The Shadow House(90)

I frowned. Were Pine Ridge kids sneaking up here and playing house? But then I found a crumpled piece of paper on the floor, with squares of dirt-clogged sticky tape on each corner. Bess’s house, it said, the words drawn shakily in purple crayon. Please knock.

With a heavy heart, I trailed my fingers over Bess Hassop’s imaginary world. In one corner, a small storage box had been made up with towels to look like a bed, and a ragged teddy bear sat in a bucket with a sponge and a rubber duck. Beneath the bucket was a vintage suitcase, powder pink under all the dirt, with the words Bess’s Secret Things written in shaky cursive on the outside.

Bending down, I moved the bucket aside and pulled the suitcase towards me. Unclipping the clasps, I lifted the lid. Inside was a broken music box, a few hair clips, a perfectly spherical stone and a bright green feather. And, right at the bottom of the case, I found a thick sketchbook, the pages bloated with moisture.

I dug it out. Thumbing through the damp-rippled pages, I found pencil drawings. Fruit, rocks, flowers. The desiccated skeletons of leaves, the whorled cross-section of a cabbage. A mossy nest cradling four smooth eggs. And birds, lots and lots of them. Cockatoos, swans, galahs, parrots. Same style as the ones in the Hassop house.

My eyes swam. This book had belonged to Gabriel.

I turned page after page. Some were missing, leaving ragged tears where the paper had been torn out. At about the halfway mark, the tone of the sketches began to change. Nature images became portraits. A girl reading a book. A child holding a toy rabbit. A smiling woman who bore a resemblance to Jenny, her long hair falling in her eyes. Other pictures were chilling. In one, a slithering black creature with horns and a forked tail crawled through an open window, all glistening sinewy limbs and outstretched claws. In another, Michael Kellerman hung from a butcher’s hook, gutted like a fish.

Towards the end, the mood changed again. The drawings became softer, more peaceful. Bess Hassop with an angel’s halo. Dom standing by a tractor, gazing into the distance: a catalogue model’s pose. And then Gabriel began inserting himself into the pictures. Standing with Dom by an apple tree, helping Bess to bake a pie. The three of them smiling in front of the Hassop home, the various extensions of the house all lovingly laid out behind them in soft charcoal.

I was reminded again of my obsession with the childhood storybook. In the absence of any artistic talent, though, I’d simply torn out the pictures and pored over them in secret, inhaling the fantasy, wishing it to life.

Then it hit me.

Holy shit.

Holy fucking shit.

He’d come here. Gabriel had run away, but he hadn’t gone far.

This was his fantasy, his ideal family, his dream life. This was where he felt safe. He’d packed a bag, left his house in the middle of the night and …

There’s a monster in the woods.

I turned towards the door.

The air around me seemed to shift, like a change in barometric pressure.

And then I heard a scream.





RENEE





44


Alone at the foot of the stairs, Renee stared at the birds. She pressed her fingertips to the frames. The lightest of strokes, the most delicate of shading. Tiny, feathery pieces of her son’s heart, trapped behind glass. How had they come to land here in this dark, drab place?

It had been years since she’d been inside the Hassop house. It was starkly familiar, of course. Same old smell, chicken stock and dish soap. Same old fixtures and fittings. But there was no life anymore, no light.

She bit a nail, wondering where Alex was.

Slowly, she became aware of a faint clicking, dripping sound. A leaky tap? Stepping to her left, she peered into the kitchen. It was still and empty.

The noise continued. It was coming from somewhere behind her. She turned around and—

Her body spasmed.

Bess was standing by the fireplace in a long nightgown, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. Her thin grey hair quivered at her temples.

‘Christ alive, Bess.’ Renee pressed her hand to her heart. ‘You gave me a shock.’

Bess just gave her a blank look, her mouth quivering, her jaw slightly misaligned. Her skin was papery and powdery like the wings of a moth.

‘It’s me. Renee. You do remember me, don’t you?’

Bess clicked her tongue once more. ‘You look nothing like Renee,’ she said. ‘I remember her very well. She’s gone now. Where did she go?’

Renee felt awful. Over the last six years she’d been careful to avoid all contact with the Hassops; she’d seen them occasionally but made sure they hadn’t seen her. She’d had no interest in maintaining any connection between her two worlds. But clearly that had been a mistake. ‘I didn’t go anywhere. I’ve been here all along.’

‘Ah. Just like her boy.’

Renee frowned. ‘What?’

‘What?’ Bess repeated. Her eyes narrowed, then widened as if she’d just thought of something surprising. ‘He’s around here somewhere. Always chooses the best hiding places, I can never find him!’ Her puckered lips spread into a smile and she wagged her finger. ‘He finds me, though. Every time.’

Renee felt the chill in every part of her body. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘He should’ve told her.’

‘Who?’