Part 3 of 4
Spinner
A woman trapped in an abusive relationship during lockdown investigates a malevolent supernatural force in her basement.
Continued from Part One and Part Two.
Thoroughly confused, Isabel decided that day to try and contact Maud Spinner. As the former owner, she was the one person who might be able to shed light on the mystery.
Isabel also considered discussing the matter with Tyler, but in the end, resolved only to do so if in fact he had found her unconscious in the basement and carried her back to bed. Waves of anxiety assailed Isabel as she climbed the stairs to deliver Tyler his cup of tea. Would he be enraged at her entering the basement in the middle of the night? Or did he know nothing of it? Had the entire incident been a dream?
The bleary-eyed smile on Tyler’s face as she entered the room led Isabel to believe the latter explanation to be most likely.
‘Tea in bed? Very nice. I must have really hit the spot last night.’
Isabel smiled sweetly but inwardly grimaced. The lovemaking last night had not been easy, given the pains in her stomach that had now mercifully lifted.
‘I wish I didn’t have to work today,’ Tyler continued, as he took his mug of tea. ‘I wish we could go out somewhere…’
‘Why not take the day off?’ said Isabel. ‘You’re the boss, after all.’
Tyler shook his head. ‘The boss always has to work. Besides, we can’t go anywhere, and then I’ll just end up having to talk to you all day.’
Isabel felt stung. ‘Well, if that’s how you feel, perhaps I’ll leave you and find someone with a less rigid work ethic…’
‘Come on! It was a joke.’
‘I know. I was trying to make a funny reply.’
‘Threatening to leave me isn’t a funny reply. You aren’t funny Isabel. Don’t try to be funny. You just come off as rude and ungrateful.’
‘You’re right. I’m sorry.’
You’re right. I’m sorry. Isabel considered how often these words fell from her lips, like a constant shield against the anger that inevitably would be directed her way if the situation wasn’t defused. Sometimes the words worked, and sullen silence would eventually give way to peace. At other times, if the words didn’t work, and the scene would degenerate.
‘You know what Isabel, I’m getting really sick of the way you disrespect me. Do you know how hard I work, to put food on your plate, give you a roof over your head, and enable you to buy all the nice expensive things you buy? How do you thank me? You foolishly disregard healthy eating advice, making yourself ill, and wrecking our sex life. Then you threaten to leave me…’
‘It wasn’t a serious threat…’
‘Don’t you dare interrupt me!’
The fierce look in Tyler’s eyes, and the way he pointed at Isabel, made it clear a simple you’re-right-I’m-sorry wouldn’t get her out of this one. Only tearful penitence and meek acceptance of the impending tongue lashing, or whatever other punishment Tyler meted out, would solve matters now.
‘At times, you are a stupid, spoilt, ungrateful bitch! You think you can just threaten to leave me? Do you think I’d allow that? If so, you seriously underestimate my love for you. I love you so much Isabel, that I will do what I must to make sure you understand that. And if that means pointing out where you are rude, disrespectful, and unthankful, then that’s what I’ll do.’
Tyler leapt out of bed and advanced towards her. The look in his eyes made his intent clear. It had happened before, and Isabel had tried to bury the memories. But now they returned with a vengeance.
‘Tyler, no, please!’ Isabel gibbered, tears pouring down her face. ‘I’m sorry…’
The stinging blow struck her face before she could get any more words out. Isabel cried in pain, and collapsed to her knees, clutching at where Tyler had slapped her. The pain didn’t last, but she sobbed in anguish, all control broken.
Tyler stood over her, watching her misery, his face a mask of grim satisfaction.
‘I don’t like to do this Isabel. I hate doing this. But sometimes, you just need a little reminder. It’s for your own good.’
‘Yes,’ Isabel whimpered. ‘Yes, I know.’
‘There, there,’ Tyler whispered, kneeling at her side and rubbing his hands through her hair. ‘It’s over now. All over. Calm down. You need to pull yourself together.’
With a supreme effort, Isabel halted her sobs. She knew from past experience that if she didn’t, Tyler would become angry and hit her again.
‘That’s better,’ said Tyler. ‘Now how about we get some breakfast together, and start this day again?’
Whilst making breakfast for Tyler, two thoughts occurred to Isabel. Firstly, that despite the horrible moment when he’d struck her, Tyler hadn’t mentioned finding her in the basement and taking her back to bed. That meant she had almost certainly dreamed the incident, no matter how real it had seemed.
Secondly, as she had sat weeping from the blow Tyler inflicted, Isabel had been reminded of her mother. A strict Catholic disciplinarian, Isabel’s mother Andrea had not spared the rod and had mercilessly punished so many of her childhood misdemeanours. Yet right now, Isabel desperately missed her. Andrea had been enraged when Isabel had moved in with Tyler — a supreme act of living-in-sin rebellion — and yet on the occasions since when she had spoken to her mother on the phone, or on social media, she had been kind and full of helpful advice. Of course, Tyler didn’t like her talking to her mother and had restricted the amount of time she spent interacting with her. This, Isabel accepted, was for her own peace of mind so she wouldn’t be susceptible to her mother’s manipulative remarks, worrying about her daughter ending up burning in hell, and so on.
Nonetheless, right now Isabel wanted to talk to her mother.
Isabel and Tyler made some very forced conversation over breakfast, talking about work, the weather, the virus news, what shopping they would need to buy soon, and other matters. Isabel wanted to get outside for her government-mandated, daily socially distanced local walk. But she wanted to take this walk alone, so didn’t mention it to Tyler, as he might insist on accompanying her. She hoped he would be too busy working to notice.
The main reason Isabel wanted to take her walk alone was to use her phone to chat with her mother and also to try and contact Maud Spinner. She resolved to do this whilst out, so there was no danger of Tyler interrupting her.
After spending the next couple of hours working on her graphic design projects, Isabel dutifully took Tyler a cup of coffee up to the study. Once again, he was mid-conference call, barking instructions at his doubtless terrified staff. Too busy to interact with her, he merely nodded in thanks as she put down the cup, and carried on talking to his colleagues. Isabel was pleased, as that meant she would be able to slip out unnoticed.
She quietly left shortly afterwards, heading to the end of Queen Street and through the housing estates that eventually came to Hare’s Forest — an area of woodland about two or three square miles at the side of a hill, leading to open fields and a railway line. Isabel entered the forest and walked in a short way, following the paths to an area high on the hillside, beneath the shade of a large oak tree, amid the surprisingly hot sun. Here she paused and took out her phone, sending text messages whilst the occasional individual out exercising or walking their dogs smiled at her from a safe distance as they walked past.
Firstly, Isabel searched Facebook to see if Maud Spinner was on there. To her surprise, she found her easily enough, and immediately sent a message accompanying a friend request.
Hi Maud. My name is Isabel Anderson. I hope you’ll forgive me for contacting you like this, but we moved into your old house at 23 Queen Street, and I wanted to ask a couple of questions I was curious about, concerning a piece of paper I found in the basement.
It sounded silly phrased that way, but Isabel hit send before she could think too hard about it. She then sent her mother a text message, knowing that she may come to regret it. However, after recent events, Isabel wanted to interact with her mother, even if just to talk about superficial matters.
Hi Mum. How’s things in quarantine?
Andrea replied almost immediately. Isabel, it’s lovely to hear from you. It’s been too long. I’m fine. Just all a bit lonely. What about you?
Isabel texted a response. Oh, we’re fine. Just working from home. Shame we can’t make better use of this lovely weather.
Isabel, I worry about you a lot. Are you sure you’re all right?
Yes, of course I am.
Normally you only contact me when something is seriously wrong. Are you sure you’re OK? Not feeling ill? No dry cough or high temperature?
Isabel rolled her eyes. Of course I’m sure. I’m in perfectly good health.
Just remember to be very careful. Stay away from other people, and keep washing your hands. I’ve taken to rubbing down all my shopping with anti-bacterial wipes. You should do the same.
I’m being very careful Mum. Please don’t worry about me.
What about Tyler?
The question was like a dagger in the ribs. Isabel almost answered honestly, but her stomach churned. It would be disloyal to reveal the exact truth about his recent behaviour. Besides, it had really been her fault. Her mother would probably think that too if she knew the full facts.
He’s fine. Just very busy with work. He’s worried about losing some of his profits.
Well, he’s in a much better position than many people with businesses, from what I understand. At least his profits are only taking a dip.
Isabel felt irritated at her mother’s lack of sympathy for Tyler. Mum, he’s worked very hard to build up his business and deserves his success. He’s a very clever man.
I’m sure he is sweetheart. I just sometimes wonder about his priorities. If you were to have a family with this man, I worry that he might be as absent as your father was.
Mention of her father irritated Isabel. She barely had any memory of him, but her mother had gone on and on at great length about how he had been a workaholic who drove himself to an early grave in the pursuit of wealth, trying (and failing) to start multiple businesses. He had died when she was just four years old.
Mum, Tyler takes great care of me. He is very attentive and present, and he loves me.
I don’t like the way he talks to you at times, and I worry he might not stand by you. Perhaps if you were to just get married things might change.
Marriage wouldn’t change anything Mum. It’s just a piece of paper and a lot of money on a wedding. It wouldn’t make Tyler any more or less trustworthy.
Well, he’s not a believer Isabel. He doesn’t go to church or attend confession or anything like that. He doesn’t have your values.
Mum, I’ve already told you, I don’t believe what you believe anymore.
I do wish you wouldn’t say that. It hurts me every time.
Isabel began to get angry. It was typical of her mother to bring this up. She ought to know better by now.
Mum, I’m going to say goodbye now.
All right, but Isabel please at least reconsider all of this. In the eyes of the church, you are in a very precarious position.
I’ll think about it.
That was a lie, purely to shut her mother up. But Isabel didn’t care. She wished she’d never contacted her mother. It always ended in these kinds of circular conversations.
See you later. Stay safe.
You too. Bye.
Isabel noticed that her friend request to Maud Spinner had already been accepted, and she’d had a reply to her earlier message.
You got my message? Good. Are you moving out? You need to move quickly, or it will be too late.
Isabel’s heart began to beat faster. She hurriedly typed a reply, her mind burning with questions.
I don’t understand any of this. How are you able to leave messages in dreams on that piece of paper?
The reply came almost immediately. Over the years, I learned to do many things with my familiar, or when traversing the astral plane.
Isabel’s eyes widened. Maud Spinner was a witch! But why was she urging her to leave the house?
What is so dangerous about your house? Why do I need to leave?
He is still there. My dead husband. He tormented me for years, for what I did to him. But he deserved it. He kept hitting me and hitting me until I could stand it no more. So I defended myself. But I knew the law would be on his side, so I hid him. I hid him, and he became one of the more famous missing person’s cases during the late 1960s. Albert Spinner. You could probably look it up in old newspapers.
How is your husband in the wall?
My familiar kept him back, but now it is impossible to keep him contained any longer. He will break free, and when he does, he will kill you.
Isabel’s heart raced. How long do I have?
Days at most. I’m sorry Isabel. I knew this would happen the moment my idiot of a son decided I needed to be put in a home. Leave as soon as you can, and make sure the note is put back where you found it, so I can warn the next person who moves in. Sooner or later I’ll be dead, and I won’t be able to hold him back any longer, but whilst I’m still alive, I need to ensure I protect people from him as best I can. Penance, perhaps, for what I did. After all, I didn’t mean to kill him.
The words chilled Isabel to the bone. Surely the sensible thing to do would be to go to the police? Perhaps she should show the messages to Tyler. The more she thought about it, the more she realised that would be the sensible option. Time to tell Tyler the whole truth. He couldn’t be angry with her. Not when he realised their lives were probably in danger.
I’d better go. Thank you for telling me all this.
You’re welcome. Sorry it had to come to this. And good luck.
Author’s Note: Check out my other short stories on Medium here.
