The Goat's Head Read online

  Yvonne never averted her unblinking gaze as Sofie retraced her steps and closed the door over once more, feeling the heat burning in her cheeks.

  They had been downstairs the whole time she’d been in the bathroom, and yet she couldn’t seem to convince herself that her imagination had played a cruel trick on her in spite of the fact that her mind had admitted to being slightly unnerved by being in the same house as two strangers who weren’t the normal, cordial folk most elderly people she had known.

  Perhaps they don’t like you invading their privacy whenever you feel like it, she thought. Concurring with her consciousness that that was the case, Sofie headed into the library, opened one of her course books and did some much-required revision. She got up and flicked the light switch when darkness surrendered the day into night.

  The pendulum on the antique clock next to the fireplace made an incessant ticking noise that inflicted her mind spoiling any concentration for her studying. Using the mind over matter technique, she put the ticking noise from the clock into the back of her mind, after several minutes of it driving her crazy and managed an hour of reading and writing notes from the text without any interruption whatsoever. Then she exhaled wearily. She rose from the chair and crossed the cosy library and shrieked in fright at the sight of Charles and Yvonne standing directly in front of the doorway, staring fixedly at her.

  ‘Christ! You scared me half to death. What are you both doing standing there like a couple of statues looking at me?’

  The elderly couple didn’t speak for a couple of moments and Sofie believed they weren’t going to either, until Yvonne spoke in a croaky voice, ‘It’s nearly six. We’re hungry, and I usually have my cough medicine and syrup for my throat, if it’s not too much inconvenience.’

  The young woman, still recovering from being startled, chastised herself for forgetting about the sole reason she was here, nodded, apologised to them both and then aided Yvonne down the hall towards the kitchen to give her medicine. Charles shuffled along in their wake.

  ‘Charles would you like your food now or would you prefer to eat it with Yvonne in twenty minutes?’ Sofie asked, helping Yvonne into a straight back wooden chair around the dinette table.

  ‘I’ll eat with my wife... in the living room.’

  ‘No problem. I think you’ve both got microwave lasagne and some microwave fries to go with it. Sounds like a pretty good meal to end the day on if you ask me. I brought some ham and cheese sandwiches with me, but I can save them for the morning. I might order a Chinese. I don’t think your mum would mind if you joined me. Or we can order a large pizza? Whad’ya reckon?’

  The both shook their heads at her.

  ‘Okay. Just a thought, that’s all.’

  She didn’t say what she thought out loud but there was something not quite right with Charles and Yvonne, and not only because they’d made her jump out of her skin. She sensed it earlier and believed it to be a normal uneasiness at staying over a stranger’s house for the night.

  ‘Look, I’m sorry about almost forgetting about your dinner, okay? But you were both doing your own thing, so I went and done some studying. I’m studying for a law degree. Maybe work in a prison or something along those lines anyway...’ she trailed off, seeing that they were evidently not the slightest bit interested in her studies or her sincere apology.

  Sighing inwardly, Sofie grabbed the two bottles of medicine undone the caps, got a spoon and studiously offered it up to Yvonne’s closed mouth. Her dry, cracked lips parted when the spoon neared and as it disappeared into her mouth, the old lady spat the spoonful of medicine into Sofie’s face. She leapt back, scraping the legs of the chair on the tiled flooring and wiped the syrupy liquid out of her face. The spoon clattered to the floor beneath her feet.

  Furious at the elderly woman, Sofie whirled around and faced her.

  ‘What the hell did you do that for?’

  ‘I coughed,’ Yvonne said in an unapologetic tone.

  That might well have been true but Sofie’s intuition insisted that the old woman deliberately spat at her. She leaned her back against the worktop, cleared her head of the anger that had rushed to the surface then bent down and retrieved the spoon, swilled it with hot water from the tap then turned and faced Yvonne.

  ‘Let’s try again, shall we?’ she said in a taut voice.

  This time Yvonne took her medicine from both bottles and even thanked Sofie when she handed her a glass of water to wash it down.

  Sofie aided the elderly couple back into the living room; put the TV on and returned to the kitchen, gritting her teeth; the incident that had recently occurred still playing over and over again on a never-ending loop in vivid detail. Her sense of uneasiness towards the elderly couple increasing the more time she spent with them. They seemed to be shocking her or frightening her from one moment to the next, nothing like the old people or her grandparents back in her native country. What she also found peculiar was that neither Yvonne nor Charles offered any apology; not even obligatory. Old people tended to be loving and warm-spirited. Charles and Yvonne were cold - ice cold.

  Shaking her head, Sofie opened the refrigerator and took out the two lasagne meals and the fries, placed them on the worktop then picked up the bottle of milk in the door, undone the cap and took a thirsty gulp of what she assumed would be cold, fresh milk.

  Her gag-reflex rejected the curdled milk as quickly as she poured it down her throat onto the tiled flooring. Eyes burning, vision blurry, the young woman stood bent at the waist, holding her slender hips, staring at the mess she’d created on the floor. What came to the forefront of her consciousness was Margaret specifically telling her to help herself to the milk in the fridge earlier on.

  Had she known it was curdled? Was this yet another coincidence? Did her imagination really play a cruel trick on her when she thought she saw a flicker of movement in the room behind the bathroom upstairs? Did Charles and Yvonne deliberately try to scare her out of her wits? Did Yvonne spit rather than cough the medicine back into her face? There were starting to be too many coincidences for her liking. One or two, perhaps. But ever since Margaret departed and the unease she felt increased, even her normally unimaginative mind refused to accept that this was all very normal.

  After cleaning the mess on the floor up, Sofie screwed the top back on the milk and checked the date, doing her utmost to conceal her vexation when she saw the expiry date had run out over two weeks ago. She blasted the two ample-size microwave meals and set the trays on the worktop ready to be carried in one at a time for the two emotionless old fogies awaiting there meals, like two corpses that refused to die, void of any heart or soul.

  Their drinks on the table and their trays of food on the their lap, Sofie finally relaxed onto the sofa as Charles and Yvonne ate their food ravenously, as though they hadn’t been fed all day. Perhaps they haven’t, Sofie thought, watching them with mild disgust.

  She had ordered Chow Mein and a portion of chips from the Chinese takeaway and even offered Yvonne and Charles to have some if they were still hungry when the delivery guy decided to turn up. They both declined without thanking her.

  Don’t mention it. And in case you hadn’t realised I don’t like you two either. You’re both old and smell and are bloody rude!

  ‘Beg your pardon?’ Yvonne asked, regarding Sofie.

  Shit! She’s a goddamn mind reader.

  ‘I didn’t say anything,’ Sofie said, trembling, facing the TV.

  ‘And what if we were mind readers?’ Charles asked with a mouthful of lasagne.

  ‘What?’ Sofie’s voice trembled audibly.

  Charles glanced at his wife who shook her head once at him. Then he said: ‘Nothing.

  Sofie made sure to switch her thoughts off whenever she was in their company from now on.

  The doorbell chimed, announcing the arrival of the takeaw
ay guy. Sofie used her arms as levers to get up off the comfortable sofa she had sunken into and headed towards the front door, opening her purse for the correct amount of money.

  The Chinese gentleman with short cropped black hair smiled benignly at her. He handed her the plastic bag containing her order, accepted the money, quickly checked the amount was accurate and then headed back down the porch steps to his idling van, hopped in and drove back down the long driveway. Sofie couldn’t help but notice how fast the young man was to get off the property.

  Having put her Chow Mein on a plate with the bag of prawn crackers, Sofie returned to the living room, sat back down and began eating her food. She made another attempt of light conversation only to be completely ignored. She shook her head and continued shovelling mouthful after mouthful, thinking to herself that no wonder Margaret had insisted upon giving her two hundred pounds. Most likely anyone that had done some care assisting here before had refused to do so again. It dawned on Sofie sitting there eating her food that Margaret’s husband could quite have easily got a train or bus home. It didn’t make any sense. They weren’t short on money. Nevertheless, Margaret was overjoyed and enthusiastic when Sofie agreed. This was why - it meant she could have a break from her horrible, ignorant parents and spend the night at Heathrow Airport in a honeymoon suite with her husband.

  She could hardly say she blamed them. Yvonne and Charles were the type of old people who seemed to just keep on living, outliving most thirty years younger than themselves. Just sitting there watching TV or reading, scaring the shit out of the younger generation for the pleasure of it.

  Still, once tomorrow morning came round she would be two hundred pounds better off, and she wouldn’t have to worry about paying for food for a month or so. She could concentrate intently on her studies and do something she was passionate about with her life while she still had a chance.

  Clunk!

  The noise emanating from upstairs sent an ice-pick through the young woman’s heart. She put her fork down on the plate and looked at Yvonne and Charles who stared impassively at the TV screen, not even flinching. They simply sat, motionless, like the demon statue outside in the front yard which was what probably scared the Chinese man away as fast as he could without making it too obvious. His smile had been forced and he barely even glimpsed the change she had handed him.

  ‘Did you hear that?’ Sofie asked once she’d swallowed the mouthful of food she’d been chewing.

  ‘Hear what?’ Charles asked, staring fixedly at the screen.

  ‘The noise from upstairs just now,’ Sofie said, knowing full they both heard it and she hadn’t imagined it.

  ‘What noise just now?’ Yvonne added.

  Sofie bit down on her bottom lip, struggling to contain her vexation towards these two old people that was increasing all the time. ‘There was a noise - like something had been dropped - upstairs not a minute ago. And you both heard it; I don’t care what you say.’

  ‘I can’t hear anything now,’ Charles said. ‘Is there still a noise coming from upstairs now?’

  ‘No,’ Sofie replied through gritted teeth.

  ‘I thought I heard you say something to me earlier on,’ Yvonne said. ‘Do you remember? And you said “I didn’t say anything.” Maybe you thought you heard something like what I did.’

  What she felt like doing and what she actually did were two separate things. Reluctantly, Sofie picked her fork up again and resumed eating her food which had gone cold.

  ‘I definitely heard something,’ she said, adamant.

  ‘Of course you did. In your mind,’ Yvonne said, nodding in approval.

  Never in her entire life had Sofie ever thought it possible that she would have the unquenchable urge to bolt to her feet, dive across the room and hit someone as hard as she could in the face, until that moment. Fortunately, her conscience intervened and prudently suggested that she ignored the old fools and ate her food, did her duty by them, slept peacefully, got paid the following day and when Janice came to pick her up, made sure she never ever returned no matter how much money she was offered.

  The next three hours in their company were the longest in Sofie’s entire life. She did want - and need - to hit the books but after the incident earlier on decided against it. Otherwise she would be inviting another incident on top of the many that had occurred ever since Margaret had left for the airport. She swore the clock deliberately slowed down just to increase her boredom and vexation - not that she anticipated having lots of fun or anything. Charles and Yvonne watched a documentary about satanic cults and how they performed rituals with a pagan symbol marked out on the floor where candlesticks had been placed offering flickering light. The narrator went on to explain in detail the devil worshipers beliefs; that they mocked all other main religions and truly believed in the antichrist and committed crimes in his name.

  Meanwhile upstairs in the bedroom behind the bathroom a figure dressed in a long black robe with a hood draped over their head concealing their features paced methodically around the room in a circle pouring red liquid from a bronze chalice. The figure chanted something under their breath, unintelligible until he finished with the star inside the circle, studiously stepped over the scarlet lines they had created, placed the chalice atop the bookcase then lowered themselves to their knees in front of a black rubbish bag next to the overturned bed. The individual - in the shape and size of a man - removed the wrapping and pulled out a goat’s head. The eyes of the severed head protruding in shock and unexplainable agony, mouth gaping, now in the robed figure’s grasp, was placed with great care in the centre of what was an accurate depiction of the pentacle.

  Watching the programme against her will, the young Swedish born lady felt nauseous, regardless of the fact that there was nothing explicit being shown on the screen in front of her. However, it was the vivid description of the well-versed narrator and the experts who had acquiesced to do in-depth interviews on the topic that offended and disturbed her. Furthermore, throughout her stay here, Sofie’s consciousness kept bringing the statue of the demon raising its front right paw outside the house to the forefront, as though her intuition was hinting something but annoyingly not filling in any of the gaps.

  She cleared her throat when the demonologist started talking about how there were cults all around the country and not just in North America. How demons could contaminate a person’s soul if they had been sacrificed by the devil worshippers to do evil acts in effect being a leader to those whom wanted to join the cults.

  ‘Something the matter, dear?’ Yvonne asked, seeing Sofie’s pallid face.

  Struggling not to regurgitate her Chow Mein, Sofie swallowed before saying with some difficulty, ‘Isn’t there something else on that you’d rather watch? I know it’s your TV, but I think I’m gonna have to excuse myself before long.’

  ‘We like this programme,’ Charles said, matter-of-factly.

  ‘Why don’t you go upstairs, dear? Draw yourself a nice hot bath and when you come down I’ll pour you a glass of water.’

  ‘If you don’t mind, I will have a bath while you two watch this -’ she pointed to the TV. ‘I can pour myself a glass of water while I give you your sleeping pills, if you like?’

  Yvonne smiled. ‘Yes. You do that, dear. We’ll be down here for awhile. We’ll be fine.’

  ‘I won’t be long,’ Sofie said, getting up from her place on the sofa.

  She made to the vestibule, gripped the banister with a trembling hand and covered her head with the other hand. These people are not normal! They are sick!

  ‘Did you say something, dear?’ Yvonne called out over the din of the TV.

  Sofie froze to the spot, turned her head back in the direction of the living room and called out, ‘No!’

  Then she could swear she heard Yvonne saying to her husband ‘Bit like that clunk noise she heard from upstairs,’ and
they both wheezed an old person’s laugh. Only this was that of a maniacal laugh.

  Using every ounce of strength she had left in her, the law student - using the banister to aid her fight off gravity weighing down on her - ascended the stairs and slowly ambled down the hall towards the bathroom. A pounding sensation of an oncoming headache, and not just any headache but a colossal one; one that could induce a brain haemorrhage. This evening wasn’t supposed to be like this, she thought, opening the door and flicking the light switch.

  Sofie put the toilet seat down and took the weight off her weary legs, exhaling explosively. It had just been a horrible, ghastly programme that she had been forced to watch and due to the fact that there was a statue outside and she’d had a very unpleasant evening with two of the most ignorant elderly people she’d ever had the misfortune of having to meet never mind take care of, the young woman had let it all get the better of her.

  The bathroom was very handsome approximately fifteen feet by twelve. Black glass, crystal mirrors, and chromium-plated fittings made up the scheme of the décor. She put the plug in the drain hole and turned the hot water tap on. The tub was almost half-full when she got undressed and stepped over the rim into the steaming water and submerging until only her head was above the surface. The hot water enveloped her flesh like silk. Stretching her legs out to the end of the tub, letting the hot water soothe her muscles was very relaxing for both mind and body. For the next fifteen minutes, Sofie forgot all about her troubles and concerns. Everything that had transpired since arriving at the Victorian house of Gothic architecture vanished from her mind and rewarded her with peace and quiet.

  When the water started going cold, Sofie emerged from the water, pulled the plug and gingerly stepped out of the bathtub, naked as the day she was born, scanning the room for a towel. She found one hanging over the radiator, wrapped it around herself and proceeded to dry her soaking long mane of hair and shapely, young figure. Then, without any forewarning whatsoever, spiders started crawling down her back from the nape of her neck to the top of her firm buttocks. At first she assumed it was water trickling down herself in trails. However, when she reached round with her hand, she felt warm, dry flesh. She shuddered involuntarily.