Beyond Here Lies Nothing (The Concrete Grove Trilogy) by Gary McMahon Read Free Book Online Page B

darkness.
    He shut the door on the dreadful image and went to the next door along the landing. It was the bathroom. He locked the door and sat down on the toilet, trying to clear his mind. But all he could think of – and all he could see, like a flash against his retina – was the girl’s small, white face and those crudely drawn eyes.
    He stood and lifted the toilet lid, took a piss and stared at the clean white tiles above the cistern. As he washed his hands, he tried not to meet his own eyes in the mirror above the sink. He knew that they would look haunted, just as this house was haunted by something that was not immediately apparent – a quiet spectre, a ghost of sadness and decay. He wasn’t afraid, he was mournful. The death of this child – if she even was dead, and not simply being held somewhere by another haunted and tormented soul – permeated the bricks and the mortar, the very fabric of the building in which he stood. Her absence was like a physical thing, taking up space that it did not own.
    He dried his hands on a frayed towel and left the room, shutting the door and walking back to Abby’s room. He paused outside the door and listened, trying to make out if she had woken or if she was still sleeping. There was no sound from behind the door, so he opened it and went inside.
    Abby was in the same position she’d been in when he left the room. She hadn’t moved, not even a fraction, as far as he could tell.
    “Abby?”
    There was no answer. Either she was fast asleep or faking it. He wasn’t sure which of these options he preferred.
    He walked over to the bed and slipped beneath the covers, pulling them down to his waist. He was still warm, despite the chilling sight he’d stumbled across in the second bedroom. He turned over onto his side and stared at the base of Abby’s neck, where the bone was most prominent. She had a small tattoo on her right shoulder; her daughter’s name in a fine, looping script. He moved closer and kissed the opposite shoulder softly, just allowing his lips to rest there for a moment. Her skin was warm and clammy. The thin layer of sweat there tasted of smoke and Chardonnay.

CHAPTER SIX
     
     
    M ARC WOKE LATE the following morning. His head was aching and his hands felt numb, as if he’d been punching walls in the night. He sat up in bed, resting his head against the pillows, and was glad that Abby was not lying next to him. He tried to clear his head. A patch of sunlight moved across the floor towards the bed, as if hunting him. He glanced at the window, and saw that it was bright outside. The day looked new, as if it might turn into something glorious.
    He smelled frying bacon and his stomach began to twist and grumble. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. They’d not got around to ordering takeaway last night and he’d consumed a lot more alcohol than he was used to.
    He rubbed his head, clawed at his cheek with his bitten fingernails, feeling the stubble there.
    Sounds drifted up the stairs and into the room, through the open door. The radio was playing and Abby was humming along to the tune.
    Marc got out of bed and slipped into his clothes. He didn’t want to have a shower; it would be best if he just ate and ran, leaving the woman downstairs to come to her own conclusions about last night. He remembered the ferocity of their lovemaking, as if the act of sex had stripped away her grief for as long as it took her to come. He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about Abby, and even less sure regarding how she might feel about him. She gave little away; her defences were impressive.
    He left the room and walked towards the bathroom, glancing over at the other door – the one that led to the absent child’s room, where that bizarre structure was hidden. He tried not to think about it and went into the bathroom. He opened the cupboard door and found a spare toothbrush still in its wrapper. Next to it, on the shelf, there was a packet of cheap men’s