There were two in the bed and the little one said, roll over, roll over.
So they all rolled over and one fell out.
There was one in the bed…
It was a beautiful moment watching Fern burn on the cross and it was worth all of the time and hard work it took dragging her out here to the farm.
Their screams had echoed around the domed room; Fern in agony, Olivia in horror, and I had screamed with them, though mine was cathartic, knowing the wicked were finally being punished for their sins.
Do you know that the screams barely last a minute when you set someone on fire? Of course each second feels much longer, but after around a minute, the brain shuts down and unconsciousness often takes over. It’s a shame, as Fern St Clair deserved to suffer for longer for what she did to you. I take my comfort from knowing that it’s not truly over for her, that an eternity in hell awaits her.
Olivia had tried to look away, so I had forced her head back, my knife to her throat, as I made her watch. I wanted her to witness every glorious moment of Fern’s death. She had become hysterical, struggling against me and begging for it to stop, showing her true colours and proving her allegiance to her bitch friend. If she had really been true to you, Margaret, she would have wanted Fern to atone for what she did to you.
She is subdued now, in shock, I think, as we walk into the dark woods along the track that leads to the cottage. That is perhaps better as it makes her easier to control, especially as I am having to lug the record player with us. Her hands are still cuffed behind her, but I had to free her ankles as I needed her to walk. She is limping from where she fell down the stairs earlier and I don’t think she can get away, but for added security I put a noose around her neck. Each time she slows down, I give it a tug to remind her it is there.
I wonder if she is remembering the last time she walked this path, when she was with you, playing the charlatan friend as she lead you to your death.
How fitting that I should now be doing the same to her.
This was always my destiny, I realise. My purpose for being here. To make the guilty pay for hurting you.
The darkness was always in me, even at a young age. Our parents showed me that. They tried to drive it out of me and I sometimes wonder if that was why you were taken from them, as their punishment for intervening, because the darkness is too strong.
I had just turned sixteen that winter you died and life was all about discovery. I had a boyfriend, you know. Our parents were appalled, tried to stop us seeing each other, but we would sneak out and meet when you had all gone to bed. I thought I was being so clever, but I didn’t realise that they knew. That they were watching and plotting against me.
That’s why they sent you and Malcolm off to Black Dog Farm. It was all because of me. They needed you both out of the house so you didn’t witness what they had planned.
I didn’t understand at that point. I honestly thought I was just having fun. I didn’t realise I had evil running through my veins.
Alice finished applying her make-up and ran a brush through her hair. It was Wednesday night and she had plans to meet up with Scott. Her parents had their church friends over and after making small talk with them to appease her dad, she had excused herself to bed. It was only half-eight, but it was a school night, so none of them really raised an eyebrow.
She would give it half an hour then sneak across the landing to Malcolm’s bedroom. His room overlooked a sloping part of the roof, which she could shimmy down to the ground.
When Malcolm was home, he turned a blind eye when Alice used her escape route. As siblings they bickered, but they were drawn together by a mutual dislike for their parents. By way of thank-you for keeping quiet, Alice would stick her spare change in the glass bottle that sat on his desk.
She was excited to meet Scott tonight. He had told her he had a Christmas present for her and she couldn’t wait to find out what it was. She hadn’t had the opportunity to buy anything for him, but she still had something special to offer. Tonight she planned to give him her virginity. She had talked with her best friend, Jenny, about it, decided after four months of seeing Scott that she was ready.
He didn’t know about it yet. It was going to be a surprise.
She listened downstairs to the chatter, could hear the clinking of cups and saucers as her parents’ guests used her mother’s best china, drinking tea and tucking into slices of her home-made Victoria sponge. Marie Grimes only ever baked for her church friends. Alice, Malcolm and Margaret were not allowed sweet treats.
Holding her breath, Alice twisted the door handle, readying herself to creep across the landing, hoping that the noise downstairs would mask the sound of the creaking floorboard outside her room.
The door didn’t open.
Frowning, she tried it again, anger and frustration burning as she realised it was locked.
Seriously? Her dad had locked her in her bedroom? He hadn’t done this in years and then only as a punishment. Which had her wondering, what had she done to deserve this?
A lick of fear heated her belly as it crossed her mind he might know she was planning on sneaking out to meet Scott.
He couldn’t know. Surely it was impossible. She had been so careful not to get caught.
There was nothing else she could think of that deserved punishment, and worry turned to dread, in fear of one of her father’s beatings.
Wiping the make-up from her face, she quickly undressed and crawled under the bedcovers.
If he thought she was asleep, realised he had got it wrong, maybe nothing would happen.
Alice lay there for over half an hour, unable to settle, knowing Scott would be waiting for her and wondering where she was. Her parents wouldn’t allow her to have a mobile phone, so she had no way of contacting him and letting him know what had happened.
She also feared hearing the foreboding sound of footsteps on the stairs, prayed they wouldn’t come.
As the minutes ticked by, she heard the familiar creak, knew her praying hadn’t worked and it would be her father coming to check on her. She rolled on to her side, closing her eyes, trying to stop the trembling, as the key twisted in the door.
‘Alice?’
She ignored him, pretended to be asleep.
‘Alice, wake up.’
And it was then she realised her father wasn’t alone, heard the other footsteps, the other voices.
She wanted to carry on pretending she was asleep, but shock had her rolling over as her parents’ friends filed into the room, gathering around the bed.
There were eight of them in total, including Gerald and Marie, and they all had Bibles with them, their faces solemn. Mrs Rigby, her mother’s closest friend, who was the most pious of them all, held a large crucifix in her bony hand, and…
Was that a whip her husband had?
Her father stood ominously at the back of the room by the door, preventing any escape.
‘What’s going on?’ Her voice came out as a whimper, terrified they were planning on hurting her.
‘Alice Catherine Grimes, you have been sinning against God,’ Mrs Rigby told her, her lips thin. ‘We need to drive the Devil from you.’
‘No, please. I haven’t done anything wrong.’
‘Liar!’ Marie Grimes stepped forward, her face like stone. ‘I overheard you on the phone, talking about giving your virginity to that boy. Sinners need to be punished.’
‘Please, no, I won’t see him again. I promise. Please don’t hurt me.’
Alice screamed as the duvet was pulled from the bed, hands grabbing hold of her and flipping her on to her stomach. Her nightdress was torn away and she struggled against them as they pinned her down.
She heard the key turn again in the door, understood her father had just locked her in the room with these monsters.
‘Daddy, no, please!’
In a voice that was completely devoid of emotion, he responded with just one single word.
‘Begin.’
The memory of that night still haunts me, even all these years later I can still recall the chanting prayers, feel the stinging burn of the whip. I tried so hard to become the daughter they wanted after you died. The thought of failing them again scared me half to death.
I hear choking, and a strangled sob brings me back to the present.
I have been so caught up in the terror of my absolution, I hadn’t noticed Olivia stumble, but she is face down on the forest floor, the noose around her neck tightening as my hand yanks on the rope. Panic surges through me as I realise I have been so caught up in the past that I had forgotten about her. She can’t die yet.
Easing some tension in the rope, I kick her hard in the ribs. ‘Get up!’
I have frightened myself. Spending too long dwelling in the past is dangerous. All of this planning and I could have ruined it in one split second. Tonight is about the present. Tonight is about making sure Olivia pays. And it can’t go wrong.
She struggles pathetically to get to her feet, but she is still coughing from where I accidentally choked her, and with her hands bound behind her back it is difficult.
This time when I tighten the noose, I am careful not to crush her windpipe. ‘Get the fuck up, bitch.’
She tries again, stumbles again.
Losing patience, I put down the record player case and grab hold of her arm, yanking her back to her feet. She staggers for a moment, but this time manages to keep her balance.
We are losing time so I grab the case again and push her forward, keen to get her to the cottage.
She knows where we are going. She becomes more agitated as our destination comes into sight and I guess it’s because she understands that she will soon meet the same fate as her friends.
It has been a pain walking her out here, but this was where you died, Margaret. This is where she brought you and left you to burn to death. There really was no other choice. This has to be the place where it all ends.
Olivia doesn’t want to go inside the cottage, but I push her round to the back of the property, to the window you climbed through all those years ago.
Knowing it will be impossible for her to climb inside herself, I part lift her, pushing her inside. She cries in pain as she lands on the floor.
I quickly clamber through the window, pull her to her feet, half dragging her through to the back room of the cottage, the place where they found your body.
When the light of my torch falls on the cross I have erected against the centre beam, her eyes widen in panic and she starts struggling again.
‘No, Alice, please, no!’
I almost want to laugh when they beg. After everything I have done, all the work I have put into making this happen, do they really think they can reason with me and change my mind?
Sinners have to be punished. I was forced to realise that a long time ago. Made to understand that there could be no mercy.
I suffered, Margaret suffered. And now it is Olivia’s turn.
