Warhol's Prophecy

70

HAILEY’S BREATH FROZE in her lungs as the deafening explosion of sound ripped through the night.

‘Shit,’ hissed Rob, his voice barely audible above the shrill two-tone alarm.

He ran to his side of the bed and pulled on a pair of jogging bottoms, then he slid his hand beneath the bed and pulled out the baseball bat he kept there.

Protection?

Hailey pulled on a long T-shirt, her hands shaking as she draped it over her head.

‘Mum.’

She heard Becky cry out from her room, and Hailey hurried off to be with her daughter.

Rob was already advancing across the landing, the bat held in one hand.

‘Rob, don’t go down there,’ Hailey called to him as he paused at the top of the stairs.

‘Just call the police,’ he shouted back, and she realized that these words were as much for the benefit of whoever else might be inside their house as for her. Somewhere in the back of her mind she remembered reading something in a magazine advising that if you suspected burglars had broken in, you make as much noise as possible. Frighten them off.

Frighten them off? That was a fucking laugh.

Hailey’s heart was hammering madly against her ribs as she entered Becky’s room to find the little girl sitting up in bed, arms outstretched. Hailey swept her up and held her tightly.

‘It’s all right, babe,’ she said, wishing she believed that.

Becky clung tightly to her mother, the sound of the alarm still screaming in her ears.

‘Rob, be careful,’ Hailey called, watching as her husband still peered over the balustrade, trying to see into the gloom of the hallway below.

If he heard her, he didn’t acknowledge her. She watched as he descended the stairs quickly.

‘What’s happening, Mum?’ Becky blurted out.

Hailey held her more tightly. ‘It’s all right,’ she said again. ‘The alarm’s gone wrong. Dad’s going to fix it.’

She heard Rob reach the bottom of the stairs.

He looked at each of the closed doors facing him in turn, then reached for the alarm control-pad, jabbed in the numbers and silenced it.

The silence seemed worse than the constant ringing.

He could hear his own blood rushing in his ears.

Rob looked at the panel and noticed that one of the blood-red zone-lights was flashing.

Zone Four.

Wherever the fuck that was.

Each of the rooms bore a different zone number, but he couldn’t remember which was which.

Zone Four?

Kitchen? Sitting room? Dining room? Study?

He would have to check them all.

He moved to the sitting-room door first, rested his hand on the handle, then shoved it open, simultaneously slapping at the light switches.

The room was instantly illuminated.

Rob stepped inside. He hefted the bat before him.

If you’re in here, you fucker, I’ll beat your lousy fucking brains out.

The room was empty. Nothing looked disturbed.

He headed across the hall towards the study.

Again he pushed the door open. Again he snapped on the lights.

Again there was nothing.

Dining room or kitchen next?

If it was the kitchen, then the intruder would have had time either to escape the same way he’d entered, or to have armed himself with any number of implements.

Knife? Carving fork? Cleaver?

Rob held the bat with both hands as he approached the door, pausing a moment, trying to slow his breathing as much as anything.

He threw open the door and hit the light switch.

The fluorescents in the ceiling sputtered into life, for fleeting seconds their cold stroboscopic glare faltering.

Rob gripped the bat tightly and advanced into the room.

Empty, too.

That only left the dining room.

‘All right, you cunt,’ he said at the top of his voice, one hand on the door.

He shoved it open.

Slapped the lights on.

Nothing.

Rob swallowed hard and lowered the bat, then he wandered slowly back across the hall, past the open doors of rooms now bathed in light.

From upstairs he heard Hailey call his name.

‘It’s clear,’ he told her, wiping perspiration from his brow with a trembling hand. He was no hero – he would be the first to admit it.

‘The alarm must be faulty,’ Hailey heard him say.

Like it was the other day?

‘Who was Dad shouting at?’ Becky wanted to know.

‘Just the alarm,’ Hailey said, smiling. ‘You know how he gets sometimes. It’s OK now.’

She herself closed her eyes tightly as she heard doors downstairs being shut.

‘Did you check the downstairs bathroom?’ Hailey called.

She heard him open a door.

Then she heard his grunt of pain.

‘Rob,’ Hailey shouted.

Silence.

‘Rob!’ she yelled again, her eyes bulging wildly.

She got to her feet and moved towards the landing.

‘Mum.’

Becky was climbing out of bed, following her.

‘No, stay there, babe,’ Hailey said, her mouth dry, her voice cracking.

‘Rob,’ she shouted again, moving towards the doorway of Becky’s room.

She heard another groan of pain. Louder this time.

Then she heard footsteps on the stairs.

Uncontrollable panic seized Hailey, and for brief seconds she considered slamming Becky’s door and trying to haul the chest of drawers across to block the path of any intruder.

She daren’t even think about what had been done to Rob down there.

What had . . .?

Rob appeared halfway up the stairs, his face creased with pain, his eyes narrowed.

‘Stubbed my bloody toe on the bathroom door,’ he said.

Hailey wanted to laugh with relief. Wanted to shriek hysterically that it didn’t matter. So what if he’d stubbed his toe? At least he was all right. Their house hadn’t been broken into.

‘The alarm must be playing up,’ Rob said. ‘Or a spider crawled across one of the sensors, or something. That would set it off. They’re pretty sensitive those things.’ He was still holding the baseball bat. ‘I’ve reset it anyway.’

‘Can we go back to sleep now, Mum?’ Becky wanted to know.

‘Yes,’ Hailey said, stroking her daughter’s hair. ‘Yes, we can.’