THE SIXTH GUEST: Chapter Two - Part Six

There was nothing else for it but to do something; to take some kind of action. Clare had learned that if she’d learned nothing else when the bad things started to happen in her life: first one thing, then another, until almost everything was buried beneath the surge of horror, loss, bad luck and difficult choices. It almost didn’t matter what action she took as long as it was positive, that it carried her forward.

Sitting at the table dwelling on what had happened wasn’t positive action. Putting the weird incident behind her and making dinner for everyone: that would be positive. But Clare wasn’t quite ready to dismiss what had happened. And it was more than possible that it would be foolish to do so.

Something had occurred. A... force of some kind; a spirit; had entered her house and it had entered her body, and the trauma of that occurrence had been so severe that she’d had some kind of fit. The suntan glow on her skin said it all. This wasn’t something she could or should discount; this was a serious event; and the fact it had affected Henry as well meant it couldn’t be ignored.

Clare had a thing about the kitchen chairs being tucked under the table. The kitchen was big enough for a big six-seater to lie down its centre as long as the sixth chair only came out if necessary, but if chairs were left out of place then the whole room became an obstacle course. When she got up, Clare didn’t push her chair in, such was the intensity of focus in her mind.

She marched upstairs to the front of the house and didn’t stop walking when she tapped Henry’s bedroom door with the back of two bent fingers. Ordinarily she would never have entered his private space without waiting for a response but this time she did. She instantly realised how wrong she’d been to do so but it was too late; she was inside.

Henry was sitting at the computer. He cried out and span round then quickly stood, stepping to his left. The move was designed to block Clare’s view of the picture on his monitor but in her continuing determination she didn’t notice. Even if she had, what could possibly be wrong with looking at a picture of a little girl? “I’m so sorry Henry, I should have waited for you to invite me before I came rushing in but I’m very worried.”

Henry’s face was flushed red with what Clare assumed was surprise and maybe anger but was in fact embarrassment, and relief that he’d managed to wrench his hand out of the front of his trousers before she saw it tucked in there. “Worried about what?” He flicked off the monitor then pressed the power button on the base unit. It clicked rapidly as it started to shut down.

“You remember I told you I heard an odd noise coming from the toilet when you were in there?”

“...Yes.”

“Well I wanted to ask you about it.”

“It wasn’t anything,” said Henry. “I just had a bit of wind. That’s all.”

“Because something happened to me just afterwards that—”

“Nothing happened. Not to me. I feel fine.” He spoke quickly, almost like he was trying to hide something. It wasn’t behaviour she’d seen in him before.

“Are you sure? I was thinking about driving down to casualty to get checked over. I’m concerned about this glow I’ve got to my skin. And you’ve got it too. Are you positive that you didn’t feel anything strange?”

“Nothing at all.” He smiled but it was an oddly forced smile.

“Okay. But do you want to come down to casualty anyway – get checked out?”

“Definitely not. I hate hospitals. I spent far more time there when Lillian was dying than I wanted to. I’m not going back until I can’t stand up. And not even then if I can help it.”

Clare was unsure. She knew what she heard and she could see the same sun-kissed skin on him as she had, but if he didn’t want to cooperate there wasn’t much she could do about it. “Well... If you’re sure.”

“I’m perfectly alright. Thank you for your concern but I’m absolutely fine.”

Clare gave him a weak smile. “Alright. I’ll be off then.” She loitered in the doorway on the way out. “Will you be alright making your own dinner tonight? I’ll leave a note downstairs for Selina.”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“I was going to do baked potato and salad.”

“I’ll work something out.” He smiled back at her but he clearly wanted her to leave.

“Alright. See you later,” said Clare, pulling the door closed. “I’ll just give Joey a knock and let him know I’m going out.”