Dark Choir Read online

  She’d been getting away with it for years on Blackthorn Ward and suddenly they got all PC about it. If they had a better way to keep him quiet, she’d like to fucking hear it. You needed to treat them firm. They knew when they’d shat and they knew when to hold it in. Nigel never played up when she was on shift, especially after Blackthorn Ward and spending a couple of nights in the shower. She’d had to stop because he got pneumonia and he’d had to go to the hospital. She’d nearly got into trouble for that, but it had all been sorted, swept under the carpet. All right, she was cruel, but how were they supposed to learn when the only thing they understood was a good slap? Or a cold shower?

  At least she wasn’t like Angela. Angela was worse. She used to take Diane home and do lesbian stuff to her. Now that was sick.

  Jackie stared into the woods. Fuck me, it was dark in there. At the end of it was the asylum. She wasn’t going up there. It was haunted. She’d seen a video of a ghost up there on YouTube. Jackie wasn’t scared. She just didn’t fancy going up there at this time of night. It was going on eleven. Grinch must have finished pissing by now. It was freezing and she wanted to get back in the warm. See if that bloke was on line, ready for some dirty talk.

  “Grinch,” she called into the woods. “Grinchy!”

  The pale forms of tree trunks framed the pitch black beyond. In the woods, she heard a single sharp squeal of pain. A dog in pain. If he’s trodden on some glass…

  “Grinch!” she yelled. “Get back here, you little bastard.”

  Silence.

  “Grinchy,” she called out again.

  The sound of a passing car broke the silence, but when it faded, Jackie could hear something else. Ahead in the darkness, she could hear what sounded, at first, like screaming but then changed into a sort of chanting. There was only the old asylum and the sound was coming from there.

  “Grinchy, get your arse back here now!”

  She looked back. There were no lights coming from the bungalows. Across the field, the lights of Willow House went out. The carers must have decided it was bedtime.

  She stared into the darkness, eyes trying to penetrate the gloom. She knew she should try to find the dog, but the thought of going in there terrified her. Jackie got the distinct feeling she wasn’t alone. So strong was this impression she actually called out into the dark.

  “Whose there? Come on, let’s see you.”

  He stepped from behind the bough of a tree a mere three feet away. Long, thin arms and a pale torso. He was completely naked, long toes digging into the earth. She could see that. From this distance his face was blurred. What she could see was the one black hole where the eye was missing, sightless yet staring. It was him, but it also wasn’t him. His long jaw fell open revealing a black maw.

  “Eearrrrgggghhhh…”

  An amalgamation of a cry and roar tore through the wood. Jackie fled, pounding for the gap in the fence. He followed her at a strong, confident walking pace. Jackie crashed over dead, winter blackthorn and damp brambles. She hit the fence, realizing she was nowhere near the exit hole. He was behind her, still crying like some infant who had grown to be a man yet never learned to speak. She fought to find the gap in the fence, screaming to herself, until she stumbled into an absence in the row of upright bars. The gap in the railings. She’d found it.

  Jackie burst onto the road. He still stood there, arm raised and pointing now.

  “Angh…ang…anggghhh!”

  Near skeletal arms flailed with each syllable and all the while, that pitch-black hole where his eyes should have been bored into her soul.

  She ran, the heels of her boots clacking down the street, until she came to the field of light from the street lamp beside the last bungalow. She could still hear him, screaming now, in the woods. He didn’t follow her. He didn’t need to. As abruptly as it had started, his screaming stopped.

  Jackie pushed open the door to the council flat and leaned on the rough-chipped cement of the wall, breathing heavily. She staggered into the flat, heart beating, aching for nicotine when she looked into the living room.

  The place had been trashed. Furniture and ornaments smashed. Across the cream carpet, blood had been flung, creating lines of sharp beads. Grinch’s face stared up from the fireplace.

  At first, she felt relief that he’d made it home but then noticed much of his body was missing. Gore-matted his fur and the white of bone spread out in an untidy mess on the sofa. Above the fireplace, written in Grinch’s blood, was one word.

  CHOIR

  Shaking, she grabbed the phone. She dialed the number then cursed as it went to voicemail. She decided to leave a message.

  “Right, this is Jackie O’ Shea. Some bastards just killed my dog and …fuck. Widdowson. Rev Widdowson. Someone knows. Someone fuckin’ knows. Get your arse over here now!”

  Greg

  Jason went to the office when they were all asleep and phoned his mate.

  “Dez? It’s Jace. Are you all set for a bit of spook the retard?”

  “We’re all here at my place. We can meet you in the big hall.”

  “Have you got the masks and that?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Have you got one for me?”

  “Yeah. How long you gonna be?”

  “Give me ten minutes to get him dressed. We can cut through the orchard, so twenty minutes?”

  “We’ll have to drive from my place. Make it half an hour.”

  “Suits me. He’ gonna shit his self. Literally.”

  “Yeah, but will anyone come down from the wards if they hear us in the concert hall bit?”

  “No. The concert hall and the closed down bit of the hospital is too far away from the wards. No one will hear anything, no matter how much noise he makes.”

  Jason put the phone down and walked into the ward. Jackie had rung in sick so he was running the ward on his own. The others, Nigel, Stephen, Patrick, and Diane were all asleep. Greg was awake, sitting on his bed as if he knew what was going to happen. Jason knew that was impossible. This freak had the mind of a baby.

  Jason didn’t have to say anything. All he had to do was hold out Greg’s trousers and he’d get off the bed to get dressed.

  Greg was a diminutive man with Down syndrome. He slouched and had this permanent doe-eyed look. Unlike the others, he didn’t have a tantrum if you made him do something he didn’t want to do. Jackie had Nigel in the shower again last night and he nearly screamed the place down. She’d nearly killed him a few years ago doing that, so she had left off but recently had started it again. Jackie was a psycho.

  He finished getting the boy dressed. Greg could put his arms into his jumper and his legs into his trousers, but he couldn’t do buttons up. Jason put Greg’s coat onto him and got his shoes on and led him to the front door of the ward.

  The others would be all right on their own. If any of them shit into their pads, they could sit in it until he got back.

  Greg was so trusting and soft. Jason had done this to him about seven times and he always came along, like he didn’t remember the last time. If he didn’t remember then where was the harm?

  Jason and Greg exited into the freezing December night. A frozen fog sat among the orchard misting the surroundings. Jason had a torch and its glare reflected against the fog. The vast hulk of the asylum rose up before them like dark monolith.

  They entered the asylum by the side door. This part of the hospital had not long been closed down and the mental patients farmed out to that new Berrywood place. The lights from the remaining wards shone out, but they were on the other side of the building. They reckoned that by 1997 the asylum would be converted into flats, but Jason couldn’t see that happening in just two years’ time.

  Greg began to play up then, pulling against Jason. Jason knew how to get the little bastard to cooperate.

  “It’s all right, mate. Nothing to worry about,” he said, faking reassurance in his voice. Greg whimpered but held onto Jas
on’s hand, and Jason felt an illicit thrill at Greg’s fear.

  Twisting and turning down corridors, passing empty wards, they eventually arrived at the big hall. He made sure the door was closed.

  Jason let go of his charge’s hand and darted into the darkness of a recess. Greg stood alone in the big hall. He appeared bewildered, making a questioning squeak as he obviously wondered why he was here.

  He turned on the spot, eyes wide and confused. The first one came out of the main doorway and stood there regarding Greg, the skull mask glowing, his clothes dark. The second one emerged wearing a clown mask. A third in a Frankenstein mask and lastly Jason in a Margaret Thatcher mask. Seeing the masks was enough to make Greg emit a high-pitched child-like squeal.

  “Raaaaarrrrggghhhhh!” yelled the skull-mask and ran towards Greg. The small man let out another harsh, girlish scream and ran down the corridor. His stumpy legs did not aid him or give him any speed. As he ran, his pursuers were always behind him.

  They chased him down corridors, up stairwells, and into wards. They hid and jumped out on him again and again. Jason and the others waited, hiding and watching then just as his squeals of distress diminished and it looked like he thought they’d gone they’d jump out at him again.

  Finally, they cornered him in a bathroom and stood over him, waving their arms, dancing, laughing. Greg had reached the apex of his terror. He folded himself into a ball and screamed and screamed, and Jason knew he’d pushed the little man to the limit.

  When urine pooled from his trousers and spread out across the floor, they knew the game was over. They left him alone.

  “What’s the matter, little fella?” said Jason sympathetically, now unmasked.

  Greg rocked, staring into space, vacant and detached.

  “Come on, let’s get you back to the ward and away from these nasty men.” Jason nearly laughed when he said this.

  Sixteen

  Dan spent the next two days mending things around the house. He’d spoken to Beverly on the phone and she was due to come up on Sunday, the day before the funeral. Dan still hadn’t told her he wasn’t going. Lindsey would be taken by Alison.

  He’d gone to the pub on Friday night and felt slightly sheepish after getting so pissed last time he’d been there. Billy, Mooey, and Karl didn’t hold it against him. They’d played pool and talked sports. Dan had told them about his last run in with Widdowson and what a star Alison had been. Billy wasn’t surprised to hear the pastor had tried to intimidate Alison.

  “You should take her to dinner, this Alison,” said Billy. “Probably end up having a better time than hanging about with us lot, looking at Mooey’s phone porn.”

  “You could bring her up here,” suggested Mooey.

  “I wouldn’t,” advised Billy. “This dirty bastard will be staring at her tits all night.”

  Karl wasn’t drinking for some reason, so he had given Dan a lift home. After they’d dropped the others off, he spoke to Dan.

  “I’ve dug up some more stuff about the asylum, but I need to get more details,” said Karl.

  “Well, Alison took me up there a couple of days ago. Bloody hell, I saw what you did written on the wall. Choir. That place is something else.

  “Try going up at night.”

  “I don’t know how you go up there after dark.”

  They arrived at One Farm Road. “I’ll contact you when I find out anything else that, you know, connects.”

  “Okay,” said Dan. “Thanks for the lift.”

  Alison was up when he got in and she dropped something of a bombshell.

  “I’ve got to visit my father tomorrow,” she said. “I’m really sorry but I’ve got to sort some stuff out for him. Will you be okay with Lindsey until I’m back?”

  “Should think so. I’ve used the hoist enough times now and got the hang of the slings.”

  “I wouldn’t normally ask…” She let the sentence drift.

  Alison had never talked about her family since he’d met her. She might have mentioned a father once or twice, but he’d wasn’t sure. He felt guilty that so much time had passed, and he’d not asked about her family.

  “Does he live far?”

  “Just beyond New Scarsdale. I won’t be gone long. You’ve got my number if you need anything.”

  She went to bed, leaving him in the gloomy kitchen alone. Lindsey’s nightlight played shadows across the hall floor. He went up the creaky stairs and crawled into the cold bed and could hear Alison moving about in her room humming to herself. A grin formed across his face on hearing her though he didn’t know why. Dan recalled Billy’s advice to take her out for a meal. He knew her well enough to ask. There was one thing stopping him.

  Beverly.

  He remembered she’d be arriving the day after tomorrow on Sunday. He tensed. She’d want to tidy up, suggest improvements to the house. He’d not had the guts to tell her the house wasn’t his. She’d want to fight the claim, fight Widdowson. Get lawyers involved, spend a shit load of money on legal fees. He didn’t have the energy for that. Alison understood. Alison solved problems. Beverly caused them.

  His smile had turned into a grimace at the thought of his fiancé arriving here.

  A cold morning greeted him. Ice grew on the inside of the window, and he hoped to God that happened in the rest of the house so Widdowson froze his bollocks off when he moved in here. Perhaps he’d rent it out or just sell it? Dan didn’t know. Dan didn’t care.

  He forced himself out of bed and braved the shower in the bathroom opposite. Today was Saturday. He was aware that Derby were playing away to Nottingham, but there was no chance he could get to the game. Not with Lindsey to look after. He didn’t feel confident to take her out anywhere by himself yet. He thought about going to the pub tonight but, again, remembered he’d have Lindsey. There wasn’t even a TV here, so he was in for one boring night. There weren’t even any books in the house apart from Bibles and Bible study guides. A book about the dangers of sex before marriage and other guides on how to be the most self-righteous.

  Well, his mother would certainly take that award with no bother. Dan remembered that around the age of ten he’d given up trying to be what she wanted. From then on, their relationship had been one argument after another. Don’t listen to that music on your tape player. Don’t watch those films with your friends. Don’t read those books. Don’t have those thoughts. Even as a kid he’d worked out that she was mad. When she’d delivered him into the clutches of Widdowson, that’s when he fully realised just how fucked up she was. How fucked up they all were and how fucked up the situation was. He’d began planning his escape and, at the age of eighteen, made it out alive.

  He put away such maudlin thoughts and tried to focus on the day. Alison had washed Lindsey in bed, and now they’d both hoisted her into the wheelchair.

  Alison was going to walk to Scarsdale and catch the bus. Dan handed her the keys to the adapted car. He and Lindsey weren’t going to use it for the next 24 hours and, as she was insured to drive it, she may as well take it.

  “Besides,” he said, “if you take the car, you’ll be back sooner and I can go back to sitting around on my arse while you do all the work.”

  She playfully pinched his cheek and went off with a spring in her step. She was out of uniform today and wearing a red woolen beret and a grey tweed coat. She looked totally different, and he realised how attractive she really was.

  He reminded himself he had to reign in such thoughts when Bev was here. She’d smell him out in an instant.

  After cleaning the kitchen, he took Lindsey out for a walk up to number Two Farm Road; a working farm at the end of the lane. The day was overcast but not unpleasant. They stopped to look at some cows in a field and Lindsey made some noises of approval, humming tunelessly as he pushed her along the lane.

  He considered inviting the lads up. See if one of them had a laptop or something to watch films on. He rang them on the house phone and the line w
ent dead. The phone was no longer working. Maybe Diane hadn’t paid the bill? He tried on his mobile. Getting a signal in the house was impossible. The only place he could get a signal was outside at the back of the house in a rough lawn that edged onto a field. From here he could see Lindsey through a tall window in her bedroom sleeping in her wheelchair. All their phones went to voicemail. Billy was probably working on the taxis or something. Maybe they were at the match?

  As the phone wasn’t working, Dan decided he better ring Bev. He got through and within thirty minutes they were arguing. He’s asked her to bring up his telly and DVD player, and she’d wanted to know why she wasn’t returning with him after the funeral on Monday. He’d said he still had stuff to sort out after she was gone. She said she’d have expected him to have sorted out everything by now. It’s been over a week.

  The argument escalated until he threw the phone across the rough lawn that edged onto the pasture beyond. It hit a tree and split in two. When he retrieved it, the screen was smashed and black. The phone was dead.

  If Billy or Mooey rang back, he’d never know.

  He’d fed Lindsey and made beans on toast for himself. Night came down like a veil. Lindsey sat in her chair, moving her feet sporadically.

  “What am I gonna do, Linds?” he said to his sister as he attached the syringe to her PEG in her stomach. She stared up at the ceiling, blinking. “I’m supposed to be getting married in May to a woman I’m actually beginning to detest. She’s booked a venue, been trying on dresses.” He squeezed the plunger pushing the multifibre down the tube. “I mean, I don’t think I can actually go through with it. I can’t stand there in a church and say those words. And I’d have to go to a church. I’ve not been to a church for…well… since I went to Widdowson’s chapel. My friends all got married in registry offices. One got married in a Catholic church, Linds, but I didn’t go. Found some excuse.”