Read Online Why Aren't They Screaming? by Joan Smith - Free Book Online

after a while you hear it again, the same piece of dialogue. So you think it’s a tape recorder. In here or next door. So you turn the place upside down looking for it. And that’s the point. There’s nothing in here and nothing next door. Not a thing. So where’s it coming from?’
    Loretta shivered.
    â€˜You mean you’ve heard it often? But surely–’
    â€˜Oh yes, I quite agree. There must be some rational explanation. But if you can tell me what it is I’ll be very grateful.’
    â€˜How long has this been going on?’ Loretta was at a loss and, unwilling to countenance explanations of a supernatural nature, took refuge in seeking facts.
    â€˜Two weeks,’ Clara said without hesitation. ‘I wrote it in my diary. Not straight away. The first time it happened I was inclined to doubt my sanity. After all, I’m fifty-one, and I haven’t shown any previous signs of behaving like Joan of Arc. You know what people say about the menopause. But then, when the first letter arrived a couple of days later – well, I thought the two things might be connected. I don’t know how. It’s one thing to write disgusting letters, anyone can do that. But this –’ She stopped and gestured in the air.
    â€˜What sort of letters?’
    â€˜Anonymous. I’m sure you can guess. “Why don’t you get those whores off your land, you dirty lesbian bitch?” That sort of thing. That’s not all, I’ve had phone calls as well. Though I suspect I have someone else to thank for those, they display an altogether more inventive turn of mind. No obscenities. Mostly it’s just silence. But someone read part of the burial service to me once. I suppose I’d have got the whole thing if I hadn’t put the phone down. And there was another one where I could hear a woman being tortured.’ Clara saw Loretta’s face and patted her hand. ‘Don’t worry, Loretta, I’m sure it wasn’t real. Anyone could rent a horror film and tape the nastiest bit of the soundtrack. I don’t think for a moment she was really being murdered. But the voices – how are they being done?’
    Loretta suddenly remembered Clara’s eagerness for her to move into the cottage; had it been connected with this? She had gathered the previous evening that Imo was in her second year at Sussex – it would hardly be surprising if Clara had felt the need of a neighbour she could trust in her present predicament. Even so, it would have been nice to be consulted: Loretta wasn’t very happy about the way in which she had been allowed to walk all unknowing into this deeply disturbing situation.
    â€˜What do the police say?’ she asked, a trifle coldly.
    â€˜I haven’t told them.’
    â€˜You haven’t–’
    â€˜Wait a minute, there is a reason. Think about it. The police don’t like the peace camp – oh, it’s not political, I’m sure. They have enough to cope with, and the camp is one more problem they could do without. I’ve had Collins, he’s thelocal superintendent, round here for a quiet word – we sympathize, it’s a free country, but can’t you turn them off? If I told them about the voices and the phone calls, there’s no proof that I’m telling the truth. Even the letters, I could have written those myself. And you know how gossip gets round. The police are human like the rest of us. I’ve got enough enemies around here as it is without people saying I’m batty as well as a communist.’ Clara smiled slightly. ‘I’m biding my time, building up a – well, a dossier is too strong a word. I’ve been keeping notes in my diary – all the phone calls, the dates of the letters, when I’ve heard the voices. Now there’s been these attacks, and you’ve heard the voices ... All I need is for someone else to hear some of the phone calls