He exhales, his boots crunching against the gravel path before it turns to soft earth when he turns off. Around him, the natural world buzzes with life. A blackbird hops across the ground ahead, a worm dangling from its beak. Further off, he catches sight of a deer, its head raised, ears twitching before it bounds silently back into the undergrowth.
It’s so peaceful and idyllic here, but Dev’s thoughts continue to churn like dark water beneath a deceptively still surface.
He’d been watching Merri quite a bit at home when she wasn’t aware. Noticed her movements were often sharp and agitated as she’d wiped the already pristine kitchen worktop for the third time since he’d stood there. She had this habitof constantly looking out of the windows, down the garden, as if she’d seen movement out there.
These days – even before Sarah’s death – there seemed to be something extra in her eyes that he couldn’t quite get the measure of. Paranoia, maybe, or fear.
She’s been like this for a while now and he hadn’t thought much of it at first. Merri has always been distrustful of other people, even those she’s known for some time. She’s quick to keep her distance and guard her privacy – but lately, since they’d arrived at Lakeview, her behaviour has spiralled into something else entirely.
She’s jumpy and skittish, as if she’s constantly expecting something bad to happen. Dev has noticed she’s started double-checking the locks on all the doors and windows, sometimes three or four times a night before bedtime, and she won’t let him leave the curtains open after dark.
She keeps complaining about the smell of algae from the lake and now refuses to keep the doors open.
The other day Merri froze mid-conversation, her gaze fixed on the trees beyond the garden as if she’d seen someone lurking there. When Dev asked her what was wrong, she’d muttered something about her eyes playing tricks on her. But the tremor in her voice told a different story.
Whenever he tries to talk about it, she brushes him off with a dismissive smile or a vague excuse about the stress of the move, but he knows it’s more than that. Whatever’s eating at her, she’s not going to let him in. And that – more than her odd behaviour, more than the unease that’s been building in his gut – frightens him most of all.
There’s something big she’s keeping from him, he’s certain of it. She’s always kept him at arm’s length when it comes to her past, but lately there’s been a new guardedness about her. A real distance.
He won’t stay long at Tilda’s and then he’ll head home to try contacting Merri again. Urge her to come back as soon as she can.
A branch snaps beneath his foot, and the sound startles him into the present. He’s close now: Tilda and Simon’s house is visible through the thinning trees.
The sunlight filters through the barn kitchen window, the curtains drawn back, and Tilda appears there.
From this angle, it occurs to Dev that she looks like someone else entirely.
57
Fifteen Years Earlier
It was the second night sleeping in my new bedroom when I woke suddenly. It had taken me ages to get to sleep because it was so cold without a radiator.
I opened my eyes, but I didn’t move. Something must have disturbed me, but all seemed quiet. Then I heard it: the door handle was being pushed down and the door was opening carefully. Bit by bit, scraping slightly on the old carpet off-cut on the wooden floorboards.
I froze, not moving an inch. I’d woken up lying on my side and facing the wall. My eyes were wide open as I held my breath.
The door closed again and then soft footsteps crept towards the bed. I felt myself start to shake. I couldn’t stop. I balled my hands into fists under the covers and squeezed my eyes closed. I didn’t want to know what was about to happen.
When the bed covers were pulled back, a gasp escaped my lips and I turned over. Saw the outline of a man. He bent closer and whispered in my ear. ‘It’s just me, David. I’ve come to hold you because it’s cold tonight.’
I said nothing and turned to the wall again. His body felt warm as he slipped into the bed behind me and pulled the covers over us. His arm slipped over mine and he held me gently. I thought I’d turn to stone, but a wonderful wash of warmth enveloped me. I’d never been held like that before,or experienced that level of closeness, of being wanted by another person. After a while, the rhythm of his breathing matched mine, steady and calm. I found the smell of him – faint aftershave and sweat – strange but pleasant. For the first time in years, I wasn’t fighting sleep. I wasn’t fighting anything at all. I let the weight of David’s presence pull me deeper, into a quiet, safe place I hadn’t known existed. And, just like that, we drifted into sleep together.
After that night David came to my room every night. Soon he wanted to touch me. I was nearly eighteen, yet I’d had no experience with a man at all. David made me feel special, told me there was nothing to be afraid of, that it was a natural thing to do for ‘people who love each other’.
I lurched between terror and excitement. But I didn’t ask him to stop.
His firm, probing fingers made me catch my breath until pleasure racked through every inch of me. But we didn’t have full sex. ‘Not until you’re eighteen,’ he said. ‘Nobody is going to say I forced you to do anything.’
I’d be turning eighteen the next month.
We took our meals together, watched TV together. We did everything together. Beth spent all her time with Mrs Webb. When I asked her to come out for a walk with David and me she shook her head and said she was busy. I didn’t mind. Beth was happy and I lived in a protected world with David. So long as I did what he wanted, when he wanted, it kept him happy. And Mr and Mrs Webb left me well alone.
Then, one day, I discovered where his power came from.
58
Dev
