Chapter 44
CLIFFORD
Clifford sat down dejectedly on the small inflatable bed in the box room.
He’d been a fool to walk out and leave this house to Nancy.
And an even bigger fool to think that he could walk back in and she would welcome him with open arms. Of course he’d known she’d be annoyed with him, but he thought he’d be able to talk her round – he’d always been able to do that in the past – and that she’d be so glad to see him that she would be willing to give him a second chance.
But Nancy had changed in the months that he’d been away, he couldn’t believe how hard and selfish she’d become.
He’d been pleased when he discovered that she hadn’t sold the house and bought a flat, as he had stupidly suggested; it was such a relief to come back home.
But his home had changed too. It was no longer the quiet, orderly house he’d left and was now inhabited by three boisterous, totally unsuitable strangers, who for some strange reason, Nancy seemed very fond of, and a pesky black cat that wouldn’t leave him alone.
And, as Nancy had firmly and very cruelly pointed out, it was no longer his home.
He’d changed, too, Clifford acknowledged.
He’d walked out with such plans for the future.
Life with Nancy had become boring, and he was worried about the debt he’d got them in, so when he’d been offered early retirement, the idea to leave it all behind and travel around the world had crept into his mind and grown bigger and bigger until it seemed the best solution.
He’d made several trips to the travel agency to discuss his plans, and Marcie, the assistant, had been very helpful.
She seemed to understand exactly how he felt.
Unfortunately, things hadn’t worked out how he’d planned.
And now here he was stuck in this little box room.
Temporarily, Nancy told him, until he found somewhere else.
He’d thought he’d be able to win her around, but she’d hardened towards him.
Although the house had to be sold soon to repay the mortgage, he’d been hoping that between them they could sort something out but Nancy had made it clear that she didn’t want to be with him.
And she was right, the house was hers, he’d signed it away. He’d been a fool.
Tired and dejected, he crawled into bed. The inflatable mattress was thin and uncomfortable. He tossed and turned, turned and tossed, until he eventually fell asleep.
Something woke him up. He lay there for a while trying to think what it was. The room was pitch-black and it took him a few minutes to focus. It was all quiet. He must have been dreaming. He closed his eyes again.
There it was again. A muffled whisper in the darkness. He shot up, reached for the lamp and switched it on. Frightened, his eyes scanned the room, his heart pounding.
‘Who’s there?’ he shouted.
Silence.
He was sure he hadn’t imagined it. He got up off the bed, opened the door and looked outside into the hall.
It was silent. Everyone else was asleep.
Damn, he had to go to the loo now. He pattered along the hall to the bathroom then went back to the box room, glancing around nervously.
It was all quiet. Maybe he had dreamt it.
He climbed into bed, turned off the lamp and closed his eyes.
Suddenly he felt something brush his cheek. He snapped his eyes open and screamed as a pair of yellow eyes met his. Shrieking at the top of his voice, he jumped out of bed, his hand reaching for the lamp once again. And there, lying on his bed was the black cat.
There was a tap on the door. ‘You okay, mate?’ It was Slate.
‘That bloody cat!’ Clifford flung open the door and Cobweb darted out. ‘She was staring at me spookily and I heard whispering…’
‘Are you saying that the cat whispered to you?’ Slate asked slowly.
Clifford realised how crazy this sounded. ‘No. Yes. I don’t know… I heard whispers. And that cat—’
‘Clifford, what on earth is going on?’ Nancy asked coming out of her bedroom – their bedroom, where he should be sleeping, not in this poxy room with its dark shadows and strange noises and thin inflatable bed.
She was wearing the lilac dressing gown he’d bought her last Christmas, when they were still together.
If only he’d realised then how lucky he was.
‘I think he was having a bit of a nightmare, and Cobweb crept into his room and startled him,’ Slate explained.
‘Naughty Cobweb, come back in here.’ Phyllis was standing outside her bedroom door now. ‘I’m so sorry, she does wander about sometimes. You should have closed your bedroom door.’
‘I did close my door…’ he started to say then remembered that he’d left it open when he went to the loo. ‘This is a madhouse!’ he snapped, storming back into the box room.
He settled down in bed again and closed his eyes. He was just drifting off to sleep when the whispering started again. He flung the duvet back and switched on the light. Nothing.
What was going on? He had heard it; he knew he had.
He sat up and waited. Nothing. Maybe he was dreaming. He switched the light off and settled down to go to sleep. He was about to drop off when a loud cackle made him almost jump out of his skin.
He slammed the light back on and looked around.
Nothing. Was the room haunted? He didn’t believe in stuff like that, but…
he had definitely heard whispering – and that horrible cackle.
He propped himself up with the pillows and waited.
There were no more spooky noises. At some point he fell asleep and woke up the next morning with a crick in his neck on a completely deflated bed.