The Horror of the Crowford Empire Page 12

  She pulled one last time on the gate, and then she stepped back.

  “What do you want me to do?” she whispered. “I thought -”

  “You thought I was waiting for you in there?” the voice asked, before laughing.

  “Then where are you?”

  “You need to follow the crowd,” the voice continued, “and that's how you'll find what you're seeking.”

  Not really knowing what the voice meant, she looked both ways along the street, and she saw that at the farthest end she could just about make out a crowd of people at the edge of Trafalgar Square.

  “Don't be scared,” the voice told her.

  “I'm not going there.”

  “There's something waiting for you.”

  “You're not even real,” she said firmly.

  “Just go to the edge,” the voice replied, “and you'll see. You won't even have to go into the crowd itself, just to the edge, and that'll be enough.”

  “You're my head injury talking.”

  “I'm your future talking. Your chance of life. You'll understand, but you have to go to the crowd.”

  She began to edge her way along the street, although she still wasn't quite sure that she was making the right choice. Something about the voice seemed deeply menacing, and she worried that somehow her own subconscious mind was luring her into some kind of trap, that the injury to her head had manifested as some deep part of her personality that wanted to end the pain. At the same time, knowing that the voice wasn't real didn't mean that it would stop talking to her, so finally she reached the end of the street and watched for a moment as tourists hurried all around the edge of Trafalgar Square.

  Nelson's Column towered high above.

  “Now what?” Susan whispered.

  She waited, but the voice had once again fallen silent.

  “What do you want me to do?” she asked, trying to hide the sense of desperation in her voice as tears began to run down her cheeks. “I did what you wanted, but I still don't see the point. Was this all some kind of big joke to you? Is that it?”

  A couple of tourists glanced at her, and she immediately saw the scorn in their eyes.

  “Forget it,” she muttered, turning and starting to shuffle back the way she'd come. “I don't need this. I've got a plan and -”

  Suddenly a woman hurried out from the shop that Susan was passing. Almost slamming straight into the woman, Susan murmured an apology and took a step from the side; she inhaled a lungful of strong, pungent perfume as she made her way around the woman and hurried off on her way.

  “Susan?”

  Stopping suddenly, she realized that she recognized this new voice, and that – unlike the one that had been tormenting her – it had come from somewhere outside her head. Slowly, with a growing sense of fear, she turned and looked over her shoulder.

  “Susan?” Angie said, as a smile faded from her lips. “Oh my... is that you?”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “I don't need help,” Susan said as she sat on a bench near Charing Cross. “I'm fine.”

  “Yeah, you look totally fine.”

  “I am.”

  “I was being sarcastic.”

  “I don't need you to worry about me.”

  “You smell like rotten fruit and cardboard,” Angie replied, taking a seat next to her. “What's going on? Are you living rough?”

  Susan looked away for a moment, watching the crowds. She was finding it hard to look her friend in the eye, and there was a part of her that wanted to simply take off and run; she knew she could disappear into the crowd pretty easily, and that within a few seconds she'd be lost again. Bumping into Angie in the middle of London seemed like a miracle already, but she felt fairly certain that something like that could never happen twice. She could feel her friend's gaze burning into her, and she felt completely humiliated.

  “So I got a job at Evans and Evans. You know the department store in Crowford that Charlie's dad owns? I'm working on the perfume counter, can you believe that?”

  Susan turned to her.

  “It's not the most exciting job in the world,” Angie continued, “but it's better than a lot of other things, especially in a place as small as Crowford. And it's allowed me to get a flat all on my own, which is totally amazing. I actually took on a flat that Charlie's dad owns, it's right on the seafront near the cinema. And I still do the occasional night at the golf club, just to top up the coffers.” She paused. “You know, a lot of people have been kind of worried about you. I saw your dad a while ago in town and he asked if I'd heard from you, he was trying to act like it wasn't a big deal but I think maybe he was just pretending. I think your parents are really worried about you.”

  “I'm fine,” Susan said, although she immediately knew how utterly unbelievable that statement sounded.

  “So you keep saying.”

  “It's the truth.”

  “You don't smell fine.”

  “It's just been a rough day.”

  “I thought you must be up here living the high life,” Angie told her. “I thought about you a lot, and I imagined you being some ace reporter. I even used to check the papers in case your name showed up on a byline.” She paused again. “I'm really sorry about what happened last time, Susie. With the cinema, I mean. I tried to keep them under control, really I did, but it was like they were just out for trouble that night. I was so shocked when I heard that old Mr. Gough had died.”

  “How's the cinema now?” Susan asked.

  “Do you want the honest answer?”

  Susan hesitated, and then she nodded.

  “It hasn't been the same since. Mr. Gough's nephew's been running it. He seems like a nice guy, but something just isn't quite right. It's like the heart of the place has gone, now that Mr. Gough's now there anymore. Sorry, I know that's probably not what you wanted to hear, but it's the truth. I don't know how much longer the Empire can keep going. There are all these rumors that they might not be able to keep up with the rent, and that the people who own it are thinking of turning the place into a bingo hall.”

  “I'm not that surprised,” Susan murmured, as she thought back to the night of Harry's death. “Harry lived and breathed that cinema.”

  As a bus roared past, she and Angie sat in silence. Susan was once again wondering whether she should just bolt, but something kept her sitting on that bench.

  “It's pretty crazy that we bumped into each other, huh?” Angie pointed out eventually, with a nervous smile. “Almost like it's... fate, or something.”

  “How can it be fate?” Susan snapped.

  “I don't know. I don't even come up to London very often, I just had a day off and I thought I'd treat myself. It's my first time here in years. I was doing some window shopping, that's all, and then suddenly you're right in front of me. If I was religious, I'd almost feel like...”

  Her voice trailed off.

  Susan thought back for a moment to the voice she'd heard, the one that had seemed to be guiding her through the streets. Was it possible, she wondered, that the voice had been leading her to Angie? The idea seemed ludicrous, but at the same time she couldn't help noticing that the voice had remained silent ever since they'd run into one another. Then again, she wasn't sure that some heavenly voice would have chosen to sound like a random English woman.

  “Here's a thought,” Angie said suddenly. “Why don't you come back with me?”

  Susan turned to her.

  “Back to Crowford, I mean,” Angie continued.

  Susan immediately shook her head.

  “It wouldn't be that bad,” Angie said, “and it'd beat whatever you're doing up here, wouldn't it?”

  “I can't go back.”

  “Why not?”

  “I just can't!”

  “You could live with me,” Angie told her. “I've got room, at least until you've got yourself sorted out.”

  “You're not listening to me,” Susan said, getting to her feet and taking a step back. “I'm fine up here, I
'm just waiting to find a room.”

  “Really?” Angie looked her up and down for a moment. “Please don't take this the wrong way, but -”

  “I know what I look like!” Susan snapped. “It's research!”

  “Research?”

  “For an article I'm writing,” Susan lied.

  Angie furrowed her brow.

  “Yeah, that's it,” Susan continued. “Don't you know anything about modern journalism? You have to live your story. The look. The feel. The style.”

  “The smell?”

  “Everything!” Susan said firmly, as another bus raced along the street. “And I really don't have time to sit around talking, because you're breaking the effect. I need to submerge myself in the reality of what it's like to be living rough in modern London.”

  “And that's the truth?” Angie replied skeptically. “You're a reporter?”

  “I have to go.”

  “Well, can we at least keep in touch?” Angie asked, opening her bag and starting to root around inside. “I have my own telephone number now, can you believe that? You can phone my flat any time and -”

  “I have to go.”

  Feeling a flicker of pain in the side of her head, Susan turned and began to limp away.

  “Wait!” Angie called after her. “Susie!”

  Ignoring her, Susan made her way along the street, but the pain in her head was getting worse. She felt as if one side of her skull was trying to rattle free, as if her head might burst at any moment. After just a few more steps she began to wince with pain, and she realized she could still hear Angie's voice calling after her in the distance. Determined to get away, she stepped out into the street, but then she stopped just in time as another bus raced past. Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself that she had to be careful. The pain was blurring her vision now, but she was able to look along the road and see that there was no more big red buses heading her way.

  Stepping out again, she focused on getting to the other side.

  “Watch out!”

  Suddenly a man on a bicycle slammed straight into her, knocking her over and sending her crashing to the ground. She landed hard, and her chin bounced against the tarmac with such force that her whole head was jolted and she bit her tongue. As she heard the sound of a bicycle clattering over, she tried to roll onto her back, but the pain in her head was throbbing now, and a moment later she began to blink furiously in a desperate attempt to clear her vision. This, at least, finally began to work, and she saw that several concerned onlookers were gathering to check on her.

  “I'm fine,” she murmured as she began to sit up.

  The pain in her head remained constant for a few more seconds, before starting to fade just as Angie crouched next to her.

  “You didn't look!” the cyclist said, clearly shocked, as he limped over. “You could have killed us both!”

  “I'm sorry,” Susan replied, as she felt a sharp pain in her right arm.

  “Okay, you are not leaving my sight,” Angie said, reaching out and putting a hand on her shoulder. “Susie, you can't fool me with some story about working for a paper.”

  Susan turned to her and tried to think of some new explanation, but deep down she already knew that nothing was going to work.

  “You're coming back to Crowford with me,” Angie said firmly, “and I'm sorry, but this time I'm not taking no for an answer.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The train shuddered slightly as it rattled through the night.

  “Not long now,” Angie said with a bright, forced smile. “We should be in Crowford in just a few minutes. How does that make you feel?”

  Susan opened her mouth to reply, but for a moment she wasn't quite sure how to answer. Turning, she looked out the window and saw nothing but darkness. She knew, however, that the lights of Crowford were out there somewhere, and she shuddered as she thought about walking those same streets again.

  “It won't be so bad,” Angie continued. “You can stay at my place for as long as you want and I'll help you get back on your feet. You don't -”

  “I'm not seeing my parents,” Susan said firmly.

  “No-one said that you had to.”

  “And I don't want you to tell them that I'm back.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  Susan swallowed hard.

  “It really will be okay, you know,” Angie added, reaching over and squeezing her knee. “I promise.”

  Turning, Susan saw lights in the distance, and she felt a sickening sense of dread as she realized that after everything that had happened she was finally – inevitably, perhaps – about to return to her hometown.

  ***

  “What do you think?” Angie asked, stepping aside so that Susan could see the room. “I've been using it as a dressing room, but it's not a bad little space. And as you can see, there's already a spare bed in here so...”

  Her voice trailed off.

  Walking into the room, Susan looked around. The room was full of Angie's clothes, and she couldn't help but notice that her friend seemed to be doing really well. Making her way over to the window, she peered out at the darkness, and she could just about make out several fishing boats far down below on the beach. Moonlight was glittering on the sea, and for a moment Susan felt a flicker of disappointment in her chest. She'd tried to escape Crowford, but the town just hadn't let her go. Had she ever really had a chance?

  “There's no time to waste.”

  “Huh?” Susan replied, turning to Angie.

  “What?”

  “What did you mean?” Susan asked, before realizing that the voice had perhaps not sounded much like Angie after all. “Sorry. Forget it.”

  “You know,” Angie said, “I can ask Mrs. Chalfont if she can find a shift or two for you. I think she liked you back in the day, and I know for a fact that there are some big nights coming up at the club.”

  “Maybe,” Susan replied, before realizing that she probably sounded very ungrateful. “Thanks.”

  “I suppose I should leave you alone for a bit,” Angie added. “Help yourself to anything in the kitchen, or anywhere else in the flat, and just take a little time to settle in. Don't rush yourself, okay?” She checked her watch. “I've got work at the department store first thing in the morning, so I should get to bed, but I'll leave a spare key on the counter. I'll leave some money with it, just what I can afford, so that you can go out tomorrow.”

  “I don't need your charity.”

  “It's not charity,” Angie replied, rushing over and putting her arms around her, hugging her tight. “I missed you so much, Susie, and I hated how we'd left things. I'm so glad you're back.”

  “I'll be leaving again as soon as I've got things sorted.”

  “Whatever you say,” Angie told her, before stepping back, “but will you do me one favor? Please, for the love of all that's holy, take a bath. Because Susie... you stink!”

  Susan hesitated, not really knowing how to react, and then – finally – she smiled.

  “Thank you,” she said, and once again she had tears in her eyes. “If I hadn't bumped into you today, I don't know what -”

  “Enough with the emotional crap,” Angie said, grabbing her by the arm and leading her back out into the corridor. “Right now, you really need that bath. Now move it!”

  ***

  Standing in the bathroom, finally clean, Susan finished getting dressed and then she looked at herself in the mirror. She'd managed to avoid seeing her reflection for the best part of a year, mainly because she'd been afraid of how she might appear, and now she was shocked by her own gaunt, tired features.

  “Wow,” she whispered, leaning closer and taking a better look.

  The dark patches remained under her eyes, but they were the least of her concerns. She realized that her face appeared harsher somehow, and a little more angular, and that there was a slightly hazy tint to her eyes. She told herself that a few good meals would do wonders, but she was still horrified by the thought that she
'd changed so much. In fact, she wasn't even sure that her parents would recognize her if they bumped into her in the street.

  Realizing that she needed to get some sleep, she headed to the door and made her way out of the bathroom, and then she stopped as she heard music and voices coming from the living room. She stepped over to the doorway and looked through, and she was surprised to see that Angie was sitting on the sofa, talking to a man.

  “Oh,” Angie said as soon as she spotted her, “hey, Susie, meet Oliver.”

  “Hi, Susie,” Oliver said with a smile and a little wave.

  “Hi,” Susan said a little awkwardly.

  “Oliver just pops over sometimes and we listen to music,” Angie explained, sitting up straight as the L.P. continued to turn on a record player in the corner. “I'm sorry, I know I said I was going to bed, but then Oliver knocked on the door. We can turn the music down if you want.”

  “No, it's fine,” Susan told her.

  “I was just telling Angie about some of the new records I picked up,” Oliver said as he got to his feet and hurried over to the player. He removed one L.P. and set another on to play. “I like to find obscure stuff, things that most people overlook. This one's really old-fashioned, it's music from the 1920's and 1930's, but I dig it.”

  “Oliver's got very unusual tastes,” Angie said, rolling her eyes.

  “Music's my thing,” Oliver explained. “It's all I live for.”

  Susan opened her mouth to let them know that she was going to bed, but at that moment the music started to play and she heard what sounded like an old big band piece. Usually she had little interest in that kind of music, but something about this particular piece seemed to awaken something in her, and after a moment she stepped into the room.

  “Would you like a glass of wine?” Angie asked. “I shouldn't be drinking when I've got work in the morning, but... I suppose I'm just being a little bit naughty!”