Contents of article "’Beyond the Hedge’ Chapter 11"
’Beyond the Hedge’
The old pixie sat by her daughter’s grave. She often came to visit the spot and tend the flowers she’d planted all those long years before. Strictly speaking, it wasn’t a grave for Feya had drowned and her body was never recovered but Kedda needed a focus for her grief and this was one of the child’s favourite places. Feya’s silver baby-bangle and a few of her toys were buried in a little casket under the Sylvanian pine where her mother would sit staring out to sea, sometimes for hours at a time.
The timber-framed cottage she shared with her husband Creel wasn’t part of any hamlet but sat on a lonely stretch of beach below the cliffs north of Corvine. They were a solitary couple by choice and the child did not mix with others her own age. It would be fair to say they did everything they could to prevent it without her becoming too suspicious. Feya had never gone to school. Folks might have asked too many questions, not least of all how two pixies came to have a fairy child.
Creel rarely spent time by the grave and Kedda envied her husband’s detachment although deep down she resented his contained, unemotional response to their daughter’s death. It was as if he’d buried his grief with the casket containing Feya’s treasures.
Their daughter was not a blood relative but that shouldn’t have mattered. For years they’d longed for a baby and at last Kedda had provided one, not her own, but that had never mattered to her and she couldn’t see why it should have bothered her spouse.
Creel had welcomed the arrival of the baby. Feya was bonny enough and filled the gaping hole in their lives. His wife was the most senior midwife in the royal household and had all the skills necessary for bringing up an infant. The provenance of the baby was not for discussion and Kedda wouldn’t be drawn. “The less you know, the less you’ll tell,” she chided. “I don’t want you blathering after a pint too many at The Staggering Parrot. Anyway, I swore to the baby’s mother that her secret was safe with me and I’ll not go back on my word.” Creel was hurt by her lack of trust. He wasn’t a drinker and rarely, if ever, frequented taverns.
In the end he stopped asking. What was the use of causing rows when they were glad to have the child? She brightened up their days and, like him, she loved the sea. He was an old-style fisherman, not part of any fleet, and he worked the inshore waters in a rowing boat with his own hand-crafted rods and nets. When Feya took her first wobbly steps they were towards Creel’s boat; the child went fishing with him long before she formed her first words.
There’s good money to be made in row-boating if you have the skill and the family always had a full larder and a cellar of top-quality coal, none of that cheap rubbish bought by the Jem Slacks of this world. His wife’s position at the palace gave them respect from their peers, not that they cared about that. They were self-contained people but always polite in their dealings with others.
Creel couldn’t remember when he first noticed the change in Feya. It was very gradual and Kedda always made excuses for the child and accused her husband of being overly strict. Perhaps he was too much of a disciplinarian but he truly believed it was for the good of them all. In their isolation it was desirable they live in harmony and Feya’s deteriorating behaviour was causing friction. What made it really difficult for Creel was that she rarely put a foot wrong in front of Kedda. When he and his wife were locked in bitter disagreement about how to deal with her, Feya often as not had a sly expression on her pretty face which instantly turned to tearful distress when her mother turned to look at her. Kedda would rush over to comfort the child and berate her husband for his intolerance and lack of compassion.
On their daily fishing trips Feya worked as before but she withdrew into herself and the easy camaraderie they’d shared gradually slipped away until Creel wished he could think of reasons why she should stay at home.
As the child grew up, the gap widened between Feya and her father and she became increasingly close to Kedda. When he walked into a room unexpectedly or came across them in the garden they would fall silent and he felt as if he had intruded in their private world. Feya had a furtive look about her and Creel could feel hostility radiating from her, something his wife never seemed to be aware of.
That precious hour at night when he sat on the verandah after supper reflecting on the day’s activities was ruined for him when Feya regularly refused to go to bed at the appointed time. She threw tantrums that resulted in her mother siding with the child against Creel. What did it matter when she went to bed? She was at an awkward age. It was just a passing phase. Why was he so rigid and unyielding? Throughout these tirades Feya would stand behind her mother smiling with smug satisfaction.
Time passed but the child’s behaviour didn’t improve. She grew more and more difficult with the onset of adolescence and resorted to vicious kicking and biting when anything upset her. She rarely went row-boating which was a blessed relief to Creel who stayed out later because he hated coming home.
The balance of power in the household shifted too. More and more Feya took charge and Kedda slipped into the background. His wife laughed scornfully and accused him of being paranoid when he pointed this out to her. She was glad of her daughter’s help after a busy day at the palace.
When Kedda fell ill, he was forced to take on extra responsibilities. Feya refused to do anything round the house which didn’t involve looking after her mother. Her possessiveness towards Kedda reached the point where she suggested Creel move into the small bedroom so that she could take care of her properly.
There was something in Feya’s cold, dark eyes which made it impossible for her father to stand his ground. When he managed to snatch a brief moment alone with his wife, Kedda urged him not to fret. It was for the best that Feya stayed with her at night. He needed proper rest if he were to cope with his work and the extra chores around the house. Besides, ill health caused her to sleep fitfully. When she did drop off she was plagued by nightmares and kept Feya awake talking in her sleep.
Creel felt guilty being caught in his own bedroom when Feya walked in unannounced with a tray of supper for Kedda. She pushed past her father before brusquely suggesting he ought to go and make his own meal. He wanted to slap her when she added that he had no right to tire Kedda out with his selfish demands. His wife smiled weakly but said nothing to contradict their daughter.
Life continued in this miserable way for Creel and with no improvement in his wife’s health either. If he did manage to snatch a moment alone with her she seemed not to recognise him any more. When he suggested they call in a doctor Feya flew into a fury and locked herself in with Kedda, refusing to come out until he swore on his wife’s life that he’d do no such thing.
Kedda’s disturbed nights became more frequent and he could hear her fearful sobbing through the walls in the early hours.
Creel’s nerves were stretched to the limit and there came a point one dreadful night when he couldn’t stand it any longer. Kedda was howling like an animal in pain. He could hear her begging Feya to make the monster go away. It was a close night when sleep was elusive even in the happiest households. Creel rose from his rumpled bed and went out onto the verandah to clear his head. He knew it was time to act. He’d been weak long enough and he resolved to fetch the doctor the following morning. The first Feya would know about it was when the physician stepped into the house.
He stood outside his wife’s room listening to the waves breaking on the shore. There was always comfort to be had from the sound of the sea. Feya’s voice drifted out through the open window. The words were reassuring and comforting but the tone made his flesh crawl. He crept closer and noticed a small gap in the curtain. The room was lit by two oil lamps although it was the middle of the night.
What Creel saw practically destroyed his sanity. Kedda was propped up on pillows with her head turned towards the wall. Her anguished cries were chilling. At the foot of the bed, shrouded in darkness, was a hunched, predatory shape. Feya was nowhere to be seen but he could hear her soothing words distinctly.
The monstrosity sprang onto the bed and scuttled towards Kedda on all fours. She begged for delivery from the ghastly apparition and called for her daughter in mounting distress. The hideous entity squatted beside Kedda and stroked her hair with long curled nails. “Feya’s here mother, just like I always am. Don’t fret now. Let me brush your hair, that will soothe your nerves.”
The full horror of the situation struck Creel when the foul creature leapt off the bed and snatched the hairbrush from its usual place on the dressing table. It bounded back across the room and up onto the bed again.
Kedda begged to be left alone but to no avail.
“You wouldn’t want me to break your neck now, would you? I thought not. Maybe that is a bit drastic. Perhaps I’ll pull your fingernails out instead? What an ungrateful wretch you are when all I do is wait on you hand and foot. I’ve squandered my youth attending to your trivial needs.” Kedda whimpered piteously. “What would you do without me? That swine of a husband won’t take care of you. He’ll turn you out on your ear and install a pretty young wife. You’ll be left begging for fish heads at Corvine docks if he has his way.”
Creel staggered back from the window and slumped onto the porch swing. He was appalled by what he’d seen and felt sick to death. The shock brought on acute paralysis. His mind raced but he was imprisoned in his own petrified body.
The grievous discovery pitched the fisherman to the edge of reason and, mercifully, he passed out shortly afterwards. At dawn he came to and found he could move again. Creel forced himself to look through the chink in the curtains, hoping to find that he’d been sleepwalking and the whole episode was nothing more than a particularly horrific nightmare.
Kedda lay staring at the ceiling, her eyes wide with fear while Feya sat calmly in the chair by her bed with a sweet smile on her lips. “There there, mother, have a little snooze. People can go mad if they’re deprived of sleep and we wouldn’t want that to happen. Next thing you know, you’ll be seeing monsters at the end of the bed.” She stretched lethargically and ran her fingers through waist-length dark hair. Feya closed her eyes and her head fell forward onto her chest.
In that instant Creel knew he must rid them of the curse that was their daughter. They were living in the presence of pure evil.
He crept back inside and crawled into bed to think.
Creel needed time to forge a plan that was flawless. Feya’s suspicions must not be aroused by a change in his daily routine but time was not on his side. Somehow he had to get her away from the house. He knew Feya would insist on staying with Kedda unless he could come up with an irresistible reason why she should accompany him.
He rose at the usual time and washed. Throwing on some clothes, he forced down a bowl of mackerel porridge and went to collect his tackle from the outhouse.
The fisherman set off down the path to the beach with his customary shouted ‘goodbye’ but stopped halfway. If Feya was spying on him it would look as if he’d forgotten something. He turned and walked back to the cottage where he found his daughter in the kitchen decanting her home-brewed tonic for Kedda. She rounded on him. “What do you want? I thought you’d gone fishing. I don’t need you under my feet today.”
“I came back to let you know I’ll be staying out tonight.”
Feya was genuinely surprised. “Why would you want to do that?”
“I have my reasons.”
“What will I tell mother?”
“She doesn’t even know who I am these days, so why should you have to tell her anything?” Creel was apprehensive but he managed to keep his voice steady. “Right then, I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
Feya grasped his arm and her fingers bit into his flesh. “Tell me what you’re up to.” Kedda’s malevolent tormentor was watching him with undisguised loathing from behind her eyes. “You’re sneaking off to fetch a doctor from Corvine, aren’t you?”
“Of course not,” he said, forcing himself to look away. “If you must know I’m mermaid watching.”
His daughter laughed cynically. “What utter nonsense. Surely you can come up with a better story than that?”
Creel sensed she was wondering whether to believe him or not and might just be persuaded to take the bait. His daughter had been fascinated by tales of mermaids from an early age and had once come across one sitting on the Skellid rocks near the cove where he kept his boat. The mermaid dived into the sea when she saw Feya staring at her.
“I’m deadly serious. I spotted three of them yesterday when I was fishing off Cormorant Point. They were asleep on the rocks. I’m off to investigate and if they’re still in the area I’ll go back at dusk. Mermaids are always more active at night.”
There was excitement in her voice when she spoke. “You wouldn’t lie about something like that, would you?”
Creel strode off towards his boat and Feya called after him. “I’m coming with you.”
“You can’t do that, your mother needs you.” It pained him to say those words after what he’d witnessed.
“She’ll be fine. I’ll leave her some food on a tray and give her a light sleeping draught. Wait for me down at the cove.” Feya turned on her heel and ran back to the house.
Creel couldn’t believe how easy it had been to get her away from Kedda. His legs were like jelly as he made his way towards the boat. He knew he had one chance only to get rid of her and he did have that vital element of surprise on his side. There must be no bungling when it came to the final act. The monster within would retaliate and take great pleasure in snapping his neck like a twig.
A short time later they were on the land side of the Skellids and Cormorant Point was clearly visible in the distance. He stopped rowing and shipped the oars. Feya, who hadn’t said a word since they set out, demanded to know why they had come to a halt.
“I’ve fishing to do and queen shrimp are plentiful round here. We’ll reach the point soon enough. It’s a good place to have lunch and we can keep an eye out for mermaids at the same time.”
She was angry and scowled her disapproval. “Why can’t we go there straight away?” she asked peevishly. “You can fish any time.”
“With Kedda indisposed we need to keep cash coming into the house.”
“She’s still on full pay.”
“It’s best not to rely entirely on the generosity of the Palace.”
Feya shaded her eyes while she squinted at Cormorant Point. “Give me your telescope. I’ll see if I can spot any mermaids.”
Creel had deliberately left it behind but made a pretence of searching for the telescope among his kit. She grew angry when she realised it was nowhere to be found. He ignored her and cast his nets off the port side of the boat. Starved of any response without Kedda there to take her part, Feya sat in a childish huff staring at her feet.
The fisherman was buying time to crystallise the final details of his premeditated act of murder. The reality of what he was about to do disgusted him and Creel was barely able to control his body’s desire to rid itself of that breakfast of mackerel porridge.
Feya’s regressive, childlike demeanour disconcerted him. Could the pretty, sulking creature sitting opposite him really be so monstrous? Creel concentrated his mind on the demon he’d seen tormenting his wife to strengthen his resolve. Feya was nothing more than the outer shell that cloaked the foul being within. The grim reality was that Creel and Kedda had no daughter.
He’d laced his flask of tea with a stronger dose of the sedative Feya had given Kedda. It was undetectable but he planned to drink some too so as not to arouse her suspicions. He was banking on the fact that she’d be thirsty by the time they reached Cormorant Point. It was a hot, sunny day and she’d forgotten to bring a sunhat in her rush to join him.
Creel would sip his tea and tip it out when he had the opportunity. The longer they spent in the unrelenting heat the thirstier she would become which is exactly what happened and sooner than he’d hoped. Feya demanded something to drink when he was hauling the first netful of shrimp into the boat.
“Help yourself, can’t you see I’m busy?”
She unscrewed the outer cup on the flask and placed it beside her, then took out the smaller, inner one. “I suppose you want some?” she asked ungraciously.
“I’ll have half a cup,” he said, “but I don’t want us to run out.”
“You begrudge me a cup of tea, do you?” Unwittingly Feya was playing into her father’s hands.
He sighed. “Of course not. Take as much as you want.”
Creel pretended not to notice the change in her and, pulling the last net into the boat, set off for Cormorant Point.
He watched Feya gradually succumbing to the effects of the sedative. When he judged the time to be right he slowed the rhythm of his rowing right down until he’d stopped altogether.
“We’re off Cormorant Point. Will you have some lunch?”
“Don’t bother me now,” she replied drowsily. “Maybe later.”
Creel never once took his eyes from her in case the being within was still awake. How could he tell? It might well be toying with him for all he knew.
He carefully positioned one of the oars across his lap and bowed his head sorrowfully at what he was about to do if he were courageous enough to go through with it.
Feya lay with her head resting on the side of the boat, her long, dark hair spread out over her shoulder. In repose, she was lovely and Creel’s heart ached at the sight of her. The parental love he’d felt for her surfaced violently. The curve of her mouth and the delicate thrust of her chin conjured up unwanted images of the young child when the monster inside was in its infancy.
He shook Feya to try to rouse her. “Leave me be,” she moaned.
“You must wake up. There are mermaids over on the rocks.”
Feya forced herself to sit up. “Whereabouts? I can’t see them.”
Creel stood over her with the oar resting across his arm. “They’re up on the crags.”
Feya yawned and struggled to her feet. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I’m so tired.”
“Here, let me help you.”
“I don’t need your help,” she said, pushing him away.
Creel seized the moment. He swung the oar with tremendous force and struck her across the temple. Feya didn’t stand a chance in her drugged state and, with a howl of rage, fell backwards into the sea.
She was a strong swimmer but the blow to the head, in combination with the sedative and her wet clothes, caused her to panic. Incredulity at Creel’s deliberate act only added to her state of angry confusion. “Don’t you leave me here to drown, you murderer,” she screamed, spitting out mouthfuls of water.
Creel rowed away from her and the adrenaline rush caused by what he’d done gave him extra strength. The evil entity devoured him with its foul, yellow eyes and the fisherman knew it would steal his sanity were it able to hold his gaze.
He kept rowing and didn’t lift his head again for some time. When he did what he saw consumed him with horror. Feya’s arms were raised above her head and her hands were clawlike.
With one final string of curses, in a snarling, savage voice from the pit of the damned, she sank beneath the waves. He continued rowing with his eye fixed on the spot until he was sure she had drowned.
The bile rose in Creel’s throat and he vomited until his ribs ached. Tears coursed down his face and he howled for the loss of the daughter he’d once loved so dearly.
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