Darkside

Jonas stopped dead. Lucy’s head spun. This was ridiculous. This was Jonas. He had come to help her, not to harm her. But she needed some … explanations.

‘I found the missing button!’ she cried.

Of all the things he’d expected Lucy to say next, that was the stone-cold last. Jonas almost laughed. Would have, if he hadn’t been able to hear the shake and the fear in Lucy’s voice.

‘What button?’

‘The button you found on Margaret Priddy’s roof. It came off your trousers.’

‘No it didn’t. I checked when I found it. What’s this all about, Lu? How did you get up here?’

‘It did, Jonas! I found a pair of your uniform trousers tonight with a button missing.’

Jonas still failed to see how that would scare his wife so badly she would hide in the attic. She’d always been so objective and sensible. He couldn’t understand—

Panic suddenly made him tingle all over.

‘Lu? Did you take anything? Did you take any … thing?’

‘No! Jonas! Something’s going on here, but it’s with you, not me! I think … I think something’s not right with you, Jonas.’

He was not convinced. The note of hysteria in her voice worried him. He started to move up as if to make the final climb into the attic, but her scream cut him short.

‘Stay there!’

‘OK. OK, Lu. I’m not moving. I’m staying right here.’

A sob of relief came from the darkness.

‘Lu, do you have the lantern?’

‘Yes.’

‘Can you turn it on, baby? So I can see you? So we can talk?’

She hesitated, then he heard her fumble around in the darkness, sniffing back tears. He was careful not to make a move while she was distracted; she sounded brittle enough to snap at any moment.

The lantern glowed an unnatural white beside her, and made her haggard face look ghostly, while the knife in her hand glittered.

He saw the cut on her swollen lip.

‘Lucy! What happened? Did you fall? There’s blood in the bathroom.’

She touched her lip with one shaking finger. ‘You did this, Jonas. When you hit me.’

‘What?’

Lucy’s voice was small and childlike. ‘Earlier tonight.’

‘I never hit you, Lu! I never would! What the hell’s going on?’

‘You don’t remember,’ she whispered.

‘Lucy, please, you’re scaring me. Please tell me what’s happened. Why are you up here? Did he come back? Did he hurt you, Lu?’

‘Who?’

‘The killer! The man I chased out of the back door! Did he come back? Lucy, tell me!’

‘You don’t remember,’ she said. ‘You don’t remember what happened. You were somebody else.’

‘Lucy, I’m me. I’m just me.’

He didn’t know what else to say. Lucy must have taken something. He didn’t want to engage in some weird drug-induced conversation with her. He was the protector. He needed to get her to come out of the attic with him and downstairs so he could check her over and get her to vomit. Maybe he’d have to take her to hospital. The Land Rover might make it.

‘Lu, I’m coming up, OK?’

‘No!’

‘Sweetheart, I have to, I—’

‘NO! Stay there!’

He stopped again, still on the ladder but now more in the attic than out of it.

She tried to control the wobble in her voice. ‘Jonas, you have to listen to me. Please.’

‘I’m listening,’ he said, although really he was wondering if he could rush her, or whether it might be dangerous with her waving that knife around in front of her.

‘Jonas,’ she began – then started to cry. ‘Jonas, I think you lost your button the night you killed Margaret Priddy.’

‘Lucy!—’

‘Listen! You said you’d listen to me!’

‘I am,’ he said, and this time he really was.

‘It wasn’t really you, Jonas. I know you’d never, ever hurt anyone. I don’t just believe it, I know it. But I think some … part of you killed Margaret and Yvonne and the others. I don’t know why, but you’ve been under such pressure, Jonas! Your parents and the job and then me, being such a burden to you … And then … and then when I couldn’t even kill myself …’ Lucy trailed off, but gathered herself up again and went on. ‘I know how scared you were, Jonas. I saw it on your face! You were like a frightened little boy, like a—’

‘Shut up!’

Lucy stopped, shocked, at Jonas’s words, which came out with a thick, low vehemence she’d never heard from him before.

‘Jonas?’ she said cautiously.

‘Shut up! You’ll wake him!’

Lucy swayed in disbelief. The voice was not Jonas’s. It was rougher and older, and his face had changed. Lucy sought the softness in Jonas’s eyes and found only black nothingness.

‘Who’s there?’ she whispered.

‘None of your business,’ he snapped.

‘Who will I wake up?’

‘The boy. We let him sleep.’

‘Who’s we?’

‘Me and Jonas. Although he’s been no fucking use. Won’t do his job.’

Lucy caught her breath.

Do your job, crybaby.

‘What’s Jonas’s job?’

‘Protecting the boy, of course. That’s always been his job. He’s the protector.’

‘And who are you?’

There was a long pause.

‘I am the killer.’

Something in Lucy hoped she might be dreaming, but the cold and the smell of mouse droppings and the knife in her hands all felt very real to her. She made a huge effort to speak simply and gently so as not to provoke the person who was no longer her husband.