The House That Jack Built: The House That Jack Built

him:

'Those whom God has joined together, let no man put asunder.'

Jack stepped into the other room, a train of dusty spider's web dragging behind him. It was just as dilapidated, the paintwork peeling, the wood flaking.

Jack looked out of the window, the arcs of the streetlights pulled into contortions by the heavy rain beating against the glass. His own reflection looked back at him, and he realised he was crying. This surprised him…

…he wasn't a man prone to tears but he felt them now. Whether they were through sadness or guilt he couldn't rightfully say. Looking down on Alison's pale-blue face, her hair plastered against her head with dirty river water he didn't see anything of the beautiful woman he had known. He couldn't imagine having kissed those wrinkled cheeks, those puffy lips. The Alison he had known was long gone.

'Not married more than twenty-four hours,' said the police inspector. 'Husband drowns her and then — when the prissy little sod can't take the guilt of it — comes running to us. Says it was to protect his reputation, would you believe? Not worth much now, is it? Murdering bastard. Nothing strange to it though… oh…'scuse me…'

The inspector hawked phlegm into a yellow handkerchief and rubbed at his bushy moustache.

'Touch of the vapours, isn't it? As I was saying, seems perfectly straightforward, not the sort of thing you lot need to poke your nose into. Don't know why anyone called you, frankly. Not much you can do for her, is there?'

'No,' Jack replied, 'not any more.'

Jack rubbed at his eyes, left the room and went down the stairs to check his face in the bathroom mirror. He was damned if he was going to let Gwen and Ianto see he'd been crying. Hadn't he been thinking earlier how he couldn't afford to get caught up in his memories? They were no use to him, nothing but dead weight that would drag him down if he let them.

He grinned at the mirror, looking fine, and went back out onto the landing. A flash of movement caught his eye, something red in the shadows of the main bedroom. He looked around. Nothing there.

As he descended the stairs, the front door opened and Rob and Julia walked back in.

'Changed your mind?' Jack asked as Julia slammed the front door closed behind her.

'Impossible…' Rob muttered, sliding down the wall and sitting on the floor, leaving a snail-trail of rainwater behind him on the paintwork. ' Impossible.'

'What is?' Jack asked.

'What's going on?' Gwen asked, stepping out of the lounge.

'It's gone…' Julia said.

'Gone?' said Jack.

Julia gestured beyond the front door. 'Out there… It's all… It's gone.'

Jack pushed past her and reached for the door handle.

'You don't want to go out there,' Julia said.

'I do,' he replied, the words bringing his memories back to him as he pulled the door open and stepped out onto the front step. The rain was still just as heavy, and he pulled up the collar of his coat as he walked out across the gravel, past the SUV and to the mouth of the drive. The street beyond had vanished, nothing but a wall of darkness filling the driveway.

He held his hand out in front of him and moved forward. As his toes drew close to the pavement, his hand suddenly felt numb. Staring at it, he gave an impressed whistle as it appeared to fade out of sight. Pulling it back, there was a resistance to the air but his hand was returned to him.

'What is it?'

Jack turned to see Gwen. 'No idea,' he admitted. 'But for now I'd say we're stuck here, wouldn't you?'

THIRTEEN

'The door was open,' the strange man said, holding his hands out in front of him as if Rob were no danger at all. That was already a lie, though, as far as Rob was concerned, rubbing his wrist where it had been twisted when the poker was wrenched from his grip. A dark-haired woman followed the man into the room, offering an apologetic look that didn't wash for one minute.

'I saw you before,' Julia said to the man, confusing Rob even further. What was she talking about? They'd never clapped eyes on him, he was sure of that. 'You were with the police,' she continued.

'Sort of,' said the woman. The American ignored both of them, pushing his way past and talking to the man that had appeared upstairs. 'We work with them occasionally,' the woman continued.

What's that supposed to mean?

Rob thought, only too aware he was being fobbed off. His heart was pounding in his chest… what was going on? God, but he needed a drink.

'Got any alcohol?' said the American, as if he'd been reading his mind.

'No…' Rob was wrong-footed. What did this guy think this was? A house-party? Oh… alcohol… the penny dropped…for the man… to warm him up. It wasn't as if they hadn't been looking after him. 'I was lighting a fire…'

'So light it.'

Rob found he was actually stepping forward for a second before he stopped himself. 'Look! What's going on here?' he shouted, sick of being on the receiving end. 'You say you're with the police?'

'Not as such.' The woman again; the bloody man was never going to answer his questions it would seem. 'We're independent of them,' she continued. 'But yes, our paths cross from time to time. Why don't we sit down and go through what happened?'

Julia shook her head. 'I'm not staying here a minute longer.'

Rob's head hurt with the confusion of it all. He tried to put it into words: 'We saw a woman appear out of thin air… Killed herself in the bath… Not in our bathroom, you understand, no, in the spare bloody bedroom…'

'There's a fat man…' Julia added, 'in an old suit… he smells…'

'Banging on the walls, voices in the TV…'

'Your friend, appearing out of nowhere in our airing cupboard…'

'Our bloody airing cupboard!'

It was uncontrollable now, the words falling from him like vomit, poison that needed to be ejected. Dear Lord, but what was he going to do? He wasn't sure he could handle this… Everything felt hazy…

'Please!' the woman shouted. 'One at a time… We can handle this, but we need to know what's been going on.'

There was only one thing Rob could think to do. 'Handle it on your own,' he said, grabbing his wife's hand. 'We're not staying…'

It didn't occur to him to question leaving them in the house; at that moment, they were welcome to it. He needed to get out, needed to clear his head. Another moment stuck in there and he honestly thought he might lose his mind.

He checked his jeans pocket, giving a sigh of relief as he felt the reassuring shape of his van keys. That was all they needed. In a couple of minutes, they'd be driving down the road, heading as far away as they could.

'Come on,' he said to Julia, pushing her out of the door in front of him. 'The flat's empty for another week yet, we can stay there.'

The rain was still lashing down and neither of them was wearing a coat. They were soaked through in moments, but they didn't care.

Rob stared at the American's big black car. 'Typical yank, that is,' he commented, pulling Julia around it by her arm. 'Compensation for something else.'

His anger was hardening into a lump in his throat, his teeth grinding as he fought to stop himself kicking at the stupid bloody car until he did some damage. Fear had set him off now and he was finding it hard to keep himself