I was crushed. The first time I’d seen Veronica in days and I was no closer to finding out what the hell was going on. And to make matters worse, she was being more cryptic than ever; it was like she wanted to tell me something but couldn’t bring herself to do it. It just didn’t make any sense.
I sighed, turning back towards the pub, and saw Will standing outside the door looking at me.
He must have heard everything. Great.
“Will, I…”
He smiled his cheeky grin and held the door to the pub open for me. “It’s OK, I know I never used to be your favourite person. We’re good.”
I smiled back gratefully. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I was an idiot back then.”
He brought me in for a side hug and patted me on the shoulder. “Damn right!”
The question came two seconds later. “So, what happened in Edinburgh?”
I sighed; I’d been hoping he hadn’t heard that bit. “You really don’t want to know.”
***
It was a few days later and I’d just come out of the record store on Bishop Road when I noticed an old silver metro pull up to the curb about ten feet ahead of me.
Thinking Will had already found a second hand car, I excitedly ran up to the open window to see him.
“Hey Beth, like the new wheels?” It was Connor.
I cursed myself for coming up to the car but smiled at him as best as I could. “New?”
“OK, well it’s a few years old, but I got a great deal on it. You want to go for a spin?”
I knew that going for a ‘spin’ with Connor would probably be a bad idea, and I tried to think of a believable excuse. “Oh, I would, but I was on my way to Will’s.”
Connor raised his eyebrows, his smile widening. “Really? Because I just saw ‘im in the grocery store. Workin’.”
Damn it, Connor was good. “Oh, right. Maybe he got called in last minute.”
Why did my brain never work when I wanted it to? I let the silence grow as I tried to think of something else.
“Look, I was just goin’ to go to Renfield, not far. I wanted to check out those punch drinks you were talkin’ about.”
I shook my head, desperately trying to think of anything to say to get out of it.
“Come on, my shout.” He leaned over and opened the passenger door - as if no wasn’t an option - with a flashy and highly attractive smile on his perfect face. Damn.
I thought about running away without saying another word, but pissing Connor off was not something I wanted to do. So instead, I reluctantly agreed and got in.
It smelled a bit musty inside but it was tidy, and the majority of the interior was clean. I put my seat belt on and looked at Connor. “You know where you’re going?”
“Absolutely no idea.”
I directed Connor out of the village and along the road to Renfield, and apart from my occasional directions, we didn’t say anything to each other.
We passed Hill Top Farm but neither of us mentioned the looming farmhouse. I wanted to ask him more questions about Norman and the library but thought that angering him while he was driving probably wasn’t the best idea; I’d wait until we were in Renfield.
The silence grew louder and louder, and eventually Connor reached down to the ancient car radio and turned the old-fashioned knob until he found a local station. It was playing some weird eighties-sounding electro with an underlying soundtrack of static.
There was a fine mist in the air, threatening to become fog at any minute, and it was making the late afternoon light dwindle. I was hoping we wouldn’t stay for too long or it would be pitch black by the time we got back to Little Forest, and I definitely didn’t want to be stuck in a car with Connor at night. No doubt that would appeal to me more if I didn’t have my suspicions about him; he was looking particularly fine at the moment.
I mentally slapped myself, remembering his less-than-normal behaviour.
When we got to Renfield, I directed him to a car park near the Doctor’s Surgery pub and he pulled into a space.
“Made it! Good car.”
I looked at him in surprise. “You didn’t think it’d make it here?”
Connor laughed. “I never doubted it!”
We got out the car and I led him over to the pub. “Here we go, Renfield’s number one tourist trap.”
The old building was authentic enough, with its large oak doors and fading brickwork. The giant sign showing a cartoon of the doctor poisoning an unsuspecting patient, on the other hand, was less so.
We walked in through the front door and into the warm. Despite it only being around four p.m., there were candles burning on every table and there was a definite ambience of Victorian decadence in the air. There were very few empty tables and almost everyone looked up at us as we walked in, some stares lingering longer than others.
Most people were there in small groups, possibly bunking off work early or just unemployed. There were a few older men sitting on their own, looking dark and dreary with their dull clothes and even duller expressions. One man looked so depressed with his black clothes and grey complexion that he could have come straight from a funeral.
Seemingly oblivious to the reaction of the punters, Connor surveyed the pub and then gestured to the nearest table. “Do you want to take a seat? I’ll go order.”
I nodded and sat at the small, round table next to the wall furthest from the bar. I took my phone out from my pocket and checked my CAC profile while I waited, just for something to do; I’d never felt particularly comfortable in Renfield, and I wasn’t sure why.
A minute later I was reminded exactly why.
I could see someone coming to the table out the corner of my eye and I put my phone down, expecting to see Connor with our drinks. But it wasn’t Connor.
It was an old, haggard-looking woman with shocking white hair and more wrinkles than I could count. I guessed she must be in her late eighties at least.
She came and sat down in the chair next to me, her eyes wide and never leaving mine. I drew my gaze away from her and looked over towards the bar, seeing Connor in the queue for drinks. I wished he’d hurry up.
I glanced back at the woman - who was still staring at me intently - and tried to smile at her. I was pretty sure that what started off as a smile in my head turned to a grimace on my mouth.
I took a deep breath and tried the smile again. “Hello, I’m…” but she cut me off before I could say anymore. I gasped as her freezing cold, veiny claw of a hand suddenly grabbed mine.
She muttered three words, so quietly I could barely hear them. “You’ve seen them.” It wasn’t a question.
I watched as her eyes zoomed all over my face in anticipation of my answer. All I could come out with was, “Who?”
The woman dropped my hand as abruptly as she’d grabbed it and seemed to nod to herself. “You will, soon.”
I had no idea what to say, but before I could think of anything, she leaned in closer. “Do I know you?”
I shook my head mechanically.
Her eyes zoomed over my face again. “You look just like… do you have a sister?”
Before I got a chance to answer, she held out her hand to me in a ‘stop’ gesture and shook her head vehemently. “Never mind.”
She got up from the chair and started to walk away, and she was still staring at me as she sat back down at her table. I could feel my face burning and I was suddenly far too hot, so I took off my cardigan, revealing a rather non-seasonal vest top underneath. Within seconds Connor had arrived with our drinks and I smiled gratefully at him in relief.
Connor handed me my cocktail and looked over at the old woman. “Who was that?”
I shook my head, laughing, hoping I sounded care free and normal. “I have no idea. I’ll tell you one thing though, Renfield folk definitely have the upper hand when it comes to crazy.”
Connor looked back over to the woman, who was still staring at me. “Why, what did she say?”
I hesit
ated. The truth was that she hadn’t really said anything that made any sense, but I still felt that keeping it to myself would be a good idea. Well, myself and Will; I’d tell him later. “Nothing really, she thought I was someone else. I don’t think she’s all there.”
Connor seemed to accept what I’d said and took a sip of his cocktail. “This is… interestin’. Please tell me the alcoholic version is better?”
I laughed, trying to forget about the woman. “Ah, you got the mocktail?” I took a sip of mine as well, the strange mix of flavours assaulting my tongue in an instant. It was much worse than I’d remembered. “Well Connor, I don’t think you’ve got anything to worry about.”
He laughed, nodding. “People really will pay for anythin’ around here as long as it’s got some kind of horror story theme, sure.”
I agreed with him, looking around at the pub. On the walls were framed pictures of the evil doctor, and there was a whole wall dedicated to testimonies from Renfield and Little Forest residents of the time. The décor was what I regarded as ‘gloomy Victorian’, with the splashes of deep red on the curtains and tablecloths giving it an eerie - yet colourful - look.
I turned round in my seat, my back to Connor as I looked at the large portrait of the doctor which was hung near our table; it was an intricate line drawing which somehow managed to perfectly capture the madness in his eyes, the amusement on his upturned lip, the evil lurking inside.
“Beth?”
Connor’s tentative question made me jump; I’d been completely mesmerised by the doctor’s taunting face.
I half turned back to face Connor. “Yeah?”
“Would you mind if I asked you a personal question?”
I tried not to let my face show the nerves I was suddenly feeling. “I guess.”
“How did you get your scar?”
At that word, my insides lurched. I looked down at my inappropriately skimpy vest top and swore under my breath.
For months after the incident, I’d avoided wearing any clothes that might show even a small part of it. My self-consciousness had faded at the same rate as my scar had, but occasionally, people still picked up on it.
Why did it have to be Connor?
“Were you… attacked?”
I squirmed in my seat, pulling on my cardigan, even though I was still far too hot. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”
He nodded and looked down at his drink as the silence between us grew to an uncomfortable size.
“I didn’t mean to pry.”
I looked at his face, somehow made even more beautiful by his embarrassment, and grabbed his hand, giving it a quick squeeze. “Don’t worry about it, I just… I try not to think about it.”
He nodded again. “Was it someone around here?”
Jesus, couldn’t he take a hint?
I hesitated for a few seconds before quickly shaking my head. “No.”
Well, that was the truth, after all.
I started to push all thoughts of my scar to the back of my mind, and then stopped. What Connor had said before was making me think.
“Hey, Connor? Do you have stuff like this in Dublin?”
“Themed pubs? Sure! Dublin is teemin’ with tourists ready to part with their Euros.”
I hesitated again. “No, I mean… the stories, the legends. Are things like that quite so… prevalent in Ireland? Are people so wrapped up in it?”
He looked back over to the woman, who was still unapologetically spying on us, and then back to me. “I think most places have their fair share of so-called hauntin’, don’t they? Some cities, or villages, just know how to exploit ‘em better. Dublin has a lot o’ tourists, so things like ghost tours started springin’ up; it’s just another way to make money. I’m surprised Little Forest doesn’t do a ghost tour to be honest.”
I nearly choked on my cocktail, and not just because he’d mentioned the ‘G’ word. “Don’t suggest it! My dad’s been thinking about running one from the castle for years.”
Connor raised his eyebrows. “Why not? It’d bring in a lot of money. Some of the tour guides in Dublin must be loaded.”
I thought back to the trip I’d taken with Veronica a few years ago. The trip I always tried to forget but the one I never could. For more reasons than one. “I just think they’re dangerous. No, I know they’re dangerous.”
“And how do you know that?”
I shook my head, really not wanting to tell Connor one of my deepest, darkest secrets. Not when I thought he had enough deep, dark secrets of his own to worry about. “Never mind.”
Connor shrugged and drank the rest of his dodgy mocktail. I was torn between bringing up the library and wanting to stay on his good side (if he did actually have one), but I should have known that my mouth would make that decision for me. “So, what’s so interesting about Little Forest that would warrant several library research trips?”
He nearly choked on his drink.
I laughed, trying to keep the conversation light-hearted. “I wasn’t spying or anything, honestly. I was helping Will look up his family tree, he’s into all that,” (I hoped it wasn’t obvious I was telling a blatant lie), “and I saw your name in the log-book.”
Connor slowly lowered his glass, his eyes avoiding mine as he obviously tried to come up with some excuse.
“You into English history and all that?”
He nodded slowly. For someone who had been pretty much lying to me from the moment we met, he was doing a spectacularly poor job of it at the moment. “Yeah, I like to know about the place I’m livin’ in.” He paused, then his face broke into a cheeky smile, almost resembling Will’s usual expression. “Actually, I was lookin’ up the Cocktail buildin’, seeing what it was before. I found some stuff in the back room, photos and things, I wondered who they belonged to.”
Nice save.
“Oh, cool. I like old stuff like that. So, did you find out anything?”
He shook his head, looking embarrassed, or at least pretending to. “No, not really.”
After over twenty visits totalling more than thirty hours? He would have to have been exceptionally bad at research. I smiled in what I hoped was an ‘oh well’ sort of expression.
I was trying to think how to carry on the library conversation when the pub door opened and John Rogers stepped in, looking incredibly tired and weary. He scanned the room and when he spotted us, he nodded at me.
I was more than surprised to see him; most of the Little Forest residents avoided Renfield at all costs, and I’d never seen John here over the years. “Hi John, do you want to join us?”
He walked towards the table, then glanced at Connor and hesitated. “Thanks, but I’d rather be on my own.”
I smiled at him, quietly relieved; I didn’t want him asking me about my freak out after the funeral, and especially not in front of Connor.
I watched as John walked off, past the bar and up the stairs to the bar on the first floor.
It wasn’t long before Connor made his excuses and got up to go to the bathroom. He walked towards the stairs, and as my gaze followed him, I caught the old woman’s eye from across the room. She was still staring at me with absolutely no attempt at hiding her actions, and I decided to go to the toilet as well. Anything to get away from that penetrating gaze.
I got to the top of the stairs and was just about to turn right to get to the toilets when I heard an Irish accent floating towards me from round the corner. Being one of the only non-English people in the area, it was easy to find Connor, even when you weren’t looking for him.
I walked quietly to the edge of the corridor area and peered round. Connor and John were sitting together at a table, John with what looked like a large whiskey in front of him. He had his head in his hands again like he had after the funeral, his long-sleeved red and black chequered shirt poking out of his jacket.
“Will you just leave it? I told you what I know!”
Evidently, Connor wasn’t going to leave it, as he shuffled clos
er to John and spoke in a voice so low that I couldn’t hear it.
John paused, obviously thinking. “I don’t know… it could have been.”
At that moment, John looked up and caught sight of me lurking. “Beth!” He smiled, as though relieved to see me.
I cringed as Connor turned round, staring at me with a creepily blank expression on his face.
I decided to go over; I couldn’t exactly get away with pretending I hadn’t seen them. “Hey guys, I didn’t know you two knew each other?”
John gave Connor what could only be described as a dirty look. “We don’t.”
Connor pretended to laugh off John’s comment before turning to me. “I thought you were goin’ to wait downstairs.” His tone resembled less of the carefree happy Connor who had brought me here, and more of the angry, scary Connor who had had a go at me about Norman.
“Actually, I came to say I think we should go, if that’s alright? I told my parents I’d be back for dinner.” I hadn’t told them any such thing and I was hoping neither John nor Connor would see through that lie, either.
Connor grudgingly agreed. We said goodbye to John and walked down the stairs.
“That conversation looked a bit heated, everything OK I hope?”
Connor ignored my question and walked ahead of me to the door. I couldn’t believe that a few minutes ago I’d been squeezing his hand and appreciating his nice looks.
I glanced back at the old woman before I left. She was still staring at me.
***
Five minutes later, we were in the car heading back to Little Forest.
Connor kept looking at me - possibly wondering how much of his little conversation I’d overheard - and I kept having to remind him to keep his eyes on the road, especially now that it was dark.
The fog that had been threatening to emerge on the way to Renfield was now well and truly smothering everything around us. We could only really see ten or so feet in front of the car, and when I looked out of the passenger’s side window I couldn’t even make out the trees that I knew were there beyond the road.
“Connor, can you slow down a bit please?”
“Ah, we’ll be fine.”
“Not if you don’t slow down. I don’t know how good your eyesight is but I can’t see a bloody thing. This road’s dangerous, anyway. There are loads of deer around here.”
He laughed. “I think I can handle a little deer.”