Human Rites, page 23
“Beatrice?”
“Holger!”
He pulled her upright and retrieved her handbag, his expression both solicitous and surprised. The temperature drop after just waking up was cruel, so Beatrice brushed herself off and dragged her coat on, trying to gather her thoughts.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, handing over her bag.
“Protecting Adrian. And you?” Her tone was aggressive, partly because she’d been caught out, partly because she’d just woken up.
“The same.” He shook his head. “No, not only that. I want to stop a person I love doing something stupid, but it’s the same thing. We must get to Daan’s place as soon as we can. The next bus isn’t due for twenty minutes. That’s why I came running back this way to see if there were any taxis.”
“I booked one earlier but he might have given up on me.”
Thankfully, the cab was still waiting and after Holger confirmed their destination, the driver took them off in the direction of the west coast.
Holger glanced at his watch. “We’ll be there in half an hour.”
“So will you please tell me what the hell is going on?”
His eyes rested on hers for a second then stared beyond her head, out into the freezing night.
“Holger? Talk to me. If you know anything about what’s been happening to Adrian, you’d better tell me now.”
“It is not me, Beatrice. I am not the person trying to scare him. I’m another victim. Earlier this year, I had a very similar experience. My way of dealing with it was to ignore it and hope it would go away. Not cowardice but a specific strategy. If these people get no reaction, they move on to the next target. This person is imbalanced and delusional, but not dangerous.”
“You know who it is?”
“Yes. It’s my sister.”
Chapter 28
By the time Adrian had told Daan the whole story, from his first sighting of the nun opposite his shop to the crucifix wedged in the door, the fire had died to nothing and the chocolate milk was empty. Daan was horrified at the level of fear Adrian had undergone while he’d taken such a casual attitude.
“Shit, I’m sorry. I showed more concern for the dog. Holger said to keep an eye on you, that’s all. No one told me what was going on.”
Adrian shook his head, his gaze absorbed by the embers in the grate. “No one knew what was going on. I’m still not sure myself. If it’s really Holger’s sister and she’s trying to frighten me off, how does she know so much? My shop, my flat, my mobile number. How did she know I was here? Who’s helping her?”
The room fell silent as both men considered the implications.
Daan spoke. “At least we know she’s not dangerous. Patti is sly and sneaky and very good at mind games. But the worst she can do is make you afraid. Tomorrow we’ll report her to the police and make her stop this bullshit.”
Adrian closed his eyes and took a huge breath, exhaling with immense weariness. “The funny thing is, for an inveterate drama queen, this is not my style. Ask Beatrice. I hate being tense and freaked out and nervy. All I want is to go home to my own little rat run, drink good wine, cook lovely food and sleep with gorgeous men. I don’t judge other people’s choices. Well, apart from clothes, soft furnishings and tastes in music. Whoever she is and whatever her beliefs, she has no right to judge me. Seriously, I am sick and tired of being scared.”
Daan heaved himself across the sofa, looped an arm around Adrian’s shoulders and pulled him into a sideways hug. His beard bristled against Adrian’s temple.
“I’m giving you the night off. Tonight, you will not be scared. I was going to make up a bed for you on the couch, but I changed my mind. You will sleep in with me and Mink. With me and her either side, you’ll be safe as houses. Apart from the farts and the snoring, it’ll be the best night’s sleep you ever had.”
Adrian relaxed into laughter and Mink wedged her nose between them, eager for her share of affection.
After they cleared up the kitchen, Daan locked the doors while Adrian got ready for bed. The wind rattling at the bathroom windows didn’t bother him as he cleaned his teeth, so mellow did he feel. His face in the mirror looked a bit more than mellow, if he was being honest. Certainly soft around the edges, thanks to the Cointreau. In the living-room, Daan clattered around raking the ashes of the fire, locking the doors and speaking unintelligible words to Mink. The bedroom was cold in comparison to the fireside sofa, so Adrian dived under the layers: a duvet, a pleated quilt and a sheepskin. He curled up to fend off the chills, wishing he’d kept his socks on as well as his T-shirt and boxers. The bottom edge of the bed bounced and Mink landed beside his feet. She circled the same spot a few times, scratching the sheepskin into shape before settling with a heavy sigh on Adrian’s feet. He smiled at her but the blue eyes had closed.
Daan yawned and scratched himself as he emerged from the bathroom. “Be warned. She sleeps down there for about half an hour, then she gets cold and comes up here to get as close as she can and shares my pillow. If you wake up and find you can’t move, you’ve been Minked.” He got into bed and switched off the lamp.
“She’s the best hot water bottle ever. Goodnight Daan. And thanks for everything.”
“Sleep well. We’ve got a busy day tomorrow. Goodnight.”
The taxi rolled along the coast road, its headlights swooping across the dunes, reminding Beatrice of Ingmar Bergman landscapes.
“I don’t understand. Why on earth is your sister terrorising Adrian? And how long have you known about it?”
“I suspected that evening after the zoo. When he told us the details of what was happening, too many elements pointed to her. She joined a convent years ago and has very strong views on sin. In her weird way of looking at the world, Adrian is to blame for my sexuality. When I told my family, she did the same kind of thing to me. Sending me leaflets about the church’s view on homosexuality, offering to pray for me, asking me to repent, generally freaking me out. Then I found out she was in Hamburg. You see, I have a wall in my studio where I pin pictures, photos and so on.”
Beatrice said nothing, glad of the darkness to hide her blush.
“After a while, I noticed certain things were going missing. Usually postcards from Adrian. Or pictures of the two of us together. I kept replacing them, they kept disappearing. She can be very determined.”
“Why didn’t you tell him?”
“I had to speak to her first. To be sure. That’s why I suggested Adrian get out of the line of fire while I dealt with her. Unfortunately, when I went to the convent, they told me she’d been asked to leave over two months ago. Her behaviour, they said, was not suited to a place of prayer and contemplation. I had no idea where she was, so I contacted her via her blog.”
“She has a blog?”
“Her withdrawal from the secular world did not include the virtual. She used to run the convent’s website until she became too extreme. Now she posts weekly updates or rants against every aspect of modern life. I sent her an email asking her to leave Adrian alone and explaining he did not ‘turn me gay’. I told her she could spend the rest of her life chasing away any man that came near me, but it wouldn’t change who I am.” He slipped a hand into his padded jacket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “Today, I got a reply.”
“And?”
“It’s in German so I’ll paraphrase. She accuses me of unnatural sins and offers me redemption. If I renounce evil and embrace Christ, I can be forgiven. But for the devil that turned me from the path of righteousness, there can be nothing but destruction. He must burn in hell forever.”
“Good Lord. What kind of woman is she?”
Holger gave a helpless shrug. “I don’t really know her any more. Even before I came out, we didn’t get along. My brother and I were closer to Daan than to her. Then when she got obsessed with the church, it got worse. I don’t have a problem with religion, unless she tries to pressure me to ‘find Jesus’ and ‘save myself from earthly torment.’ I cannot have that kind of conversation.”
“Rhetoric of drama. Extremists love it,” Beatrice huffed.
Holger looked at his watch again. “She’s certainly an extremist. I feel many things for my sister: pity, incomprehension, sadness and even occasionally, loss. But before now, I never felt fear.”
“You think it was her at the house on Thursday night?”
Holger gave her a level look. “It was someone with a key, who removed family photos and replaced them with a crucifix. I checked all the security camera footage. No sign of her, or anyone else. But she knows that system better than all of us, because she was the one who had it installed. We used to call her Paranoid Patti.”
“When was the last time she was at the house?” asked Beatrice.
“In November, I think. I didn’t know she used it any more. My grandparents say she has never asked their permission, but a neighbour saw her last month. She must have stayed up there when she got kicked out of the convent. She has a key. We all do.”
“Holger, if you think she’s dangerous, perhaps we should call the local police. Do you really think she is capable of doing more than scaring people? Would she hurt you?” She reached for her phone.
“I don’t think so. But she’s still here, on Sylt, watching.” He lifted the paper in his hand. “She rages at me for allowing ‘that pervert’ into our grandparents’ house and talks about purging the place of his sin. What worries me is that she must have seen Adrian with Daan.”
Beatrice snapped her head round to stare at him. “She hates Daan too?”
“No, that’s the problem.” Holger exhaled and shook his head. “He was her first love. But he couldn’t stand her. We were all young and stupid, thoughtless teenagers. Patti took rejection badly and became very bitter. That’s why I came back to talk to them. I don’t want to alarm anyone, but they need to be aware that she’s here. She’s irrational and angry and I just don’t know how her mind works. I have no idea what she’s planning to do.” His eyes were as bleak as the coastline.
“Holger, I’m sorry, but I would feel better if you called the police.”
Beatrice saw defeat in the angle of his head. “All right. We can’t handle this on our own.”
She squeezed his shoulder and handed him her phone.
The bed was bouncing. Not like an earthquake kind of judder, more an irregular bumping as if someone was trying to heave it over. Adrian opened his eyes and tried to shake off sleep. Something feathery brushed his face in the darkness. He flinched. A muffled grunt to his right reacted to the next bounce. All he could make out was a weight on the bed and a strange snuffling. His breath quickened.
“Daan?”
The sounds stopped, the mattress beside him sank and something cold and moist touched his face. He squealed and brought up a hand to defend himself. A familiar shove pushed into his palm. Mink’s muzzle. She prodded again, less playfully, and Adrian protested. Then she barked, right in his ear.
He inhaled sharply in fright. That was when he smelt it.
Gas.
He wrestled his way out of the covers and shook Daan. It was like rousing a black bear. Mink leapt to the floor, her claws clattering on the wood.
“Daan! Daan! Come on!” The smell was stronger now he was upright.
“DAAN! Wake up now!”
“Was ist?”
Adrian sensed him turn and roll towards the lamp. “NO! I can smell gas. Do not turn on the light! We have to get out. Please move!”
The bed seemed to heave upwards as Daan sat up.
“Scheisse! Out the back door. Mink, wo bist du? Grab a blanket, let’s go.”
They fumbled out of the bedroom and into the passage, where enough faint moonlight shone to indicate the door. The smell was thick and noxious. Mink whined and scratched until Daan found the key. Adrian’s panic rose as the fumes filled his nose. He couldn’t remember if you should get lower or higher with gas. His shoulder brushed against a rail of jackets and he scooped up an armful, his head beginning to throb.
Mink whipped her way through the door before it was fully ajar. Adrian and Daan ran after her, leaving the door wide open, and raced over coarse grass and shingle until they stumbled down the beach side of a dune. Panting and shaking, they collapsed into the sand. The heat of exertion and adrenalin in an outside temperature of minus seven degrees evaporated faster than it took for their breathing to return to normal. Without speaking, they shared out the coats, wearing some, sitting on others. Daan searched the pockets of each garment while Adrian lured Mink closer by patting a spot next to him. She gave in, but sat bolt upright, still tense.
“Are you OK?” Daan asked.
“Yeah. Shaken. You?”
Daan sat back. “One hell of a headache.”
“What do we do now?”
“Get away from the house, keep warm, call for help. We have no phones or shoes. That’s bad. But we have winter coats and I found a torch, gloves, a couple of lighters, a bunch of tissues and some chocolate.”
“Should we go up to the road and flag down a passing car?”
“There’s no traffic at this time of night and the nearest neighbours are around two kilometres away. The quickest way to get help is the radio on the boat.”
“How are we going to get out there? You don’t seriously want us to get in the sea?”
“Not us, just me. I don’t want to either, but I have no choice as the dinghy is back at the house. It’s too dangerous for you and Mink. I can’t look after you two as well as wade out there in bare feet. You stay on the beach and light a fire. Not here, we’re still too close. Let’s move.”
Adrian’s feet were stiff with cold. He scrambled upright and gathered the coats, with a glance back at the top of the dune.
“Adrian, come on! The house could blow at any second with the amount of gas in there. The only reason it hasn’t gone up yet is because we left the back door open. As soon as the generator kicks in or any other thing sparks, it’s toast. I have no idea how far a gas explosion will throw debris. We must get farther away. Mink! Fuss!”
He snapped his fingers and Mink trotted to his heel, her tail tucked between her legs. The three trudged down the beach, each cowed against the fear of what was behind them.
The taxi driver was unhappy about the pot-holed track so dropped them at the top of the lane. Cold pierced Beatrice’s coat the minute she exited the warm interior of the cab. Her mother’s voice returned. If you don’t take it off indoors, you won’t feel the benefit. She surveyed their semi-visible surroundings. The moon played searchlight tricks, offering teasing glimpses of the landscape before clouds concealed everything like a magician’s cloak.
Daan’s boatyard bore no advertising, not even a sign, just a rough track leading to a hollow. You couldn’t even see the house from the road. The red tail-lights of the taxi faded into the distance and Beatrice switched on her Maglite. She crunched across the stony, pot-holed ground beside Holger, illuminating the path ahead in steady sweeps. Despite his confident step down the track, Holger maintained a tense silence.
In a break between the clouds, the house hove into view along with a scrubby yard rather than a garden. A large shape to the right seemed to be a breeze-block garage, although Daan’s Jeep was parked right in front of the house. The wind lashed Beatrice’s face, whipping strands of hair into her eyes and strafing her skin. With a grudging sense of relief, she saw that up ahead wooden steps facilitated access on foot. Rough, mismatched planks, but infinitely preferable to the pitted track.
She glanced upwards to see the cloudbank moving north, taking the wind with it to leave a starlit sky and the promise of frost. The moon added an eerie wash to the spotlight of her torch.
Down in the hollow, not a single window was lit in Daan’s squat shack. If they weren’t home, where were they? It was barely midnight. As they started down the steps, Holger placed a hand on her arm. He pointed. Away to the right, far down the beach near the sea, a small fire was burning.
“There they are!” Holger’s smile was audible. “I bet they’re drinking beer on the beach. In December! Poor Adrian. This is a typical Daan rite of passage.” He cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled. “HAAALLLOOOO!”
Bitter cold, exhaustion, stupidly dangerous male rituals and the downright foolhardy nature of the entire enterprise blew a fuse in Beatrice’s patience.
“Holger, don’t be ridiculous! They won’t hear you from this distance. I’ll call Adrian’s mobile. Can we get in the house?”
Holger seemed oblivious to her sharp tone. “Sure. I know where he keeps a spare key. But I’m not sure your mobile will work down there. Daan always has problems with the signal at his place.”
“Fine, I’ll try from up here or flash the torch to attract their attention.”
“Yes and I’ll go inside and use the house phone.” His boots sounded solid on the wood as he followed the steps towards the house.
She yelled after him. “Put the kettle on!”
He gave her the thumbs up.
The cold bit at her fingers as soon as she took off her gloves. She wedged the torch under her arm to reach for her phone and pushed her damp hair from her face. The Maglite beam shone against the back of Daan’s garage. In the pool of light was a disembodied female face, staring back at her with saucer eyes. Beatrice jolted in fright and the torch fell to the ground. She scrabbled to pick it up and directed it back at the same spot, her breath short. A black-clad figure raced out from the shadow of the garage away from her and towards the house. An unearthly scream ripped through the air, sending a primal shiver through her scalp and spine. She froze and heard a thud, a scuffle and a peculiar hiss. She swept her light across the hollow below but the vehicle obscured her view. She hurried down the steps, her skin prickling with fear, crept along the wall of the garage and listened.
