Enter the Dead: A Supernatural Thriller by Mark White Page A

ones: How serious was Sarah’s relationship
with Tom? Did she love him? Did she want to be with him? Was it really over
between Tom and her, or was that just another lie? How could he possibly be
expected to believe anything she said after four years of deception? And
then there were the less obvious – but no less important - pride-related
questions, such as was Tom a better lover? What was so special about him? Was
he hung like a racehorse? (Sam wasn’t sure he needed the answer to that
last one).
    He could phone her, but
what would be the point? She’d only confuse him even more; answers would lead
to further questions, until eventually he would end up losing his temper and
hanging up on her. No, he wasn’t ready yet. He needed more time.
    His mother was standing
on the platform waiting for him at the station, her lined face as stern-looking
as ever. She was battling with an umbrella and staring straight ahead,
seemingly oblivious to the torrential rain and bitter wind that swept along the
tracks, whipping up litter and old newspapers. Sam grimaced: London may only
have been three hundred miles south of Durham, but the weather was so much
harsher up north. Janice Railton was used to it, having known nothing else, but
Sam knew that as soon as he stepped off that train he would feel Jack Frost
biting at him and tearing at his flesh like a frenzied madman.
    In spite of the hostile
weather, Sam smiled warmly as he stepped down from the train and looked at his
mother. Her face lit up when she saw him and she held out her arms to receive him
as he hurried across the platform. They spoke over the phone at least once a
week, but it had been more than six months since his previous visit, which was
far longer than usual.
    ‘Hello stranger,’ she
said, reluctant to release him from her arms. ‘I thought you’d forgotten about
your old mother.’
    ‘As if,’ Sam replied,
feeling her love as they held each other. And then, like a young child being
cradled by its mother, he began to cry.
    ‘Come on,’ she said,
taking his arm and leading him towards the car park. ‘Let’s go home.’
     
    Thirty
minutes later they were sat together in the front room on a small sofa that
faced a welcoming gas fire; its blue and orange flames drawing out the chill
and replacing it with tiredness and warmth. He’d hardly said a word in the car,
but now, as he cradled a cup of hot chocolate in his hands and stared at the
fire, he felt ready to tell Janice the full story. He spared none of the details
– their relationship was such that he didn’t need to – and by the time he’d
finished talking she knew everything there was to know.
    ‘You know,’ Janice said,
‘I honestly didn’t think Sarah was capable of doing something like that to you.
Tom, maybe – I never liked that man – but Sarah? I never saw her as the
cheating type; never in a month of Sundays. So much for mother’s intuition.’
    ‘You weren’t the only
who didn’t see it coming.’
    ‘Did you honestly have
no idea? I mean…four years, Sam. How did she manage to hide it from you for so
long?’
    ‘I don’t know.’
    ‘Surely you must have
sensed that something wasn’t right. I mean, she must have told you that she was
unhappy?’
    ‘What do you mean,
unhappy?’
    ‘Come on, Sam. You
don’t cheat on your husband for that long if everything’s rosy in the marriage
garden. Surely there were signs?’
    ‘Well, if there were, I
didn’t see them. She could be a bit cold sometimes, a bit distant, but she’s
always been like that. She never actually told me she was unhappy, and not once
did she hint that there was something wrong with our marriage. At least I don’t
think she did.’
    ‘I see,’ Janice said,
shaking her head. ‘So, what are you going to do now?’
    ‘Can I stay with here
with you?’
    ‘Of course you can, but
I’m afraid that’s only a sticking plaster. You can’t hide away forever.’
    ‘I know, but I need to
get my head