The Horror of the Crowford Empire Page 11

  “That all seems rather implausible,” she suggested.

  “Of course.” He paused. “Unless you've seen her.”

  She glanced along the platform again, but now the strange figure was gone and she told herself that there was no reason to speculate any further. There was no ghost at the station, just as there had been no ghost at the cinema. In fact, she was fairly confident that there were no ghosts anywhere in Crowford, and that such stories were simply a way for people to pretend that anything in such a tiny little town actually mattered at all. In that moment, Crowford's ghost stories seemed utterly inconsequential.

  Spotting a light in the distance, she realized that the train was finally arriving, and sure enough a moment later she heard its horn briefly piercing the night air.

  “Here she is, then,” the stationmaster said as he checked his watch.

  Getting to her feet, Susan grabbed her suitcase and stepped toward the edge of the platform. The train, meanwhile, was rumbling slowly into the station, and she couldn't help but notice that it did indeed seem to proceeding at a very low pace. She glanced over toward the spot where she'd seen the woman, but this time there was no sign of the ghostly figure, and a moment later the train made its way past and slowly ground to a halt.

  “Allow me,” the stationmaster said, opening one of the doors for her.

  “Thank you,” she replied, stepping onto the train and taking a seat as the man slammed the door shut.

  For the next couple of minutes, she felt torn between staying and leaving. She knew that there was still time to change her mind, to run home and pretend that she'd never tried to leave. She told herself that she could save more money, and hide it better this time, and that she'd be able to find another job. She thought of London, a place she'd never even visited before, and she wondered how she was ever going to survive. Where was she going to go once she stepped off the train at Charing Cross? How was she going to find a room? What would it cost? Where would she look for a job? So many questions were flooding her mind, but she told herself that she'd be fine. Other people managed it, so why not her? And London surely couldn't be that much more difficult to navigate than Crowford.

  Could it?

  She suddenly realized that she might be making a mistake, but at that moment she heard the whistle blow and a few seconds later the train began to pull out of the station.

  The train rumbled under the bridge. Still looking out the window, Susan felt a shudder pass through her chest as she realized that she'd truly, finally taken the plunge. Looking down at her hands, she found that she was trembling wildly, and for a moment she considered jumping off at the next station and rushing home. If she did that, however, she was at risk of never making the move. Taking a deep breath, she told herself that there was never going to be a perfect time to move to London, that she might end up spending her entire life in Crowford. That she might never be brave enough again.

  Settling back on the seat, she looked out the window and saw the first rays of morning light in the distance. The train was taking her to the future, and she realized that she couldn't allow herself to be weak, not now. She was going to start a new life, far from the mistakes she'd made, and she was going to turn her dreams into reality. Sure, she had far less money than she'd expected, but that didn't matter when she was going to a place where there was opportunity on every street.

  Susan Jones was finally leaving Crowford behind forever and moving to live among the bright lights of London. And she was never, ever going to look back.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  One year later...

  The bells of a distant church rang out as traffic roared across Piccadilly Circus. People were milling about everywhere, some of them on their way home from work and some trying to get some early Christmas shopping done. As the church bells continued, just about rising above the din of the crowd, a car horn beeped somewhere and a man shouted, and a group of children raced through the sea of bodies, threading their way past the steps that led down to the train station deep beneath the streets.

  Crossing the road, Susan quickly made her way to one of the side-streets and then hurried on with the collar of her coat turned up. She stopped at the next corner and glanced over her shoulder, just to make sure that nobody was following, and then she darted down the nearest alley. Every shadow threatened to reveal somebody watching her, but Susan told herself that she hadn't been noticed.

  “Over here!”

  Turning, she saw Eddie waving at her from behind some bins at the back of the pub.

  “What did you get?” he asked as she headed over to him.

  “I couldn't do it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I couldn't do it,” she told him, her voice betraying a hint of desperation. “I can't steal! You never said anything about breaking the law.”

  “I never said anything about...”

  His voice trailed off for a moment, and finally he began to laugh.

  “It's not funny,” she told him.

  “Listen,” he replied, struggling to contain himself, “what exactly did you think the deal was going to be when I said you could move in?”

  “I thought -”

  “You thought I was just being kind?”

  She opened her mouth to reply, but then she hesitated as she realized that she was at risk of sounding hopelessly naive.

  “Do you remember when we first met?” he asked, putting a hand on her shoulder. “You were sitting in that cafe looking utterly lost. How long had you been in London for by then?”

  “A few months.”

  “And you weren't doing very well, were you?”

  “I was... getting by.”

  “You were one step away from whoring yourself out.”

  “No!” she blurted out. “I'd never do anything like that!”

  “Just like you'd never steal, huh?”

  “Never!”

  “Then forgive me for asking, my lady, but how exactly do you think life on the streets works? Because it seems to me that you've been bouncing from one flophouse to another, earning a few pennies at a time and relying on people taking pity on you.”

  “I just need to find a job.”

  “Not here,” a woman's voice whispered.

  Susan turned and looked around, but there was no sign of anyone.

  “No-one's gonna hire you,” Eddie told her, as she turned back to him. “Have you seen yourself lately? You don't have the look that people are going for. By that, I mean that black eyes and bruises and pastiness really aren't the big thing in 1966. On top of that, you're too thin. You've been living on the streets for the best part of a year, and it shows.” He squeezed her shoulder. “You've got to be realistic, Susie. You've got to do whatever it takes to survive, and in this instance that means getting your bum back over to that pharmacy and grabbing whatever you can. Then maybe I can sell your little haul and we'll split the proceeds. Do we have a deal?”

  As tears filled her eyes, she shook her head.

  “Sorry,” he said, letting go of her shoulder and taking a step back, “but I don't think this is going to work out.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you're probably better off on your own.”

  “No!” she stammered. “I need you!”

  “Then go and get me whatever you can from that pharmacy,” he replied. “Consider it a sign of your loyalty.”

  “Don't ask me to do something like that,” she sobbed.

  “Then what use are you?” he asked, holding his hands out at his sides. “Do you think you can coast along on the generosity of others? You're putting me in a very tricky situation, Susie. I've tried to help you, really I have, but you're just not game. You won't steal, you won't open your legs, you won't do anything useful at all. Good luck, I mean that, but you won't get anything else from me.”

  With that, he turned to walk away.

  “No!” she shouted, rushing after him. “Wait, I can -”

  Befo
re she could get another word out, Eddie turned and slammed a fist against the side of her face, knocking her off her feet and sending her crashing to the ground. Horrified by the impact, she lay completely still for a moment before a splitting pain began to spread across her forehead.

  “Toughen up, yeah?” Eddie said, once more turning and walking off into the distance. “Girls like you are a dime a dozen, Susie, and most of them are a little more compliant. I'm afraid you're really not holding my interest any longer.”

  ***

  A pleasure cruiser ran along the Thames and disappeared under the bridge as Susan made her way along the pavement. Shuffling and barely conscious, she felt as if she might collapse at any moment. Traffic rumbled past just a few feet away, but – as she walked toward the middle of the bridge – Susan simply kept her head bowed in the hope that nobody would notice her.

  After all, the last thing she wanted now was help, or sympathy.

  Stopping, she turned and looked down at the river. Murky and wavy on a cold October day, the water was pale brown and uninviting, and a cold wind hinted at even icier temperatures beneath the surface. Susan stared at the waves and for a moment she felt lulled into a faint daze, until she remembered all the dark thoughts that had filled her mind during the walk from Piccadilly Circus.

  She clenched her left fist.

  “I'm going to move to London so I can be a journalist,” she remembered telling a teacher once in school, and she thought of the confidence that she'd felt at that moment. Ten years later, still staring at the water, she felt so sorry for the little girl she'd once been.

  “I'm sorry,” she whispered, hoping that by apologizing to her younger self she could at least show that she understood the gravity of her failure. “I messed it all up. Really, I did.”

  She waited, but she knew she was delaying the inevitable. Jumping into the river would perhaps not be the quickest way to end everything, but at least it was guaranteed to succeed. She'd considered other options, but the river seemed to be her best route. She knew it would be cold down there, and dark, but she told herself that there'd only be a few minutes of suffering, and that at least her body would most likely never be found. That's what had put her off the idea of jumping in front of a train, or hanging herself; she hated the idea of her body being lifted up and carried away. She didn't just want to die. She wanted to disappear.

  She began to climb over the edge, only to find that she couldn't raise her left leg. She tried again, but something seemed to be holding her back.

  “No,” a woman's voice whispered in her mind. “Not now.”

  “Who are you?” she asked, looking around but still seeing no-one.

  “You're not dying today,” the voice continued. “I won't let you.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Turn around and walk back the way you came.”

  Trying to ignore the voice, she found that she still couldn't bring herself to clamber over the side of the bridge.

  “You're just my subconscious mind,” she sneered, “trying to stop me, and I won't let you. I've made my decision and it's final. I could be down there by now, it could be almost over!”

  “You're not dying today,” the voice replied, sounding a little weaker now. “You can't. I've invested too much in you, and they're about to do it again.”

  “What are you talking about?” she asked, before turning as a man walked past.

  The man glanced at her, and Susan realized that he might have seen her talking to herself.

  “They can't be allowed to do it again,” the voice continued. “I won't let them, and I won't let you do this, either. You can fight it, or you can accept the inevitable and just turn around.”

  “I don't want any more pain,” she sobbed. “I know I've messed up, I don't want -”

  Suddenly she spun around. Startled, she had no idea what had caused her to move in such a manner, but she was starting to feel distinctly light-headed.

  “Excuse me,” another man said nearby, having stopped to watch her, “are you alright?”

  “I'm fine,” she murmured, before turning and hurrying away, heading back across the bridge.

  “Do you want me to call someone?” the man shouted after her. “Do you need a police officer?”

  “I just want to be left alone,” she said, feeling a deep sense of disappointment as she realized that she'd failed again. “Why can't everyone just leave me alone?”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Crowds rushed along the street, pushing and shoving as they all tried to get to wherever they were going. Almost nobody noticed the girl sitting cross-legged on the pavement, holding her hands out and looking up at the passersby.

  “Please,” Susan said, her voice trembling with the cold, “can you spare some change?”

  She watched a well-dressed man hurry down the steps that led into the station, and then she turned to see that another well-dressed man was already on his way up.

  “Please, Sir,” she said, holding her hand out toward him, “can you spare some change?”

  “You shouldn't be sitting there,” he barked at her. “You're in the way.”

  “I'm sorry,” she replied, and she knew he was right. She also knew, however, that being 'in the way' was her only realistic chance of actually getting any money.

  She turned to her right and saw a woman approaching, wearing a fur coat.

  “Please, M'am,” she said, looking up at the woman, “can you spare some change?”

  Ignoring her, the woman began to make her way down the steps, leaving Susan to wonder whether she was doing something wrong. She was used to rough days, of course, but this was the first time she'd made absolutely nothing during an entire afternoon. She'd hoped that the approach to Christmas might be a better time to beg on London's streets, yet the exact opposite was turning out to be the case. At a time when people might be expected to have a little more charity on their minds, they seemed less and less inclined to even notice that people like Susan existed.

  ***

  Her shoes – the same shoes she'd been wearing since leaving home, and which consequently were on the verge of falling apart – squelched in the puddles as Susan made her way down a sloping side street, heading south-east across the city. Having struck out entirely at Piccadilly Circus, she'd decided to try somewhere like Mayfair of Hyde Park.

  Reaching the next corner, she looked around for a moment and tried to get her bearings. She spotted a church at the end of one street, but she was fairly sure that was the wrong direction so she turned to go the other way instead.

  “Susan,” a voice whispered suddenly.

  Stopping, she looked around again, but she already knew that the voice had seemed to be in her head. It was the same voice she'd heard on the bridge, and in truth she knew she'd heard it before, too. Had she even heard it back in Crowford? Her memories were somewhat jumbled now, but she was starting to realize that the voice had been with her for quite some time.

  “Why don't you come to me?” the voice continued. “Why don't you let me help you?”

  She looked over her shoulder, and after just a moment she spotted the church again.

  “How long can you survive being this cold, Susan?” the voice asked, and now – as it became clearer – she could tell once more that the voice was female. “You're hungry too, aren't you? Why don't you let me feed you?”

  “Who are you?” she asked, backing away into the end of an alley.

  “A friend.”

  “I don't have any friends.”

  “You have me. You've had me for longer than you can possibly know. You can't keep living like this, Susan. You know what'll happen eventually. You'll try to sleep another night in some frozen doorway, and this time you won't wake up.”

  “I'm fine,” she stammered, before spotting a man walking past.

  He glanced at her, and she managed a faint smile as he disappeared into another street.

  “What do you think they see?” the voice asked.

&
nbsp; “I'm just waiting to get on my feet.”

  “You're lying to yourself.”

  “No!” she blurted out, before realizing that she was talking to herself, ranting alone in the street.

  She paused for a moment, before stepping back out of the alley.

  “That's right,” the voice purred. “Now come to me.”

  She looked toward the church again, but she refused to believe that the voice could be coming from such a place. In fact, she refused to believe that the voice could be real at all, even though she vaguely remembered having heard it once or twice before.

  “I can't force you,” the voice continued. “I can only promise you that it's the only way for you to survive. You don't want to end up frozen and dead on some street corner, do you?”

  “I'm going to be okay,” she said, although now her teeth were chattering slightly from the cold.

  “No, you're not,” the voice said firmly. “You know that. Now stop arguing and come to me. You know it makes sense.”

  “I'm going to find a job and somewhere to live,” she replied, but then – as she waited – she realized that the voice seemed to have faded away.

  She looked around, and then she turned and saw the church again. As much as she found it impossible to believe that anyone was whispering into her thoughts, she had to admit that she hated the idea of another night spent freezing on some street in the city. She'd seen the bodies of people who'd died that way, and she'd seen the ways their eyes sometimes remained frozen open. Finally, even though she wasn't convinced that it was the best idea, she began to shuffle toward the church, while continually glancing around to make sure that no-one was about to grab her and steal from her again.

  A few minutes later she reached the front of the church and looked up at the gates, but to her surprise she found that they were locked, with thick chains running between the bars and a hefty-looking padlock hanging down. Reaching out, she tried to open the padlock, but she realized after a moment that there was no way to get into the grounds of the church, let alone into the building itself.