A House in London Page 9

  “Come on,” she heard Vivian saying firmly. “Breathe!”

  The slapping sounds continued, as a bus rumbled past outside.

  “What's happening?” Jennifer whispered, struggling to stay conscious now that the worst of the pain has passed.

  She waited, blinking furiously in an attempt to see better.

  “What -”

  Suddenly the cry of a baby erupted in the room, louder than Jennifer ever thoughts possible. She gasped, watching as the blurred figure of Vivian Diebold stepped past with something cradled in her arms, something that was wriggling.

  “Listen to the lungs on him!” Vivian exclaimed as the baby continued to cry out.

  “Is that...” Jennifer tried to whisper, but she could barely get the words out of her mouth. “Is...”

  “He looks healthy,” Mr. Diebold said, his voice thick with tension. “Is he healthy?”

  “Wait a moment,” Vivian replied. “I don't see anything wrong with him so far. The cord came loose by itself, it's a withered little thing just like all the others. That's a surprise, I thought the cord would be stronger. Apart from that, the birth seems normal. Certainly stronger than the rest.”

  “What are you doing?” Jennifer groaned, struggling to turn her head as she watched Vivian's blurred figure carrying the child across the room. “Where are you taking -”

  She froze suddenly as she realized there was another figure in the room. Over in the far corner, a dark, shadowy shape stood watching. Still not able to see properly, Jennifer blinked to clear her vision, and slowly she began to make out more of the figure's features. As it came more into focus, she saw that its face was pale, and not quite the shape of a man's. If anything, its bone structure appeared to be elongated, and she blinked a couple more times as the blur continued to resolve. As soon as her vision had begun to clear properly, however, some hidden force compelled her to look away toward a nearby wardrobe. She tried to look at the figure's face again, but once more she was unable. The figure was clearly the same one that her pursued her through the city's dark streets, with the same face that defiantly resisted any attempt to look at it directly. She tried again and again, but each time her stare was deflected to some other part of the room.

  Suddenly Jennifer cried out as she felt something sharp between her legs. Turning, she saw that Mr. Diebold was leaning down to work on her.

  “It's okay,” he said calmly, “we'll just try to patch you up here. A few stitches and you might be okay. It just depends how much blood you've lost.”

  There was thick metal wire in his blood-soaked hands. After a moment he leaned down between her legs, and Jennifer felt the wire being forced through her flesh. She leaned back and screamed again,but the pain continued as Mr. Diebold worked to sew her wounds shut. This time, her exhaustion was too great and she felt herself drifting into darkness. The last thing she heard was the voices of the Diebolds arguing about whether or not she'd survive, and the child still screaming nearby.

  ***

  She lay in darkness, terrified in case the pain returned. Her past few minutes – or had they been hours? – had been spent in sheer agony, and the echo of that agony remained in her body now, rippling along her spine and threatening to come crashing back. The pain was like a monster that had fallen still in her body, but she was scared she might provoke it with a wrong move or a deep breath, so she kept as still as possible. She could hear hushed voices nearby, and the occasional clink of metal hitting metal, but other than that the room was silent.

  Until finally, after several minutes, she heard someone moving around the bed, getting closer.

  “Jennifer,” a voice whispered, as a hand nudged her arm. “Jennifer, you must wake up. I know you can hear me, Jennifer. Wake up, my dear.”

  Feeling someone grab her arm, Jennifer opened her eyes just as Vivian Diebold took hold of her waist and hauled her up, maneuvering her into a sitting position with her back against the bed's metal frame. Her head felt impossibly heavy and the whole room was slowly spinning around her, and she could feel matted, sweaty hair stuck to her face. She tried to push Vivian away, but her hands were still held tight by leather restraints and all she could manage was to let out a slow, semi-conscious groan as she felt Vivian forcefully propping her against the wall like a doll. Before she could push the older woman away, she felt the front of her pajamas being unbuttoned and pulled away to expose her bare chest.

  “Baby needs his mother's milk,” Vivian explained, gently tapping the side of Jennifer's face. “Can you hear me? We've tried substitutes and they aren't remotely good enough. There's no time to lose.”

  After blinking a couple more times, Jennifer was finally able to see Vivian properly. The older woman looked tired, but there was a hint of a smile in her eyes.

  “You're conscious,” Vivian continued, leaning closer as she peered into Jennifer eyes. “Still a little under the influence, clearly, but you should be fine for now. We made sure that none of the drugs we gave you could possibly be passed on to the child. Mother's milk is the order of the day. Natural is best.”

  “What did you...” Suddenly remembering the figure she'd seen earlier, Jennifer turned and looked over at the corner, which was bare now. Still, in her mind's eye she remembered the pale, misshapen face that defied all attempts to be seen properly, although she told herself she must have simply experienced some kind of fever dream. After a moment, she turned back to Vivian. “What did you do to me?”

  “Oh, don't be tiresome,” Vivian replied with a sigh. “We just -”

  “What did you do to me?” she asked again, more firmly this time.

  “We delivered your baby and -”

  “I'm not pregnant!”

  “We delivered your baby, Jennifer. Please try to be a little mature about this. Try to understand.”

  “I can't have been pregnant,” she replied, her chest filling with panic. “It's not possible!”

  “Well,” Vivian continued, with a hint of amusement in her voice now, “the facts rather speak for themselves, my dear.”

  Jennifer opened her mouth to argue, to tell her she was insane, but deep down she knew there was no point. She'd felt the child being delivered, and she'd heard its first cries.

  “I had a baby,” she stammered, as her thoughts began racing in an attempt to explain something that seemed so impossible. “You took a baby out of me!”

  “Calm down, my dear,” Vivian replied with a smile. Reaching closer, she began to brush stray strands of hair from Jennifer's face. “You modern women are so melodramatic about everything. You look very pale. That'll be the blood you lost, but you've been stitched up.” Grabbing Jennifer's left breast, she gave it a firm squeeze, handling it with all the care and tenderness of a farmer examining a cow. “Nice and full,” she grinned. “Baby will be pleased.”

  “I have a baby,” Jennifer whispered, her mind spinning as if filled with a silent scream. “I have a baby? I can't have a baby...”

  As Vivian stepped away from the bed, Jennifer tried to remember how she'd ended up back at the house. She'd been out in London, she'd been with Lucy and some other women from work, but then she'd left the pub and... She remembered walking the streets, seeing a girl with a skeletal face, and she remembered the empty river. The whole experience had felt like a nightmare, as if the entire city had suddenly dropped its mask and revealed all the chaos that lurked beneath the surface. Turning, she looked over at the window and saw sunlight outside, and she heard the sounds of passing traffic. Everything sounded so calm again. When she looked down at her legs, she realized there was dried blood caked all over her bare flesh.

  “Here's the delightful young man,” Vivian said as she made her way back over, holding a wriggling bundle in a clean white shawl. “Baby's so hungry.”

  Staring in shock, Jennifer saw the child's scrunched-up, slightly reddened face.

  “He can't be mine,” she whispered, feeling a wave of exhaustion rising through her chest. She knew that everything pointed
to the baby being hers, but still she couldn't quite bring herself to believe that such a thing could be true. “I can't have... I wasn't pregnant. It's not possible.”

  “Oh, but you were,” Vivian replied, leaning closer and holding the baby toward her chest, tilting his head as she guided him toward the nipple of Jennifer's left breast. It took a moment, but finally the child latched on and began to drink.

  “He's not mine,” Jennifer stammered, flinching as the child sucked harder and harder. “He can't be! Last night I was... Even if I was pregnant, it can't have happened this fast. Last night I was out in London, but something was...”

  “Last night you were here, my dear,” Vivian said calmly, still holding the child so it could feed on Jennifer's breast. “You were unconscious in this bed after Arthur stitched you back up. We came in to check on you several times, there was even a moment when I thought we might lose you, but you battled through. Most likely, your maternal urges kicked in and forced you to survive for the child's sake. We followed every word of the teachings this time, and I have no doubt that this child will be strong enough to survive.”

  “How long have I been here?” Jennifer asked.

  “Never mind about that now.”

  “How long?” Jennifer shouted.

  “Quiet!” Vivian hissed. “Don't scare him!” She took a moment to adjust her grip on the baby, who continued to feed happily. “Arthur and I found you on the steps outside late one night, and that must have been... Well, it must have been almost seven months ago now.”

  “I haven't been here for seven months,” Jennifer stammered. “That's not possible!”

  “You were unconscious most of the time,” Vivian explained matter-of-factly. “You did stir once or twice as your belly grew, but perhaps you don't remember those moments. We thought you were at risk of becoming distressed, so each time we gave you a little something to put you back under. Don't worry, you were very well cared for. Day after day, I came into the room to check on you and I saw your belly getting bigger. Quite the beautiful sight, I assure you. And then two days ago, you started to show signs that you were ready to give birth, so we had to bring you around. You needed to be conscious for that, you see -”

  “Call the police,” Jennifer said firmly, interrupting her.

  Vivian frowned. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Call the police!”

  “Why would we want to do a thing like that?”

  “Help!” Jennifer shouted, turning toward the window. “Help me! Somebody -”

  Suddenly Vivian slapped her hard across the face.

  “Quiet!” the older woman hissed. “You'll disturb the poor little thing! No-one out there can hear you, we've made sure of that, but you'll upset the child if you carry on with all this squawking and hollering!”

  Looking down, Jennifer saw that the child was still sucking hard on her breast, feeding with greater intensity than before.

  “I wasn't pregnant,” she said after a moment, even as she watched the baby for a moment longer. “I can't have been.”

  “Oh, you modern young women,” Violet said with a smile. “I know what you're all like. Drinking and going out all the time, wearing those short skirts that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination! Why, I'm sure half of you don't even remember when you've been dirtied by a man.”

  “I wasn't pregnant!” Jennifer replied, turning to her. “I swear to God, I wasn't! I can't have been!”

  “Baby says otherwise,” Vivian purred.

  Pausing for a moment, Jennifer thought back to her very first visit to the Diebolds' house, when she'd been left alone to look after a non-existent baby. That was when she'd first felt pains in her belly, and when she'd fallen down the stairs and passed out. A slow, creeping sense of nausea filled her chest as tears welled in her eyes as she thought of her unconscious body on the marble floor. Suddenly, in her mind's eye, she imagined hands reaching down and touching her. Rolling her over. Loosening her clothes.

  “It was you,” she whispered finally, turning to stare in horror at Vivian's grinning face. “You and your husband! You did something to me that night! While I was unconscious, you...” She let out a gasp of shock, and for a moment she felt as if she was actually going to vomit. “Did he... While I was passed out, did he...”

  Again, Vivian slapped her face.

  “Don't be disgusting!” the older woman sneered, as if she was genuinely revolted by the idea. “My husband would never do something so filthy! We didn't return until after you'd woken up!”

  “All those baby photos on the wall,” Jennifer continued, her mind racing as she tried to put everything together. “There were ten or twelve of them, all different dates, different babies...” She paused for a moment as she began to understand the true horror of the house. “I'm not the first, am I? You've been doing this for years, bringing all those babies into the world. Why? What the hell are you -”

  She let out a sudden gasp of pain as she felt the baby biting her nipple.

  “Baby's hungry,” Vivian explained with a grin. “He needs his strength.”

  Staring down at the child, Jennifer felt a wave of disgust in her chest.

  “Don't you feel a maternal bond?” Vivian asked. “You should, you know. Baby spent eight months growing in your womb. As his mother, you should automatically love him, you should be willing to give him everything he needs as he gets stronger. Or are you one of those modern women who is simply too selfish and too cold-hearted to love her own flesh and blood? Are you not ready to give everything, even your life itself if necessary, so that your child might live?”

  “This is not my -”

  “You sicken me!” Vivian hissed, spitting in Jennifer's face.

  Turning away, Jennifer instinctively tried to wipe the saliva from her cheek, but her hands remained tied to the bed-frame high above her head. Instead, all she could do was wince as she felt the trickle of spit running down her cheek.

  “For your information,” Vivian continued, her voice filled with indignation, “some women would crawl across broken glass for the chance to be in your position right now. Some women would give their lives for the chance to bear this child.” She paused for a moment. “I myself tried three times,” she continued finally, and this time her voice seemed to be cracking a little, as if she was on the verge of tears. “Each time, I produced nothing but a miserable failure. I insisted on trying again and again, but you should have seen the poor, wretched little things that came out of me. Eventually Arthur suggested we should focus on finding other vessels to carry the child. I fought against that idea at first, but eventually I realized he was right. We tried one final time to produce a child of our own. Ivan survived for several days, I really thought he might make it, but alas he slipped away. And so I agreed that we should bring another woman into the house.” She looked down at the baby as it continued to feed on Jennifer's breast, and after a moment she wiped a tear from her cheek. “The house demands a child, you see. The thing that lives in the house, the thing that has lived here since it was built. Oh, how I wish I had been able to carry a healthy child.”

  “The house demands a child?” Jennifer replied, starting to realize that the old woman was insane. “What are you talking about?”

  “This is the child that will survive,” Vivian continued, wiping away more tears. “I don't know why he seems so sickly, but I'm certain his condition will improve once he has fed a little longer.” She stared at Jennifer for a moment. “Perhaps your milk is sub-standard,” she added finally, with spite.

  “What are you?” Jennifer asked, feeling weaker and weaker. “What do you want with me? Why do you want this baby?”

  “We are servants of a greater power,” Vivian explained. “He needs to be born again into this world, but it takes a strong child to contain his essence. When you came to our home for the first time, we needed to leave you alone with him for a few hours.”

  “Alone with who?” Jennifer asked, pulling on the restraints once again.

/>   “He entered you,” Vivian continued with a smile, “and he grew inside you, and now he is out again. This time, however, he has a physical form. He has the body he has craved for so long.”

  “No,” Jennifer replied, “you -”

  She let out a sudden gasp of pain as she felt the child biting deeper into her breast. Looking down, she saw blood dribbling down onto her belly.

  “Get him off!” she shouted. “Stop him!”

  “I think he's had enough milk for now,” Vivian said, gently trying to pull the child away, only for him to bite harder, tearing at Jennifer's nipple. “Come on, little man. You can feed again soon. There'll be a whole other breast for you to take.”

  Jennifer winced as she watched the child's freakishly strong teeth chewing into the bloodied wound. Finally Vivian was able to pull him away, leaving Jennifer's left nipple hanging by a thin thread of pulp skin. Blood trickled down her ravaged breast and onto her belly.

  “Hopefully he'll be able to sleep now,” Vivian said calmly, turning and heading to the door. “He was so fidgety earlier, but I'm sure he was just hungry. Now we'll set him down for a few hours.” She looked down at the child's face and grinned, with tears still in her eyes. “You can sleep now, can't you?” she continued. “Yes you can! Oh, yes you can, you perfect little angel!”

  “You said something else lives in this house,” Jennifer replied, her voice tense with pain. “I saw him, or I thought I did...”

  “You don't need to know about any of that,” Vivian muttered, stepping out into the corridor and then turning to pull the door shut. “Arthur will be up soon with some food for you. After all, you need to preserve your strength so you can produce more milk.” She paused for a moment, eying Jennifer with suspicion. “Do you feel no love for him at all? Do you feel nothing for your own child?”

  Staring in horror at the bundle in Vivian's arms, Jennifer felt nothing but a wave of revulsion creeping through her chest. “He's not normal,” she whispered finally. “There's something wrong with him.”

  “He's your child!” Vivian snapped, as if the answer angered her. “What's wrong with you, woman? It doesn't matter what he is, or what you think he is, or any of that! All that matters is that he's yours, and you should feel an overpowering, unbreakable bond!”