The Goat's Head Read online

  Title Page

  THE GOAT’S HEAD

  by

  Lex Sinclair

  Publisher Information

  This edition published in 2014 by

  Acorn Books

  www.acornbooks.co.uk

  Converted and distributed by

  Andrews UK Limited

  www.andrewsuk.com

  Copyright © 2014 Lex Sinclair

  The right of Lex Sinclair to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Quotes

  “In every person, there is a doer and a devil. With ever passing days, the doer dies and a devil has to rise.”

  - Santosh Kalwar

  “The devil has not vanished simply because people refuse to believe he exists, no more than God has…”

  - E.A. Bucchianeri, Brushstrokes of a Gladfly

  Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.

  - Exodus 22:18

  1.

  October 31 1985

  Sofie Lackberg retired to the changing rooms, brow soaked in perspiration, chest rising and falling faster than usual and lowered herself on the wooden bench in front of her locker. Once she got out of her spandex and showered she’d return back to her dormitory and hit the books for another three hours before an hour TV then hitting the hay.

  Her aerobics class never failed to get her heart pumping, following the gym instructor, Karen into numerous exercises that stretched and flexed her firm, lithe twenty-two year old shapely body. Previously, Sofie had taken out a membership in the local gym. However, she always got hit on by the guys, both young and old, until it started becoming harassment. She felt a lot more comfortable in her only-females aerobics class. Sofie wasn’t interested in boys; she was solely intent on getting her law degree.

  The other women in her class often commented highly on her Swedish accent, which they said had a “soft lilt” that made everything she said have a hypnotic effect. She remembered blushing madly about that, embarrassed and contented.

  She got dressed into her all-pink tracksuit, dried her hair, zipped her bag up and then headed out into the winding corridor, sipping her energy drink when she slowed to a stop alongside the notice board and saw a pink flyer reading: Care Assistant Wanted! No experience required. Applicant must be female and like elderly people to aid them in their chores, give them their medication and sleep over on the 5 & 6 November. Call 1991429035. Address (local area) will only be given to successful applicant.

  Aware that the only job opportunities she’d had since coming to the U.K. a year ago was temporary job for the Christmas period at a retail store, Sofie’s studies prevented her from committing to a permanent occupation. Nevertheless, she - like every other college and university student around the world - could use the extra cash. Furthermore, the job didn’t require any previous experience and was for only two days. She supposed she could take her work with her and study while she took care of the old people or person.

  Sofie pulled a flyer off the pin and took it with her. She walked a little further down the corridor until she sees a phone kiosk against the far wall. Taking a seat in the reception area, the young woman checked her purse for loose change and found an ample amount to use the payphone. No time like the present.

  Holding the flyer in her right hand, Sofie dialled carefully with her left, tucking the receiver between the side of her head and her shoulder. She took another sip of her drink when she heard the familiar dialling tone and the monotone ringing of the number she’s just called and waits nervously for an answer.

  ‘Yes?’ a hoarse, nonetheless strong voice answered.

  ‘Oh, hi.’ Sofie paused for a second before speaking more clearly. ‘I’m calling about the care assistant job advertised.’

  ‘Oh, please forgive me. I almost forgot about that. You see, we don’t get my replies from the flyers. What would you like to know, my dear?’ The voice of the woman on the other end of the phone had lost its initial brusqueness and became soft, sweet.

  Sofie wanted clarification on what the flyer said about not needing any experience and the dates involved and what the job entailed precisely.

  ‘You’ll be looking after my parents. You see my husband’s flight is not arriving until late in the evening at Heathrow and I shall be picking him up. Mummy and Daddy are not as young and as able-bodied as they used to be and I’m afraid a six hour drive in the car would be too much for them to bear. They can get about the house themselves quite well, except when going up and down the staircase. And if I left them alone they’d forget to take their medication. Also they struggle with opening their bottle caps and making themselves food.

  ‘All you have to do is warm their food in the microwave, give them their pills and make sure they get to bed at a sensible hour and be present during the night in case they need to go to the bathroom, that sort of thing.’

  A long pause followed.

  ‘Are you still there, dear?’

  ‘Yes. Sorry,’ Sofie said.

  ‘Are you still interested?’

  Sofie hesitated before asking the next question. ‘How much would I get paid, if I choose to do this?’

  ‘Approximately one hundred and fifty pounds,’ the woman said. ‘Money is not an option, to a certain degree. If I know you’re here it’ll remove a big burden from my shoulders.’

  Sofie could hardly believe her ears when she heard the amount, but managed to conceal her incredulity. ‘May I bring some of my course books with me? I’m a law student you see.’

  ‘Why, of course, darlin’. That’s no trouble whatsoever. My parents are quite happy to sit in front of the TV for the evening. They just require some help doing physical things, as I’ve already mentioned.’

  ‘Then, unless you have anyone else to interview for the position, I’ll be more than happy to do it,’ Sofie said, unable to repress a broad smile.

  On the 5 November, Sofie and Janice (a fellow student) drove out to the countryside, along the meandering road. Janice reduced her speed considerably due to the blind spots, afraid that another oncoming vehicle would drive head-on into her Fiat or cause her to swerve off the road and into one of the innumerable trees standing sentinel on either side, enclosing them, blocking out the diminishing daylight.

  ‘Still can’t believe how lucky your are,’ Janice said for the umpteenth time.

  Sofie shrugged. ‘When I get paid, I’ll give you some money towards the petrol.’

  ‘I didn’t mean that. I just meant one hundred and fifty pound for a single night’s work. Well, not even that, really.’ She fell silent for a moment, shaking her head in disbelief. Then said: ‘Don’t you think it’s a little weird, though?’

  ‘No. She’s just in desperate need, that’s all.’

  ‘Yeah, but her parents should have care workers come out to the house all the time.’

  ‘Margaret looks after her parents by herself.’

  Janice cornered a sharp bend, craned her head past the field where two brown horses stared at them an
d took her foot off the accelerator when she saw a black, wrought-iron fence either side the paved driveway surrounding the two acres of land.

  Both girls gaped at the sight before them and shivered inwardly, too.

  Travelling at roughly five miles per hour, the red Victorian house of gothic architecture with twin turrets; two stories high towered above them giving off a foreboding aura. The sudden reality that Sofie would actually be sleeping over for the night attending to two complete strangers needs rushed at her with the same velocity as a locomotive at top speed.

  ‘Jesus Christ!’ Janice exclaimed, unapologetic for the blasphemous remark.

  The tiny hairs on Sofie’s arms and the nape of her neck stood on end; her skin shrivelled with goose bumps. She was just about to chastise herself for being so impolite to the proprietor of this magnificent house and paying her so handsomely for one night when her eyes bulged at the sight of what appeared to be a demon made out of marble or stone, staring right at her with one paw - or claw (it certainly couldn’t be called a hand) - raised in a mock greeting or farewell gesture.

  ‘What in God’s name is that?’ Janice almost shrieked.

  Sofie exhaled. ‘I don’t know.’

  Janice brought her yellow Fiat to a halt alongside the steps leading to the porch and applied the handbrake. Then she turned to her friend with worry masked all over her countenance. ‘Listen, say the word and I’ll stop at a payphone and you can call this woman and tell her you’ve changed your mind, if you want?’

  ‘No, that’s ridiculous,’ Sofie said, although the thought had crossed her mind. ‘It’s an old house. Magnificent. Beautiful. Not my taste, and not yours, either. But I can’t exactly go judging someone by their home. I haven’t even got a home. What would that make me? A hypocrite.’

  Janice eyed the stone statue facing the front yard looking ominous.

  ‘If their decoration is anything to go by then these people are pretty freaky if you ask me.’

  Sofie deliberated for a couple of minutes.

  ‘So, what’s it gonna be, huh?’

  ‘I need the money... and I said I’d do it. A promise is a promise.’

  Janice leaned over and kissed Sofie on her cheek. ‘You be careful. And if you change your mind or somethin’ is fucked up, don’t hesitate to call me, you hear?’

  Sofie smiled. She gave Janice a quick hug, thanked her for caring about her wellbeing, assured her she’d be fine then grabbed her bag with her pyjama bottoms in, a toothbrush, comb and study books. A wave of fresh air welcomed her to the outside, as she walked around the car and reached the first step.

  Janice blew her a kiss, waved then slowly turned her car around and headed back down the paved driveway until she was out of sight.

  The Swedish born law student turned on her heels, faced the immense structure before her, climbed the steps onto the porch and announced her arrival...

  After the perfunctory greetings were completed, Margaret permitted Sofie to enter the dim interior and closed the front door behind her. The woman with lank, black hair to her shoulders took pleasure in observing the young, gorgeous woman’s amazement at the grand vestibule which was the centre for the typical Victorian layout. The living room was to the right; the dining room to the left where a long pinewood table stretched to the perpendicular window letting in a dazzling ray of sunshine brighten the dimness. The staircase was slightly to the left and on the right were two doors leading into the library and the boudoir.

  It suddenly dawned on Sofie that Margaret and her husband and her parents weren’t short on a few quid. One hundred and fifty pounds was pennies to them. Nevertheless, she still felt uncomfortable with some aspect of the job she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

  Sofie commented on the splendid home and Margaret thanked her sincerely, appreciating the young woman’s admiration whereas another girl wouldn’t care less, simply intent on getting the night over with and getting paid.

  They went to the kitchen towards the rear of the house and Margaret put the kettle, explained whose bottles of antibiotics and medication was for whom then proceeded to pour Sofie a cup of tea before lowering herself on the other side of the dinette table.

  ‘Any questions, my dear?’ Margaret asked. When she smiled the lines on her face intensified increasing her age in that one cordial gesture by at least a decade.

  Sofie racked her brain. ‘No. I don’t think so,’ she said, shaking her head. Then she added: ‘Oh, what time do I give them there medication?’

  ‘The sleeping pills need to be given to them an hour before bedtime so by the time they are in bed they are already feeling sleepy. The antibiotics for Charles - my father - should be given to him on an empty stomach with a four hour gap between. I’ll be leaving shortly. Perhaps four o’clock. They like their food to be done by six or six thirty at the latest. Everything else is written down. But that’s pretty much it.’

  Sofie nodded, scribbling down the instructions on a piece of paper in her diary.

  ‘Do I give your father his antibiotics after breakfast? If so, how long do I leave it?’

  ‘Two hours,’ Margaret replied. ‘Help yourself to the fruit in the bowl and to packets of crisps in cupboard. And I took the liberty of writing down the takeaway numbers for the Chinese and the Dominos Pizza.’

  Thanking her, Sofie took a sip of her tea and then returned it to the coaster.

  ‘Would you like to be paid now or when my husband and I return home?’

  She didn’t want to so impolite. ‘I’ll have it when you get back. One hundred and fifty, right?’

  ‘I’ll make it two hundred for not being impatient, how doest that sound, dear?’

  Taken aback by Margaret’s generosity, Sofie blushed. ‘Oh, really. You don’t have to do that. Honestly.’

  ‘I know, but I want to. Because you’re the perfect girl,’ Margaret said, the words lingering in the ambience.

  2.

  Margaret rolled the sky-blue Jaguar out of the double-garage and down the drive, tooting the horn as Sofie watched the proprietor of the old, creepy-looking house with demon statue in the front yard, raising her hand in the exact same posture as the demon.

  That thing gives me the creeps, she thought.

  She had considered whether or not she ought to have enquired as to why there was a stone demon standing sentinel in front of the house that’s facade looked as though it had been drenched in blood not paint. However, when Margaret smiled and her face appeared to crack with deep vertical lines all the way from the jaw line to the cheekbones, Sofie prudently decided that it was in her best interest to not be so nosy and impolite. It was none of her business what sort of décor Margaret, her husband and her parents’ tastes were. After all, she had an Abba and an I Am Legend poster on her wall in her dormitory.

  Feeling a cold draught on her neck and face, Sofie returned indoors.

  Regardless of the fact that the house had no carpet, all floorboards, Sofie had still opted to take her trainers off. The sound of timber creaking beneath her feet unnerved her. It made sense. Here she was in some strangers’ home tending the needs of two elderly people she’d never met before. She needed to relax otherwise when it was time to turn off all the lights and retire to the spare bedroom down the hall from Charles and Yvonne she’d be on the verge of an anxiety attack, for no apparent reason.

  She headed up the broad staircase and down the hall towards the bathroom to do her business. Once she’d finished she went to the sink and proceeded to wash her hands when she caught a flicker in the reflection of the mirror on the opposite wall behind her.

  Whirling around, inadvertently flicking droplets of warm water onto the tiled floor, Sofie stared at the scarlet coloured wall for the flicker or change of light or whatever it was she’d thought she’d seen. On the verge of continuing to wash her hands, the young woman saw
a small black hole and only now recognised it because she was staring intently at the otherwise featureless wall.

  Tentatively, she edged closer to the black hole in the scarlet wall and saw, much to her horror, that the flicker had to be something or someone moving on the other side, spying on her while she’d been using the bathroom. While she’d been making her toilet. While the bottom half of her had been naked.

  A sound of utter repulsion and creepiness emitted her.

  Either Charles or Yvonne had been spying on her.

  No! That’s not right. Neither Charles nor Yvonne can climb or come down the stairs without assistance. That’s one of the primary reasons she had been hired. Unless...

  Stop it! The other part of her psyche rebuked her.

  Just go downstairs and see if they’re Yvonne is reading in the boudoir and Charles is in the living room watching the football.

  Calming herself back to rationality, Sofie dried her hands on the towel then headed downstairs, noticing that the room behind the bathroom was in fact Charles and Yvonne’s.

  Stop speculating!

  The TV in the living room was blasting. Charles wasn’t quite deaf, although he was hard of hearing. Furthermore, he told Sofie he liked the volume cranked up when a game was on because it created a life-like atmosphere.

  She approached the doorway and craned her head around, seeing Charles sitting on the sofa with his feet on the chaise lounge, turning his head to her. He stared at her and Sofie realised she was doing the same to him. She glimpsed the big TV.

  ‘Good game, is it?’

  ‘Aye, not bad considering our defence are running around like headless chickens - 0-0, half-time in five minutes.’

  Down the hall Sofie wandered until she arrived at the door offering the boudoir where Yvonne out to be. She knocked gently on the timber and then eased the door open. Yvonne rested her hardback book on her lap and looked up at her expectantly.

  ‘Sorry,’ Sofie said, embarrassed.