Moonlight

“What, the house you mean?” he said, turning away from the moon.



“No, not the house,” Winnie sighed. “Show me around St. Ives. There must be some really beautiful spots. I’d really love to see them.”



“Not tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll be sleeping.”



“Well can’t you drag yourself out of bed for just a few hours...” she started.



“I can’t,” he said. “I need my rest. Anyway – like I’ve already told you, I much prefer the moonlight to the daylight.”



“But don’t you see? That’s why you feel so lonely all the time,” Winnie told him. “You spend all night locked away in this place, and during the day, you sleep. Perhaps if you got out some more, things wouldn’t seem so bad. You might meet some new people, make some friends and...”



“I’m sorry, but I just can’t,” he told her.



“But why?” she persisted. “I’d love for you to show me around...”



“Not tomorrow,” he said, looking at her. “But I will – someday soon.”



“Okay,” she gave in. “But you know, if you really want a new beginning, you need to find one. I don’t think you’ll find a new start hidden away, wherever it is you hide during the day.”



“Perhaps not,” he said thoughtfully, and he seemed to be staring into the black slithers of darkness, which separated the trees.



Feeling disappointed, Winnie shrugged and said, “I’m going back inside.”



“No, don’t go,” he said, grabbing her hand again. Unlike the gentle tug Winnie had given his hand, Thaddeus entwined his fingers with hers, locking them together. “Stay a little longer.”



“Why?” she whispered.



“Because you look beautiful in the moonlight,” he said.



Winnie stared at him, and however much she liked to hear him say she was beautiful, she couldn’t help but fear he was thinking of Frances again. So trying to pull her hand free of his, she said, “Please let go of my hand.”



“Why?” he asked, still holding on.



“Because you’re pretending I’m her again,” she said. “This is where she used to come and stand, isn’t it?”



“No, Frances never came out here and stood in the moonlight,” he said, whispering Frances’s name. “By the time we moved here, she was very sick. She could hardly sit upright, let alone stand. I promise you, that’s not the reason you are standing here.”



“Why then?” she asked, searching his eyes, desperate to see if he was lying to her.



“Because you look beautiful,” he said again.



“I don’t believe it,” she whispered, and pulled her hand free.



“You don’t believe it because you don’t want to believe it,” he told her. “You’ve spent too many years of your life listening to people telling you that you are no good, that you are worthless and ugly. Why do you believe them and not me? You keep telling me to start over. Perhaps you should try practicing what you preach.”



It wasn’t Winnie who finally walked away, but Thaddeus. He turned away and headed back towards the house. At the front door, he looked back, but Winnie couldn’t be sure if he were looking at her, or having one last look into the shadows amongst the trees behind her.



Chapter Twenty-One



By the time they had finished eating the girl, she was nothing more than a bunch of bones. Since the murder of the girl and her baby, the fact that there was now a massive police hunt for the killers didn’t even bother them. They had just killed again, and what little flesh remained covered the blood-drenched mattress in stringy lumps. The female armed away the blood from her lips, while the two males licked their hands clean. The poky house on the outskirts of St. Ives held nothing else of interest. They had taken what they’d come for. Again, it had all been so very easy, and the male wondered if the humans would ever learn. If only he could meet one that resisted him, a girl who would offer a challenge. He knew the feeding would be so much sweeter for it.



“Satisfied?” he asked the others as he turned to leave the room, glancing down one last time at the bed, just in case there was any flesh he might have missed on the stripped carcass.



“No, Claude,” the female said, crossing the room to him.



He could tell her hunger had been sedated as the fire in her eyes had faded – a little. She ran a slender set of fingers down his cheek. Claude spied a small spot of flesh in the corner of her mouth, and he slowly licked it away with the tip of his tongue. She kissed him back.



“We should be gone already,” the other male said, brushing past them and heading for the front door.



Claude pushed the female away, and she smiled at him. “Why is he so tense tonight?”



“You know why,” Claude said, heading out of the room.



And Michelle did know why. It was Frances. Everything was always about Frances. Without looking back, Michelle left the room and the bony remains of the girl, which glistened in the moonlight that poured through the window.



Chapter Twenty-Two



Winnie woke with a start. She sat up in bed, her heart racing. Had she dreamt about Thaddeus again? She couldn’t be sure. The dream seemed just out of reach inside her head. Winnie closed her eyes in an attempt to claw it back. She wanted to recapture whatever had caused her heart to race; not out of fear, but an excitement you might feel when being close to someone you were attracted to. However much she screwed her eyes shut, she couldn’t quite see who it was that lingered in the fog of her mind.



Thinking of Thaddeus, she showered and dressed, not in one of those violet tops or black skirts, but the denims and sweater she felt more comfortable wearing. As she made her way downstairs, she wondered what she would do to fill her day until Thaddeus woke that evening. She knew the windows needed cleaning for sure, and seeing as he was paying her to keep the house tidy, she thought she would make a start on the window where she had sat at Thaddeus’s request. Winnie reached the bottom of the stairs and turned towards the kitchen, needing a slice of toast and coffee before she started to do anything. Pushing open the kitchen door and wishing that Thaddeus had agreed to show her around St. Ives that day, she stopped short when she saw him standing at the kitchen table. Sunlight poured in through the dirty windows, causing what appeared to be a halo around his head and shoulders. He glanced up at her in the open doorway.



“Thaddeus?” Winnie gasped, not expecting to see him standing there. After he had walked away from her the night before, he’d disappeared upstairs and she hadn’t expected to see him until dusk.



“Good morning, Winnie,” he smiled back at her.



“I didn’t expect you to be awake.” Then glancing up at the clock above the cooker, she added, “It’s only eight-thirty in the morning.”



“It’s such a beautiful day,” he smiled at her, as he placed a flask and some croissants into a small wicker basket that sat on the kitchen table. “Besides, it’s my way of saying sorry.”



“Sorry for what?” she frowned.



“For being such a grouch last night,” he started to explain. “I didn’t mean to walk off. I thought about what you said, and you were right. I should get out more. Hiding away all day and not facing the world isn’t going to help me.” Then closing the lid on the basket, he picked it up and added, “And I would love to show you around. I thought we could have breakfast on the beach.”



“Are you serious?” Winnie wanted to squeal with excitement, but she held it back.



He winked at her and said, “C’mon. I know this really pretty spot. You’ll love it.”



Thaddeus led Winnie through the crop of trees in front of the house and towards the narrow coastal path which led down to the shore. As they walked together, Winnie looked up at the pale winter sun, and Thaddeus had been right, for February it was a beautiful day. Too nice to be cleaning windows, she thought. More than that, Winnie was so happy that Thaddeus had decided not to spend the day locked in his room, but with her.



The path led down towards the cliff’s edge, and as they neared it, the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks below boomed in their ears. A fresh breeze blew Winnie’s auburn hair around her shoulders and face. She dragged her hair from her eyes with her free hand. With St. Ives behind them, Thaddeus steered Winnie along the path which now sloped downwards. Throwing Thaddeus a sideways glance, she realised she hadn’t actually seen him in daylight, and his skin was pale, the light brown stubble that covered the lower half of his face looking like a shadow. Like her own, his messy hair waved to and fro in the salty breeze. Again, she couldn’t help but think of how good-looking he was, and what a shame that he kept himself locked away. He was still so young and would have a lot to give. As she threw him the occasional glance, Winnie knew, if she were being honest with herself, that she was growing to like him, despite his odd ways. The little voice buried deep inside of her didn’t want Winnie to admit that. The little voice didn’t want Winnie having feelings for such a complex man. Men like that could be dangerous, the voice tried to warn her. As if twisting the dial on a radio, Winnie turned down the volume on that little voice.



The path led to a small, sandy shore which was shaped like a golden horseshoe and lay at the foot of the cliffs. The beach was desolate and seagulls squawked overhead. There was a small, grassy bank which was covered in long shoots of purple heather. The sea rushed up the shoreline in long, foamy waves. Thaddeus had been right; this place was beautiful, Winnie thought. Then, just on the other side of the cove, she noticed what appeared to be a cave in the side of the cliff face. The mouth of it looked dark and the rocks all around it were black and slick, worn smooth by years of waves crashing against them.



“Is that a cave?” she asked, pointing into the distance.



“Yes, but you can only reach it when the tide is out,” he said. “But even then I wouldn’t risk it. Could be dangerous.”