I took a glass of water to Mum and got her to struggle up and take a couple of sips before she sank back onto the mattress again.
“It’s all happening so fast,” she murmured.
“Don’t, Mum,” I said. “Don’t try to speak.”
She groaned softly. “Didn’t think it would end quite like this…”
Her eyelids fluttered shut. I kissed her once on the forehead, made sure the duvet was tight around her and left her alone.
Next door, Abbey was already in bed, dressed in a man-sized T-shirt, tense, fidgety and chewing on her fingernails. Self-consciously, I stripped to my boxers and climbed in beside her.
“How’s your mum?” she asked.
“Not sure,” I said. “A bit shaky.”
We both knew that I was ready yet to admit the truth of it. At least not aloud.
“She seems nice,” Abbey said. “From what I could tell.”
“Well, you’re probably not meeting her at her best,”
“Probably not.”
There was a moment’s awkward silence.
“Henry? Do you think we’re safe here?”
“Yes, I think we are,” I said. “My granddad told me to go home.”
“I did a bit of research on this house once,” Abbey said, suddenly eager for a chat. “It’s been here longer than you’d think.”
“Really?” I said, grateful for the shift in conversation, happy for any old nonsense to be spoken as long as it filled the silence.
“Back in the last century, before this place was divided into flats, there was a psychic who lived here.”
“A psychic?”
“A spiritualist, yeah.” She giggled, and that giggle, it was wonderful to hear. “Crazy, isn’t it?”
“I think a lot of dark stuff’s happened here in the past,” I said softly. “I don’t believe anything’s been an accident in my life. Not even this place.”
The moment of good humor had passed.
Abbey sighed, rolled over and switched off the light.
Later, as we lay together in the dark, she said: “I can’t believe I’ve found you. You’re my second chance, Henry. I always wanted to do something worthwhile with my life. Something that makes a difference. With you, p’raps I finally can.”
I squeezed her hand and she squeezed mine as outside the snow continued to fall, covering the city in a second skin, in a carapace of jealousy and spite.
In the night, there were strange sounds — shouts and moans and smashing glass. Once, just after midnight, we heard a whispered invitation at the letterbox. Certain promises were made, certain boons offered in exchange for services rendered, for a number of small concessions.
But we held one another close and tried to stop our ears against it, knowing that this was our haven and that to leave the flat could mean the end for either one of us.
I suppose there might be some bitter kind of irony in the fact that the next day was Christmas Eve. In all that had happened, I’d started to forget that there was supposed to be anything festive going on at all.
When I woke, Abbey’s side of the bed was empty and cool. I wrapped a dressing gown around myself and walked through to the lounge to find her on the couch watching television, a mug of something hot cupped between her hands, riveted by the cataclysms unfolding on-screen.
She didn’t even look up. “The city’s in lockdown,” she said. “They’ve set up checkpoints at the edge of London. People’ve seen soldiers. They’re saying they’re shooting to kill.”
I sat beside her on the sofa and hugged her close.
“Everyone’s gone mad,” she said. “They’ve all gone mad.”
I kissed her gently on the forehead, smoothed back her hair and whispered something treacly and cloying.
“Thank you,” she said, and smiled.
“I need to check on Mum.”
She nodded distractedly. “Henry?”
“Yes?”
“What can we do?”
“We stay here,” I said firmly. “We stay in this flat and we wait it out. As long as we’re together — as long as we’re in here — then nothing can touch us.”
“But there are people outside I care about. What about them?”
“Everything I care about’s right here.” I sounded perhaps a little colder than I had intended.
“You think your granddad’s dead, don’t you?” she said.
I walked away.
Of course, I blame myself.
Mum was fine when I checked on her. Her breathing was shallow and she was still murmuring and moaning to herself, but she didn’t have a temperature and seemed, if anything, to be slightly calmer than before. I did what I could, gave her water, mopped her brow and, just before lunch, helped her lurch uncertainly into the bathroom, even cleaning up the subsequent mess.
I’m not a bad son, that’s what I’m saying. I did my best.
Abbey and I were having lunch, eking out the last of our bread and fruit, when we heard the scream.
In the bedroom Mum was on her feet and almost fully dressed, lacing up her shoes with jerky, robotic motions, muttering endlessly about the snow.
She’d managed to tear out some of the fitted carpet, peeling it back to reveal old floorboards underneath. Here she’d uncovered something extraordinary — painted markings, sigils, signs and symbols daubed in red upon the wood.
“Mum?” I said, moving warily toward her and trying not to think too hard about what I’d seen on the floor. “What’s all this, Mum?”
“He sold your father. Did you know that? For the sake of his putrid little war he bargained away your dad. And you know what scares me now? I think he’s sold you, too.”
“Are you talking about Granddad?” I asked.
“That man,” she rasped. “That vicious man. It was always his idea.”
“What was?” I said. “What are you talking about?”
“The telly… Your father and I never wanted it for you. And then — those operations. He paid for them. Oh, Henry. Incisions to the brain.”
I edged closer. “Mum?”
Then I made my mistake. I placed my hand on her shoulder. It was the gentlest restraint, the kindest holding-back, but that was not how my mother saw it. She gave a roar of outrage and pain. Until then, I don’t suppose I’d ever thought her capable of making such a sound. If I hadn’t snatched my hand away as quickly as I did, I honestly believe she might have bitten it.
My voice trembled. “Mum, what are you doing? Please, Get back into bed.”
She bared her teeth and hissed. “Leviathan is coming. We must all go out to meet him.”
Hunched forward, simian in motion, she pushed past me and sped toward the front door. Abbey appeared and stepped uncertainly in her path but Mum just slapped her out of the way. Abbey squealed in shock and I saw that my mother had drawn blood on her cheek.
Mum reached the door and unlocked it, suddenly, helplessly desperate to be outside.
Stupidly, I touched her arm again and she snarled back something terrible. Even now, I am unable to bring myself to set down those words.
