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

He smiled at her then began to reverse, not even answering. Strange young man, she thought to herself. Then again you didn’t get many men his age wanting to become priests, did you? She stood watching as he drove away in a plume of black exhaust fumes.

The sun was beginning to set in the sky and she wondered how late Ollie would stay tonight. She wished he would stay here all night. How nice would it be to know he was there? Hell she wanted him to stay in her bed. She wanted to make love to him then lie next to him, just knowing that he was there. It had been so long since she’d had anyone to snuggle up with. Martin had never been the snuggling type.

Christ, she needed to stop comparing him with the useless idiot who was her soon-to-be ex-husband. Ollie was nothing like him. There was no comparing the pair of them. She let out a loud sigh. Instead she would spend tonight on her own, trying not to think of what Joe had been talking about, scaring her half to death. She would lock herself in her room with her earphones in listening to music or watching a nice, romantic film until she fell asleep and couldn’t hear any footsteps or smell old leather or burning flesh. Then she would wake up in the morning, ready to start the day again. Groundhog Day had nothing on the way her life was going at the moment.

5 January 1933

Agnes towel-dried herself, relieved to be rid of the coppery smell of Mary’s blood. Her hands still smelt faintly of bleach. She didn’t mind that smell so much; at least it was clean. She thought about going to church to pray for Mary. It was dark outside now and the ground was treacherous with black ice. She would never make it across the river. The stepping stones would be like walking on ice. Instead she decided to go the prayer room downstairs and spend the next hour praying for Mary’s soul. By the time she’d done that her appetite might have returned and Father Patrick should be back.

Agnes had managed almost her whole life without a man to take care of her, but tonight it was what she needed, what they all needed. A strong male presence might be enough to deter Lilith from whatever her plans were; she just hoped that Patrick would see through the woman’s sob story. The more she thought about it the more she was convinced Lilith wasn’t who she seemed. The woman scared her, but Agnes wouldn’t let her see that. She wasn’t stupid.

Dressing in a warm jumper and slacks, she went downstairs to find Edith and see if she wanted to come and pray with her. After checking the kitchen, front room, library and dining room she finally found her huddled by the fire in the parlour, her head bent close to Lilith’s. They were talking in hushed tones and didn’t notice her walk into the room. She coughed and Edith jumped away from Lilith as if she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t.

‘Sister Edith, I think you and I should go to the prayer room and pray for Sister Mary’s soul.’

Edith stood up, her cheeks burning. ‘Of course, Mother Superior.’

Edith scurried out of the room, not before turning to look at Lilith and smile. Agnes felt every hair on the back of her neck stand on end. What had they been whispering about and why the secrecy? If Agnes wasn’t wrong, Edith’s cheeks were flushed as if she’d been caught doing something forbidden. Agnes led the way to the prayer room and opened the door for Edith, who darted inside.

‘Is everything okay, Edith? You looked a little perturbed back there when I walked in. Is there anything you would like to tell me?’

‘Yes, Agnes; no I mean. Everything’s fine. We were just discussing Lilith’s ex-husband. We didn’t want to upset you any further than you already are. He’s a terrible man – so violent and so sadistic towards poor Lilith. I can’t believe she’s not dead because of him.’

‘You do know you can talk to me about anything, don’t you? I might look old and past it, but I did have a relatively normal life until it kicked me to the gutter and I turned to God. I’m not just a frail, old maid.’

‘Of course I do, Agnes, and I don’t think that at all. Thank you. I will if I need to.’

But Agnes couldn’t push it out of her mind. Edith was the most impressionable of them all, and she wanted to know what that woman had been whispering to her about – more than ever.

***

Edith could feel her cheeks burning because Lilith had been talking about sex – something that she could never in a million years discuss with Agnes. Something that she’d never discussed with anyone. Lilith led such an exciting life. She had been telling Edith how it felt to kiss another woman and Edith had been enthralled. It had made her skin tingle just thinking about it. The whole reason she had joined the convent was because of her fascination with women.

Of course she’d never acted on her feelings. Her parents would never have forgiven her if she had. She would love to know how it felt to kiss and do immoral things with another woman. She had pretty much managed to stop thinking about it the last twelve months, but Lilith had stirred something in her tonight and she had a warm, tingly feeling between her legs. She wondered what it would be like if Lilith – with her small, slender hands and long, red painted nails – was to touch her between there.

‘Edith.’

Edith jumped and looked to see Agnes’s outstretched hand. She couldn’t concentrate. This was terrible. She tried to think about poor Mary and her body, which had been ripped into pieces, but she couldn’t get past the thought of Lilith’s small, perfectly formed mouth. How would it would feel just once to press her lips against it and push her tongue inside?

‘Sorry, I just can’t concentrate. I feel so bad about poor Mary and I can’t settle.’

‘Very well, you can go and do what you like. Maybe you should go to bed, have an early night. I’ll pray for us both and Mary.’

‘Thank you, Mother Superior, I think I’ll do just that.’

Edith turned to leave and as her fingers reached the doorknob, Agnes turned to look at her.

‘Oh and, Edith, I wouldn’t get too close to Lilith. I don’t trust her and I don’t know why she’s still here. Surely she has family or friends she can go and stay with? Has she mentioned anyone to you?’

Edith shook her head. She couldn’t tell Agnes what she’d been thinking. That she wanted to do nothing more than get close to Lilith. Her cheeks flamed bright red at the thought and she rushed from the room. Her head down, she ran up the stairs and along the hall to the very last door at the end of the long corridor where her bedroom and sanctuary was. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. Breathless, she opened the door and slammed it shut, then turned the key in the lock.

She gasped as she turned around to see Lilith lying on her bed, completely naked. Edith wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. Instead she crossed the room, shedding her own clothes until she was as naked as Lilith, who patted the empty side of the bed next to her. Edith climbed in. Her last thoughts before she touched Lilith’s pale, white skin was God forgive me for being weak. I’m so sorry.

***

Agnes prayed long and hard. She heard the front door slam as Patrick came in, but still carried on praying. Edith was acting strange. She had no idea where that woman was – probably in her room, or so Agnes hoped. It seemed that everyone had taken to meek and mild Lilith and fallen under her spell, except for her. Agnes felt repulsion fill her entire body every time she looked at her.

When she finally finished she stood up and kissed the cross around her neck, then she went to the kitchen where she found Patrick removing the emergency bottle of brandy from the back of the cupboard. She sat down, crossing her hands on her lap. He put the bottle and two glasses down onto the table. She watched as he poured both himself and her a drink. She liked Patrick. He didn’t expect anyone to wait on him hand and foot like the last vicar who’d rarely made the effort to visit the nuns. When he’d finished he sat down and smiled at her.

‘Agnes, can I be frank with you?’

She nodded.

‘You look tired; today has been a very long day. How are you?’

She thought about saying the usual: ‘Oh I’m fine, Father. I’ll be right as rain tomorrow,’ only she couldn’t. Her shoulders felt so heavy with the physical weight of sorrow for Mary that she didn’t know where to start. Her eyes were stinging with unshed tears that were threatening to spill: tears of sorrow, pain and loss. Not to mention horror at what had happened.

‘The truth, Patrick, is I don’t know. I feel as if something has changed in this house and I know I sound like a crazy old woman, but I’m not. I’m still the same as I was before I went to bed last night. I haven’t lost my mind even though I feel as if I have. Something is wrong. I can feel it in the air and I know how ridiculous I sound because I have no idea what it is or what to do.’

‘What do you mean something has changed in the house?’

She leant in close to him. ‘The atmosphere, can you not feel it?’

He shook his head. Agnes felt a wave of anger wash over her. This was no good. He didn’t see or feel anything wrong. She could. It felt to her as if the house had come alive, as if it were some giant, slumbering beast that had slowly woken up after a very long time. If she strained her ears she was convinced she could hear its heartbeat, very faint, but it was there: a steady thud, thud, thud, which seemed to reverberate throughout the entire house.

‘Today has been a very long one. We’ve all had a huge shock. What happened to Mary? Well I have no idea, God rest her soul. I’m sure he’s taken her into his arms and she’s at peace now. I think perhaps you should take yourself to bed and get some rest, Agnes. I’m here. I’ll sleep in the lounge. Don’t worry, I’ll listen out and if you need anything then shout and I’ll be there.’

‘Yes, Father, thank you.’

She pushed her brandy away. The sick feeling in the pit of her stomach made it churn at the thought of drinking any more of the sweet liquid. As she stood she saw Mary’s reflection staring back at her from the kitchen window. Her head hung limply to one side and her arm was missing. Blood was dripping from her mouth and the front of her nightdress was covered in the bright red liquid.

The room began to swim and Agnes heard the sound of a chair being scraped back against the parquet floor. A strong pair of arms caught hold of her before she fell to the ground; Patrick scooped her up and carried her upstairs to her bedroom as if she were no heavier than a feather. He laid her on the bed and stepped back.

‘Agnes, should I phone for the doctor?’

‘No, thank you; I think you’re right, Patrick. I’m very tired and I haven’t eaten much today. I’m sure I’ll feel better in the morning.’

She watched him leave, closing the door behind him. As soon as her legs felt strong enough to carry her weight she would lock it, then drag her heavy chest of drawers across to put in front of it. What good that would do was beyond her, but it would make her feel better. A voice whispered in her ear: It didn’t help poor Mary, did it? She’s still here, stuck in this house with nowhere to go. Agnes could no longer keep her eyes open and she closed them, sinking down into a deep sleep. So deep that she didn’t make it off the bed to lock her door.

Chapter Five

Kate watched Ethan and Jack drive away in Ethan’s battered Corsa. Ollie was still working upstairs and she was so glad. She had been unsettled all day. It had felt as if someone was watching her and she’d kept turning around every few minutes to be greeted by empty space. As she’d crossed the hall she saw a dark shadow at the top of the stairs. Fear had filled her mind and she opened her mouth to scream, but it had disappeared leaving her questioning herself.

She had no idea what was going on. She was blaming Joe and his talk of all things spooky. Going back into the kitchen, she filled a pan with water and put it on the hob to boil. She would make some pasta that was quick and easy. After chopping bacon, garlic, chillies and tomatoes she began to sauté them ready to add to the cooked pasta. Pour over an M & S shop-bought pasta sauce and bake a garlic baguette and hey presto she would look like a gourmet cook. She wouldn’t have to admit to anyone she’d cheated. She took the bottle of Pinot Grigio from the fridge and poured herself a small glass. As she took a sip she felt it begin to work its magic. Her whole body started to relax. Ollie walked in and sniffed the air.

‘Something smells very nice.’

Kate laughed. ‘It’s just some pasta and garlic bread. Would you like some? I mean it’s the least I can offer after crushing your pie at lunchtime.’

He chuckled. ‘It still tasted pretty good though. I don’t want to put you out, Kate. Have you got enough?’

She turned around so he couldn’t see her cheeks flare red. ‘I most definitely have enough for the both of us, but do you need to get home?’

She wanted to ask if Mrs Nealee would have already cooked his tea and be waiting for him to go home, but she didn’t. He was old enough to decide where he wanted to eat and who with. Maybe they weren’t getting on after all.

He shook his head. ‘No, not much to go home to really; not now I’m on my own and besides I will only dream about eating some of your pasta and garlic bread when I get there. So you might as well feed me and put me out of my misery.’

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realise that you and your wife had split up.’

He smiled at her with such sadness in his eyes it made her heart ache for him.

‘I think it would be easier to accept if Ellen had left me for someone else; only she didn’t leave because she wanted to. She passed away last December.’

The shock almost rendered Kate speechless. She’d had no idea. So consumed in her own grief and crappy life, she hadn’t read the newspapers or kept in touch with anyone.

‘I’m so, so sorry to hear that, Ollie. I had no idea.’

‘Don’t be daft; you weren’t to know. It’s not something I’m comfortable talking about openly. It still hurts too much, but I guess you know how that feels – losing Amy. You two were very close, weren’t you?’

She nodded. Her eyes misting up, she turned away as he sat down on one of the chairs and watched as she cooked. ‘Would you like a glass of wine to go with it?’

‘You know I think I would. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a meal cooked for me by a beautiful woman, or a glass of wine.’

He winked at her and she wondered if he was flirting with her. Or was she so obsessed with him that she was taking every single word and twisting it to fit what she wanted it to? She took out another glass and poured him one. Passing it over to him, her fingers brushed his. She jolted back her hand. It felt as if she’d got an electric shock. It must have been static. It was like a small charge of lightning rushing through her veins.

The food was ready so she plated it up and served it, slicing the garlic bread and placing it in the middle of the table. She sat opposite him so she could watch his chiselled, tanned, good-looking face. He was so attractive and she would very much like to get to know him better. He was grieving though, and it was obvious he was still hurting. There was no way she would make the first move. If he wanted her as much as she wanted him then it was down to him. When he was ready, she’d be here. It wasn’t as if she had anywhere else to go. In the meantime, it was nice just to have a friend to lean on again.

He began to talk about how much better the house looked and what needed doing. Before long they were chatting, eating and drinking. He was funny. He made her laugh a lot and she felt so much better with him here. She wondered if he would stay the night. Ollie finished his pasta, mopping up the sauce with the last piece of garlic bread.

‘That was wonderful; thank you, Kate.’

‘You’re welcome. It’s the least I can do. I can’t believe how hard you’ve been working on this place. It really looks so much better. I like that it’s lighter now. It was so dark before. Even though we’ve kept as much of the oak panelling and woodwork as possible, I think the white and pale grey really lighten it up.’

‘Yes, you have good taste. It’s so much easier when the client knows exactly what it is they want the finished project to look like. Well it is for me; it makes my job easier anyway.’ He finished his wine and stood up. ‘I suppose I better get going. I need a soak in a hot bath. My bones are aching a lot more than they did twenty years ago.’

Kate felt her heart sink. She smiled and didn’t let her disappointment show. She wouldn’t let him see how desperate she was, but the thought of being on her own tonight wasn’t one she relished. She walked him to the front door so she could lock up behind him. As they walked through the house to the front hall she smelt a faint whiff of the odour from this morning and sniffed. What was that smell? She’d used garlic to cook with. She’d had the kitchen window open and the extractor fan blasting. It shouldn’t be lingering at the bottom of the stairs.

‘Can you smell that funny smell?’

Ollie looked around and sniffed a few times, then shook his head. ‘The only thing I can smell is fresh plaster, paint and that pasta you made. What can you smell?’

‘I don’t know. It’s like a faint whiff of garlic and burning flesh all rolled into one.’

‘Nice. Nope – I don’t really know what burning flesh smells like to be honest, though.’

She started to laugh, not wanting him to think she was drunk and delusional. ‘It must be the garlic bread. I did burn it a little.’

He opened the front door and turned to kiss her on the cheek. ‘Thank you again. It was nice eating a meal like a civilised person. I could get used to it. I’ll see you tomorrow and if you need me for anything before the morning don’t hesitate to ring. I mean it, Kate, if you get worried or hear noises phone the police then ring me. Promise?’

‘I promise; thanks, Ollie. See you tomorrow.’

She shut the door and turned the lock, afraid that if she watched him drive away she would be too scared to go back inside on her own. His engine started and she heard the sound of his tyres on the gravel as he drove away. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Forcing herself to be brave, she decided to check the entire house just to make sure there was no one in it before she locked herself into her makeshift bedroom for the night.

Kate walked back to the kitchen and the drawer where she kept the huge torch Ollie had left there for her in case of a power cut; then she locked the back door and began to make her way into each room, checking they were secure. She got to the very last room downstairs and opened the door. As she flicked the light switch there was a bang as the bulb exploded and she swore to herself. Turning on the torch she shone it around the empty room. Satisfied there was no one in there, she pulled the door shut.

As she made her way upstairs she could still smell whatever the odour was from before. She forced herself to carry on. She was tired and sad that Ollie had actually driven away. Maybe she should have asked him to stop. Feeling tetchy and more than a little bit angry she ran to the top of the stairs to check each room upstairs. The first two were fine, so was the third but as she got to the fourth one a feeling of dread began to settle over her. Man up, Kate, it’s just a big, old, empty house. That’s it, nothing more. You’re spooking yourself. This is your dream house, so check the rooms, then you can get to bed, on your own once again.

She tutted out loud. Sometimes she wished she could turn off the internal voices in her head. Grabbing the handle she twisted the knob and threw the door open. Flicking on the light switch she grinned to herself. The room was empty. It smelt of fresh paint and the window was open a small gap. She crossed the room to pull it shut. She didn’t want the wind to pick up in the night and cause any draughts or banging doors.

As she was trying to tug down the heavy wooden frame, she didn’t see the figure dressed in a nun’s habit watching her from the doorway. She did, however, get a creeping sensation on the back of her neck that someone was behind her and her heart began to race. Kate whipped her head around, but the doorway was empty. She managed to slam the window down so loud the noise echoed around the room. Then she turned and walked back out, switching off the light and closing the door behind her.

As she walked out onto the landing a cold chill went right through her entire body, as if she’d just walked through a cold spot. She shook her head. No, it felt like you walked through a ghost. She shuddered. The rest of the bedroom doors were closed. Suddenly she didn’t feel so brave. Her anger at Ollie for leaving her and the strange feeling of being watched unsettled her. She was torn. Did she finish checking the rooms or did she go down to the safety of her bedroom where she felt comfortable, cocooned in her own little world and surrounded by the few things she owned that meant something to her?

A muffled thud echoed around the hall, making her jump. As she turned in the direction where it came from, a vision of a beautiful, petite, dark-haired woman flashed through her mind. She was staring straight at her. The woman smiled and whispered, ‘Hello, Kate, welcome to my world.’ Then she was gone and Kate knew that her name was Lilith. The word filled her mind, silently screaming a warning to her. The door from the room where she’d heard the noises earlier and where that smell had come from was ajar. How had that happened? Or more importantly who had opened it? Because it had been shut seconds ago.

Kate wasn’t a fool or particularly brave, but she wanted to know what was going on. This was her house. Every penny she had was being ploughed into renovating it. If it was something to do with Martin, as Ollie suspected, then she wanted to know. If only she had cameras. She would ask Ollie tomorrow if they could hurry them up somehow.

Can you really go downstairs, knowing that someone is up here? Are you going to sleep soundly when anyone could be prowling around? She knew that she would, but only in an alcohol-induced haze and she didn’t want that. She wanted to get her life back together without relying on alcohol. Her feet made the decision for her and began striding towards the door. She held the torch up to use as a weapon in case she needed to defend herself.

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