‘Geez. That was … well, that was freaky.’ Marie sat back into her chair and took a sip from her mug. ‘I suggest you have a good glug of that red wine you’ve got there. You look pale.’
‘It’s a shock,’ I said, finding my voice. The wine tasted bitter, of hawthorns and mud, but I drank it down anyway.
‘OK?’
‘Better.’
Marie cradled her tea. After a few moments she spoke. ‘Has anything like this happened to you before?’
I shook my head. ‘Never. There was a time after my husband’s death when I really wanted something to happen, but it never did.’ I took another gulp as a thought hit me. ‘Oh God. Do you think that’s where this has come from? Have I conjured this up because I want Josh back?’
But Marie spoke firmly. ‘No, no way. I think this has more to do with your present circumstances.’ Her eyes held my gaze. ‘Do you ever sense your husband around you?’
I thought for a moment then replied sadly. ‘No.’ I was going to say more but it seemed pointless. The question could be answered with a simple word. Wherever Josh was, he wasn’t here in Leigh with me and Alfie. This I knew with a painful certainty.
Marie nodded then frowned. ‘Any idea why a cockleshell? Or a pine cone?’
I hadn’t thought about it. ‘We’re by the sea. Have you been to Leigh?’
‘Many moons ago. Is there a cockle industry?’
‘It’s a working fishing town. Down in the Old Town there’s a lane full of cockle sheds. Part of the beach outside of the Crooked Billet pub is completely made from the shells.’
‘So our visitor may be trying to let us know there’s a connection with that area. And the pine cone? Are there pine trees anywhere down there?’
The main part of the Old Town comprised small fishermen’s cottages, cobbled streets, pubs, cafés and boatyards. There was scarcely any vegetation down there at all. ‘No. I don’t think so.’
‘Hmm. Pine cones. The cedar is the tree of life. Did you know that? It’s bound to be a symbolic gesture. We just have to work out what it represents,’ Marie ruminated. I took another sip of wine. She cleared her voice. ‘Do you want to know what I think?’
I wasn’t sure I did at that point but I answered her yes.
She looked up away from the screen, gathering her thoughts. ‘She’s disturbed, this being.’ She took a moment then continued. ‘I think that she’s here because of you.’
At this I balked. ‘Hey, I haven’t invited her in. I didn’t do anything to wish this on myself or my child! Don’t say that.’
Marie held a hand up. ‘Not knowingly you haven’t, but sometimes when manifestations occur it can be the slightest thing that activates them: a change in hormone levels, puberty in adolescents, arguments. Have you had any work done on the house recently? Held a séance?’
I shook my head vigorously. ‘No, no. None of those things. And I wouldn’t meddle with the occult. That’s not my bag.’
Marie finished her tea and put her mug on the desk. ‘Well, she’s after something, Sarah, and whatever it is, it’s connected to you.’
I poured myself another glass of wine and considered it. ‘Is it possible that I’m imagining this? That maybe there is something going on with my brain and you’re picking it up? Like a shared delusion? Could I be projecting this?’
Her eyes softened and despite the distance her sympathy touched me. ‘Anything is possible, honey. I think you should go back to the doc and tell him what’s been going on. Carefully, though. Even if this thing is a symptom, it’s symbolizing something. You need to find out what and understand it. You know, I have friends who come to me when they’re sick. They want me to tell them not to heed the recommendations of their doctors and to give them herbs and chants that can cure them instead. My advice to them is the same to you – do everything – mix the conventional with the unconventional. It’s all there for a reason. And whatever’s going on with you, it’s there for a reason too.’
‘OK, I’ll make an appointment. But what do you suggest I do about …’ I tried to find the right word, ‘… the manifestation?’
Marie cocked her head. ‘Well, if you want, we could try it again? See if she comes through? Then you could ask her what she wants.’
I shuddered violently and took another gulp of wine. It wasn’t what I wanted. But nor did the alternative appeal – waiting around for something else to happen.
Marie coughed. ‘I’ve got to work tomorrow and Wednesday but I could dial in on Thursday?’
That sounded far enough away for me to acquire a backbone so I agreed.
‘But email