The White House - Book 6, The...

By Mezmerised

7K 589 59

James and Elise, a couple driven to the brink by tragedy and loss, struggle to come to terms with their past... More

Foreword
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Epilogue
Author's note and alternative ending

Chapter Eighteen

190 21 0
By Mezmerised

James knew he should apologise to Elise and he woke up with every intention of doing so. However, when he got downstairs and saw the aloof look on his wife’s face his enmity flared again, instantly. He poured himself a coffee and went out to the decking for a cigarette. As he rounded the corner of the house he was sure he saw a little boy, standing at the top of the wooden steps that led down into the garden…then he blinked and the child was gone.

Puzzled, he stopped and stared at the place where the boy had been; the spot where now there was nothing. James shook his head and glanced around, but he knew there was no one else in the garden with him; after all why would there be a strange child lurking on his decking?

“Bloody Elise,” he growled to himself.

Her nonsensical ramblings about a little boy in the house had obviously burrowed into his subconscious and triggered his own imagination. He smoked his cigarette, sipped his coffee and allowed his thoughts to tumble over each other. He recalled all that happened since they’d moved to Porth Kerensa and the anger that burned inside him whenever he was around Elise.

He had thought they could move away and it would make things better. He had hoped they would create a new start. Now he was afraid that all they’d made was a different ending for their marriage.

Elise wasn’t downstairs when he finished his coffee and cigarette. He debated calling out a farewell but what was the point? She wouldn’t answer and he didn’t care anyway. He slammed the front door on his way out.

      ******

Elise moved her things over into James’ room. She wondered whether to hang her clothes in his wardrobe, but she feared it might ignite his temper if he came home and saw her blouses hanging next to his shirts. In the end she packed her stuff into a plastic box and put it in the bottom of his closet underneath a blanket.

She wandered around the house, cleaning and tidying; aware the whole time that Oliver was shadowing her every move. Several times Oliver’s ball rolled across her path and she smiled and kicked it gently to somewhere else in the room. Every now and then, from the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a shadow flitting around the room, but there was no sense of the malevolent presence and she was grateful.

      ******

James watched the gentle swing of Amy Collins’ hips as she strolled out of his office and he sighed, quietly, to himself. Was it his imagination or were her skirts getting slightly shorter? Not that he minded - she had a lovely pair of legs that he couldn’t help imagining wrapped around his waist. He shifted in his seat, trying to ignore the erection that was straining against his trousers, and shook his head to clear his brain of the images swirling around it.

He was a stupid middle-aged man entertaining fantasies about the comely Amy Collins. Even if her skirts were shorter it was probably for the benefit of the handsome PE teacher. She would never be interested in someone like James and he shouldn’t care anyway. He was a married man and he loved his wife. He had no right to allow his imagination to run away from him; not when he couldn’t even bring himself to touch Elise.

He remembered the night she had seduced him and his erection deflated, instantly. He thought of all the months he had wished she wanted him and now the memory of her touching him made him feel physically sick. He could barely look at her and his rage flared, immediately, when he did. James wanted to punish her for all the hurt she had inflicted on them and sometimes, at night, it was all he could think about.

He knew his anger scared her. Hell, when he was away from her, sitting at his desk in the cold light of day, it frightened him too.

      ******

Elise hesitated for a few seconds when Val pulled into the driveway in Keith’s silver Mondeo. The last time she’d seen Val had been a couple of months before she fell pregnant with Noah. Elise had sipped flavoured water and Val had drunk wine and they had talked about what Elise would do if the last round of planned IVF with the donor sperm didn’t work. They had discussed adoption and surrogacy and for a little while they had even talked about the kind of life James and Elise could have if they never had a child.

Val had talked about two successful people, happy and secure in their marriage, enjoying their golden years in a villa somewhere exotic. Even then - even before the loss of Noah had cleaved them apart - Elise couldn’t imagine the future Val was trying to paint for them. It sounded lonely and trivial. What was the point in marrying someone and making a home together if there were no children and grandchildren to share it all with during the so called golden years?

She had said as much and Val had said she would survive, live, be happy and enjoy her life, which wasn’t a bad thing. Elise had dismissed it, changed the subject and they’d never mentioned it again. She would tell Val at some point this visit that she had been right.

Smiling, she flung the front door open and ran out to hug her friend. Squealing with delight, Val threw her arms around her and they jumped up and down, babbling happy greetings to each other. Finally, Val held her slightly away from her and looked Elise up and down. 

“You’ve got terribly thin, you know. I’m not sure it suits you, Lise.”

Elise chuckled. “It doesn’t suit anyone, Val, but at least you didn’t say I look like shit.” She gave her friend an admiring smile. “You, on the other hand, look bloody gorgeous as always.”

Val let go of her and posed in a preening hands on hips pouting stance.

Elise nodded, laughing. “You remind me of Sheena, Queen of the Jungle.”

“Oh, how very 80s, Elise,” Val replied, disappointed. “I was hoping for modern day female Indiana Jones; looking sexy and wild.”

“I could have said you look like Alan Whicker.”

Val threw her a menacing look and grabbed her rucksack from the back seat of Keith’s car. “You know I’d be just about finished burying your body in the back garden when James got home if you had.”

“Would you strangle me with your whip, Indiana?”

Val looked up at the white house and sighed, dramatically. “It really is lovely, Elise. I’m dead impressed. I must admit when I rocked up to your place in Kent and those new people answered the door I wondered why the hell anyone would want to sell that house and move somewhere else. I thought you’d both gone a bit mental, but the village is gorgeous, the location is exquisite and the house is pretty.”

Elise linked arms with her friend and nodded. “It is a lovely place to live and I can’t wait to see it in the summer. The house isn’t ours though; we’re just renting for a little while.”

“Oh my,” Val exclaimed. She shaded her eyes with her hand and craned her neck, trying to see something. “Elise, someone is up at the window staring at us!”

Excitement and hope flared in Elise’s heart and she wanted to throw her arms around Val, kiss her cheek and thank her for strengthening her tenuous hold on her self-belief. Instead, she shook her head and smiled, happily.

“What can you see?"

Val looked up again and did a double take. "I saw a face at the window, but it's gone now. Is there someone else living here with you guys?"

"I think you just saw the household ghost, but for God’s sake don’t mention him in front of James. He doesn’t believe in stuff like that.”

Val’s face was a picture of disbelief and amazement. She stuttered the beginning of a sentence a couple of times before finally saying, “Are you winding me up, Lise?”

Elise shook her head. “No, I’m not winding you up. He’s called Oliver and he lives here. He’s quite friendly. Come on, I’ll pour us a coffee and we can catch up.”

Val followed her into the house, looking around, curiously. “I can’t believe you’re so blasé about living in a haunted house,” she said, softly, as if she was afraid Oliver would hear her. “And how in the heck has James not seen him?”

“James isn’t open to it, obviously,” Elise replied, preparing their cups. “He’s set in his ways and as you can imagine any mention of a child around the house only enforces his deep-seated fear that I’ve gone mad again.”

Elise handed Val her coffee mug and they went out to the decking, by unspoken agreement, so Val could have a cigarette. They stood next to one another, watching the rise and swell of the tumultuous ocean and Elise told Val everything she’d experienced, except the destruction in the kitchen and the odious presence she had sensed on more than one occasion. 

“You know you should have let Ben bring his friend Kay over to do her mystical mumbo jumbo stuff,” Val said, when Elise had finished talking.

Elise grimaced. “If James had found out he would have gone mad and he’d have called it mumbo jumbo stuff too, which is exactly why I didn’t.”

Val took a puff on the third cigarette she’d lit since they’d been out there. “James doesn’t get mad; he’s the calmest person I’ve ever met. I know he’s a very logical man, but surely he’s open minded enough to have a conversation about it?”

“We’ve both changed a lot since you were last here,” Elise said, sighing, sadly. “Anyway, enough about all that; he’ll be back soon and I haven’t once asked you about your wanderings around South East Asia.”

Val waved her hand, dismissively. “I’ll entertain you with my anecdotes over dinner. What are we having for dinner, by the way? I’ll help you make it and we can discuss Oliver a bit more. I’m bloody fascinated by a good ghost story, Lise.”

They peeled and chopped vegetables together and Val asked lots of questions about the ghost. She was frustrated that Elise didn’t know more about the child or the history of the house.

“Honestly, Lise, have you just been wandering around in a fog the last few weeks? If it was me I’d have been all over the place asking people questions and trying to find out everything I could,” she said, exasperated.

Elise shifted, awkwardly; uncomfortable at how close to the truth Val had been with her fog remark. She busied herself putting the pork chops in the oven and poured them both a glass of wine.

The roar of James’ motorbike alerted them to his arrival home and, wisely, Val stopped talking about Oliver and changed the subject to a tale about a trip through the Vietnamese jungle. When James walked into the kitchen Val put down her glass and jumped up to hug him. Elise’s breath caught in her throat as she waited for James’ reaction, but to her relief he smiled and wrapped his arms around Val, warmly.

“Have you started regaling without me? You’re looking absolutely gorgeous by the way,” he said, charmingly, when she finally let him go.

“Your beautiful wife said the same thing,” Val replied, laughing. “You don’t look too bad either, Mr Morgan. Cornwall obviously agrees with you. And yes, I plead guilty to regaling without you, but I can save the rest until dinner.”

James smiled, dispassionately, at Elise. “Have I got time for a shower before dinner?”

She nodded and poured him a glass of wine, avoiding his steely gaze and hoping Val wouldn’t notice the cold atmosphere between them.

      ******

James heard the two women murmuring to each other when he walked upstairs and he quenched the ire that surged through him. He liked Val; he was genuinely fond of her and he admired her free spirit and sense of adventure. He should be hoping that some of it would rub off on his sensible staid wife, instead of feeling so antagonised and a sense of foreboding that he couldn’t put his finger on.

Maybe a quick wank in the shower before dinner would help ease his tension. He’d imagine Amy and the things he’d do to her on his desk…if he was a different kind of man.

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