‘Oh for God’s sake…!’ She closed her eyes and bit her lip, determined not to become a snivelling heap. She would not give her father the satisfaction of seeing her behave like the little girl he had just accused her of being. And she certainly did not want to be blubbing in front of Charlie. She’d already been humiliated quite enough for one evening. She was just deciding whether to wait for one of the others to appear with the key or go back down to the pool when she heard a low huffing. Turning, she saw Taran come loping along the corridor towards her.
‘Hello boy,’ she said, smiling at the sight of the lovely hound. She reached out and patted his broad, noble head, causing his tail to wag slowly but happily. ‘You are such a good boy,’ she told him. ‘Not like stupid humans at all. You’ve got more sense, haven’t you?’He leaned against her and she put her arms around him, hugging his warm furry body, not caring that the grey shaggy coat would most likely stick to her wet swimming costume. She straightened up again, deciding to encourage him to go downstairs with her. He would be a welcome distraction and help her save face. But Taran had other ideas. He turned and bounded back along the corridor, heading for the stairs.
‘Hey, wait! Taran, come back.’ Emily called after him, but the dog sped away as if he were chasing something, or being called in the other direction. ‘Dammit,’ she muttered, pulling her towel tighter around her and trotting after him. She caught up with him just in time to see him bounding up the stair case. She followed, initially hoping to get him back to soften the embarrassment of having to face Charlie and her father again, but then curious to find out what had attracted his attention. He continued on up past the next floor, lurching up the stairs that only led to the penthouse. Emily had never been on any of the levels above the one where Charlie’s apartment was. She noticed at once that there was a different atmosphere the further up the stairs she went. Everything was quieter. Calmer, somehow less grand and open and shiny and more mysterious. As she climbed the last of the stairs she felt her mood lifting. Her crossness at her father, her upset at the argument infront of Charlie, both lessened, faded, and were soon gone completely. She reached the top floor landing. There were no windows but the roof was a glass atrium that allowed soft, cool moonlight to illuminate the space. She could see Taran sitting at the end of the long hallway, panting slightly, watching her, waiting for her. As Emily stepped forwards, however, it was not the dog that held her attention; it was what she could see beyond him.
Tudor muttered darkly under his breath as he took the stairs two at a time, Emily’s bag clutched too tightly in one hand. He told himself that he was justified in being angry with Emily. He had clearly explained to her that it was dangerous for her to go out of the flat without him. He had expressly told her to stay put and she had done the opposite. She had deliberately ignored what he had wanted her to do for her own good. He was certain he was in the right. Which made it all the more galling that he felt so bad. He hated losing his temper with her. He could still see the hurt in her eyes when he had been mean to her. And in front of Charlie. He might feel like a rubbish father at that moment, but he was a good enough one to know that he had justhumiliated his daughter; belittled her in front of one of her peers. She probably hated him at that moment, and that hurt him. To make it worse, she had left her key card in her bag, so she wouldn’t be able to get in the flat. How painful would it be for her to have to wait there, dripping, in her swimsuit, for him to come and let her in? He would apologise. It didn’t matter that he was right, he couldn’t stand to have bad feeling between them. She was safe and that was what was important. He would say he was sorry and Charlie could stay over. They’d have hot chocolate. Send out for ice cream, maybe. Turn it into a funny story to tease each other with later on.
Except that when he reached the door to Charlie’s apartment, she wasn’t there. There was just a small pool of water on the floor, nothing else. His stomach tightened.
‘Emily?’ he called out, looking up and down the empty corridor. ‘Pumpkin, you there?’
There was no reply.
It was then he noticed that her wet footprints continued past the entrance to the flat. He followed them, turning onto the staircase. He checked the landing on the next floor but there were no prints. She had to have gone up to the penthouse. His increased heart rate had less to do with the sudden climb and more to do withthe adrenalin that was coursing through his system. It was quiet up there. Too quiet. Vivid, shocking images of the murders he had witnessed only a few floors below flashed in front of his mind’s eye. He saw the old man Salinger, his body rent open. He saw the mad violence in the old woman’s eyes as she flew at McAllen. A vision of Mr and Mrs Richards, stopped by bullets fired at them by their own son, was gut twistingly real. The lifeless stare of their teenage boy came back to haunt him. He reached the top floor. When he saw Emily standing with the wolfhound at the far end of the corridor he exhaled long and hard, only then realising he had been holding his breath, steeling himself for what he might find.
She turned and saw him and he waited for the rebuke, for the continuation of their argument, but her demeanour had changed completely. He saw at once, in the way that her expression had changed, that something more important had happened. Her eyes were wide with wonder.
‘Dad!’ she called to him in a stage whisper, beckoning him urgently. ‘Come and look at this!’
He hurried to her, glancing at the dog as it wagged its tail in greeting. There was something about the hound he had not noticed before. It struck him then that the dog was familiar to him. Not from here at the Aurora,but somewhere else. Somewhere open and wild. He shook off the thought. His heightened anxiety was making him think weird things, that was all.
‘Look, Dad,’ Emily said when he reached her. She was standing where the corridor ended, directly in front of the door to the penthouse.
And what a door it was.
It was double, made of ancient, heavy timber, and entirely filled the end wall. It reached up in an arch with a blunt point. The edges were beveled and reinforced with many iron studs. Four great hinges held the door in place. The wood was dark and worn and looked centuries old. It would not have been out of place in a cathedral or a castle. Aside from its striking size and strength, the most notable thing about this unexpected find was the decoration, for every inch of it was covered with intricate carvings. They were deep and bold, some worn as if from hands pushing against them over time, others faded as if from sunlight, even though they were protected from it here. Tudor stepped forwards and began to take in the depictions in front of him. He saw a range of mountains, broad and treeless, shaped around a deep valley. He could make out small buildings: a village here, farmhouses there, smaller dwellings dotted about. A twisting river ran along the valley floor. There were carvings showing sheep beingherded, cattle in a meadow, harvest being gathered. The door was a wealth of story and detail. The more Tudor studied it, the more he felt strange memories come to mind. False memories, he knew, for they showed places he had never been to and faces he had never seen.
‘Isn’t it cool?’ Emily said, genuine awe in her voice. ‘I mean, it’s completely out of place here, but somehow it looks as if it belongs. Does that make sense?’
He nodded, too unsettled to find words to tell her what he was thinking at that moment. His mind was a jumble of snatches of thought and memories and questions. None of it made sense.
Emily lifted her hand as if to place it against the door.
‘Don’t touch it!’ he snapped, making her snatch her hand back again.
‘It’s OK, Dad. It’s just a door. A super impressive one, I grant you. But… just a door… right?’ For all the confidence in her words she did not move to touch it again but stood, hand raised, waiting for him to agree with her.
He took a breath and found his voice.
‘Yeah, it’s just a door. Thing is, before Charlie was allowed to set foot in this building, I did a full security check. The whole place, from the gym to the roof. That was less than a month ago.’
‘And?’
‘And this door wasn’t here when I looked.’
‘So, they had it installed since.’
‘In the last four weeks? Including two weeks when the place has been taped down as a crime scene?’
‘Well, when you came up here, what was the penthouse flat like? I mean, were they renovating that too? Is there a collector living there, or something?’
He had no answer for this. He searched his memory for what he had seen behind that door, but nothing came. Slowly, reluctantly, adding to his own confusion, he was forced to admit the truth.
‘I didn’t go in.’
‘What?’
‘I came up here. I saw the door, a normal door, I remember that. But… I didn’t go in.’
