The Madness of Annie Radford Page 15

  Annie stared at her, half-expecting her to suddenly turn into a ghost, or maybe to launch an attack. A moment later, she looked back down at the tablet computer she'd borrowed, and which she'd been using to search for any trace of Eldion House. So far she'd found three potential candidates, all of them several hundred miles away. She was already starting to think, deep down, that she was fighting a losing battle, but at the same time she knew she couldn't give up. Eldion House was out there somewhere.

  “You've been through an ordeal, haven't you?” Carrie added suddenly, briefly glancing out the window as if she was worried about being overheard, before turning back to Annie. “It's okay, you don't have to explain. I can see it in your eyes, that's all. Just remember that you're welcome to stay here for as long as you want. Ricky and I have all we need. More than we need, in fact. Our daughter's away, and to be honest the place always feels so empty whenever she's not here. Sometimes, I hear this little voice in the back of my head and...”

  She hesitated for a moment.

  “Never mind that,” she continued with a smile, “I only -”

  “What voice?” Annie asked.

  “Oh, just telling me that we should downsize to a smaller house. That's all.”

  “But what voice, exactly?” Annie continued, getting to her feet as a flicker of panic filled her chest. “Tell me about the voice you hear!”

  “Well, the same one we all hear, sweetheart.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The voice everyone hears from time to time,” Carrie continued. “The voice that helps you work out what to do when you're faced with a difficult decision, or the voice that tells you everything's going to be alright when you're on the verge of giving up.” She paused, as if she was waiting for Annie to tell her that she understood. “We all talk to ourselves occasionally, don't we? It's perfectly natural.”

  “Is it?” Annie asked.

  “Why, of course. Sometimes I think it's what makes us human.” She half turned to go back to the counter, before stopping as if a sudden thought had struck her. “We used to have the most adorable little dog,” she continued. “Hank was his name, he was a dachshund. But animals don't have language, do they? And language isn't just about talking to other people, it's also about talking to ourselves. It's what separates us from the animals, really.”

  “Why... Why are you talking about this now?” Annie asked.

  “Well, it came up.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mentioned the little voice,” Carrie pointed out, “and you rather latched onto that, didn't you?”

  “Did I?”

  “Of course.” Carrie paused. “Don't you remember?”

  “I do,” Annie replied, feeling a flicker of concern. “But people don't all hear the voice, do they? I mean, they can't.”

  “They hear their own voice,” Carrie suggested. “Why, just this morning I was talking to myself, reminding myself that I have to go to town some time in the next few days. Usually I let Ricky go, I just give him a list, but this time I have to make sure I go with him. It's so hard with my bad knees, but I must simply force myself, mustn't I? So I was talking to myself and reminding myself of that fact.” She paused again. “Your breakfast's getting cold,” she added finally. “There's no point being all funny about these things. There's nothing wrong with talking to yourself. If we didn't talk to ourselves, we wouldn't be human.”

  ***

  “She goes on a little too much, sometimes,” Richard said quietly a short while later, as he continued to work on the truck's tires. “She tends to fancy herself as a philosopher sometimes.”

  “But do you hear a voice?” Annie asked. “In your head, I mean.”

  “I don't know.” He focused for a moment on tightening a nut. “I guess I do, now and then. Yeah, sure, I talk to myself. Nagging myself, mostly. As if I don't get enough nagging in the house.”

  “And is that voice your own?” Annie continued. “Does it come from inside your head?”

  “Where else would it come from?”

  “Outside, maybe.”

  “And how would it do that?”

  “Maybe it'd be beamed in,” she suggested, “or maybe it'd just drift in there. Maybe it'd be hanging all around in the air, just waiting to get into somebody else's head.”

  “It would, huh?” He paused for a moment. “No offense, Annie, but I think maybe you're overthinking things a little.”

  “I am?”

  “Talking to yourself doesn't make you crazy,” he continued. “In fact, I'd say the opposite's true. Talking to yourself is a way of keeping your head straight. All the most reliable people I've ever known have chatted away to themselves, and I'd be mighty suspicious of anyone who didn't do exactly that. I mean, how does anyone even think, if they don't hear a voice in their head?” He smiled again. “Why's this particular bee in your bonnet, anyway? What's bothering you so much?”

  ***

  Standing at the bedroom window, taking care to remain partially hidden by the drapes, Annie continued to watch as Ricky and Carrie talked in the yard.

  They seemed to happy and natural, so carefree. Growing up, Annie had never really been around people who weren't bundles of tension and worry. Now she found herself convinced that her hosts had to be hiding something, even though a part of her worried that maybe she was simply being paranoid. And then that worry grew tenfold as she realized that – even as she stood at the window and pondered these two strangers – she was using her own voice to think to herself in her head.

  Is it really my voice? she asked herself. How would I know?

  The voice certainly seemed different to the one that had – many years earlier – told her to shoot her little brother. That voice had been strong and loud, bursting through her own thoughts. But what, she wondered, if the invasive voice had learned to be softer and subtler? What if it had found a way to step lightly through her thoughts, giving her a nudge here and a push there, making small corrections that over time led to big changes in behavior? In this regard, Annie still couldn't be certain that her thoughts were her own.

  Yet as she watched Ricky and Carrie some more, she was shocked by a sense that this entire scene was so utterly normal. If the voice truly existed at this farm, and if it truly reached into the minds of people like Ricky and Carrie, then maybe it existed everywhere.

  Maybe it was in everyone.

  Realizing that she was letting herself get distracted, Annie turned and headed back over to the laptop. She knew she had to stay focused, that she still had to find Eldion House.

  ***

  “I'm so glad you decided to stay for one more night,” Carrie said at the dinner table, as she poured some more stew into a bowl. “So many people are always in such a hurry these days, and that means you don't really get to know anyone, do you? Everyone's always rushing around.”

  “That's what Doctor Browder keeps complaining about,” Richard muttered as he picked at his food. After a moment, he glanced at Annie with a slightly nervous expression. “He's a good friend, and a great doctor. If you need to see anyone, I could call him out here.”

  “Why would I need to see a doctor?” Annie asked, bristling slightly at the question.

  “I was just saying,” he replied. “It's an option, that's all.”

  Now he glanced at Carrie, who forced a smile that seemed a little unnatural.

  “I don't need to see a doctor,” Annie told them. “I'm fine.”

  “Of course you are,” Carrie said. “We just noticed some blood on you, that's all. Around your hairline, before you showered. And a little after, too.”

  “And I saw metal,” Richard added.

  Annie turned to him.

  “Sorry,” he continued, “but I saw little pieces of metal poking out from your scalp. I know kids these days have all sorts of weird fashions, and I'm not claiming to be an expert, but what with the blood and all... Well, I couldn't help thinking that maybe you could do with a check-up. Onl
y if you want one, of course.”

  “I'm fine,” she murmured, looking down at her stew as she felt a sense of intense embarrassment filling her mind. It was as if, after masquerading as a normal person all day, all her strangeness had suddenly come tumbling out for everyone to see. “I'd rather not talk about it.”

  “Of course not,” Carrie said. “Ricky, leave the poor girl alone. She's trying to eat her dinner.”

  “You're right,” he replied. “I'm sorry, Annie. Please, forget I said anything.”

  For the next few minutes, they ate in silence. Annie didn't dare look up from her plate, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. She wanted to run out the door and get into the truck, to drive away, although she also didn't want to be rude. For now, she simply ate slowly in an attempt to buy herself some more thinking time, while facing a growing feeling that maybe she'd made a mistake.

  You don't belong with these normal people, she told herself. You'll never be normal again.

  ***

  “Goodnight, Annie,” Carrie said as she reached the top of the stairs. “I hope you sleep well. I'll rustle up another nice big breakfast for you in the morning.”

  “Thank you,” Annie replied uneasily, with 'her' bedroom door already almost closed. “Goodnight.”

  She hesitated, waiting for Carrie to go into her own room. For a moment, however, Carrie hesitated as if she had something on her mind. Only after a few more seconds did she finally step into her room.

  Annie carefully bumped the door shut.

  ***

  “Annie. Annie, wake up.”

  Opening her eyes, Annie realized that it was still dark in her room. She rolled over, and then she gasped and pulled back as soon as she saw a dark figure leaning over her bed.

  “Don't be scared,” the figure said, reaching over to the nearby table.

  A moment later a lamp flicked on, and Annie saw a nervous-looking Carrie wearing a frilly night-shirt.

  “I'm so sorry I woke you,” Carrie continued, before taking a seat on the edge of the bed. She was keeping her voice low, as if she was worried about being overheard. “Ricky's sleeping,” she explained. “Snoring, actually. I need to tell you something, and I can't risk letting him catch us.”

  Annie opened her mouth to reply, but then she realized she could hear snores coming from the other bedroom.

  “Our daughter Clarice isn't in California,” Carrie said. “She was, until about a year ago, when she died. It was very sudden, she just collapsed one day at school. She was twenty-one years old. The doctors said it would have been very quick, it was an aneurysm. Ricky knows she's dead, but he goes through periods when he likes to pretend that she's still around. Mainly when he's talking to strangers. He's not crazy, I promise. Please, you mustn't think that he's crazy.”

  “I don't,” Annie stammered, although she wasn't quite sure what she thought at that precise moment.

  “I'm not saying you look like Clarice,” Carrie continued, “but you're not dissimilar in certain ways. And I think it brings him some comfort to have you here. I just wanted to be honest with you, in case you're picking up on any strange vibes here in the house.”

  “I didn't notice anything,” Annie replied.

  “I know this is a lot to ask,” Carrie added, “but having you here has really perked Ricky up. If you could see your way to staying for a day or two more, we'd be glad to host you. That's if you don't have anywhere you urgently need to be. There's no pressure, of course, it's just... Well, you being here has lifted a little of the sadness, that's all. And I think it might be good for Ricky if he could admit that Clarice died. To a stranger, I mean. He came awfully close at dinner. Is there any way you could stay, even for just one more night?”

  “I...”

  Annie paused.

  “Sure,” she said finally, “I can stay another day. But not much more than that.”

  “Thank you,” Carrie replied, with tears in her eyes. “Ricky's not mad or anything like that. He's just... human, that's all. And he's struggling. If you could stay awhile, that might make all the difference. And I'll make one of my famous pies tomorrow, with cherries from the garden. I promise, you've never eaten a pie until you've eaten one of my pies.” She paused, beaming with gratitude. “I should let you sleep,” she added suddenly, getting to her feet. “Breakfast'll be ready in the morning, whenever you are. And thank you again, Annie. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.”

  With that, she left the room.

  No-one's normal, Annie thought to herself. Even Carrie and Richard have their strangeness.

  Which meant, she realized finally, that maybe she could stick around for a little while longer. She'd found some Eldion House references online, but all the locations seemed very ordinary. Now, as she sat on the bed, she began to wonder whether any of the madness – any of the adventures with Elly and Katia and Nurse Winter – had really happened. Wasn't it possible, she wondered, that she'd imagined them all, or at least embellished them? Maybe she could just relax and everything would be alright.

  Maybe a life at this farm, with these people, could be an end to her story.

  Chapter Twenty

  The noise woke her gradually, by small degrees.

  At first, Annie's eyes opened only briefly, and she barely registered the creaking sound before slipping back to sleep. Then, a few minutes later, she heard the sound again, and this time her eyes opened for a little while longer. She waited, still half-asleep, before closing her eyes again. And then the sound returned, and finally Annie's eyes opened and stayed open.

  Somebody was downstairs, talking.

  Sitting up in bed, Annie looked at the clock on the nightstand and saw that it was almost 3am. She waited, trying to tell herself that nobody was creeping around in the house, but then she realized she could definitely hear the voice continuing in one of the rooms below. She knew that was none of her business, of course, but at the same time she worried that maybe Richard and Carrie were talking about her, that they might be plotting to call the police and have her sent to a psychiatric institution.

  Climbing out of bed, she crept to the bedroom door and then pulled it open, and then she leaned out and looked toward the top of the stairs.

  Immediately, she realized she could hear somebody snoring softly in the other bedroom. She walked over to the half-open door and peered through, and sure enough Carrie was fast asleep. Now she could hear Richard's voice a little more clearly downstairs, and she realized that he seemed to be talking to himself. She made her way to the top of the stairs and stopped again, and now she could just about hear what he was saying.

  “You'd have liked it out there today, Clarice,” he muttered. “It was sunny, like you always wanted it to be. It's funny, I've lived round here my whole life, and I never used to think much about whether the light was beautiful on the surface of the lake. Not before. It was just light, you know? But when I try to look at it through your eyes, that's when I understand and it looks dazzling.”

  Annie waited, as she began to understand that Richard was talking to his dead daughter. She felt a swell of sadness in her chest.

  “I know what you'd say about that dumb old tractor I've been trying to fix up,” Richard continued suddenly. “You'd tell me to quit wasting my time. The thing is, it's not that different to a truck, I've just got to figure out a few of the wires, that's all. I see the way your mother looks at me when I'm going out there, but she doesn't understand. You used to understand. You used to roll your eyes, but at least you understood.”

  Instinctively, almost without realizing what she was doing, Annie started making her way down the stairs. When she reached the bottom, with Richard still talking, she stopped and looked through to the kitchen, and that's when she saw Richard sitting all alone in the dark with a glass of water, with his back hunched and his head bowed. In that moment, he looked like a broken man.

  “Your mother wants to come to town with me some time soon,” he said with a sigh, “so I
suppose that'll happen. Lord knows what she wants and -”

  Suddenly his head turned, as if he'd heard Annie.

  Stepping back out of view, Annie held her breath.

  “I should get to bed,” Richard continued with a sigh, and a moment later there was the sound of chair legs scraping against the floor.

  Annie pulled back further, but she didn't dare risk a run for the stairs. She was terrified that Richard might realized she'd been eavesdropping, and she continued to hold her breath as he slowly walked past. He made his way up the stairs, and finally Annie only dared get her breath back once he'd gone inside the main bedroom and shut the door.

  Relieved that she'd escaped without being spotted, Annie remained in place for a moment. She didn't want to attract any attention, so she simply stood in darkness for a few minutes, hoping against hope that she wouldn't suddenly hear either Richard or Carrie getting out of bed. It had been a miracle that Richard hadn't spotted her, and she wasn't confident that she could rely on being rescued again.

  Finally, having heard nothing for a few minutes, she decided it was safe to go back upstairs. She took a step forward, but at that moment she glanced once more into the kitchen, and then she froze as she saw that there was now another figure sitting in the darkness at the kitchen table.

  A shiver ran up Annie's spine as she realized that the figure, even in silhouette, was clearly that of a young woman. She was sitting directly opposite the spot where – just a few minutes earlier – Richard had been talking to his dead daughter. And then, slowly, the silhouetted head turned until Annie could tell that it was staring straight at her.

  ***

  “You've got to keep busy in retirement,” Richard said the following morning, as Annie helped him carry some tools toward the barn. “Some people, they pack it all in and within six months they're dead. You can't just not do anything, you know?”