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Troubador Publishing Ltd - Heidi Soder

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171 pages

English

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Is a little madness really so bad? Do we all possess that certain something that can try our patience to the point of menace? Look inside the secret mind of a woman scorned, dejected and teetering on the edge of lunacy. A woman whose eyes conceal a mind of menace and intrigue. Lilian Snipe will be seen, heard and much more. She's a lady who can hold a grudge with the derision and power of a thousand tempers, and a woman never to be crossed. She resides in a secret place only known to her closest associate - Lucy Delamarney, a young woman with a sad and precious past who finds life too challenging without the protective companionship of her bizarre and extraordinary confidante. Two personalities, drawn together by events that would change their lives and those around them forever. Kind, loveable Lucy, dangerously led by a woman intent on self-destruction. With a mind full of misdemeanour and an ambush at every turn, Lilian's hatred for all who come between her and Lucy results in barrage of wickedness and mistrust. She controls Lucy with a startling authority that leads as far as attempted murder and a multitude of broken hearts from the men who adore Lucy.

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Thriller

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Publié par	Troubador Publishing Ltd
Date de parution	06 septembre 2010
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781848769625
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0300€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

LILIAN SNIPE
HEIDI SODER
Copyright 2010 Heidi Soder
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.
Matador
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Email: books@troubador.co.uk
Web: www.troubador.co.uk/matador
ISBN 978 1848 764 149
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Typeset in 11pt Bembo by Troubador Publishing Ltd, Leicester, UK

Matador is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd
Dedicated to all those who are a little mad. May you find comfort and friendship by whatever means.
Chapter 1
It s awfully gloomy in here, a voice said, shifting the darkness with sour breath. I mean, how can you see anything?
You get used to it after a while, Lucy muttered, you don t have a choice.
Is it night or day?
I m not sure, she said. She survived on stored images of shapes and colours captured behind her eyelids and by rearranging the priorities of her other senses to compensate. Where exactly are you?
I m everywhere, the girl laughed. In the walls and the floors and deep inside your fat little head.
Lucy Delamarney glimpsed movement from her left eye but it seemed pointless to react and to risk compromising her safe place. I don t have a fat head.
Maybe not, the voice said. But it s a stupid one. Why else would you be locked away down here?
Lucy considered the question very carefully. I ve been bad, I suppose, she told her. I can t think why but I must have done something really terrible. She mulled over it for a while but nothing obvious sprung to light. I did once take a pee in the bath water but I didn t think anyone had noticed or particularly cared.
You must have really upset somebody to get yourself captured in this place.
Lucy felt particularly down and troubled. I guess so, she said, but I don t remember doing anything wrong.
Criminals get locked away for killing people and stuff like that. The girl scraped her shoes back and forth across the floor several times. Are you a murderer?
No.
Have you burgled somebody s house and stolen all their money?
Of course not.
Then why are you down here?
I don t know! She felt bothered. I could ask you the very same question.
Oh, that s easy, the girl said through an invisible smile. Lucy could almost hear the dryness of her lips parting company with her teeth. You invited me.
I did?
Yes.
I don t remember doing that.
Well you did, she barked nastily, so get used to it.
Lucy didn t like her tone one little bit. Invited guests don t snipe, she bravely told her. They share things and have fun.
I ll bear that in mind, the voice said sternly. I m sure it ll be a bundle of laughs down here as we roll around in the dust and entertain the creepy crawlies.
Lucy stared slowly around the black hole. That s about all there is to do.
What do you look like? she asked. Can you remember?
What kind of a question is that?
A simple one I guess, she said. I mean, what colour are your eyes?
Lucy closed them tightly in an effort to help her remember the big oval mirror over the fireplace back home where she used to brush her hair. Very blue, she told her. Like a swimming pool.
Do you think you re pretty?
Lucy wasn t really sure. I don t think I m ugly.
See? she said cheerfully, you feel better already.
Lucy sucked an orange. They were in plentiful supply from a huge open crate and despite a small cluster of mouth ulcers, she had grown to love them. So are you going to be here long?
That s up to you.
A small box shifted.
Please don t move anything, Lucy said as kindly as she could.
The box moved again. Touchy, she mumbled. It s a damn box. What s the problem?
I know exactly where everything is, Lucy said, that s why. If you move something I will fall over it.
I m sorry I moved your precious box, OK?
Heavy footsteps creaked above. Once, twice, then they stopped.
Sssssh! Lucy warned softly. You ve disturbed him. He will hear you.
Who will?
Him. She pointed at the ceiling.
Slowly the door handle began to turn. Twice right, once left then followed by a judder so aggressive, that a small avalanche of plaster from around the frame collected on the floor.
Shadows flickered across the fragmented light below the door. Creeping, grinding gravel, pulverised beneath a pair of cheap dog-eared brogues carried sound through the silence as loud as a cymbal.
He s coming to get you, Lucy, she teased, coming ever closer with that great big old gun of his to shoot you dead. Bang! Bang! Job done.
Don t! Lucy felt sick. That s not even close to funny.
The shoe kicked out with a thunderous boom as pools of dusty light branched out towards the base of the stairs.
I told you to shut up! the nasty spiteful man erupted, don t make me come down there, you know what will happen if I do!
He s only a voice in the darkness, the girl said very quietly, and just as afraid as you are.
Tears pricked Lucy s eyes. Please don t get me into trouble.
She held her breath against the slamming of sheer panic in her heart. Ten maybe fifteen seconds passed until she had to let go, and then silently through a tiny hole formed between her lips to avoid detection.
Not another sound! edging closer to the top, he spanned the shadows. D you hear me you half-wit! A muffled thump, another kick and the light moved away, along with the sound of the television as the big interlocking door slammed upstairs.
Directly above Lucy s head footsteps pounded to her left, ten in all. Then forward three paces, two back and a heaving grunt from the chair.
At last, he sat down again.
That was close. Now she could breathe again. We need to be very quiet.
Why?
We just do, that s all. Lucy craved sleep through an outside medley of howling dogs, loose hinges and groaning trees laden with decaying fruit. But her toes were cold enough to take precedence over everything. He s evil.
He s a man, that s all.
You don t know him.
Is he a giant?
No.
Then is he a monster with five heads? she asked, with claws for hands and hooves for feet?
Now you re just being stupid. Lucy retorted. He s my uncle and I hate him.
Exactly, she snapped her fingers, which means he s mortal, just like you. He feels bleeds and hurts and can perish just the same.
I can t fight him, she told her. He s too strong.
Not on your own you can t, she said. But there are ways to defeat him.
How?
Easy. The tang of citrus lingered on her words. For a start he drinks too much.
So?
So, he s a walking dead man in that state, she moaned. Don t you know anything?
I know you re too loud so be quiet!
OK! She became barely audible. But you heard him slurring, he s smashed out of his head on booze. His guard is down, she said. this is the time to strike.
He s a bully, Lucy told her, and not like the ones you get at school. He could do anything to me and nobody would ever know. I m not going near him.
So run away, she said, and keep running. You ll end up somewhere.
That s no good at all, Lucy groaned, tired of interrogation. With her legs rendered so stiff, she didn t think she could run anywhere. I have to have a belonging place. Everybody has one. I just need to find out where mine is.
That could take forever.
Lucy laughed, even surprising herself. That s just about how long I have, she said. I don t see things changing in the very near future.
In a creeping whisper, the girl said, You are in charge of yourself and that gives you the power to change everything and anything.
It does?
Yes.
Beside Lucy, something shuffled. Nothing definitive; just enough movement in a space normally reserved for dust and debris that stirred an eerie chill. At this rate, she would soon need her blanket. It felt unusually cold, different from the usual suffocating humidity beneath the crumbling old farmhouse, just as if somebody had left a door open.
We will be friends, the girl said. These were assertive tones, reinforced by a perceptively strong will offering no choice in the matter. Comrades in arms and all that. Together we could get out of here.
I can t.
You have to take possession and ownership of your own life.
I told you. I have nowhere to go.
And this is somewhere?
The rain pounded the cellar hatch as it wrestled a gathering storm outside against a heap of firewood stacked on top. It was to be another horrendous night. It s dry I guess.
And you should be grateful for that?
Yes, she stammered, I mean no. I don t know anymore.
You re very dirty, the girl remarked, following a long dramatic sniff through her nostrils. And you smell. I think you should know that.
Lucy struck the air with both hands. That s not very nice, she snarled, grabbing at nothing. I don t have a proper bathroom.
Everybody has a bathroom.
Well not me! This was worse than being alone. This was like being cross-examined by your worst enemy. Why don t you push off if you don t like it?
I can t. She had a creepy laugh, the kind you hear carried through a misty forest in a horror film where you don t actually see anybody. You have to send me away.
Lucy wanted to at least try. She was sick of being frightened of the whole world and everybody in it. Well go then, she told her sharply. I don t need you here.
She squeezed her eyes tightly together and waited.
Nice try.
Aren t you going? Lucy asked, puzzled by the strange feeling of