moment she held Peeper too tight and he let out a warning, yet soft meow, like he knew they were in imminent danger if she was discovered spying.
The Recluse stood. He had taken off his hat and he was completely bald; he didn’t even have a few wispy hairs at the sides. Caesar also stood to attention as The Recluse’s long fingers stroked his ears. They stayed in that position until the door opened.
Normally her mother carried up his evening meal but it was Victor who entered with a tray. He stopped when he saw Caesar. Even from that distance, Isobel could tell he was nervous. The Recluse waved his hand and Caesar sank down, his rubbery lips drawn back, his teeth bared. He must have been snarling yet he didn’t move when Victor walked past and laid the tray on a small table beside The Recluse’s armchair. He gestured, as if he was asking his uncle to sit down and eat but The Recluse ignored him.
It was frustrating not being able to hear what they were saying, like watching a silent film where Isobel had to concentrate on body language. But anger was easy to recognise and The Recluse was rigid with it. He raised his walking stick. She thought he was going to crack Victor ’s skull wide open. She would be a witness to a murder. The urge to look away, to climb down and run to her mother, to bang on the window and yell at The Recluse to stop, all these instincts struggled together in her head. But before she could do anything, he lowered his stick. Caesar immediately stood and assumed his ready-to-attack position again. A werewolf preparing for action.
Victor moved backwards towards the door. He was still facing The Recluse and his werewolf when he reached behind him and turned the doorknob. Then he was gone. The power seemed to leave The Recluse’s legs. Isobel didn’t think his walking stick would support him as he came towards the window but, somehow, he managed to keep moving. She wriggled backwards until she was camouflaged by the sturdy boughs. It would be impossible for him to see her yet she imagined him stripping away the leaves and branches, stripping bark and sap and oxygen, until this tree was a dead, withered stump and she was exposed, trapped in his fierce blue glare. He drew the curtains and darkness fell over her.
Peeper was no longer afraid. He leaped from one branch to the other, waiting each time until she caught up with him. She wriggled to the ground and ran around to the back of the house. Her mother was sitting at the kitchen table with Victor, who tapped his fingers to his forehead as he spoke. He must be talking about his encounter in Fear Zone. She crouched under the window. It was slightly open and she wasn’t surprised to hear Victor admit that his uncle was delusional and could even become dangerous. Their heads were close together as he spoke but they pulled away quickly when Isobel came into the kitchen.
Her mum rushed over to her and took Peeper in her arms. ‘Where did you find him?’ She nuzzled the cat against her neck.
‘In the bushes,’ Isobel replied.
‘I told you he wouldn’t go far,’ Victor added. The fear Isobel saw on his face when he entered The Recluse’s room had vanished. He smiled, his teeth so white and even and perfect.
The table in the kitchen had been set for five, so she knew he must be staying for dinner. He laughed a lot throughout the meal, especially when Julie did her ventriloquist act with Cordelia. Unable to listen any longer, Isobel excused herself from the table and went into the den. She could hear the thud of The Recluse’s stick upstairs as he walked up and down his room. Then, two sets of footsteps; her mother accompanying Victor to the front door. Would he kiss her on her cheek this time or on her mouth? Isobel stroked Peeper’s silky coat and thought about the undead and the power they had over others. In truth, I am undead. A phantom. Insubstantial. His words haunted her. The roar of Victor’s jeep faded into the distance as he drove away. Then all was silent. A silence only broken by Julie teaching Cordelia to sing, ‘She’ll Be Coming Round the Mountain.’
Chapter Thirteen
Isobel
Addiction. What was it like to be driven by a force you couldn’t understand yet kept you