Human Remains

to fade away. And it occurred to me that he didn’t entirely trust me. He didn’t fully believe that I was ready to just lie down and die, after all – or else why had he locked me in?
    ‘You’re safe. You’re safe with the door locked,’ he said.
    He was close enough now to touch me, and, although my eyes were level with his chest and I did not want to look up, he touched my upper arm – and the touch was soothing, comforting and I felt my heaving heart start to calm, felt the hollow thumping in my chest lessen. He said some other things. I did not hear them.
    ‘You should sleep,’ he said. ‘It will be easier when you’re asleep. You can sleep, Annabel.’
    I sat down on the bed. ‘Will you be here, in the house?’
    ‘For a while,’ he said.
    ‘I am sleepy.’
    ‘That’s good. Why don’t you lie down?’
    I lay back on the bed that smelt of damp and dust. I felt the phone move a little and, worried that it would be visible through the fabric of the blouse, I turned on to my side, away from the door, away from him.
    No sounds for a moment, other than his breathing and mine. I wondered what he thought of me, lying on this strange bed in this strange house that probably held one dead body and another one that was probably on the boundary between death and life. I’d heard her cry out. That was the noise I’d heard – which meant she was alive, and she was somewhere in the house.
    My heart was beating fast, the dust in my throat making me want to cough. I had my eyes closed and a tear leaked through the corner of my eye and rolled down my temple, dripping off on to the bedspread.
Help me
, I thought.
Mum, please, help me
.
    And then, just as I thought he was going to stay with me, I heard his steps retreating and the door shutting behind him. I waited for the sound of the key in the lock, but it didn’t come.
    I lay still on the bed for a while, not quite trusting that he wouldn’t be waiting for me to do something. I pulled the phone out of its hiding place and tried again for a signal. Nothing. I wrote another message to Sam just in case at some point it would send.
    Please hurry up. A
     
    I waited a good ten minutes, playing with the useless phone, and then I stood up again. As I did so I heard another noise in the house – and then another bang. I went to the door and turned the handle carefully so it didn’t make a noise, opened it a crack, half-expecting him to be standing in the hall watching the door.
    A little wider. The hallway was empty, all the other doors closed just as before. I trod carefully on the carpet, wary of creaking floorboards, but everything felt muffled, silent, as though a carpet of snow had fallen on the place rather than dust. There were flies everywhere, I noticed now – dead ones, mainly, on the carpet. A couple buzzing lazily in the fusty air.
    At the top of the stairs I stopped and looked around the corner. No sign of him. The house waited for me to move.
    By the time I got to the bottom of the stairs I was fairly certain that he’d left. The windows either side of the front door, filthy as they were, gave me a good view of the front driveway and I could see it was empty. The Fiesta was gone. I tried the front door, but, predictably, it was locked. I checked my phone again and this time there was a signal, just two bars but it was probably enough. I dialled Sam’s number. It rang and rang and then he answered.
    ‘Hello?’ I said, my voice an urgent whisper.
    There was no answer though, just a crackle and hiss. ‘Sam, can you hear me?’
    The phone beeped and the call disconnected. I sent another text.
    Am in big house on Grayswood Lane. Yew hedge.
He has gone but is coming back. Hurry. A
     
    Downstairs, the smell was much worse. I didn’t want to explore, but at the same time I needed to find a way out. He would be back soon, and I didn’t want to be here when that happened.
    Behind me there was a noise, the same as before – a moan, rising into a wail. It sounded nearer, but still a long way off. All the doors were closed, but I tried the nearest one and found myself in a large kitchen, a wooden farmhouse table at the far end and beyond them patio doors on to the large back garden. The kitchen was tidy but not clean, and the smell had ramped up a notch. I was getting closer.
    ‘Audrey?’ I said, and then a little louder, ‘Audrey! Can you hear me?’
    I waited, listened. Nothing. My shoes crunched on the bodies of the dead flies – so many more