Mistake - Episode one

1

Christopher didn’t know how long he’d been walking for or in fact which way he was heading. The blankets of snow that had for the last few days covered everything had now pretty much gone. So he at least could make out in the dim lights what were road and path and grass. But that was as about as much new information as his mind could take on at present.

The lights of the town soon passed and Christopher was in the thick of the countryside once more. Passing fields and woods and small bundles of houses that the darkness failed to show any detail of, Christopher felt more alone then he ever had before. Even more then when his Father had told him to leave home and his mother did nothing to prevent it.

Christopher realised he had Peter back then, the one thing that stopped him feeling unwanted or disgusting. God, how could he have contemplated leaving, how could he have forgotten what Peter had done for him? Yeah Peter had sat on his arse a lot, had an uncanny ability to keep a job for no longer then a couple of months and refused to get on and do something about his photography. But Christopher realised now how none of that mattered, not really. 

More than ever now Christopher wanted that talk with Peter, but not the talk he’d envisioned saying for the past month. Now he wanted to take all those negative thoughts back, he wanted Peter to know he wasn’t ever going to leave him.

Why had it taken until now for Christopher to realise that all he really wanted was what he already had. And now having this knowledge was he in fact too late to act on it. Under the slim chance he could even find Peter, would Peter still be alive?

Christopher stopped in his tracks. Something to the left of him sparkled when a drop of the moons reflected light hit it. He turned quickly to try to catch what it was in case it stopped or moved. He couldn’t believe what he saw.

The huge metal gates with the words Rose cottage sparkling in gold stood proud and defiant in the darkness. The sense of relief, of almost joy that filled Christopher inside was almost instantaneous, and with it at last, maybe a sense of hope.

The further down the road Christopher went and the closer he got to the cottage, the more he felt that sense of hope that had met him at the gate rise inside like a serpent twisting up through his body. His tired legs somehow felt stronger again. Whereas moments before he didn’t think he could make another step, now he wouldn’t be surprised if he could run a marathon.  

But it wasn’t just his legs. The tightness from his chest had loosened somewhat and the pains of an empty stomach had already been forgotten. The bundle of files and folders under his arms that he’d carried from the Parlour no longer felt heavy. Most importantly, his mind it seemed had finally given up trying to juggle all the thoughts and worries and what ifs that had consumed it of late. Now it seemed clear, but full of purpose.

The road turned a corner and Christopher was again greeted with the sight of the vary gardens that had reminded him why he’d come to Huxley and Finch in the first place. He couldn’t stop himself chuckling when he saw the entire area was caked in thick snow. Even now the garden stubbornly refused to do what the rest of the county did. Or was it simply the garden was so old, it took a while to catch up with everyone else. This was the point when Christopher realised he had started to think of Rose Cottage and it’s garden as a living thing and he was sure that wasn’t healthy but it was the best reason, the only reason he had to explain why things were as they were.

As Christopher walked through the gardens, making satisfying crunching sounds at every step, the cottage loomed ever bigger in the darkness. Was he right, was it all alive? And if the cottage was, did he really want to enter through the front door alone, through the mouth of the beast and straight into its belly?

Well, eaten he’d have to be because Christopher had no intention of turning back. It wasn’t the hope of finding Peter that now drove him, it was the certainty. No one would get in his way. He would do whatever it took, and if even a single hair was out of place on Pete’s head, there would be hell to pay.

2

Meanwhile, miles away in one direction or another, Barbara sat patiently in the small white room. There was only a single table and two chairs, one of course was already taken, a well-proportioned bottom wedged between the back and arm rests. The other however was still vacant. Barbara eyed the empty chair, as though it knew who’s bottom was about to be placed upon it. But if the chair knew it did not speak. It just stood there unmoving, defying her to the last.

This was not a good place to be, Barbara decided. While she was here Jacob had more time to finish whatever he was planning to do. Christopher had more time to get lost, caught or worse. He might even try to take things into his own hands and get himself killed. But the longer they left her waiting here, the stronger the case that all the things she was worried about could come true.

The door to the small white room opened. Barbara couldn’t see who opened it as her chair stood right in front, facing the opposite direction. But she was damned if she was going to turn around and look or show even the least bit of interest. She waited patiently for whoever it was to come in, walk around the desk and sit in the chair opposite. And if it was some young fresh detective she knew she would wipe the floor with them.

Even now the mysterious detective kept her waiting. Was he just standing there, staring at the back of her head? Well he can keep looking, she wasn’t going to turn round however much the anticipation was quietly killing her. Maybe he was scared of her? Maybe whoever was about to enter had heard of her and knew was not to be messed with? Was he even now cowering in the door frame, too afraid to enter but too scared to go back to his boss with his tail between the legs.

But then it dawned on Barbara, perhaps it wasn’t some young spotty boy who thought he was a man because he wore a uniform. Perhaps it was someone older and more experienced, specifically more experienced with her.

The strange silence was finally broken by footsteps, whoever it was, was about to reveal themselves. Barbara prayed that who was about to enter her view was not the one she now feared it would be. And so, as in most cases in her life, it sodding well was.

“Do you want to hear a funny story?” was the first thing that came out of the black suited detective’s mouth. The only drop of colour, of excitement, was the blotches of blue on his tie. “There’s even a twist at the end.” He said.

Barbara didn’t reply.

“It began with a call from a guy admitting he had broken into a funeral parlour and stumbled upon a basement full of preserved corpses.” The detective sat down in the chair opposite Barbara, raising one finger in the air as though pointing at the ceiling. “Now this is the funny bit. When they got to the Funeral Parlour the caller was nowhere to be seen. But guess who they did find; none other than super gran herself; Barbara Huxley.”

“Hello David.”

“Now why is it, that anytime anything odd happens, you’re somehow at the centre of it?”

“That’s funny I always thought the same about you?”

“It’s my job.”

“To follow me around? I hope they pay you enough, either way it’s nice I’m finally famous enough to have my own stalker.”

“The last time we bumped into each other I told you if I ever caught you up to something again I would arrest you.”

“With what?” she demanded.

“If I could arrest you for being ridiculously nosy and the biggest pain in the arse I’ve ever known; believe me I would. But for now I’ll just have to settle with breaking and entering, tampering with evidence and wasting police time.”

Barbara attempted to protest but the detective was having none of it.

“Listen Barbara, while I’m well aware that you had nothing to do with doing to those bodies whatever the hell has been done to them, none the less you were at a crime scene. Again. So you will tell me what happened there or at least what you know. And then pray hard that I don’t find that there is yet more blood on your hands.”

“I haven’t done anything, I was just asked to look into something and I did.”

“I bet you did. You revel in all this sinister shit don’t you? You love the horror of it.”

“Mind your words young man, I don’t revel in sinister anything and anyway Betty likes to call it spooky-do’s.”

“Ah yes the girl who likes her greens. And where might she be?”

“How should I know?”

“You two are never far apart, she’s got to be around somewhere nearby?”

“I’m sure she is.”

“She can’t get far now; we’ve got your precious Granny mobile.”

“It’s a Land Rover David; have more respect, it’s older than you. Anyway I left Betty at the cottage so I guess she’s still there. She’s fine.”

“And if I go to the cottage I’ll find her there?”

“If you really must of course I can’t stop you. But David, I must say I’m really starting to notice how much you like wasting time.”

“Don’t push me Barbara.”

“It seems it doesn’t take much these days.”

“After what you did” the detective raised his voice, Barbara was sure she had finally got to him.

“After what I did? You don’t even know what I did and I can’t believe you’re bringing that up again, after all this time.”

“Someone died because of you.”

“How bloody dare you. You know there was a time when you called me a friend.”

“I think you’re confusing me with my ex-partner, who if you’ve forgotten is now six feet under because of you!”

“David, how many times. I didn’t do it.”

“Maybe not directly, but indirectly your metaphorical fingerprints are all over it. And one day I will prove it. Now stop playing games and tell me what you were doing at the Parlour and why we’ve got a bunch of corpses dressed up and positioned like they’re having a Christmas party.”

Barbara sat silently just staring at the detective, then something within must have changed her mind as she leaned forward parting her lips like she was about to speak.

The detective leaned forward in anticipation.

3

The entrance to rose cottage had thankfully been unlocked so Christopher hadn’t had to do a search around the building for a half opened window or drain pipe to climb to the upper floor. The inside of the home was warm and inviting, flames still roared from the fireplace and lamps around the sitting room were on.

Christopher was sure the lights and the fire were out when they had left earlier. He searched the cottage as much as he could in case somehow Barbara had got away from the police or Betty and Peter had somehow escaped Jacob, but no one was home. Christopher hoped then that it was all on a timer, that the lights came on a specific point every evening and yes, even the fireplace. Though of course Christopher knew you couldn’t normally put a fireplace on a timer to turn its self on and off. But this wasn’t a normal place. So it was better to believe that then add any more evidence to the notion that he was now standing in the heart of a somehow sentient creature of bricks and beams and thatch.

After making himself a cup of tea and double checking it was Yorkshire, not Betty’s he was making it from. Christopher sat down on the sofa with all the files from the Parlour spread around him and set to work. However, whether it was the tea or the lighting or the sofa that half ate its occupants, Christopher ever so slowly, dropped off to sleep.

He dreamt he was at home snuggled up to Peter in bed, neither speaking just enjoying the moment. He kissed Peter on the neck and in return Peter turned and looked back at him. Peter was smiling.

Christopher woke up with a start and sat bolt upright. He looked down on his lap, a ball of white fluff sat there purring at him. He didn’t know they had a cat, well he assumed it was a cat though he couldn’t tell one part from the rest. It just seemed to be a big bulk of fluff with only the purr giving it any kind of definition.

“Hello there” he said to the cat before asking “How long have I been asleep?”

The cat did nothing but continue to purr, but that was alright, purring was good. It was as comforting to him as it was for the cat and besides it was nice to finally have some company. Well apart from the cottage itself.

Christopher yawned and stretched out his arms, he noticed the cat also raised half of its body at the same time. Maybe it was stretching as well, who knew. Either way after finishing what it was doing it leapt off Christopher’s lap and glided across the floor to be closer to the warmth of the fire.

After a substantial amount of effort Christopher managed to climb out of the sofa, as he stood he looked down at his legs and saw they were now covered by masses of white hair. He brushed as much off as he could but quite a few stray hairs refused to budge. Finally admitting defeat Christopher went back to the scattered folders on the floor.

An article caught his eye, it was an old newspaper clipping. Just as Christopher picked it up for closer inspection he heard a strange noise. He couldn’t tell if it was far away or really close, if it was living or mechanical. He stopped and listened more intently, the sound was close. It was coming from the fireplace, no scratch that, it was coming from the cat. Christopher believed it was growling.

Suddenly all the hairs on the creature stood on end making it look like an albino hedgehog.

“What’s the matter Fur ball?” asked Christopher, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. But then remembering where he was, there was a fifty-fifty chance the cat might actually reply. 

The cat started to slowly step forward, or was it backing off? Either way was not a good sign. Someone was obviously coming towards the house or they were already inside, and there was no way the Cat would get upset by the reappearance of either Barbara or Betty. So who did that leave?

Christopher felt his whole body suddenly go cold and he started to shake uncontrollably. He was convinced either Jacob or someone who was working for him had come to tie up loose ends, and those loose ends would be the files lying at Christopher’s feet and of course Christopher himself.

Willing himself to move from the spot he seemed so frozen to, seemed like a colossal undertaking to Christopher. This however was not a problem the Cat shared for it was off at speed across the lounge and out the door. There was a mighty hiss and then what sounded almost like a whimper followed by what can only be described as a scream. The scream began quite deep but then the pitch rose to quiet an impressive height. Whoever it was Christopher almost felt sorry for them and the unfortunate place the creature had so obviously attacked.

Maybe it was the scream or maybe it was the fact that the cat showed no fear, which ever it was Christopher found he was no longer routed to the spot. With whomever it was having their hands full Christopher had a chance to hide somewhere. He was sure they had not seen him, all the curtains were closed and as far as he knew who ever it was had only just arrived judging from the excellent burglar alarm come attack cat. So he stuffed the newspaper article in his pocket and ran for the stairs, hoping there was somewhere, some room he’d have a good place to disappear from view in.

4

Back at the police station, Barbara had been moved to the more ‘comfortable’ cells. It had to be half the size of the rather cramped interview room she had had the joy of sitting in earlier. Still at least now there was better company, namely herself.

Barbara assumed all that she had told him was not enough to get her out the station. She had hoped for a better result but there was nothing she could do about it now. She wondered if Christopher was having better luck. If he had managed to avoid the police and kept walking she was sure he would have got to the cottage long before now. The old building had an ability to pull the needy towards it like a magnet. If that’s where you needed to be you’d find it, even if you didn’t know it. The waifs and strays that had turned up to their door needing help over the years was proof of that.

Being cooped up for so long was really starting to make Barbara angry, and she was sure David knew it. The longer she was locked up the less chance she had of saving Peter and Betty and time was really beginning to tick now.

The problem was, Barbara still hadn’t told him the whole truth, and he’d known her enough by now to know she never tells the whole truth, not really. She couldn’t help it, but couldn’t decide if this was because she thought she was protecting people or that she simply thought she was more important than everyone else.

My goodness, Barbara thought. Am I really getting that bad? I don’t think there’s going to be any redemption for me in the end of days.

Barbara sat on the ridiculously thin hard mattress on the ridiculously thin hard bed with her head in her hands. What the hell was she going to do? She was the one who was meant to sort everything out. Betty was the one who’d get into the sticky situations and she’d be the one to unstick her. But how could she do that from her cell?

After that speech to Christopher, defending her honour and promising to try her hardest; was he actually so wrong? No. She would prove him wrong. They weren’t just two old ladies in over the head. They were Huxley and Finch and they got things done.

“Come on girl" Barbara finally said to herself. “What’s your policy on what’s in the past? It’s in the past girl; can’t be changed. Now is the only time that’s important. Bother, I’m talking out loud to myself."

5

The cottage was quiet and still. Not a sound could be heard in the empty hallways or darkened rooms. It had been that way for what had seemed the like the longest time in the world. Ever since the shrieks of the cat and screams of the trespasser had abruptly ceased, it seemed to Christopher like the world had become frozen in a single second. He imagined if he managed to reach a window and look out he’d see birds paused in flight, like statues floating in the sky.

Unfortunately the image was shattered when a single noise, in a sea of silence, echoed through the house as though a gun had gone off. It was the sound of a foot on a step at the base of the staircase. Christopher tried to make his body smaller and get further back into the corner of the room, but of course he couldn’t. He imagined himself merging into the yellow wallpaper itself, completely invisible and completely safe.

The creaks of the second and third step made it all the way to Christopher’s ear, through layers of fabric, mountains of boxes and a closed door. Christopher had the sneaking suspicion that maybe the house was somehow trying to help by amplifying every sound the man made. Maybe it was okay to be in the belly of the old beast, if it was a friendly old beast.

The large creak from the floor boards at the top of the staircase alerted Christopher to the arrival of his pursuer, if indeed the man even knew he was there. The storage room Christopher was hiding in was three doors across from the staircase; so Christopher knew he still had a little time. But to do what, he had no idea.

The guest bedroom door groaned as it was opened and the man’s feet could be heard slowly and methodically working its way round the room before returning to the hallway and across into the next room which was adjacent to Christopher’s hiding place. All of a sudden Christopher didn’t feel quite so invisible. In fact he felt like he was in a bright shirt standing in the middle of a stadium at night with all the flood lights pointing directly at him. He knew he had to move, as soon as that door opened he would be spotted. But if Christopher could sneak past the man while he was still in the middle room, then he could get down the stairs and out the cottage. But he had to go now.

Christopher silently crawled out from his hiding place and gently opened the door. Poking his head out into the hallway, Christopher could see that it was still clear. He didn’t hesitate moving immediately, each step slow and quiet but full of purpose.

As Christopher neared the door to the occupied room he faltered for the first time, that final nerve he had left was almost lost to him. But he kept strong, he knew in his heart if he didn’t at least try to pass this door he was as good as dead anyway. It was just enough reasoning, just enough push to move one of his legs forward and step into the light of the open doorway.

Dare Christopher turn his head to his right and look as he passed? It could be fine, whoever was in there could have their back to the door, searching a wardrobe or cupboard. Or they could be right beyond the threshold staring with big eyes and an even bigger false smile right out into the hallway. Christopher reasoned that regardless if he looked or not, if the guy was facing the door he’d be caught, so it was better to get a heads up.

Christopher had run out of time to decide, he was passing the door. He began by looking only in the corner of his eye. He thought he saw a shape at the other edge of the room. He turned his head all the way to his right. The milliseconds it took seemed agonisingly stretched like the air was as thick as treacle and fighting every step of the way. It was a shape, it was a man. And he was facing the other way. But in those milliseconds he was still in Christopher’s view did his head start to turn?

Clear of the doorway Christopher tried to speed up as much as he could without making a sound. He was glad he was not seen, but he didn’t have long enough to catch even who the man was. Was it Jacob? He couldn’t even remember how tall he was, his build or even what he was wearing. The fear of seeing the shape had stopped the camcorder part of the brain from recording. No matter, his priority now was to get out of there.

When Christopher reached the staircase he allowed himself one final look back down the hallway. It was then that a foot appeared just protruding out of the middle room. Christopher had a second to react, so he dived. Unfortunately straight into the guest bedroom, he’d actually wanted to dive the other way but his brain had had other ideas it seemed. So, quick as a flash Christopher climbed under the bed and turned a hundred and eighty degrees so he could get a good look though the doorway whenever the intruder passed.

Christopher lay there on his chest listening out for the telling sound of footfalls, but none could be heard. Now Christopher had no idea where he was so continued to stare through the doorway knowing eventually the guy would have to pass. And that moment came quicker than he imagined.

One minute the hallway was empty, then in a blink of an eye there he was. Well, there his feet were, for that was all Christopher could see. At first the shoes pointed in the direction of the stairway. 

Christopher wished and prayed that this ordeal would finally be over. All the guy had to do was continue down the stairs then walk out the front door. Was that too much to ask? Of course it was.

The feet changed direction and pointed into the guest room, straight at the bed, and Christopher. If this guy had eyes on his feet, he had a clear shot now, almost point blank. Christopher clamped his hands over his mouth and held his breath, trying not to move even the tiniest air particle.

The shoes stepped forward almost right up to the bed. Christopher knew one of two things could happen now. Either, the owner of the shoes would bend down and a face would appear, finding him out. Or the shoes would turn around and the man would sit on the edge of the bed.

There was another dreadful pause. Then slowly the shoes made their predicted about face and the man appeared to sit down on the edge of the bed. Christopher finally allowed himself a moment to exhale and to relax all the while keeping both eyes on both legs.

The legs seemed to stay there for a while, barely moving. Christopher thought he saw the left one shake slightly but that was it. A hand appeared at the right leg, scratched a spot for a moment before rising out of view once more.

Then something strange happened. Both legs slowly rose up out of view presumably onto the bed. This was not what Christopher expected. Now he had no idea where the man was. Yes he was on the bed, but was he going to leap off a different side, was he going to lean over the side and look underneath?

Nothing happened for ages, well it seemed like ages. Christopher dare not move or breath, he swore his face had turned blue and that he may have beaten some kind of record somewhere on holding breath.

The nothing was still going on when Chris decided to slightly raise his head and check out all four sides. This man could pop down from any side at any point. Christopher hated not knowing, and that hatred nearly over powered his fear, but not enough.  

The man did none of the things Christopher predicted. It appeared he’d stood up on the bed and after some pause had decided to jump. And then he jumped again. This was definitely not what Christopher expected.

Christopher was finding it harder and harder not to make a sound, especially when the trampoline artist started to build up his speed and height. If he didn’t stop soon Christopher was sure he was going to be sick. But then out of nowhere a song started playing. It sounded like Moonlight Shadow.

The bouncing immediately stopped then there was a bling sound followed by an abrupt end to Mike Oldfield’s track. Then Christopher could hear something else, the man was talking on his phone.

“Yes, Harrison here…… No, no one’s here but I think I got what I came for.”

 There was a long pause obviously the other party was speaking at some length. Finally Harrison replied.

“No, I don’t think we’ll have any more problems from them now. . . . Besides, there’s only two left. What can an old lady and a screaming queen do . . . . . Okay I’m on my way back.”

The man made one almighty bounce off the bed, landing on the floor with a deafening thump before casually walking out the bedroom, then down the stairs.

So it was one of Jacob’s henchmen Christopher decided. He said there was only two left, so they didn’t yet know that Barbara was with the police. Maybe he could use that somehow, pretend she was waiting round a corner if they jumped him?

Christopher waited at least half an hour to be doubly sure they had left the cottage, before slowly making his way downstairs. The cottage seemed quiet and still again, the fluff ball was fast asleep by the fireplace, no doubt blissfully purring away. Christopher collapsed back into the sofa and let it half devour him. He had no intention of moving again until morning. As he felt himself drift off, the sounds of Moonlight Shadow began to replay in his mind. 

To Be Continued...