38
38
‘Maisie always said I was a dreamer,’ Fiona said, leading Rose and Emma into what had once been the reception area. It hadn’t changed since she’d last come here, a few months before her arrest, back when she’d thought she was about to be rich. There was still a desk in the corner, rotten and infested with woodworm. ‘But the moment I laid eyes on this place, I knew it was perfect.’
Rose was looking around, peering through doors, reading the peeling signs on the damp-mottled walls. She seemed interested, open-minded. Emma, on the other hand, was goggling at Fiona like this might be a wind-up.
‘It stinks in here. What is that?’
‘Pigeon shit, probably. It’s not that bad. It’ll soon fade once the birds have been rehomed.’
‘Rehomed ... What actually is this place? Some kind of hospital?’
‘Ravenhill House,’ Fiona said. ‘Formerly one of Britain’s finest psychiatric institutions. Or lunatic asylums, as they used to call them.’
‘Sweet Jesus.’
Fiona noticed that Rose was paying attention now, and Fiona couldn’t help but play to the crowd. ‘There were few signs of Jesus here, Emma. People, mostly women in fact, could be locked away for anything from depression caused by losing their son or husband in the war, to leading an immoral life. Hysteria was a big one. The wandering womb, causing all sorts of trouble as it roamed around the female body. You could be locked up for adultery, jealousy, nymphomania.’
‘The bad old days,’ Emma said.
‘Maybe. I expect having an emotional affair with one’s neighbour qualified too, not that anyone used such ridiculous language in Victorian times. A cheat was a cheat.’
Emma’s face had gone pink. ‘What the hell?’
Fiona waved this away. ‘I’m messing with you. Yes, it was a terrible time. Guess what? I found out that my own great-grandmother was a patient here.’
Emma still looked shell-shocked from what Fiona had said, and Fiona realised she needed to be careful for a little longer. She didn’t want Emma marching out of here, attempting to drag Rose with her.
‘I’m sorry about the affair comment,’ she said. ‘Bad joke.’
‘It didn’t sound like a joke.’
‘Why was she here?’ Rose asked, ignoring this brewing argument.
‘Unsociable behaviour, apparently,’ Fiona said. ‘She was accused of being a “loose woman” who damaged the reputations of several high-ranking gentlemen.’
‘Typical,’ Rose said.
‘Also, she murdered her husband.’
‘Oh. Wow.’
‘Cut his head off with an axe, then carried it into town and handed it to his mistress, who worked at one of the more popular inns.’
Emma stared at her, then said, ‘You are joking, right?’
‘Why would I joke about that? Her name was Emma, in fact. Isn’t that a coincidence?’
‘It’s a common name.’
‘Hmm. Have you ever had the urge to chop anyone’s head off?’ Fiona giggled. ‘Sorry, I’m messing with you still. How would you like a tour?’
Before Emma could reply, Fiona went through the door behind the reception desk into the corridor. There were no windows here, and it was almost too dark to see your own hand in front of your face. Fiona, knowing Emma wouldn’t be able to see her, felt her inside pocket, checking the flick-knife was still there, and took her phone out of her pocket, switching the torch on.
‘Isn’t it amazing?’ she called out, her voice bouncing between the walls.
Using her phone to light the way, Fiona went through a door into the washroom, brushing a cobweb from her cheek as she entered. This was where new patients would be cleaned, often with freezing water delivered by a hose, although this – by all accounts – did nothing to quash the lice that had infested this place. Several tin bathtubs, encrusted with dirt and brown rust, lined the wall. To the right of the corridor were several smaller rooms which might have been used for relatives, usually husbands, who were waving goodbye to their loved, or despised, ones.
‘Why did you refer to this place as home?’ Emma asked.
‘Because that’s what it’s going to be one day.’
Emma was incredulous. ‘ Your home? It would cost millions to buy this place and do it up. Are you secretly rich?’
‘Not yet. But one day.’
‘When you win the lottery?’
Fiona didn’t smile. ‘There are other ways to get rich, Emma. I almost managed it once. But you know what? Going forward, I won’t make the same mistakes again. And I’ll have a better disguise next time. Everyone trusts a mother.’
‘Wait. Are you having a baby?’
Ignoring Emma’s question, Fiona tried to catch Rose’s eye, but she was busy inspecting the dilapidated bathtubs, taking photos of them on her phone. She had her own torch on too.
‘What do you think of it, Rose?’ she asked.
‘It smells bad.’
‘Yes, but apart from that?’ Fiona tried not to let her irritation show. At the same time, she heard rain drumming against the remaining windows. The storm had come.
Rose said, ‘It’s horrible. I mean, it’s cool to visit and the history is kind of interesting, I guess, but it’s old and smelly and gross.’
‘You took the words right out of my mouth,’ Emma said.
Fiona gritted her teeth, shooting a look of venom at Emma before going over to Rose and saying, ‘But you’re not seeing the potential. Look!’ She marched Rose back into the corridor and along it to a door that led into a huge space, formerly a gymnasium. Weak light entered the room through the windows high up on the walls, combining with the light from their phones to create a grey, watery gloom. She lowered her voice so Emma wouldn’t overhear. ‘We could have a massive indoor swimming pool here. And outside, we can build stables. Horses, Rose! Haven’t you always wanted your own pony?’
‘Horses?’
‘And as many dogs and cats as you want. We could have our own zoo!’
‘Wait,’ Rose said. ‘ We? ’
‘Yes. As soon as—’
She whirled around. Emma was approaching again, footsteps echoing through the corridor.
‘I can’t tell if you’re winding me up, Fiona. If this is all some big elaborate joke. Even if you could somehow find the money to do this place up, it’s way too big to be anyone’s home, and that’s before we even talk about its past.’ She shuddered. ‘I don’t believe in ghosts but, my God, if anywhere was haunted, it would be this place. It has such ... dark energy.’
Fiona was surprised. ‘You feel it too?’
‘Of course. Even before you told me it was an asylum. Think of all the suffering that happened here. The misery.’ She lowered her voice so Rose wouldn’t overhear. ‘I bet loads of people died here too.’
‘Oh yes. Hundreds. Many of them perished in a fire that swept through the upstairs rooms. A blaze set deliberately by one of the nurses, they say. That was the reason it closed down in the end. They say you can still see scorch marks on the walls, shaped like the bodies of the women who burned to death.’
‘Cool,’ said Rose.
Emma stared at her daughter with horror. ‘ Cool? ’
Fiona grinned. ‘Do you want to see? Come on.’
She took Rose’s hand, ignoring how the girl flinched, and led her to a staircase at the end of the corridor. They began to climb.
‘Wait.’ Emma was behind them, struggling to keep up. ‘That doesn’t look safe.’
The stairs were rickety and blackened with soot, and their creaks were like horror-movie shrieks as Fiona trod on them on her way up. ‘It’s fine,’ she called back.
‘Rose, get back here.’
Rose ignored her and, within moments, they had reached the first floor, pushing through a door that hung from its hinges and entering another corridor. Fiona heard Emma coming up the steps behind them, just as she’d known she would.
‘This is where the patients lived. Can you see where the fire swept through here?’ Fiona asked. Despite the rain and the gathering storm, there was still a little daylight coming in – but, as she had downstairs, she topped it up with the torch on her phone, shining it up then down. The ceiling was black and the floor was thick with a grey-white dust, like powdered bone.
She and Rose went into one of the rooms, and the heavy door swung shut behind them. There were the remains of a single bed against the wall, so rusted it was almost black, and Fiona set her phone down on it so the torch acted as a makeshift lamp. There were two windows high up on the walls, the glass broken and jagged. A chamber pot which had survived the fire was over in the corner. Fiona watched Rose examine the wall, obviously looking for the charred outline of the room’s former resident. Maybe those dark patterns resembled a human figure. It was hard to tell in the near-dark, but Rose said, in a hushed and gleeful tone, ‘I can see it.’
Moments later, the door opened behind them to reveal Emma, wearing a furious expression.
‘What are you doing?’ she demanded, coming inside, the door slamming behind her.
‘Look, Mum. Can you see the shape on the wall? Someone burned to death right there, where you’re standing.’
Emma looked at her daughter like she’d never seen her before, simultaneously moving away from the spot and shivering like she could feel it. The presence of the dead.
‘Rose, we’re leaving.’ She turned to Fiona. ‘You know, Fiona, I really wasn’t sure about you at first, but I changed my mind, thought you were nice. I’ve had to defend you to Ethan several times recently.’
‘Oh, doesn’t Ethan like me anymore? That’s a shame. But I’m sure I know the way to his heart.’
Emma stared at her. ‘So there is something going on?’
‘Oh yes. Ethan paid me a little visit last week. We’ve grown ... close.’
‘Oh my God. You’re not right in the head.’ She reached out a hand. ‘Rose, come on. We’re going home. Fiona can find her own way back.’
But Rose didn’t move. She was staring at Fiona with horror, and Fiona realised she shouldn’t have said that about herself and Ethan in front of her. It was something she needed to talk to Rose about, properly prepare her for. How, if they were going to be a family, she and Ethan were going to have to be together.
‘You and my dad ?’ Rose said.
Fiona shifted around so she was standing between Emma and the door out of this room. Keeping her eye on Emma, she said, ‘Rose, do you want me to answer your question now? Tell you who was third on my list?’
Rose nodded slowly while Emma stood beside her, wanting to leave but frozen to the spot by confusion and curiosity.
‘I told you about the Land Rover that stopped Maisie and me from getting away, didn’t I? Well, when I got out of prison—’
‘ Prison? ’ Emma said.
‘—I found out that the Land Rover belonged to your parents. I thought at first it was probably your dad driving – making a sexist assumption – but when I looked back through his social media I saw he was away at some big record fair, had set off on the first train of the day, so it couldn’t have been him. It was your mum.’
She turned to Emma. ‘It was you.’
Emma stared back at her. Rose was staring too, taking all this in. After the accident that was about to happen – the mishap on this day out – Fiona would explain that she, Fiona, was going to be her mum now. Her dad would be grieving and need comforting, and Fiona would be there for him, and soon he would fall in love with her and it would be easy for her to move next door. Wouldn’t it be amazing, the two of them together, all the time? I have so much to show you , she would say. So much to teach you. You’ll be my shield, I’ll be your mentor. Together, we will be unstoppable.
Partnerships are great, but what does society really value, Rose? I’ll tell you. Family. It’s the ideal way to disguise ourselves, to get away with anything we want to do. No one would ever suspect this perfect family unit. We’ll be able to befriend all these rich old people, all these decrepit millionaires – you, this sweet girl who nobody would ever suspect, and your delightful stepmother. They’ll be signing their estates over to us before you can say two-point-four children.
But that little speech was still a few minutes in the future. First, the accident needed to happen.
Emma emerged from the trance she’d been in and attempted to grab Rose’s wrist. Rose wriggled from her grasp – and moved to stand beside Fiona.
‘What the hell?’ Emma clearly couldn’t believe what she was seeing. ‘Rose. Come. Now.’
‘I’m not a dog.’
‘What? I know you’re not a dog. You’re my daughter, and you’re going to do as you’re told.’
‘No.’
Emma’s mouth fell open and Fiona clapped her hands with glee. This was delicious. Rose’s rebellion in the restaurant had been annoying, but this ...
‘She’s a maniac,’ Emma said. ‘Rose. Come with me. We’re leaving.’
‘I’m sorry, Emma, but you’re not.’
Fiona took the flick-knife out of her inside pocket and pressed the button which made the blade appear.
It had been a while since Fiona had seen an expression of such horror. Surprise unfolded on Rose’s face too.
Fiona moved towards Emma, the knife outstretched. ‘Now. You’re coming with me.’
But it wasn’t Emma she reached out for. It was Rose whose upper arm she gripped and pulled towards her.
She held the knife to Rose’s throat.
‘Come with me. Or you both die.’