Part 36 (1/2)

'Lola, fetch a spoon,' said Gingham Woman. 'Randolph, take Thursday to the bathroom.'

'Why?' I asked as I collapsed in a heap. 'I can walk.'

The next thing I saw was the view down the back of Randolph's legs and the living-room floor, then the stairs as I was carried up over his shoulder. I started to giggle but the rest was a bit blurry. I remember choking and throwing up in the loo, then being deposited in bed, then starting to cry.

'She died. Burned.'

'I know, darling,' said the old woman. 'I'm your grandmother, do you remember?'

'Gran?' I sobbed, realising who she was all of a sudden. 'I'm sorry I called you Gingham Woman!'

It's okay. Perhaps being drunk is for the best. You're going to sleep now, and dream and in that dream you'll do battle to win back your memories. Do you understand?'

'No.'

She sighed and wiped my forehead with her small pink hand. It felt rea.s.suring and I stopped crying.

'Be vigilant, my dear. Keep your wits about you and be stronger than you have ever been. We'll see you on the other side, come the morning.'

But she was starting to fade as slumber swept over me, her voice ringing in my ears as my mind relaxed and transported me deep into my subconscious.

27.

The lighthouse at the edge of my mind 'The Hades family when I knew them comprised, in order of age: Acheron, Styx, Phlegethon, Cocytus, Lethe, and the only girl, Aornis. Their father died many years previously, leaving their mother in charge of the youthful and diabolical family all on her own. Described once by Vlad the Impaler as 'unspeakably repellent', the Hades family drew strength from deviancy and committing every sort of horror that they could. Some with panache, some with half-hearted seriousness, others with a sort of relaxed insouciance about the whole thing. Lethe, the 'white sheep' of the family, was hardly cruel at all but the others more than made up for him. In time, I was to defeat three of them.'

THURSDAY NEXT Hades. Family from h.e.l.l Hades. Family from h.e.l.l A wave burst on the rocks behind me, showering me with cold water and flecks of foam. I s.h.i.+vered. I was on a rocky outcrop in the darkest gale-torn night, and before me stood a lighthouse. The wind whistled and moaned around the tower and a flash of lightning struck the apex. The bolt coursed down the earthing cable and trailed a shower of sparks, leaving behind the acrid stench of brimstone. The lighthouse was as black as obsidian and, as I looked up, it seemed as though the arc lamp rotating within the vast lenses was floating in midair. The light swept through the inky blackness illuminating nothing but a heaving, angry sea. I looked backwards in my mind but could see nothing I was without memory or past experiences.

This was the loneliest outpost of my subconscious, a memoryless island where nothing existed other than that which I could feel and see and smell at this moment in time. But I still had emotions, and I was aware of a sense of danger, and purpose. Somehow I understood I was here to vanquish or be vanquished.

Another wave burst behind me and with beating heart I pulled on the locking lever of the steel front door and was soon inside, safe from the gale. The door securely fastened, I looked around. There was a central spiral staircase but nothing else not a stick of furniture, a book, a packing case; nothing.

I s.h.i.+vered again and pulled out my gun.

'A lighthouse,' I murmured, 'a lighthouse in the middle of nowhere.'

I walked slowly up the concrete steps, keeping a careful watch as they curved away out of sight. The first floor was empty and I moved on up, each circular room I reached devoid of any signs of habitation. In this way I slowly climbed the tower, gun arm outstretched and trembling with a dread of impending loss that I could not control, nor understand. On the top floor the spiral staircase ended; a steel ladder was the only means by which to climb any higher. I could hear the electric motors that drove the rotating lamp whine above me, the bright white light s.h.i.+ning through the open roof hatch as the beam swept slowly about. But this room was not empty. Sitting in an armchair was a young woman in the process of powdering her nose with the help of a small hand mirror.

'Who are you?' I asked, pointing my gun at her.

She lowered the mirror, smiled and looked at the pistol.

'Dear me!' she exclaimed. 'Always the woman of action, aren't you?'

'What am I doing here?'

'You really don't know, do you?'

'No,' I replied, lowering the gun. I couldn't remember any facts but I could feel love, and loss, and frustration, and fear. The woman was linked to one of these but I didn't know which.

'My name,' said the young woman, 'is-'

She stopped, and smiled again.

'No, I think even that is too much.'

She rose and walked towards me.

'All you need to know is that you killed my brother.'

'I'm a murderer?' I whispered, searching in my heart for guilt of such a crime and finding none. 'I ... I don't believe you.'

'Oh, it's true,' she said, 'and I will have my revenge. Let me show you something.'

She took me to the window and pointed. There was another flash of lightning and the view outside was illuminated. We were on the edge of a ma.s.sive waterfall which curved away from us into the darkness.

The ocean was emptying over the edge; millions of gallons every second, falling into the abyss. But that wasn't all. In another flash of lightning I could see that the waterfall was rapidly eroding the small island on which the lighthouse was built as I watched, the first piece of the rocky outcrop fell away noiselessly and disappeared into s.p.a.ce.

'What's happening?' I demanded.

'You are forgetting everything,' she said simply, sweeping her hands in the direction of the room. 'These are a just a few of your memories I have cobbled together a last stand, if you like. The storm, the lighthouse, the waterfall, the night, the wind none of them is real.' She walked closer to me until I could smell her perfume. 'All this is merely a representation of your mind. The lighthouse is you; your consciousness. The sea around us your experience, your memories everything that makes you the person you are. They are all draining away like water from a bath. Soon the lighthouse will topple into the void and then-'

'And then?'

'And then I will have won. You will remember nothing not even this. You will relearn, of course in ten years you might be able to tie your own shoelaces. But for the first few years the only decision you will have to make is which side of your mouth to drool out of ...'

I turned to leave but she called out: 'You can't run. Where will you go? For you, there's nowhere else but here.'

I stopped at the door and turned back, raised my gun and fired a single shot. The bullet whistled through the young woman and impacted harmlessly on the wall behind.

'It will take more than that, Thursday.'

'Thursday?' I echoed. 'That's my name?'

'It doesn't matter,' said the young woman. 'There is no one you can remember who will help you.'

'Doesn't this make your victory a hollow one?' I demanded, lowering my gun and rubbing my temple, trying to recall even a single fact.

'Ridding your mind of that which you value most was the hard bit,' replied the woman. 'All I had to do then was to invoke your dread dread, the memory that you feared the most. After that, it was easy.'

'My greatest fear?'

She smiled again and showed me the hand mirror. There was no reflection, only images that flashed past anonymously. I took the mirror and peered at it, trying to make sense of what I saw.

'These are the images of your life,' she told me. 'Your memories, the people you love, everything you hold dear but also everything that you've ever feared. I can modify and change them at will or even delete them completely. But before I do, I'm going to make you view the worst once more. Gaze upon it, Thursday, gaze upon it and feel the loss of your brother one last time!'