Page 56 of The Memory Wood

Unable to trust her mouth, Elissa presses her lips together.

‘I want this to work,’ the ghoul tells her. ‘We all want this to work. Personally, I think you’re a little too headstrong, which means your chances aren’t great. But perhaps you’ll surprise us yet.’

The studio light winks out. Darkness rushes in. There’s a rasp of something metal being unscrewed. A rich scent hits Elissa’s nose: Peppa Pig spaghetti.

Her stomach churns.

‘You follow the rules,’ the ghoul whispers, ‘you eat. You break the rules, you’re no more.Say you understand.’

She drags out the seconds as long as she dares. ‘I understand.’

‘You forget your previous life becausethisis your life. If you cooperate, things will change. Six months from now, if we get that far, you’ll understand why this was necessary. Another year, you’ll be thanking us.’ He removes the camcorder from its mount. ‘We’re going to do more of this, you and I. Keep cooperating and you’ll get all sorts of nice things. In the meantime, I want you to think about all the ways your mother has let you down. Every little spite, every dereliction, every selfish act.’

Elissa opens her mouth, but the ghoul’s characterization of Lena Mirzoyan is so baseless she’s rendered mute. She breathes cucumber-scented cleanser, Peppa Pig spaghetti, home-crafted apple-and-cinnamon perfume. If there’s any logic to this, she can’t find it.

Personally, I think you’re a little too headstrong, which means your chances aren’t great.

He’s right about that. She won’t be brainwashed; not by him, not by anyone. Which means time, for her, is almost certainly running out.

Vital she doesn’t squander what’s left.

Elijah

Day 5

I

I was going to leave it until tomorrow to show her what I’ve done, but I’m so excited I can’t wait.

All through dinner I sat on my secret. Watching me, Kyle soon suspected something was up. Usually, I’m pretty quiet at the table, but tonight I talked like a flibbertigibbet while Mama and Papa looked on, bemused. Eventually, Papa put down his cutlery and asked if I was OK. That’s when I knew I was in trouble, and that if I talked any longer my mouth would run away completely.

I haven’t committed a crime. Not exactly. But that doesn’t mean what I’m doing is OK.

After dinner, Papa goes outside for a roll-up. Mama sits in the living room with her sewing while I wash the dishes. Standing at the sink, I look through the window at Papa chugging his smoke into the night.

When I open the pantry door to fetch a tea towel, Kyle – appearing from nowhere – bundles me through it.

Inside, there’s no light, just unpainted wooden shelves filled with tinned goods. My brother talks so quietly not even Mama will hear. I could cry out, but his knife is pressedto my belly. His other hand grips my throat, forcing back my head.

‘You’re up to something, shithead,’ he hisses. His breath is awful, like he’s been chewing on roadkill. ‘You’re tryin’ to fuck us, and I ain’t gunna let it happen.’

My shirt has ridden up. The point of Kyle’s blade presses deeper. When I feel a slow spread of warmth, I think he must have punctured me, until I realize that fear has made me squirt out some pee.

I recall our stand-off yesterday, in the Memory Wood – how I bit down on the barrel of his .22. Why am I so much more frightened now?

‘You’ve got it all wrong,’ I mutter. ‘I’m not up to anything.’

‘Liar.’

The blade tip can’t press much harder without opening me up. I imagine it slicing through flesh, my guts spattering on to the tiled floor.

The back door rattles open: Papa, coming back inside. Serpent-quick, Kyle withdraws his knife and retreats.

II

Another hour passes before it’s safe enough to slip out. The wind gusts about me as I skirt Fallow Field. Inside the Memory Wood, the trees bend and swish like angry broomsticks; it’s a nasty, frantic sound, and I don’t like it at all.

At the centre of the clearing the Gingerbread House stands alone, stone walls slick with rain. I creep through the darkened ground floor, and it’s only when I reach the cellar entrance that I dare use my torch. I’m half-expecting Kyle to ambush me again, but my journey down the stepsto the partition wall is uninterrupted. Releasing the padlock, I draw back the deadbolts and swing the door wide.

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