Dark Little Wonders and Other Stories Read online

  Copyright 2019 Amy Cross

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events, entities and places are either products of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual people, businesses, entities or events is entirely coincidental.

  Kindle edition

  Dark Season Books

  First published in July 2019 except A Single Blade of Grass, first published in 2012; and The Ghost of Creele Abbey, first published in 2017

  A girl takes a strange job, copying an obscure and ancient manuscript that's said to be guarded by a terrifying wraith.

  A London grave robber gets more than he bargained for when an old friend comes to visit.

  A grieving mother is offered a chance to bring her child back from the dead, but there's a deadly catch.

  A woman notices something unusual about her boyfriend, but what will he say when she asks him to tell her the truth?

  Dark Little Wonders and Other Stories contains the new short stories The Curious Case of Jonathan White, Poor Clara, The Fabricci Manuscript, The Long Dream of Colin Abernathy, Why Did You Leave Me?, and Dark Little Wonders, as well as revised versions of A Single Blade of Grass and The Ghost of Creele Abbey.

  Table of Contents

  The Curious Case of Jonathan White

  New

  The Ghost of Creele Abbey

  Originally published in 2017

  Poor Clara

  New

  The Fabricci Manuscript

  New

  The Long Dream of Colin Abernathy

  New

  A Single Blade of Grass

  Originally published in 2012

  Why Did You Leave Me?

  New

  Dark Little Wonders

  New

  Dark Little Wonders

  & Other Stories

  The Curious Case of Jonathan White

  “I knew you'd laugh,” Camilla said with a sigh. “I should never have called you to talk about this. You think it's all a big joke, don't you?”

  She moved the phone away, ready to cut the call, but Maddie stopped her at the last second.

  “Of course I don't think it's a joke!” Maddie said on the other end of the line, although it was clear that she was struggling to contain herself. “I swear, Cammy, honestly, I completely get where you're coming from and I think you… need to put your mind at rest. One way or the other.”

  “I would have mentioned it sooner,” Camilla continued, glancing briefly at the door to make sure that Jonathan wasn't home yet, then turning back to look at her laptop's screen, “but I knew how people would react. Believe me, if someone came to me with this same story, I'd think they were...”

  Her voice trailed off as she scrolled down the screen.

  She’d think they were what, exactly?

  Crazy?

  Paranoid?

  Beyond hope?

  All of those things and more, probably.

  Yet she couldn’t get it out of her mind. Search result after search result offered no real help. She'd tried medical sites, social media, sites about weird human bodies, but she'd found nothing. It was as if nobody else had ever before searched for her specific problem, as if she was the only person in the whole world who'd ever gone through this bizarre experience. As if she was all alone.

  “The thing is,” she said finally, leaning back in the chair for a moment, “I've been really careful over the past four weeks. I've been...” She paused, aware that she was about to sound even crazier than before. “I've been monitoring the whole thing,” she continued, before closing her eyes and sighing. There was some relief, at least, in admitting the truth. “I've been keeping notes and... checking to see if he does it.”

  On the other end of the line, Maddie started laughing again.

  “Forget it,” Camilla sighed. “I have to go.”

  Again, she moved the phone down and prepared to hang up.

  “No!” Maddie said. “Please! Babe, you have my undivided attention! Truly, you do! It's just that... I mean, you've got to admit, this all sounds really, really strange.” She paused for a moment. “Are you sure you haven't made a mistake? Are you sure this isn't just something that's turned into a big old nothing-burger in your mind? You know you get like that sometimes, Cammy. Before you deny it, think back to that holiday we all took a few years ago to the Isle of Wight. You were convinced that Belinda was pregnant, and it just turned out to be gas!”

  “This time I'm sure,” Camilla replied. “I mean, I think I am. I mean, I...”

  She paused. How could she explain it in a few clear, succinct words that would make her friend understand?

  “I live with him,” she said finally. “It's a small flat. Believe me, it's not a place where you can keep secrets from your other half. And I'm sure of what I just told you. As crazy as it sounds, I'm absolutely certain that he -”

  Before she could finish that sentence, she heard the tell-tale sound of Jonathan's feet on the stairs, coming up to the flat's front door. Whereas once the sound of his return would excite her, now she was instantly filled with a bundle of nerves. She'd been telling herself all day that she was finally going to confront him, that today was the day, but suddenly all her confidence and determination washed away.

  “He's home!” she hissed. “I have to go!”

  “Are you going to talk to him about it?”

  “Yes! No! Maybe, I don't know.”

  “It's good to get these things out in the open, Cammy.”

  “I don't know!”

  “Just ask him straight out.”

  The key slipped into lock.

  “Got to go!” Camilla said. “I'll call you!”

  “Maybe you can help him. Maybe he'd like that.”

  “I have to go!”

  Maddie began to say something in reply, but Camilla cut the call and set her phone down just as the front door swung open. She quickly closed a couple of tabs on her laptop and brought up one of her usual gossip sites, and then she tried to look completely normal and untroubled as she heard Jonathan stepping up behind her. Even so, she felt as if she was sweating and looking guilty. Jonathan was a perceptive guy, kind of sensitive when it suited him, and she knew she wouldn't be able to maintain the facade of normality for long.

  “There she is,” he said, leaning down and kissing the side of her neck. “My favorite woman in the whole world. Do you still want to get Chinese tonight? If not, I heard about a great -”

  “Chinese is perfect,” she replied, breathing his cologne in deep and trying to persuade herself that everything was okay. That there was nothing to worry about. “I love Chinese. Lots of fiber. I think. Maybe.”

  “Great, 'cause I'm starving and I'm ready to go. I don't even want to stop for a shower. Should we get going?”

  “Sure,” Camilla replied, and then she involuntarily winced as Jonathan once again kissed the side of her neck.

  “What was that?” he asked, and then he paused for a moment, waiting for an answer. “Is something wrong?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  “You seemed to flinch just then.”

  “You're imagining things.” She turned to him, and in an instant she saw his beautiful blue eyes staring back at her. At that moment, she felt certain that this was the wrong time to confront him. “Why would I flinch?”

  “That's what I was wondering.” He stared at her for a moment longer, before kissing her on the cheek and then heading back toward the front door. “Let's go. I've got a yearning for beef chow mein.”

  “Sure,” she murmured, closing her laptop and getting to her feet, and then following
him through to the hallway. Each step felt so heavy, as if heavy metal balls had been chained to each ankle. One for the guilt, and one for the shame.

  Jonathan already had the front door open.

  “Shall we?” he asked.

  “Don't you need to go to the bathroom first?”

  “Huh? Oh, no. I'm fine. Shall we go?”

  “Why not?”

  Stopping in the doorway, he turned to her. There was a flicker of concern in his eyes, and she knew now that – whatever he might say – he was onto her. He knew she was troubled by something.

  “What?” he asked, seemingly bemused by the question.

  “Why don't you need to go to the bathroom?”

  “Um... Should I?”

  “You've been at work all day.”

  “So have you.”

  “Well,” she continued, “I was just thinking, it's a long drive to the Chinese restaurant. What if you get caught short on the way?”

  “It's twenty minutes away.”

  “Don't you want to be certain?”

  He furrowed his brow. “Is this weird conversation going anywhere?” he asked, before checking his watch. There was a nervous smile on his lips now. “Camilla, I wasn't kidding, I'm really hungry.”

  “I'm just trying to get us ready to go out,” she replied. “That's all. I just think we should do the normal things that people do before they go out.”

  She waited for him to say something, but now he was staring at her as if he couldn't believe what she was saying. And the more he stared, the more she began to feel that perhaps she actually was losing her mind. After all, Jonathan White was a gorgeous, successful, kind man who could probably have his pick of women in the office. Camilla knew she was lucky to have him, and she was worried that maybe this whole toilet obsession was her way of self-sabotaging. After all, she had a long history of doing precisely that. This time, however, she felt there was definitely a grain of truth at the heart of her worries. Finally she tried to force a smile, to make it seem like everything was okay.

  And she forced all her fears deep down, to a part of her mind where she could ignore them.

  “I'm fine,” she said. “Should we get moving?”

  “Sure,” he replied, before turning and heading to the top of the stairs. “You know, I think I'd like a -”

  “WHY DON'T YOU EVER GO TO THE TOILET?” Camilla blurted out suddenly.

  Stopping, Jonathan turned and looked back at her.

  For a few seconds, they stood in absolute silence. The only sound, which neither of them really noticed, was a slight buzz from the bare bulb hanging high above in the hallway.

  “Why don't you ever go to the toilet?” Camilla asked again, finally, her voice trembling slightly this time. “We've been together for more than four years, and in all that time you've never gone to the toilet. Not once. You've never excused yourself in the middle of dinner, you've never mentioned having been in there, you've never complained about an upset stomach, you've never gotten up in the middle of the night to take a pee, you've never had a funny story about going to the toilet and you've never worried about taking long journeys where you might not have easy access to a bathroom. Believe me, I've been making a note of all this. I've been watching for ages now, I even kept a diary, and I swear it's true. You have never, ever, not even once, gone to the toilet in the four years that we've been together.”

  She paused, half hoping that he'd give her an answer and half hoping that the ground would swallow her up. There was also a hint of relief, because at least she'd finally managed to get the question out in the open after all this time. Now Jonathan could tell her not to worry. Now he could make her realize how dumb she'd been.

  “Well?” she added finally.

  Jonathan stared at her for a moment, as if he still couldn't quite believe what he was hearing.

  “I know you have all the bits,” Camilla continued. “They work very well in every other respect. And you obviously don't have any kind of bag storing things, so... Where does it go?”

  “Where does what go?” he asked incredulously.

  “The food! The drink! It goes in, but it doesn't seem to go out!”

  “Of course I go to the bathroom,” he replied. “That's a completely absurd thing to say. How could I not go to the goddamn bathroom?”

  “I don't know, but you don't.”

  “Camilla,” he said with a smile, “listen, I -”

  “I bugged the toilet in our flat!” she blurted out.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I put a sensor in it,” she continued breathlessly. “There, I admitted it. A few months ago I put a motion sensor in the bowl. If you'd done anything, a number one or a number two, it would have registered, but you didn't do anything. Now maybe you pee and poop a lot at work, but how can you not go even once here in our own home?”

  “You bugged the toilet?” he asked, stepping forward and stopping in the doorway. “With an actual bugging device?”

  “So help me God,” she replied, “I had to know.”

  “What I was doing in the bathroom?”

  “Whether you were doing anything at all!”

  “Whether I was...”

  Jonathan hesitated for a moment, before stepping back into the flat's hallway.

  “Okay,” he said cautiously, “why don't you tell me what this is really about? Because it's sure as hell not about whether I do my daily business.”

  “That's exactly what it's about,” Camilla told him.

  “No, you're just -”

  “You don't do anything!” she snapped. “Do you remember that time we drove to Edinburgh? We got stuck in a traffic jam for hours, we had to stop three times so I could use the bathroom. I ran down that grass verge and went behind a bush. Three times! We were both drinking water in the car, you drank way more than I did, but you didn't once go to a bathroom at any of the gas stations. Even when we got to the hotel, you didn't need to do anything. That was when I first got really suspicious, Jonathan. You didn't do a damn thing!”

  “And how do you know I didn't go to the bathroom while you went?”

  “Because I spied on you,” she replied, “and you didn't.”

  Jonathan paused, staring blankly at her.

  “So how's that possible, huh?” she asked. “It's not. I googled this stuff, and there's no way you could live the way you do. Remember that hiking holiday we took in the Lake District last year? I managed to monitor you for four days non-stop, and you didn't go to the toilet once! Not in four days! Explain to me how that's possible!”

  She waited, but Jonathan was still simply staring at her.

  “And what about that trip to Singapore for the Grand Prix?” she continued. “I monitored you then, too. You didn't do anything for the entire week. I mean, I made it a point to always be around you, and you didn't go to the bathroom once. I googled it, Jonathan, and that's physically impossible, so how the hell are you doing it?”

  Again she waited.

  Again, he said nothing.

  And then, slowly, he turned and swung the door shut.

  She watched him, hoping that he'd smile, hoping that he'd point out that she was being ridiculous. All her life, she'd had a tendency to overreact to things, and she'd always hated it when people told her to calm down. When they said she should stop being hysterical. Now, however, that's exactly what she wanted Jonathan to say, except he'd fallen silent and the expression on his face was strangely blank.

  Is this it?

  Have I ruined the best relationship of my life?

  All these thoughts and more rushed through her mind. Part of her wanted to apologize, to backtrack and hurry out to the car, to go and have a nice meal. Somehow, however, she could tell that it was too late for all of that. She'd opened a big old can of crazy and now Jonathan was probably wondering what was wrong with her.

  Suddenly he muttered something under his breath and stepped past her, and she turned to watch as he made his way into the kitchen.
r />   “Jonathan?” she said, as he disappeared out of view. “Honey?”

  She waited, but all she heard was silence.

  “Jonathan?”

  She hesitated, trying to figure out how to make everything better, and then she realized that – in the space of just a few minutes – she'd put everything on the line.

  Stepping forward, she made her way to the kitchen door and looked around the corner, and she felt her heart sink as she saw that Jonathan was standing at the counter. He had his back to her, and his hands were resting on the counter's edge. She'd seen him like this before, just a few times, and it was the stance he always took when he was particularly annoyed about something. It was the stance he took whenever it seemed as if he might be about to break up with her.

  “Let's go,” she said, trying to sound as if she wasn't on the verge of tears. “Let's have a nice meal and forget about everything, huh? Let's order all our favorites. We can even go nuts and have a bottle of wine. I know we usually get a glass each, but let's go for a bottle this time, yeah? Let's really let our hair down.”

  She waited.

  Silence.

  “Jonathan?”

  Again, silence.

  “Can you say something?” she asked finally. “Just... Can you say something, Jonathan? Anything.”

  He muttered a reply, but she didn't quite hear the words.

  “What was that?” she said, taking a step closer. Jonathan was always a confident, proud man. She'd never heard him mumble, not until now. “I didn't make out what you just said.”

  She waited.

  He sighed.

  She opened her mouth again.

  “Typical,” he said suddenly, and Camilla watched from behind as he shook his head. “This is so completely and utterly typical.”

  “What is?” she asked. “Typical of me, you mean? The kind of stupid thing I'd do and say? I know, you're right, I just... I know. I'm so sorry.”

  “All of this effort,” he continued, still facing away from her. “All of this time.”