The Guesthouse - Abbie Frost

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she was no longer alone. There was someone else in here, in the room with her, watching her sleep.

      A musky smell that she couldn’t place, a feeling of helplessness when she tried to sit up. She couldn’t move.

      There was a rustling sound and a shadow stepped out from the darkness at the corner of the room. Silhouetted in the grey light that fell through the curtains, it shuffled and then stopped. Moved slowly closer to the bed. Hannah’s heart thudded louder, her palms clammy. Her neck throbbed, but still she couldn’t move.

      The sickly-sweet smell was overpowering now. Somehow familiar, it crawled its way down her throat, choking her.

      Another creak from a floorboard, closer now. The shadow loomed above her, but she couldn’t turn her head to face it, couldn’t even breathe. It was human, it must be, yet it seemed to slide like water over ice as it reached the edge of her bed. A cold chill settled in the room. She was shivering, yet her legs were blocks of stone anchored to the bed. Get up. Get out. She tried to scream, but there was only silence.

      And then the dip and creak of the bed. The mattress sinking under a groaning weight as something pressed it down. Huge and dark, so close to her that she could almost feel it through the duvet. Almost imagine it reaching out to touch her.

      She was suddenly wide awake, completely alert. Sitting upright in bed, drenched in sweat.

      She gasped and threw off the damp duvet. Flicked on the light and scanned the empty room. Her heartbeat gradually slowed as she listened to the quiet house. Her throat was so dry, it ached. In the bathroom she gulped down a glass of water and filled it again. Stared at the pale face in the mirror. Her hand shook as she downed the second glass.

      She checked that her door was still locked and the window secure, then poured a shot of vodka and drank it down. Drew the curtains, got back into bed and huddled under the duvet, shivering, just like in her dream. And it was just a dream, some stupid dream.

      Nightmares were nothing new. She remembered waking up terrified beside Ben in the middle of the night, so scared she refused to go back to sleep again. Ben would gently hold her and whisper that it was all right and she was safe and everything was going to be OK. He would stroke her hair and kiss her neck and tell her she was safe, until she finally dozed off.

      But this had been different: it had felt real.

      She couldn’t sleep for hours. Her mind wouldn’t stop raking back over the dream, reliving it in vivid detail. The drip and the creak of the mattress, the feel of that heavy weight pressing down. And just when she had finally exhausted herself, when sleep reached out to claim her, she heard something else. A murmuring noise, somewhere nearby. Low and persistent.

      She lay there listening in the pitch-black, until all she could hear were the small creaks of the old house, the gurgling of pipes, the call of an owl outside. She pulled the duvet up over her head. Had she been dreaming again? Tomorrow, she was going to lay off the alcohol; Lori was right, it was starting to mess with her head. How many days since she had last been sober? She rolled over and tried to sleep once more.

      It was then that she first heard it. The sound of a child crying.

       Chapter Six

      A sobbing child somewhere inside the house.

      Chloe must have had a fight with her mum. Hannah rolled over in her warm and comfortable bed and closed her eyes. Tried to shut out the sound, but it went on and on, quiet but insistent, until she could think of nothing else. Chloe was in a family room with her parents, so wouldn’t they have woken up to look after her?

      There was something so disturbing about the sound – so desperate and sad – that Hannah eventually threw off the covers and went to the door. A very low light was coming from the other end of the corridor, oozing out a pale glow. The family room was right at the top of the stairs. Pulling a sweater over her pyjamas, she put her head outside. The sound – a gentle heart-rending sobbing – seemed to be louder out here. Hannah told herself to calm down.

      Afraid she wouldn’t remember her door code, she wedged it open with one of her shoes and headed along the corridor to the top of the staircase. The weak light of a lamp filtered down into the dark hall below. She paused outside each of the guest rooms in case the noise was actually coming from one of them, maybe a radio or TV. But they were silent. As she came close to the family room, the noise suddenly stopped. She paused, listening hard, expecting to hear hushed voices inside.

      Silence. If they had heard her footsteps perhaps they were keeping quiet. Embarrassed, maybe. Hannah stood for a moment wondering what to do. She didn’t want to disturb them, reminded herself not to get involved. The light at the end of the corridor flickered and buzzed, then went out, enveloping her in darkness. The only sound was her heart thudding loudly in her chest.

      And then, with a click, the light came back on. Hannah swallowed. She glanced around, her neck tingling with unease. She was alone, nothing had changed.

      She hurried back to her room.

      The next day, Hannah woke to early morning light filtering across the room. She groaned and rolled over, opened one eye and looked at her phone on the floor. Nine o’clock. Why was the room still so dim?

      Pulling the curtains wide, she looked out into a wall of white. Thick mist smothered everything, even covering the bare little rose garden below. There was no way she could navigate that rutted track in this fog, so her plan to visit the village would have to wait.

      When she got downstairs, Liam, Rosa, and Chloe were in the kitchen, the remnants of a full English breakfast on the table in front of them. Chloe’s plate looked untouched, her eyes red and swollen.

      ‘Chloe, eat up,’ Rosa said. ‘You need a good breakfast.’ And Chloe bowed her head and shovelled a few baked beans into her mouth.

      Liam gave Hannah an easy smile. ‘Morning there, sleep well?’ His eyes flickered over her.

      Her face burned as she looked away. ‘Not really.’ This was the moment when someone should explain why Chloe had been crying, but the only sound was the scraping of a fork against a plate.

      ‘Stop playing with your food.’ Rosa’s voice was loud. ‘What on earth is wrong with you this morning?’

      Chloe looked like she was on the verge of tears. Liam reached for a piece of toast and began buttering it. ‘Try this with some scrambled egg.’

      As Hannah was pouring herself tea, Mo came in. He met her eyes with a warm smile and she felt her heart beat a little faster. A feeling inside that she didn’t deserve to experience again.

      ‘Guess what … I’ve found something.’ Mo nodded towards the door. ‘Come and have a look.’

      Holding her warm mug she followed him to the opposite side of the hall, through a set of double doors, and into a beautiful high-ceilinged room. A large fire roared away in the grand fireplace in a corner.

      ‘I found a stack of logs out the back. Got the fire going first thing.’

      ‘Amazing. It’s so warm in here.’ The grey cat was curled up on a fireside armchair and Hannah, not wanting to disturb it, settled into one of the others.

      Mo took a poker from a fancy metal stand and moved a log in the grate with a flourish. ‘I’ve never lit a proper fire before, but I’m getting the hang of it now.’ He used his phone to snap a picture. ‘I’m pretty sure this is an Adam fireplace – a nice one, too.’ Hannah couldn’t help smiling. Mo paused to frown at his phone. ‘Still can’t get a signal.’

      Hannah dug out her iPhone and glanced at the screen. There wasn’t even wifi any more. No way was she going to walk all the way to the village without Google Maps, even if this fog cleared. They needed to find the router.

      Mo wiped his hands on his trousers and flopped into the sofa. ‘Shame about the weather. Could be a good excuse to explore the rest of the house,

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