see him letting a mere blizzard get the better of him. And the kids will be all right.’
Diana forced herself to smile. ‘I know.’ She turned back to the window so that he couldn’t see her face. Drawing back the curtain a little she peered once again into the whirling snow. He was out there somewhere. Marcus. She could feel him. Evil. Waiting. Waiting for what? To use them? To draw on their energy? And no door could keep him out. She turned back to Roger. His eyes were closed and she watched him for a moment. The energy was draining out of him almost visibly. Their evil visitor would find no food in him. She shuddered. He was dying. She could not pretend to herself any longer. He was dying before her eyes. She wanted to throw herself at him and hold him, to will her own strength into him, but she couldn’t. She could do nothing but wait and watch. Shaking her head miserably she tiptoed towards the door and let herself out of the study into the cold hall. She could feel the draught blowing under the front door. It was icy; a drift of snow had somehow slipped under the draught-proofing and lay in a white veil across the stone tiles. Closing the door behind her silently she went through into the sitting room.
Cissy and Sue were seated on the sofa near the fire, side by side. Automatically her eyes went to the chair nearest the inglenook where normally in weather like this the two cats would be lying, in a heap of black and white fur. There was no sign of them. Greg was standing in the kitchen, leaning on the back of one of the bent oak chairs. He seemed to be gazing into space, ‘How is he?’ he asked as she wandered listlessly over to him.
She shrugged. ‘Not good.’
He looked at her hard. ‘Joe will get through, Ma.’
She tried to smile. ‘I’m sure he will. But I don’t think it will be in time for your father, Greg. We have to prepare ourselves.’
He put his arm round her, pulling her close against him. ‘It was bound to happen one day. We knew he hadn’t got long,’ he said gently.
She nodded dumbly.
‘He always said he wanted to go here and not in hospital.’
‘I know.’ It was a whisper.
‘Shall I go and sit with him for a bit?’ He dropped a kiss onto the top of her head. ‘You get some sleep; you look completely flaked out. I’ll call you if he needs you.’
She nodded. With a glance at the two dozing on the sofa, she went to the door at the foot of the staircase ‘The moment he needs me, Greg,’ she repeated softly.
‘I promise.’
The staircase was cold and the upper floor of the house dark as she climbed wearily up to the bedroom she had shared with Roger for so many years. For a moment she stood in the doorway looking round, vividly aware in some inner part of herself that he would never walk through this door again. On the floor, in the corner, a pathetic reminder that Christmas was barely two weeks away, a pile of presents lay, partially hidden by a rug.
She walked across to the low window and stared out. It was growing light, but the snow was thick now, whirling through the air, blotting out the horizon. In this east-facing bedroom you could usually see across the dunes towards the sea, but today she was conscious of nothing but grey and white – a moving, whirling mass of nothing. Disorientated, she turned – and stopped short.
The woman by the bed was so clear she could see every detail of her clothes, her hair, her skin, her eyes. For a moment they stood there, their eyes locked together and for the first time Diana knew that Claudia could see her as clearly as she could see Claudia.
‘Sweet Blessed Jesus!’ The words were out of her mouth before she knew she had spoken. ‘What do you want?
For a fraction of a moment longer they stared at each other, then Claudia was gone.
‘Ma.’ Greg’s voice from the foot of the stairs was urgent. ‘Ma, come quickly.’
Diana whirled back to the door conscious with some part of her brain that the room smelled of a sweet, sickly perfume. ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’
‘He wants you.’ Greg hobbled ahead of her towards the study. Roger was lying propped up against the pillows and cushions. He was breathing with difficulty and his cheeks, which for so long had been colourless, had a livid, painful colour to them.
‘He’s here, Di,’ he said slowly. ‘That bastard is here, in this room. He’s real.’
Diana glanced at Greg.
‘Marcus,’ Greg mouthed. ‘He’s seen Marcus.’
Diana knelt at the side of the makeshift bed and took Roger’s hand. ‘He can’t hurt you, love.’
‘Too damn right. I’ve nothing for him. It’s the kids he wants. He wants their energy. But he’s not going to get it.’ He gripped Diana’s hand so hard she winced. ‘I’m going to fight him on his own ground.’ The breath was rasping in his throat.
‘Roger – ’
‘He didn’t bargain for that, did he. I’m going after him. To hell, if necessary.’ He looked from his wife to his son and back. ‘Don’t worry. I’m sane. Dying, but sane. I’ve never believed. Not in heaven or hell or God or Satan until now. But this bastard has made me realise there is somewhere out there. If his soul can survive there, black as it is, then so can mine!’ He laughed weakly and Diana buried her head in the blanket near him, trying to smother her sobs. ‘I’m going to find out what it’s all about. And if he can come back then so can I. I shall return to tell you.’
‘Dad -’ Greg tried to interrupt, but Roger talked on, his words slurring together now as the drugs took a stronger hold on his pain.
‘No, my mind is made up. I am going to find out why she cursed him. She’s here, you know, in the house now. She was his first wife. She’s come to help me. She wants me to find him. I shall get him. I shall win – ’
‘Dad!’ Greg knelt down stiffly on the other side of the bed, wincing as his foot dragged on the ground. ‘Dad, don’t talk like this.’
‘Why?’ Roger turned and looked at him. His eyes, though unnaturally bright, were perfectly lucid. ‘After what that bastard has done to my daughter, you think I am going to let him get away with it?’
‘No, of course not, but – ’
‘But nothing. My mind is made up. I am going after him. A quest. A glorious quest through the realms of the afterlife. How do you like that idea?’ He sounded delirious as he laughed again, clutching at Diana’s hand. Then he began to cough.
‘Roger -’ Desperately she tried to soothe him. ‘Get some water, Greg, quickly. Roger, darling, please, calm yourself. You’re going to be all right.’
‘Balls!’ The word was gasped through another spasm of coughing. ‘Do me the kindness of treating me like an adult, Di. I know. You know. Greg knows.’ He paused, breathless, and sipped gratefully as Greg held a glass of water to his lips. ‘Thanks son. Look. Better this way than lingering for months in some goddam awful hospice. I love Redall. All of it. I was born here. My father was born here. Not many families can say that nowadays. I’d like to think that you or Paddy will make your home here too. This place is in our bones,’ he smiled grimly. ‘Who knows, perhaps we are descended from Marcus himself. I’m bound hand and foot to this place – its history is in my blood.’ He looked at Diana. ‘What I’m trying to say, love, and making a frightful hash of it, is that I’m happy to die here. And I’m not going anywhere. I’ll still love you, whatever happens. And I’ll stick around. Not to frighten you. Just to watch over you and keep Marcus in line.’ He closed his eyes, exhausted.
Diana looked up at Greg. Her eyes were blinded by tears. ‘Greg -’ She mouthed his name but no sound came.
Greg was biting his lip. Neither of them said a word as, holding a hand each, they watched Roger’s face lose the colour which had animated it, as he dozed again. Around them the room seemed to grow darker in the candlelight.
‘A quest,’ Greg said at last, trying to keep his voice steady. ‘I like that idea.’ He frowned. If it were possible – to travel through time and space – to treat death as a mere doorway – that would only be comforting if one expected to find angels on the other side.
But Marcus was a demon.
LXVI
