Chapter 40
STEPHEN
Detective Williams lowers Stephen onto a kitchen chair, checks to ensure he’s not about to topple off it, and then turns to fetch a tea towel from a nearby drawer. He runs it under the tap, squeezes out the excess water and hands it over.
‘Your nose is bleeding,’ he says.
Stephen holds the towel against his nose.
His pale shirt is stained with blood too, droplets that landed there during his trip back from the village in the back of the barman’s car.
Frank had offered to drive him, but he’d already had too much to drink, so had helped him into the car instead, chuckling that it was never a good idea to try and keep up with him while out drinking.
Stephen bit his lip to stop his reply spilling from his lips.
Frank had been the one who’d plied him with drinks in the first place!
But little did Frank know that Stephen’s dizzy spell had nothing to do with the alcohol he’d ingested. Not entirely, anyway.
Stephen doesn’t say a word for a moment while Detective Williams makes them each a cup of coffee. For Stephen, it’s too late for caffeine, but hopefully it will ease the pain and confusion in his head. Anything to be able to see and think straight.
Stephen waits until Detective Williams places a cup in front of each of them and sits down. ‘So … care to explain why your nose is bleeding?’
‘I hit my head.’
‘Your nose is not your head, Mr Mallow.’
Stephen pulls the towel away and looks at the bright red blood soaking into the pattern. ‘Sorry about your towel,’ he says. ‘I spoke to Frank. I drank four fingers of whisky quicker than normal, but I wasn’t feeling quite right even before that.’
‘What’s going on?’
Stephen sighs. The time has come. ‘I believe I had a seizure.’ At the final word, Graham’s eyes raise into his hairline.
‘For several months, I have been experiencing distressing symptoms, but this is the first seizure I’ve experienced.
I went to the doctor, they completed some tests and I found out the results the day before I came here via email. ’
‘What’s the diagnosis?’ asks Detective Williams, his voice calm, low.
‘A brain tumour. I won’t bore you with the details. It has a very long-winded name, but the prognosis isn’t good.’ Stephen lowers the towel to the table and picks up his coffee. He takes a small sip. ‘But it does explain why I’ve been hallucinating lately and being rather … forgetful.’
‘I see,’ says the detective. ‘What sort of hallucinations?’
‘I seem to think I have been having conversations with people via text message, but I haven’t.
My girlfriend, Rachel, has been trying to get hold of me and I thought I’d responded, but I haven’t.
I also saw the ghost of John Hammel standing under the tree the other morning.
’ Stephen rubs his eyes, the dull pain behind them keeps forcing them closed.
‘I don’t know what’s real or not anymore. ’
Detective Williams stares at him from across the table. ‘I hate to say it, Mr Mallow, but I think you may need serious medical help.’
‘Not until this case is solved.’
‘What’s so important about this case? I can handle it. Believe it or not, solving missing person cases used to be my profession. I know I called you for help, but if I’d known you were sick, then I wouldn’t have asked.’
‘This is so much more than just a missing person case. I’m seeing things, hearing things that aren’t really there. This is like Cherry Hollow all over again.’
‘It’s funny you should say that.’
‘What do you mean? I’m not saying that The Creature is responsible. How can it be? This is a whole other town. The Creature was Amber’s thing.’
‘Yes, but do you remember what we spoke about that day in your office when you came back to Cherry Hollow for the second time? The Creature was so much more than one person’s guilty conscience.
Mental health disorders come in many shapes and forms. The darkness affects us all in one way or another. ’
‘Yes, I’m aware, but Sophia being missing has nothing to do with someone’s mental health,’ says Stephen.
‘I’m not talking about Sophia Hammel here, Mr Mallow. I’m talking about you.’ The detective points at Stephen.
‘Me?’
‘Your brain tumour. When did the nosebleeds, hallucinations and other symptoms start?’
Stephen narrows his eyes, unsure where the detective is going with his line of questioning, but he knows better than to fight against him on this. The detective has many more years of experience with questioning people than he does.
‘I … I suppose it was a few months ago.’
‘Did anything substantial happen around that time that you can remember?’
Stephen tents his fingers in front of him and stares at his nails, studying them one by one.
He always likes to keep his nails neatly trimmed and clean.
You can tell a lot about a person by the state of their nails.
He takes a moment and looks at the detective’s nails, which are also clean and tidy. Figures.
He needs his mind to work the way it usually does. Why can’t he focus and think straight? Something is blocking his memory, his special way of thinking about things.
‘I … yes, I believe something did happen, but I’m unsure what it is.’
The detective takes a deep breath in through his nose, then slowly exhales. ‘Mr Mallow, what I’m about to reveal to you may come as a bit of a shock, but I mean no harm. I believe you need to be reminded of something and then your mind will start to clear.’
Stephen nods. He understands and is fully aware that the detective is being serious. ‘Please, continue,’ he says.
‘Very well. Mr Mallow … I spoke with Olivia Willows again earlier, while you were with Frank at the pub. I originally called her to speak about Sophia Hammel and this case. I thought she may be able to shed some light on things, but as it turns out, she shed some light on something else instead. Something involving you … and your girlfriend, Rachel.’
At this point, Stephen forgets how to breathe. He holds his breath, feeling his pulse increase with every passing second.
‘I’m afraid to tell you, but … Rachel is dead. She died months ago from a sudden fall. She hit her head and it killed her. You found her on the bathroom floor hours after it happened. There was nothing you could have done to save her.’
And then everything makes sense again.
It hurts. Of course it does. It’s been hurting ever since it happened.
The pain was too much to contain. That’s why he’s shoved it all into a box in his mind, locked it up tight and thrown away the key.
But the detective has just found that key and opened the lid, revealing the horrors lying within.
Stephen now has no choice but to stand up and face it.
Now, the hurt, the grief, is loose again, but it means there’s a possible answer to his illness. Perhaps he isn’t sick at all. Not in the traditional sense. It’s been his grief, masquerading as an illness, a brain tumour, to trick him. He understands.
‘Yes, I remember now,’ says Stephen, lowering his line of sight to the floor. His vision is blurring again, distorted around the edges.
It did happen.
Rachel is dead. She has been all along.
His mind has been protecting itself from the pain, from the terror of what it would be like to face this world without her in it.
The detective reaches out and covers Stephen’s shaking hands with his own. ‘Grief is a terrible burden to carry alone, Mr Mallow. Don’t let the darkness win. Not again.’
Stephen looks up at him through hazy, tearful eyes.
Something in him breaks into a million pieces in a way it’s never done before.
Is that his heart breaking or his mind? Whatever it is, it’s a relief.
For so long, Stephen has forced the barriers to stay up, to remain strong and stoic in the presence of others.
Not anymore. Not today.
Today, he’s allowing his barriers to come crashing down around him. Sometimes, it’s okay to grieve and show weakness. It’s what being human is all about.
‘Thank you, Graham. For rescuing me,’ he says with a weak smile. He wants to tell him that he’s wrong, that it’s not only the darkness that’s causing his illness. But he wants to protect his friend a little longer. Just a little longer.
‘Any time, Stephen. Any time.’