The Good Sisters: The perfect scary read to curl up with this winter

She walked over, about to pull the crosses from the wall, when she realised how dark it was outside, how late it was and how no matter how brave she felt she wasn’t walking around to the shed at this time of night. Instead she walked out of the room, turning off the light and shutting the door firmly behind her with her trembling hands.

She needed a drink. Turning on the landing light now, she switched off the torch – not wanting to drain the batteries. The upstairs landing looked so much better bathed in light. She would need to have some wall lights fitted or at least a couple of side tables and lamps that were kept on all night so the guests wouldn’t get freaked out by the darkness.

Kate let out a sigh. She’d never even considered anything like this. It was a much bigger project than she’d realised. It wouldn’t be half as stressful if Amy was still here to help her. Hot, salty tears filled her eyes. She missed her friend so much since she’d died six months ago. She didn’t think she’d ever really laughed since. Well not like the pair of them used to – setting the world to rights over a couple of bottles of wine. Amy would say something funny and they would laugh until the tears rolled from their eyes.

Kate wondered if anyone would ever make her laugh like that again. She certainly hadn’t had anything to laugh about lately. She found herself downstairs in the huge kitchen that was an empty shell apart from the fridge, microwave and a battered old pine table with three chairs. She opened the fridge and pulled out the vodka. She didn’t want to sit around drinking a glass of wine. She needed an extra-large shot of something strong that would knock her out.

Grabbing a wine glass off the end of the table where what little cutlery and kitchen essentials she owned were stacked, she filled it to the top with vodka, emptying the bottle. Leaving the bottle on the table she went back to her room, sipping the vodka as she went – not wanting to spill any and waste a single drop.

She left the lamp on. It was staying on. The thought that she should be checking the house filled her mind. She wasn’t that brave. If someone wanted to break in and put up crosses on the wall, they could get on with it. There wasn’t anything apart from the builder’s tools worth stealing. She knew the scratching was probably mice or worse still rats. Ollie would deal with them for her. She might have even imagined the footsteps, because Ethan or Jack had probably put the crosses on the wall before they left for some kind of joke. They weren’t to know that they’d freak her out; in fact it made perfect sense and she convinced herself that was what had happened.

Ollie could deal with those two as well as her vermin problem, and sanity would be restored to her life once more. She looked at her lonely bed. God what she’d give to have someone lying in there waiting to wrap their arms around her. She was so bloody sick of being on her own. As she sat down on the bed, she lifted the glass to her lips, closed her eyes and then drank it down. She began to cough and splutter as the neat vodka burnt its way down her throat, filling her with warmth. Her head began to feel muzzy.

Putting the glass on the bedside table she climbed back in, feeling sick as the room began to spin. She muttered to herself: Too much, Kate. One of these days you’re going to kill yourself – and a part of her wondered if that would be such a bad thing. The last few days she’d get fleeting moments of despair at how much work needed to be done before they could open the house for business, followed by mild anxiety attacks. She’d never been one to suffer with her nerves, but she’d go into certain rooms or parts of the house and her stomach would start to fill with butterflies for no particular reason, which was unsettling her. She’d think about the huge project that she’d taken on and brush the feelings away as anxiety.

She had no one who wanted her. Maybe dying would be the best thing for her – even though the thought of leaving her girls terrified her – and then her eyes closed as she finally fell asleep.

Upstairs the footsteps that had paused continued from room to room, looking for something that had been lost a very long time ago, but Kate was oblivious to it all.

***

Ollie let himself in with the spare key that Kate had given to him. He was much earlier than usual, but he wanted to get the next room finished. He had told himself that if he managed to get two bedrooms up and running, with the bathrooms plumbed in, then maybe Kate could have her daughters over to stay with her.

Martin couldn’t really say no to her now she wasn’t living in those grotty council flats and it might cheer her up, because although she’d never said as much he could tell she was feeling down. If she had her kids to stop it also might mean she would drink a little less. He felt bad for checking up on her, but he counted the empty bottles every morning in the recycling.

It was none of his business what she did and he knew this, but he liked her. If he was honest with himself, there was something about her that he found very attractive and he didn’t want to see her throwing her life away. She had so much to live for – plus he kind of felt responsible for her now he was seeing her every day. The poor woman was even lonelier than him and he’d thought he had it bad.

He’d been surprised to see the same number of bottles as yesterday and was secretly pleased, until he got to the kitchen and saw the empty vodka bottle on the table. Bollocks. He walked down to her room. It wasn’t like her not to already be up and pottering around. Then again he was early and it looked like she’d hit the hard stuff last night.

Lifting his hand to knock on her door, he stopped mid-air. What, are you her father? This is none of your business, Ollie, so keep out of it. Instead he listened at the door for any sign of life. He heard a gentle snore and the bed creak as she moved. He couldn’t help but wonder what she was sleeping in and then he stepped back and walked away.

This was well and truly overstepping the mark. It was beyond their working relationship and he felt like a dirty old man for even thinking about her like that. Instead he went back to the kitchen where he began to make some toast and a pot of tea, banging around loudly and hoping she’d wake up.

As he finished setting the teapot on the table, he turned and jumped to see her standing there yawning. She was wearing a pair of mismatched pyjamas. Her hair was tousled and sticking up and she didn’t have a scrap of make-up on. She looked so sexy. Mortified, he had to turn away before she noticed what a funny shade of red his face had turned.

‘What time is it?’

‘I’m early. It’s only eight o’clock. I thought I’d get started on that second bedroom. I wanted to make a big difference today.’

‘Thanks, Ollie, that’s really kind of you.’ Kate sat down, putting her head in her hands.

Ollie poured her a mug of tea out and passed her some toast. As he reached over he caught a whiff of her perfume. It was the same one his wife had worn. Funny how he’d never noticed that before. Then again he’d never been in such close proximity to Kate in her pyjamas either. Normally they were both covered in plaster dust and muck. She sipped the tea and picked up a slice of toast, nibbling on the corner. She held her head up with one hand. He kept telling himself not to say it, but it came out before he could help himself.

‘Heavy night?’

She looked at him and he saw the faint redness beginning to creep up her neck. He could have kicked himself. It was none of his bloody business what she did so why was he so bothered?

‘Not really, I couldn’t sleep. I tried my best to drift off but then I heard scratching on the wall and I thought I heard noises coming from the bedroom above mine. I had to go and investigate, but there was nothing there.’

‘It’s an old house, Kate. It would make lots of noises anyway as the floorboards settled once the air cooled. With the amount of work we’re doing it’s bound to increase – especially at night when there’s no one banging around up there and you’re here on your own. I never thought to mention it to you.’

She nodded her head. ‘Oh that reminds me: did you leave that bedroom window and door open?’

‘No, I was the last one in. I’m sure of it and I could swear that I shut them both. Why?’

‘They were both wide open when I went up there and it was freezing cold. Oh and I didn’t think the crosses were very funny either.’

He didn’t have a clue what she was talking about. His first instinct was that she’d been drunk and didn’t know either, but then it bothered him that the window was open. He distinctly remembered closing it because he’d wondered whether or not he should leave it open an inch to air the room out.

‘How wide open was the window?’

She put the mug down and lifted her hands apart quite some distance.

‘I didn’t leave it like that. I’m positive.’

‘Well someone did. It doesn’t matter now. It just gave me a bit of a fright being on my own and sober for the first time in, well, in a long time.’

‘What happened, Kate?’

‘Not much really, well apart from me deciding that I’d not drink and then I couldn’t sleep because of the scratching and noises.’

She leant forward onto her elbows, managing to knock her mug and spill tea all over the table. He jumped up to get some kitchen roll and mop it up.

‘No I mean exactly what happened that caused you to come back down and finish off almost half a bottle of vodka?’

He could have kicked himself. Now she was going to think he was some weirdo who was keeping tabs on her. This was her house and her life. What right did he have to know how much vodka she had left in the bottle or how much she’d drunk? But she never said anything, because he knew that once more he’d put his size eleven foot in it and embarrassed her.

‘I was lying in bed and heard noises from upstairs – well footsteps to be exact – so feeling brave I went up there to see what or who it was. All the other doors were shut except for that one; it was wide open. So I forced my shaking legs to walk down and have a look inside. That’s when I saw the window open and figured the breeze had opened the door, but it doesn’t explain who put those fucking awful crosses on the wall. To tell the truth I was really pissed off about that last night. I spent ages that first afternoon going round collecting them all. Now I don’t want them in my house and if it was some kind of joke, then that’s enough and we can forget about it; but it was all just a bit too freaky at three o’clock in the morning. So can you tell Ethan and Jack no more, please?’

‘First of all I don’t know anything about any crosses. I’ll ask the lads if they do when they get here, but they left before I did. However, most importantly, why didn’t you phone the police? It could have been a burglar or a tramp.’

She shrugged. ‘I’m not a complete wimp, and I’m used to all sorts of people – I had no choice living in that flat – and let’s be honest there’s not much to steal, is there?’

‘Phoning the police doesn’t mean you’re a wimp. You are on your own living in this huge house in the middle of nowhere. Phoning the police is the sensible thing to do. Or you could have phoned me. I would have come over.’

‘I did think about it – ringing the police and you – but the police would have looked me up and seen that I’d been previously arrested for drunk driving. Then they’d have thought I’d had one too many glasses of wine and not take me seriously anyway. I’m sure they have far more important things to do. I didn’t ring you because I didn’t want to disturb you so late. That is way beyond the call of duty as my project manager and builder.’

‘What about my being your friend? I’ve known you a long time, Kate. I’d like to think that we weren’t just in a business relationship.’

He wanted to kick himself. What was wrong with him this morning? He didn’t know whether it was the sight of her sitting there, looking as sexy as hell, or the concerned big brother coming out in him, but he clearly wasn’t thinking straight. She pushed her uneaten toast to one side and stood up.

‘Thanks for my breakfast. I better go and get dressed.’

He watched her leave then stood up himself. He needed to get cracking, otherwise he was going to end up running after her and saying something he might regret later, when he was at home thinking about everything.

This was none of his business. By the comments she’d made Kate had made that quite clear. She didn’t think of him as a close friend. If she had she would have called him last night and she hadn’t, which hurt him, but he’d get over it. From now on he would keep it purely professional: no flirting, laughing or joking. At least the job would get done quicker. The harder he worked the less time he’d have to think about her and her situation – or so he hoped. He put the mugs and teapot in the sink then went out to his van.

***

Last night seemed so far away now and Kate had been dreaming about the last time she’d taken her girls shopping. Amy had come with them and they’d done the full works: Trafford Centre, Nando’s for lunch. Back then she had never imagined how shitty her life was going to turn less than three months later.

She noticed the empty vodka bottle was now in the bin. She needed to get a grip and sort her life out. Ollie was a kind, good-looking, in fact very attractive man, but he was also a married man and there was no way she was going to go there – no matter how lonely or scared she was or how much her hormones were telling her to.

5 January 1933

Sister Agnes had not slept more than a couple of hours. She had spent the whole night freezing cold and having the most horrific nightmares where she was burning in the depths of hell. The pain as the searing heat crackled and blistered her skin had almost been too much to bear, and at one point she’d woken up in a cold sweat – breathless – only to drift off and continue with the same dream.

Not only had she been there, but so had Edith and Mary. Mary had been doing the most sinful of things with a half-man half-beast creature and Agnes hadn’t been able to look away because she was shackled by her arms to a rough stone wall.

As she opened her eyes and saw the murky, grey light filtering through the window she breathed out a huge sigh of relief. Never had she had such impure thoughts – and at her age, it was wrong. She would be praying extra hard for her soul at morning prayers today. She wondered why she had dreamt about such depraved filth.

After getting out of bed she washed, dressed, took her rosary beads from the dressing table and placed them around her neck. Instantly she felt better, purer, and closer to God and nature. She would sleep with them on tonight if it meant she wouldn’t have such terrible dreams. The house was quiet. Everyone else must still be asleep, which was good. It gave her a chance to make a pot of tea and gather her thoughts.

It would also give her the chance to decide what to do about Lilith. The woman couldn’t stay here any longer. There was something about her that was off kilter. Agnes never judged anyone on face value, but the sneaky grins and smirks whilst Lilith was relaying her tale of woe last night had stayed with her. Who in their right mind would smirk about being beaten and forced to do terrible things?

As she sipped her tea she felt a shadow fall over the kitchen door and turned to see Lilith standing there, watching her. She was so surprised because she’d never heard the woman leave her bedroom or come down the stairs that she spilt the hot liquid all over herself, scalding her arm. Lilith rushed to the sink and picked up a dishcloth. After running it under the cold water tap she pressed it against Agnes’s arm. Her touch made Agnes jump once more. The woman’s fingers were colder than slivers of ice if that was possible.

‘Have you hurt yourself badly, sister?’

Agnes shook her head.

‘Did I give you a fright? I’m sorry about that. I’ve always been an early riser. I hate lying in bed wasting the day when there’s so much to do, although I do hate the sunlight. My skin is so fair that I can’t go out in it. Don’t you agree? Why don’t you run your arm under the cold water? I’ll clean this mess up and then make us a lovely fresh pot of tea.’

Agnes pushed herself up from the chair and crossed to the sink. Running the cold water tap, she held her arm underneath it. The whole time she watched Lilith as she cleaned the spilt liquid from the table, then set about getting fresh teabags from the cupboard along with clean cups. How did she know where everything was? Last night she had been sitting sniffling and crying, too upset to watch them making a pot of tea. Once again the feeling that Lilith was not what she seemed washed over Agnes.

When the teapot was on the table along with clean cups, Agnes turned the tap off and took a clean tea towel from the wooden rail to wrap around her arm, blotting it dry. She forced herself to sit back down. The back of her throat felt parched she was so thirsty. Lilith began to pour fresh cups of tea and passed one to her.

‘Now you be careful, Sister Agnes. We don’t want you burning yourself again, do we. There is nothing worse than the lingering slow burn of hot liquid on such delicate skin.’

Agnes took the teacup and blew on it. She hoped that her trembling hands wouldn’t betray her and spill this one all over. She prayed even harder that Lilith wouldn’t notice the trembling was in fact pure fear and would put it down to old age.

‘Thank you, dear, that’s very kind of you. I didn’t sleep very well last night. I think I’m still half asleep.’

Lilith smiled, making the skin on the back of Agnes’s neck crawl. Later on that night she would describe to Father Patrick that she thought being stared at by Lilith was how it must feel to be a fly trapped in a spider’s web.

‘I have to say I’m very fortunate that I stumbled across this place last night. I thought I was going to freeze to death out there – it was so cold. Thank you so much for giving me permission to come in.’

She nodded at Agnes as she spoke. Agnes’s head was spinning. What was this about? Almost every sentence Lilith said seemed to have a hidden meaning to it. Or was that just her taking everything and twisting it to fit her mindset? At a loss for words, she forced herself to smile at Lilith. Thank you for giving me permission to come in. Agnes felt as if her brain was screaming at her, warning her, only she couldn’t work out what her subconscious was trying to tell her. The sound of heavy footsteps running down the stairs broke the awkward silence between the two women as Sister Edith breezed in.

‘Good morning, Mother Superior, how are you today?’ She looked down at the white linen tea towel wrapped around Agnes’s arm and gasped.

‘Oh my goodness, what’s wrong? Have you hurt yourself?’

‘It was just an accident, Edith – my own silly fault. Good morning, I trust you slept well?’

‘Do you want me to take a look at it?’

Agnes shook her head. She didn’t want Lilith looking at it again and giving her an excuse to get too close to her. ‘No it’s fine; it’s nothing honestly.’

‘I did sleep well, but I had the strangest dreams. To be honest I can’t believe it’s morning already. The night passed by so fast I feel as if I haven’t been to bed.’ Edith smiled at Lilith then busied herself making breakfast for everyone. By the time the porridge was bubbling on the stove and the thick crusty bread had been sliced ready to spread with butter and jam, Sister Mary still hadn’t appeared and Agnes stood up.

‘If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I’ll just go and see if Mary is okay. It’s not like her to oversleep when you’re banging around in the kitchen, Edith. I’ll be back down shortly. Please don’t wait for me – just tuck in.’

Agnes would normally make all three of them say prayers before they ate, but for some reason the thought of praying in front of that woman made her feel queasy. Today she would do her praying to God in private as far away as possible from Lilith. She went upstairs and knocked on Mary’s door. There was no reply.

‘Mary, is everything okay? Do you need anything? Are you ill?’

There was no sound from inside the room. Agnes put her ear against the heavy wooden door to listen. There was no movement and Mary – who was a heavy sleeper and snored quite loudly, much to Edith’s annoyance – wasn’t making any noise whatsoever.

Cold tendrils of fear began to creep up Agnes’s spine. She tried the door handle; it was locked. So Mary had been worried enough last night that she’d had to lock her bedroom door as well. That made two of them. She would take Edith to one side and ask her if she had done the same. Agnes lifted her hand and knocked on the door. Still there was no movement from inside the room. She knocked again, much harder this time and shouted, ‘Mary!’

A hand on her shoulder made her jump and Agnes turned to see Edith standing there.

‘Come on, Mary, what did you do last night after we all went to bed? Did you have a go at the cooking sherry again? Open the door and come get your breakfast.’

***

Edith smiled at Agnes, expecting Mary to tell her to bugger off any second.

The last time they hadn’t been able to rouse Mary, she had finished off half a bottle of whisky Father Patrick had left behind. Oh it had been funny to watch Mary walking around with her head in her hands and being sick every time someone mentioned food the day after. Agnes didn’t like them to be mean to each other, but it was only a bit of a laugh. Edith knocked much harder than the older woman ever could. She stopped briefly then began to hammer on the door with her fist.

Agnes reached out her hand to stop her. ‘Something’s wrong. We need to get into that room. Have you got a spare key?’

Edith shook her head. ‘No, sorry. I should have told you when it happened. I misplaced the key ring you gave me last year with all the spares on and seeing as how we don’t normally lock our doors, I didn’t think it really mattered that much.’

‘Edith, what are you like? How are we going to get in there now? I’ll have to phone Father Patrick or Constable Crosby to come and break the door open.’

***

Agnes turned to see Lilith standing at the top of the stairs watching them and she shivered.

‘Is everything all right, ladies? What’s the matter with Sister Mary?’

Agnes ignored her and squeezed past her to go downstairs. As she did a faint whiff of something gone off filled her nostrils. Where was that smell coming from? It smelt like meat that had been left too long and was on the turn. She left Edith knocking on Mary’s door and Lilith standing watching. She picked up the phone and dialled Constable Crosby. The relief when he answered the phone almost made her cry.

‘It’s Sister Agnes from the convent. Please can you come as quickly as possible? We can’t get into Sister Mary’s room and she isn’t answering anyone. We’ve knocked ever so hard and shouted very loudly. I’m afraid she’s taken ill.’

‘I’m on my way, Agnes.’

She put the heavy receiver down. It really was most unlike Mary to lock her door. As she went back upstairs, Lilith was now seated on the top step picking at her long, deep red painted fingernails.

‘Is there anything you want me to do?’

Leave! screamed a voice inside Agnes’s mind, although she would never say that. She was far too polite and that wouldn’t be a very charitable thing to do. She knew that Father Patrick would be disappointed in her lack of empathy for a fellow human being.

‘No, thank you, I don’t believe there is. Can I ask how long will you be staying here, Lilith? Do you have family or friends you can stop with?’

The words came out before she could stop herself. A loud knock on the front door broke the interaction between the two women. Agnes went downstairs to let a rather red-faced Constable Crosby inside.

‘By heck it’s cold out there, Agnes. I didn’t think the patrol car was going to start. Have you woken Mary up yet?’