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The large, yellow, JCB digger raised its claw-like arm, and brought it crashing down through the roof of the house, sending tiles flying into the air. It looked as if birds were taking flight. The operator adjusted some levers in his cab, and the claw rose and fell again, into the hole that had been made, but this time hooking over the front wall of the house, and pulling it outwards. The wall collapsed in an explosion of crumbling brickwork.<\/p>\n
The noise was extraordinary, as bricks fell, and windows shattered. It was like a primeval beast exacting revenge on an ancient enemy: loud, remorseless and final.<\/p>\n
Beth Alvarini pressed her hands over her ears, feeling the sounds as an almost physical pain.<\/p>\n
James stood behind her, his hand resting reassuringly on her shoulder. \u201cYou didn\u2019t have to come here today.\u201d<\/p>\n
She laid her hand on his, squeezing softly. \u201cI needed to come. I had to be sure it was finally coming down.\u201d<\/p>\n
Edward Falmer appeared at their side. \u201cWell, an exciting day. Building work starts once they\u2019ve cleared the site. The Stillwater Development<\/em>.\u201d There was a note of triumph in his voice. \u201cI never thought I\u2019d see the day. Bernard Franklin came good in the end.\u201d<\/p>\n Beth winced. She had mixed feelings about the owner\u2019s sudden decision to demolish the house. \u201cCongratulations,\u201d she said. \u201cJames tells me that most of the houses are pre-sold off plan.\u201d A small housing development on the site of what was once a very attractive yellow brick-built house, with green-painted windows, and a grey slate roof, flecked with patches of lichen and moss. Plenty of land, of course, and a lot of unsavory history. She just wished she had been able to solve the mystery at the heart of the house, and its pain.<\/p>\n \u201cIndeed they are. Though I must admit I was surprised when James said you wouldn\u2019t be going in for one of them. I\u2019d have thought a place here would have been perfect for you two.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019re happy with the house we\u2019ve bid on,\u201d James said. \u201cAnd you never know, we might not be staying there too long. Beth\u2019s TV series in the States seems to be a ratings success.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd the money is going to start pouring in,\u201d Falmer said, with a hint of envy. \u201cYou lucky buggers. You\u2019re not thinking of moving out there, are you Beth? Falmer and Bartlett needs both James and I for it to work. I wouldn\u2019t want to lose him.\u201d<\/p>\n Beth smiled at the old man. \u201cNo,\u201d she said. \u201cI think you\u2019re safe enough. I\u2019ve no plans to leave the country. But we might buy somewhere bigger — still in the area though.\u201d She had come to feel a bond with the general location, though her pleasure at the destruction of the house was complete. Almost.<\/p>\n Falmer smiled. \u201cGood, good. And thanks once again for the invitation to your wedding. I should think you\u2019re up to your ears in preparations.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m coping,\u201d Beth said, and squeezed James\u2019s hand harder.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s going well,\u201d James said. \u201cJust the flowers to arrange. Isn\u2019t that right, Beth?\u201d<\/p>\n Beth rolled her eyes, as if to say, \u2018not quite\u2019. <\/em>\u00a0\u201cYes, nearly there\u2026apart from cake, flowers, dress. Nearly there.\u201d Then she laughed. \u201cI\u2019m not nearly as stressed as that sounds. Honestly.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, I\u2019m looking forward to it,\u201d Falmer said. \u201cSo is the wife. She doesn\u2019t often get the chance to buy a new hat. It\u2019s just the excuse she needed.\u201d<\/p>\n A few yards away the Lathams watched the demolition with ill-concealed delight. Arthur Latham caught Beth\u2019s eye, and gave her a mock-salute; Gwen just watched the destruction. She was smiling. There was smugness about her stance that wasn\u2019t attractive.<\/p>\n Another wall fell in a clatter of bricks, splintered woodwork, and shattered glass, and as dust started to billow in a cloud towards them, James took hold of Beth\u2019s wheelchair. \u201cLet\u2019s pull back, before we\u2019re covered,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n She looked up into his eyes. \u201cI love you, Mr. Bartlett.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLikewise,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n \u201cIt feels strange.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019ll get used to it, after about twenty years or so.\u201d<\/p>\n Beth shook her head. \u201cNo, not that. I\u2019m comfortable with that, I\u2019m comfortable with you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat then? What\u2019s strange?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt seems weird that this house, that was so destructive in so many ways, has brought us together.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI think Jessica Franklin might have seen a kind of closure in that.\u201d<\/p>\n *<\/p>\n Away from the house, standing at the tree line, in the lee of a plantation of silver birch, and not seen by anyone, a small figure watched the demolition of the house that had been called Stillwater. Her unhappy home.<\/p>\n Dressed only in a stained, white-cotton shift, with pondweed threaded through her lank, dark hair, she watched, as tears poured down her cheeks. As the third wall fell, and more dust stretched from the site, she turned and ran back through the trees, sobbing.<\/p>\n She reached the lake, and slipped into the water, parting the weeds with her body, causing ripples that moved the water like breathing, and then she was swimming out to the center, where she disappeared beneath the surface.<\/p>\n For a few seconds the lake boiled, bubbling and hissing, before it calmed, and the water became still once more.<\/p>\n *<\/p>\n Beth found it difficult to articulate when she changed her mind about leaving the area around Stillwater Lake. As soon as she saw the house being killed she knew she couldn\u2019t leave.<\/p>\n James, as an estate agent, should be able to find, had in fact found, a perfect house some miles away, but close enough for his work, and for Beth not to feel isolated. Her writing was done at a desk, and a computer, that could be set up anywhere. It was access for her wheelchair, and mobility to the amenities of a house, that needed careful consideration.<\/p>\n The house James sourced would be an easy one for the modifications needed. If anything, they could model their requirements on those that had been made at Stillwater when she first rented it.<\/p>\n She was a paraplegic, and she believed she always would be, a cripple, both physically and emotionally. Even on her honeymoon she was conscious of her status. Even as she finalized the last details of the wedding, she was regularly reminded of the events of almost two years ago.<\/p>\n *<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m afraid your spine is badly traumatized, Mrs. Alvarini.\u201d The doctor\u2019s words reverberated around the sterile hospital room.<\/p>\n \u201cI can\u2019t feel my legs.\u201d Her voice was weak and tremulous, and sounded like the voice of a stranger.<\/p>\n \u201cYou may get the feeling back one day, but it would be wrong of me to offer false hope.\u201d<\/p>\n How many times she had picked over the carcass of her ill-starred marriage to Milo Alvarini until there was no meat left on the bones. The marriage was a huge mistake, and a major regret. If Beth could turn the clock back she would. And, indirectly, it was Milo\u2019s fault she was in the wheelchair.<\/p>\n He\u2019d summoned her to his solicitor\u2019s office in Holborn, where a very urbane man, called Clarkson, laid down the terms of the divorce settlement. Milo was taking her for everything he could get, including the house in Crystal Palace — her family home. She would never forgive him for that.<\/p>\n It was this final insult that was playing on her mind as she drove home from the solicitor\u2019s office. She was distracted, didn\u2019t notice the red light at the junction, and drove straight through it. The truck that ploughed into the side of her was given no chance of stopping. The impact lifted her Peugeot into the air, and sent the car rolling over and over across the junction, like a child\u2019s toy, until it finally smashed it into a lamppost, and came to a halt.<\/p>\n The doctor\u2019s devastating words changed her life forever. Hope, false or otherwise, had been a part of her life for as long as she could remember. Now, it had been taken away from her, and she struggled to find something to replace it. Confined to a wheelchair wasn\u2019t how she wanted to define herself, but it was how most people saw her. For many of them it was all they saw; a woman in a wheelchair, therefore not a full, whole, person.<\/p>\n The accident hadn\u2019t just taken away her mobility, it had removed her identity.<\/p>\n How grateful she was, pathetically so she chided herself, that James had fallen in love with her. He saw the wheelchair, knew the disability, but loved the person beneath it all.<\/p>\n And now she was to be Mrs. Bartlett, and the only link to her past relationship was the surname her publisher insisted she retain for her bestselling books. Not that she had written much recently; far too busy. That would have to change, but she wasn\u2019t quite sure when.<\/p>\n *<\/p>\n As they drove away from the demolition site, heading for a meeting with the photographer, Beth couldn\u2019t help glancing back at the JCB, and the dust of memories.<\/p>\n \u201cMixed feelings?\u201d James said.<\/p>\n Beth stared out of the window, as the trees flashed past. \u201cI have no idea why, but I feel sad.\u201d<\/p>\n She felt his hand grip her forearm, and give a gentle squeeze.<\/p>\n \u201cThat place was nearly the death of you,\u201d he said. \u201cI\u2019m glad it\u2019s gone.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s not though, is it?\u201d<\/p>\n James slowed the car, braked, and swung it around in the lane, so they could both see the site, just as the final wall of the house fell slowly to the ground.<\/p>\n \u201cLooks like it has to me.\u201d<\/p>\n She swiveled in her seat so she was facing him. \u201cIt\u2019s still here.\u201d She tapped the side of her head.<\/p>\n \u201cSo the sooner we get away from it the better.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t think so.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat are you trying to say?\u201d<\/p>\n Beth shook her head. \u201cI know it makes no sense to stay, to go back. I know you think I\u2019m getting paranoid with the\u2026 with Jessica.\u201d<\/p>\n James gave a snort of disgust. It wasn\u2019t an attractive sound. \u201cJessica was a damaged soul. Hardly surprising with Dolores Franklin as a step-mother. If Bernard Franklin had been more of a man, and stood up to his second wife, there may have been some hope for her. As it was, Jessica died unhappy, believing she was unloved. I\u2019m glad the house that hid her suffering for so long has gone.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI want us to buy the large house, the one closest to the lake.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s got to be the worst\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhen I\u2019m writing a book,\u201d Beth said. \u201cThere comes a point in the story when I can go in one of several different ways. The plot I mean, where the characters can lead me. That\u2019s how I feel about Stillwater\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cStillwater has gone.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe house has, yes, but the, I don\u2019t know what you\u2019d call it, the legacy? That seems to be something I can\u2019t shake off. No matter how hard I try.\u201d<\/p>\n James turned the steering wheel, and began to drive along the lane.<\/p>\n \u201cSo, you want us to buy the house on the development?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI have to.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEdward will be pleased.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe\u2019ll have no problems with the alterations I\u2019ll need?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNone at all. It will be the most wheelchair accessible house ever built. After all it won\u2019t be an existing house that has to be modified. You can tell them what you want before a single brick is laid.\u201d<\/p>\n *<\/p>\n The wedding day was wonderful. Her father held her hand so tightly in the car on the way to the church that she ended up reassuring him that everything was going to be all right. She was sure it was supposed to be the other way round. As they walked up the aisle together — or to be accurate, as her father pushed her wheelchair — the look of pride on his face made Beth smile.<\/p>\n She didn\u2019t stop smiling, it seemed, all day. From the moment at the altar next to James, her future husband, to the interminable amount of time the photographer took over the staged shots of the newly married couple, and every array of family and friends grouping imaginable. From the drinks and canap\u00e9s on the lawn of the country house hotel, through the meal, and the glorious speeches.<\/p>\n Even her mother was on her best behavior. Not once did she mutter her eternal condemnation — \u201cWriting stories is all well and good, Elizabeth, but it\u2019s not like it\u2019s a real<\/em> job, is it?\u201d She was the only person to ever call her by her full name, even on the rare occasions when she was being affectionate. She never once, that day, compared Beth to her sister, Katherine, who worked in banking. A comparison that was generally unfavorable, conveniently forgetting that it was money earned from Beth\u2019s books that not only bought her mother her bungalow, but also kept her sister\u2019s children at their private school when Katherine lost her real<\/em> job in the economic crash.<\/p>\n But the day was not for recriminations, nor regret. And certainly not for the memories of what had caused Stillwater to be sold and knocked down. It wasn\u2019t a day for the legacies of the past. It was a time to look forward. A new life.<\/p>\n She argued with James about inviting the Lathams, but to her it was a necessary gesture. Underlining that it was all over, the stories and the whispers, the rumors and the emotions. It was time to start again, with nothing left behind to haunt them.<\/p>\n \u201cCongratulations, Beth.\u201d<\/p>\n Beth turned the chair around to see Arthur Latham beaming down at her, glass of beer in hand, and cheeks red enough to indicate that he had made good use of the free bar.<\/p>\n She craned her neck to meet his lips on her cheek, as he awkwardly leaned forward, seemingly in danger of toppling altogether.<\/p>\n \u201cThere you are.\u201d Gwen Latham caught hold her of husband\u2019s jacket, and yanked him upright.<\/p>\n \u201cThanks both for coming,\u201d Beth said.<\/p>\n \u201cWe hope you\u2019ll be very happy, Ms. Alv\u2026 sorry, Mrs. Bartlett.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI think we can stick to Beth don\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n A look passed between the pair of them that didn\u2019t escape Beth. She was tired of secrets and lies. \u201cAnything wrong?\u201d<\/p>\n Arthur drained some of his beer.<\/p>\n Gwen sniffed, but she was made of stern stuff. \u201cFalmer is telling people you\u2019re moving into one the new houses.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAh, yes, we are.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIs that wise?\u201d Arthur said. There was genuine concern in his voice.<\/p>\n \u201cIs what wise?\u201d James joined them, unheard, and immediately grasped Beth\u2019s hand. \u201cApparently we have to have the first dance.\u201d<\/p>\n Beth laughed, and indicated the wheelchair.<\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019ll manage,\u201d James said. \u201cAnyway, what were you talking about?\u201d<\/p>\n Beth swiveled the chair. \u201cConcern about the new house.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAfter everything that\u2019s happened,\u201d Gwen said.<\/p>\n \u201cAll in the past,\u201d Beth said. \u201cIt happened, and much of it was horrible, but the new house is our new beginning. And we\u2019ll still be neighbors.\u201d<\/p>\n James started to maneuver them away and towards the dance floor. \u201cOnce Edward showed me the additions he wanted to put in, the ramps, the grab rails, it made so much more sense than the other house we were going to move into.\u201d<\/p>\n Then they were on the wooden floor, the DJ announcing, \u201cAnd now the newly married couple are going to have their first dance,\u201d and James span the wheelchair around, Beth forgot about the Lathams, and the grotesque Dolores, Jessica, and their obsessive grip on the present.<\/p>\n And Mrs. Falmer\u2019s hat was lovely.<\/p>\n *<\/p>\n It was on the honeymoon that some sensation started to seep slowly into her legs, and lower body.<\/p>\n She had experienced a small amount of response over the months since she had met James. They were able to conduct a relatively successful, and mutually satisfying, physical relationship, but fundamentally Beth was numb from the waist down.<\/p>\n All that seemed to alter one night in Funchal. They were staying at the Cliff Bay Hotel in Madeira\u2019s capital. Quiet, restful, and perfectly accessible for Beth. The linen curtains billowed in from the balcony as a warm breeze wafted into their large room.<\/p>\n They lay on the wide bed. Both naked.<\/p>\n \u201cI felt that.\u201d<\/p>\n James\u2019 immediate response was to apologize, imagining he had caused her some pain, and then he realized what she meant.<\/p>\n \u201cThe doctors said I would never have any sensation below the waist.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou have had some feelings before though?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, a little, but nothing like this.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBut you did? Feel what I was doing I mean.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh yes, couldn\u2019t you tell?\u201d<\/p>\n He nodded. \u201cBut if you felt\u2026do you think you might regain the use of your legs?\u201d<\/p>\n That was her dream. The specialists were so adamant, so definite.<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know, but I\u2019m going to find out.\u201d She smiled. \u201cI\u2019ve heard of healing hands but\u2026\u201d She entwined her fingers with his.<\/p>\n James sat upright. \u201cYou read about medical diagnoses being proved wrong all the time. Doctors are wonderful, but they can\u2019t see into the future. Maybe\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n Beth held up her hand. \u201cLet\u2019s not get carried away.\u201d She laughed suddenly and richly. \u201cWouldn\u2019t it be wonderful if\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n *<\/p>\n The house was completed ahead of schedule, the specifications overseen by Beth were easily incorporated into the plans, and she and James were able to move in sooner than anticipated.<\/p>\n Edward Falmer insisted on a small ceremony, as theirs was the first of the six houses to be built. The others were all sold off plans.<\/p>\n Falmer was nothing if he wasn\u2019t PR savvy. The press and local radio were invited, and as he flicked on the microphone to make his speech, (\u201cjust a few well chosen words, honestly,\u201d) there was a reasonably sized crowd gathered to see what the developer had made of the place.<\/p>\n \u201cLike many of you, I can embrace the new, whilst respecting the past.\u201d<\/p>\n Beth was conscious of several pairs of eyes watching her. They may have been listening to the estate agent waxing lyrical about \u201cgreen\u201d and \u201cconservation,\u201d but they were staring at her. The woman in the wheelchair who had disturbed things that were best left alone. The woman who couldn\u2019t walk, but who had managed to meet, and marry, the handsome man who stood at her side.<\/p>\n \u201cThe remaining houses will be completed shortly\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n As Beth gazed at the crowd she was able to recognize a few faces. The Lathams were there, of course, grim faced and disapproving. The landlord of the local pub, keen to drum up trade from the incomers.<\/p>\n Then she saw her.<\/p>\n Tall and slender, with a mane of wild, dark hair, and almost aristocratic features, lips clamped shut, the full-lipped sensual mouth making no attempt at a smile. If anything, the haunting eyes in the beautiful face looked positively hostile.<\/p>\n Beth reached up and grasped James\u2019s hand.<\/p>\n The woman was in the center of the crowd, but seemed to be apart from it.<\/p>\n She had flowing hair, pale alabaster skin, and wore a diaphanous, floating dress that looked like silk. It was a vivid shade of blue, and as she breathed, it moved as if it was water cascading down her body.<\/p>\n \u201cAnd so it gives me great pleasure to hand the keys of house number one\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n Beth felt the loss of the hand as James moved away from her to shake hands with Falmer, and accept a set of keys, ostentatiously adorned with red ribbon.<\/p>\n The woman began to fade away. At first Beth thought she must be moving out from the crowd, but she wasn\u2019t. She was melting, as if she had never been there. No one seemed to be aware of her apart from Beth. The eyes were dark and impenetrable as they locked onto Beth\u2019s. Then the lips smiled. They pulled back from the teeth in a hungry smile that wasn\u2019t inviting, it was threatening.<\/p>\n As Beth stared into Dolores Franklin\u2019s eyes, a chill passed through her body, and she shivered. For all the woman\u2019s beauty and sensuality, there was something repulsive about her.<\/p>\n *<\/p>\n \u201cAre you sure you didn\u2019t see her?\u201d Beth asked for the hundredth time as they moved around the ground floor of their new house, being shown the details, yet again, by Falmer and his team.<\/p>\n \u201cThere were a lot of people there\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes,\u201d Falmer said. \u201cA good turnout. Further interest even in the houses already sold. Looks like we may have to find some more land for another development, James.\u201d<\/p>\n Beth gave up, and wheeled herself to the wide, tall, bi-fold doors that graced one whole wall of the living room. The view was stunning.<\/p>\n Trees had been cleared, not all of them by any means, but sufficient so that the lake could be glimpsed through the branches and the hedging that outlined the edges of their garden. It was a bright sunny day, and Beth watched as a heron swooped over the still surface of the water, and emerged with something that looked like a human leg in its beak.<\/p>\n Getting over-imaginative, she chided herself. It must have been a pike or a perch. The lake was heavily populated with all manner of life.<\/p>\n Seeing Dolores had shaken her. It wasn\u2019t the first time she had been faced with the woman, but Beth thought she had moved away, for good this time. Her being here, watching the new house, was unsettling. Yet it couldn\u2019t have been her, not actually in person. The manner in which she melted away, and the fact that no one else was aware of her presence, all of it suggested that it had been in Beth\u2019s imagination.<\/p>\n Finally they were alone. Falmer and everyone had left. It was just her and James.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d James said. \u201cI\u2019d like to say I saw her but I didn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n Beth took the saucepan of boiling water off the gas to add the pasta, before sliding it back across the specially lowered hob.<\/p>\n \u201cI didn\u2019t think she\u2019d still be around here, that\u2019s all.\u201d It was more than that, but she didn\u2019t want to spend the first night in their new home raking over the past.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll ask around. Maybe go and see the Lathams.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll do that. It\u2019s a good idea. If anyone knows about her whereabouts it\u2019ll be them. Let\u2019s eat.\u201d<\/p>\n James laid the table in the corner of the kitchen, overlooking the lawn, and the newly constructed flower borders. As the sun set on the horizon they ate their meal and drank Rose wine. After clearing up they decided on an early night.<\/p>\n \u201cThis is the best feature of the house for me,\u201d Beth said, as she maneuvered her wheelchair up the undulating ramps that the builders had inserted in place of a staircase.<\/p>\n \u201cReally good isn\u2019t it? The whole house is wonderful.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019re going to be happy here.\u201d<\/p>\n *<\/p>\n She may have been sleeping for minutes or hours. When she awoke it was dark, but the moonlight that whispered in through the open doors of the balcony in their bedroom provided sufficient light to be able to show her that she was alone in the bed.<\/p>\n \u201cJames?\u201d<\/p>\n There was no reply.<\/p>\n She edged off the mattress and into her chair. The bedroom door was open, and she moved across to the landing. She could hear voices. One of them was James. The other was female.<\/p>\n Her approach was silent.<\/p>\n As she wheeled herself down the ramp the voices grew louder.<\/p>\n She could hear snatches of the conversation.<\/p>\n \u201c\u2026can\u2019t come here again.\u201d That was James.<\/p>\n \u201c\u2026home destroyed.\u201d That was the female voice. It was quite young.<\/p>\n By the time Beth reached the ground floor she knew who the female voice belonged to.<\/p>\n Jessica Franklin stood in the kitchen. She was dressed in a white, sleeveless, cotton dress. Wheals striped her arms, along with deeper cuts, from which blood trickled down her skin. The long dark hair was wet and plastered to her scalp. Threaded through the damp, tangled tresses, were green fibrous strands of pondweed. Her face was gaunt, the skin pale to the point of translucency, and her eyes were sunken into dark-ringed sockets.<\/p>\n James looked as if he was asleep, and yet he was speaking.<\/p>\n \u201cWe can\u2019t see each other again.\u201d<\/p>\n He was oblivious to Beth\u2019s entrance, but Jessica wasn\u2019t.<\/p>\n A bitter smile flicked across her face, like a shadow of cloud in front of the sun. Only this face hadn\u2019t felt the warmth of the sun for a long time.<\/p>\n With a sudden explosion of movement, she leapt onto the work counter, and perched like an animal about to pounce.<\/p>\n James continued talking, as if he hadn\u2019t seen the girl move. He was staring directly ahead, to where she had been. Beth gradually realized that, despite appearances, he was actually asleep. He must have been unaware of what he was doing. Surely that was it.<\/p>\n She was distracted for only a moment, but in the time it took to stare at her husband, Beth missed what Jessica was doing.<\/p>\n She was grasping a kitchen knife in her left hand. With it she was cutting shallow fissures in the skin of her arm. The blood that seeped out was green.<\/p>\n Beth\u2019s knowledge of sleepwalking was narrow, but the one thing she thought she knew for certain was that it was dangerous to wake the walker. As she watched Jessica slicing her pale skin, she decided some things were more dangerous than others.<\/p>\n \u201cJames,\u201d she shouted. \u201cWake up.\u201d<\/p>\n At the same time she wheeled over to him, grabbed his wrist, and pulled at it hard.<\/p>\n Instantaneously he was awake. His knees crumpled, and he sagged to the floor.<\/p>\n Beth wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly.<\/p>\n She glanced at the work surface, and wasn\u2019t surprised to see it was empty. Jessica had gone.<\/p>\n On the polished stone floor was one of her new kitchen knives. It lay in a pool of dank, green liquid.<\/p>\n \u201cJames.\u201d She spoke quietly. \u201cAre you okay?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMy head hurts.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLet\u2019s get you back upstairs.\u201d<\/p>\n When they were in their bedroom, under the covers, Beth said, \u201cCan you remember anything?\u201d<\/p>\n James still appeared dazed. His confusion was genuine; Beth had no doubts about that. He was staring straight ahead, as if he was finding it difficult to focus.<\/p>\n \u201cI heard a noise,\u201d he said. \u201cDownstairs. I was sure it was a voice, someone singing. I must have been dreaming, but the next thing I know I\u2019m downstairs.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWho was with you?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWith me?\u201d His reaction was bafflement. \u201cThere wasn\u2019t anyone there.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou were talking to someone. Can you remember who it was?\u201d<\/p>\n He shook his head. \u201cI must have been dreaming.\u201d<\/p>\n Did sleepwalkers do so in a deep sleep? Beth wasn\u2019t sure, but she would check it out. Did they dream as they \u201cwalked,\u201d was that the reason for their actions? Were they acting out what they were dreaming about? If that was the case, then James must have been dreaming about Jessica.<\/p>\n But Beth had seen her. And she wasn\u2019t dreaming; asleep or otherwise.<\/p>\n Malignant Ghosts<\/strong> extends the story of their novel\u00a0<\/strong><\/em>Stillwater<\/strong>.\u00a0Cemetery Dance is proud to offer a new e-book edition of <\/strong><\/em>Stillwater<\/a><\/strong>, along with several more Maynard Sims novels\u00a0listed below:<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.cemeterydance.com\/extras\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/10\/1979-350x273.jpg?resize=350%2C273\")
Maynard Sims is the pen name of lifelong friends Len Maynard and Mick Sims, who met in 1964 at the age of eleven, and have been writing together since 1972. Their bibliography includes numerous novels, novellas, screenplays and short stories.\u00a0They worked as editors on the nine volumes of <\/strong><\/em>Darkness Rising<\/strong> anthologies,\u00a0ran Enigmatic Press in the UK, and continue to edit a variety of projects.<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n