THE SIXTH GUEST: Chapter Two - Part Three

Henry looked very much caught on the hop when he appeared in the toilet doorway. He had always been a friendly old man but now, for the first time, he looked irritable and flushed. He was perspiring and the outer rims of his eyes were drawn in red.

“Oh thank God you’re alright,” said Clare.

“Yes. I’m fine,” replied Henry, trying his best to smile.

“Are you certain? You don’t look fine. You look a bit tense; even breathless.

“Of course.” He fixed the smile more convincingly to his lips. “Never been better.”

“Did you...” She didn’t finish the sentence right away – wasn’t sure how to – but the glow in Henry’s cheeks increased and a vein in his neck thickened pushing the skin out. “Did you feel anything... strange a few minutes ago?”

The nip that question gave to his expression told her that he had but he clearly didn’t want to talk about it. “Nothing serious,” he said. “I’m perhaps a little under the weather.” He paused. “What did you hear exactly?”

“I’m not sure. An... odd noise... coming from inside.”

There was a crinkling down by his thigh and Clare noticed the paper he was holding for the first time. His hand quivered as she looked at it as though he didn’t want her to see. He needn’t have worried; only the blank side was visible and then only barely. “I think I might go and lie down,” he said.

“Oh. Okay.” Clare stepped back to let him pass but she took his arm as came level. “God, you’ve caught the sun. Have you been out in the garden?”

“What?”

“You look like you’ve been sunbathing; maybe even lying under a sunlamp.”

He gave another quick smile but this wasn’t even close to looking real. “I’ve been in all day.” She’d never seen him act this way but if what happened to her had happened to him then he had every right to; more if anything, considering his frailty. There was no indication why he didn’t want to talk about it but she had to respect that. “You look like you’ve caught the sun too.”

“I do?”

“Yes.” He pulled away from her gently and moved off down the hall toward the foot of the stairs, bringing his piece of crumpled paper round in front of him and out of her field of vision. It promptly dropped from her conscious thought as though it had never been there.

Clare put her hand to her cheek. It felt warm to the touch, like it have might after a day at the beach. She turned her back on Henry’s ascent of the stairs and his careful positioning of the paper in his hand to keep his body between her and an unobstructed view of it. He’d left the toilet door open, and the light on (surprise surprise); the towel crumpled on the floor underneath the sink where the loose fitting always caused a puddle to form if she didn’t keep on top of it.

The sink hung in the corner, twin mirrors either side of it, one on each wall, giving an oddly displaced but otherwise accurate image of her face without the normal reversing effect. The Clare in the mirror had caught the sun pretty heavily. She wasn’t sunburned but it also wasn’t far off. Her skin had a ruddy healthy-looking glow to it that might or might not turn into a light tan... if it didn’t peel.

It didn’t make the slightest bit of sense and it wasn’t possible in any way she had ever heard of, but she also knew that their invisible visitor had caused this somehow. The heat it had given off... and the fact that even though she had been outside earlier, it had been cloudy all day.... It must have been generating ultraviolet rays, and God knew what else.

Clare almost called up to Henry to question him further but something stopped her: the look on his face probably. Maybe later she’d take him aside; she if she could wheedle something out of him about what he saw when it happened.

She gave the toilet a quick tidy then closed the door.

It occurred to her suddenly that there might really be something wrong with her. Maybe she should drive down to casualty, her and Henry. She flicked the kettle on then sat at the kitchen table and checked her pulse. She didn’t feel off at all anymore. There was nothing wrong with her as far as she could tell beyond a creakiness in her limbs and a slight bump to the head. It was probably worth running upstairs to check on Henry in a few minutes to check he was okay but beyond that there seemed little point in panicking.

Unless it was something wrong with her that had caused the seizure or whatever it was; something wrong with her brain... Something that had made her imagine this powerful invisible force breaking into her house and terrorising her and her dog.

But it couldn’t be that, precisely because of the dog. Ralph had reacted. He had sensed whatever it was. He had known it was real. It had been real.

All she had to do now was work out what it was.