Read Online The Mercer's House (Northern Gothic Book 1) by Antonia Frost - Free Book Online
Authors: Antonia Frost
Ads: Link
I’ll give it another try tomorrow. I can only keep trying. One day perhaps I can reach that happy place and produce something I’ll be satisfied with. But for now, I have to accept that I’m tainted by my past, and that it will always show.
10 pm: Alex still hasn’t come home. The boys are in bed and Corbin has gone out somewhere, so I’m here alone. I’ve spent half the evening wondering whether I ought to write down the other thing that happened today, and I still don’t know the answer, so I’m letting my pen run on and do what it will—I won’t make a conscious decision.
Why did I say ‘do what it will’ instead of ‘do what it wants?’ That’s obvious enough: the word ‘Will’ is on my mind. I’ve tried to like Will, really I have. It’s not his fault that his parents couldn’t live with each other, or that his father fell in love with me. But I’ve always sensed hostility from him, and even though I try as hard as I can not to treat him any differently from Rowan, he’s always been jealous. And today I found out that it goes even further than that. I don’t quite know how to explain what happened, but the boys were playing on the beach while I was painting, when I suddenly had the oddest feeling that someone was telling me to turn around and look at them, so I did, and was just in time to catch Will giving Rowan a hard shove, with a look of hatred on his face. I was just about to tell him off, when he turned to me and it happened. The sound of the sea faded out, and was replaced by a sort of crackling and a high-pitched whine in my ears. And then I heard the voice. Will’s mouth wasn’t moving and the voice didn’t sound like his—it was deep and rasping and cruel—but I knew it was coming from inside him. Rowan and I weren’t safe, he said, and if we knew what was good for us we’d get away. I swear my blood ran cold when I heard it. Then it was as if someone flicked a switch, and we were back on the beach, and the tide was coming in, and Will was muttering an apology, and it was just like it had never happened.
And now I don’t know what to think. He’s only seven—surely far too young to be wishing serious harm upon us? But I saw him push Rowan with my own eyes, and he’s so much bigger than him that he could easily injure him if he really wanted to. I’m a lot taller than Will, of course, so I doubt he could hurt me, but he could get at me through Rowan. But the voice. That’s what’s puzzling me. Where did it come from? It didn’t sound anything like the voices from years ago, so it’s certainly not the old thing. And besides, I’m too happy here for it to be that. It only used to come when I was unhappy. Then what is it? I’ve heard of children being possessed before. Could it have something to do with Sarah Humble? But it wasn’t a woman’s voice I heard. Her husband, then?
I’ve just read back what I’ve written, and I have to admit it sounds a bit ridiculous. Still, I’m going to keep an eye on Will, just in case it happens again.
‘Y OU’RE BACK,’ said Garrett, looking up from the bar menu as Zanna came in. ‘How was the homicidal maniac?’
‘Completely non-homicidal,’ she said. ‘We had some wine and he told me a ghost story, and it was all very nice.’
‘Marvellous. I was just about to order something to eat. What do you recommend? I’m pondering the home-made burger.’
‘It’s all good, I think,’ said Zanna. ‘No, don’t worry, I’ll get another one,’ she said, as he held out his menu. ‘Do you want another drink?’
‘If you’re offering,’ he said, and drained the last of his pint.
Ewan was emptying the dishwasher behind the bar. He straightened up when he saw her.
‘I didn’t know you were an artist,’ he said. ‘Joe says he saw you sketching out on the rocks after lunch. Are you any good?’
‘I hope so,’ she said. ‘I’ve spent long enough practising.’
‘You’ll have to show me your stuff. We could do
10 pm: Alex still hasn’t come home. The boys are in bed and Corbin has gone out somewhere, so I’m here alone. I’ve spent half the evening wondering whether I ought to write down the other thing that happened today, and I still don’t know the answer, so I’m letting my pen run on and do what it will—I won’t make a conscious decision.
Why did I say ‘do what it will’ instead of ‘do what it wants?’ That’s obvious enough: the word ‘Will’ is on my mind. I’ve tried to like Will, really I have. It’s not his fault that his parents couldn’t live with each other, or that his father fell in love with me. But I’ve always sensed hostility from him, and even though I try as hard as I can not to treat him any differently from Rowan, he’s always been jealous. And today I found out that it goes even further than that. I don’t quite know how to explain what happened, but the boys were playing on the beach while I was painting, when I suddenly had the oddest feeling that someone was telling me to turn around and look at them, so I did, and was just in time to catch Will giving Rowan a hard shove, with a look of hatred on his face. I was just about to tell him off, when he turned to me and it happened. The sound of the sea faded out, and was replaced by a sort of crackling and a high-pitched whine in my ears. And then I heard the voice. Will’s mouth wasn’t moving and the voice didn’t sound like his—it was deep and rasping and cruel—but I knew it was coming from inside him. Rowan and I weren’t safe, he said, and if we knew what was good for us we’d get away. I swear my blood ran cold when I heard it. Then it was as if someone flicked a switch, and we were back on the beach, and the tide was coming in, and Will was muttering an apology, and it was just like it had never happened.
And now I don’t know what to think. He’s only seven—surely far too young to be wishing serious harm upon us? But I saw him push Rowan with my own eyes, and he’s so much bigger than him that he could easily injure him if he really wanted to. I’m a lot taller than Will, of course, so I doubt he could hurt me, but he could get at me through Rowan. But the voice. That’s what’s puzzling me. Where did it come from? It didn’t sound anything like the voices from years ago, so it’s certainly not the old thing. And besides, I’m too happy here for it to be that. It only used to come when I was unhappy. Then what is it? I’ve heard of children being possessed before. Could it have something to do with Sarah Humble? But it wasn’t a woman’s voice I heard. Her husband, then?
I’ve just read back what I’ve written, and I have to admit it sounds a bit ridiculous. Still, I’m going to keep an eye on Will, just in case it happens again.
‘Y OU’RE BACK,’ said Garrett, looking up from the bar menu as Zanna came in. ‘How was the homicidal maniac?’
‘Completely non-homicidal,’ she said. ‘We had some wine and he told me a ghost story, and it was all very nice.’
‘Marvellous. I was just about to order something to eat. What do you recommend? I’m pondering the home-made burger.’
‘It’s all good, I think,’ said Zanna. ‘No, don’t worry, I’ll get another one,’ she said, as he held out his menu. ‘Do you want another drink?’
‘If you’re offering,’ he said, and drained the last of his pint.
Ewan was emptying the dishwasher behind the bar. He straightened up when he saw her.
‘I didn’t know you were an artist,’ he said. ‘Joe says he saw you sketching out on the rocks after lunch. Are you any good?’
‘I hope so,’ she said. ‘I’ve spent long enough practising.’
‘You’ll have to show me your stuff. We could do
Similar Books
