Page 39 of Curse of the Stag's Eye
“These are the only places I feel comfortable. Better a spooky old mansion with mysterious groaning in the attic than a bar filled with people who figured out how to have a good time on a night out. I never did get the knack.”
“Me neither. I can’t be doing with shouting to be heard over music. Or queuing for twenty minutes at the bar for a pint. It was fine when I was younger but nowadays I’d rather have a night on the couch, a curry, and a film.”
“That sounds perfect to me.” He turned his head towards me. I did the same towards him. “It’s cold in here, don’t you think?”
It had turned decidedly chilly. I scooched a bit closer to him. For warmth, I told him. He unzipped his sleeping bag. I did likewise. We slid closer together, he slipped his arm around my waist, and our lips met. Once, twice, more, and still more, harder each time, tongues darting, hands groping. He undid the flies on my jeans and slipped his cold hand inside. I winced and giggled but his hand soon warmed up. I opened the buttons of his checked shirt, one by one, rubbing his hairy belly and chest. I kissed and nibbled his brown nipples, making him groan.
“Harder.” He ran a hand under my polo shirt, up my back, then down to the waistband of my jeans.
I started to undo my belt but stopped. “Wait.” I lifted my head. Rhys kissed my neck, sending electric darts through my body. I purred. “No, hang on, wait, wait. Listen.”
A tune, faint as can be, pricked our ears. A refrain whistled in a high-pitch, muffled but undeniable. Above us, the ceiling creaked as though someone, or something, were walking across it.
Rhys turned up his lantern and we stared at the low ceiling, following the footsteps as they came down, down, down the roof and to the front door. We held our breath. The door banged, rattling the bolt. Rhys froze but I was on my feet in seconds. I flung over the bolt and threw open the door to the cold, foggy night. And to Dawn.
She stood hugging herself. “Hiya. Is your zipper open? Can I come in?”
I hopped about, trying to do up my flies and glad that the creaking in the roof had ruined the mood enough that I was no longer poking out of them. I ran out to the courtyard and searched the roof for any sign of what could have made the noise.
“Nikesh is waiting in the van. I’m sorry for storming out. I panicked." She kicked at a piece of gravel. “When I got to the car park, it felt like that stone — What did you call it? The Stag’s Eye? — it felt like it was calling me. I got Nikesh to lift me up so I could look through the hole in it. Did you know it lines up with the lighthouse? I looked through and the fog had gone. I couldn’t see you two but I could see a man standing up there.” She pointed upwards. “At the top of the tower. And I kept thinking about that scream. In the bedroom? It was so...sad. I don't know if what's trapped in there is Baines, or a piece of his soul, or just a memory of him, but it is definitely trapped and it is definitelyin pain. That shape, Mr Squirrel, it’s tormenting him, I’m sure of it. And I can't leave things the way they are. Is it okay if I stay?”
Rhys sat up buttoning his shirt and warmly welcomed her in.
“I suppose you weren’t whistling as you climbed over the roof?” I shut the door and bolted it again.
Rhys told her about the noises we’d heard. She said she couldn’t whistle, and she obviously didn’t crawl across the thatched roof, but something did.
“Or it was an optical illusion,” Dawn said. “No, no optical. The other one.”
“Aural?” I said.
“No, that’s talking, innit?”
“That’s oral.” Rhys looked right at me when he said it and made my knob jump a bit. For a split second, I lamented Dawn’s return. But it passed.
“Maybe the fog caused the noise of my footsteps on the gravel to bounce up to the roof, somehow?”
“Thank you, Professor Chorus.” That came out meaner than I meant it to and I apologised immediately.
“Are you going to bed? It’s a bit early, isn’t it?”
She knelt on my sleeping bag and took a Thermos flask from her backpack. “Or…? Oh!” She tucked her chin into her chest and fluttered her long, fake eyelashes. “Were you two boys about to have a little shag?” Her sing-song tone made me laugh.
“Shut up, ye daft cow.” She took it as I meant it — a tease — and giggled.
“I knew there was something between you two,” she said. “It’s just as well Michael left, isn’t it? I didn’t like him. Flash git. He must have taken off at some speed. He left skid marks on the car park. I bet he drives something fancy.”
“It’s a Jaguar. I saw it last night.” Rhys moved his legs to make some room. “We were just taking a break. It’s cold in here. Wewere trying to stay warm and figure out what we can do to help Baines. I take it Nikesh isn’t coming back?”
She shook her head and poured out a steaming hot cup of tea for Rhys. “He only came here to find out if this was all real, if there was more to life than what see around us every day. Now he has his answer and it’s a bit scarier than he thought it would be. He doesn’t want any more to do with it tonight. He says he needs time to process it? It’s fair enough, really.”
I gave her the cup from my own flask and she poured some tea into it. I sat with my back against the couch and sipped and felt all the better for it.
“What do we know about him? Mr Baines?” Dawn blew on her tea. “Was he married? Any kids? Something must be keeping him here. I was thinking that maybe his wife or daughter or whatever might have been on that ship that sank? And that’s why he keeps coming back? He’s looking out across the water, waiting for her to sail home.”
Rhys’ eyebrows popped. “You could be onto something there.” He took his phone out and powered it up, complaining about the battery level. “I wish they had Wi-Fi…” After a minute or so of searching online he shook his head. “No, there’s nothing online about his personal life. Hardly any mention of him at all actually, outside of that article about his death. It’s like he’s just been forgotten. Poor thing.”
I gulped down my tea. “Well, lucky for us we’re in the one place that still remembers him.”
