The Study In Red Trilogy

4. Tension

My mouth was dry, very dry, and I felt the need for refreshment. Though I was sorely tempted to refill the glass on my desk, I needed to keep a clear head, and so reluctantly rose from my chair and headed for the kitchen. Coffee was the order of the day, and while waiting for the kettle to boil, I continued to scan through the loose pages of script I’d printed from the computer, trying to glean whatever I could from them before returning to the more intense work of studying the journal. I rubbed the back of my neck; it felt stiff, the tension was gripping me tightly in its grasp. Just a short time ago, I’d been a pretty ordinary fellow, mourning the loss of my poor dear Dad, (I suppose I’d been feeling a little sorry for myself), and, despite my reassurances to her, I was missing Sarah. Now, here I was, alone in the house, which suddenly seemed a much larger and lonelier place, apparently surrounded by the unknown ghosts of the past, which had reared up and taken me totally by surprise. How could my father have kept this a secret for so long?

My grandfather had died many years ago when I was just a young boy, so that meant that Dad had kept this to himself virtually all my life. Why couldn’t he have told me? He’d never dropped the slightest hint of the journal’s existence. Whatever it had yet to reveal, it was obvious that it was of such profound importance, and at the same time, connected with some dark family involvement in the terrible events to which it related, that he’d kept his own counsel on the subject for all these years, as, quite obviously had his father before him.

Ten minutes later, armed with a pot of steaming, freshly percolated coffee and a mug, I returned to the study. The light of the day was growing weaker, and as I settled myself back into my chair, I reached across the desk and switched on my desk lamp. The sudden illumination cast an eerie glow across the slightly faded, yellowed manuscript of the journal, and I shivered involuntarily. Was I being foolish? Was I becoming spooked by the whole thing? Somehow, I felt as if the day itself was closing in around me. I felt a sense of oppression in the air, a malevolence, as though the spirit of evil that had laid bare the words on the paper before me could somehow transcend the years, crossing the vast ocean of time to reach out and touch me, the reader, with the sheer force of it’s power. “Come on, Robert,” I spoke aloud to myself, “Don’t be so bloody stupid. Get a grip! It’s just words on paper, nothing more.”

I took a large gulp from my coffee cup, and instantly topped it up from the cafetierre, black, no sugar, just as I like it, though Sarah could never understand how I could take it like that. That settled my nerves a little, and I turned back to the journal.

“Hellfire!” I exclaimed, as the telephone on the desk began to ring. I admit I nearly jumped out of my chair, and for a moment could do no more than stare at the irritatingly ringing piece of plastic on my desk. The jangling tone of the ringer seemed fit to burst my eardrums; I’d never before realized how loud the damned thing was. Should I answer it? I realized that if I didn’t, whoever was calling would probably keep trying until I did pick up, and I wished I’d brought the cordless phone from the lounge into the study with me, that way I’d have been able to see who was calling via the caller id system. I’d insisted on having an old-fashioned corded phone on my desk, because I though it matched the room’s ambience better!

“Hello?” I almost shouted down the line.

“Robert, darling, what’s wrong? You sound angry.”

It was Sarah.

“Oh, hello darling, no, sorry, I’m not angry with you, it’s just that I’m in the middle of reading through some particularly important papers, and to be honest, I was miles away when you rang. The phone ringing just sort of took me by surprise, that’s all.”

“Oh Robert, I’m so sorry to disturb you darling. I’ve just called to see if you’re ok, I hope you’re missing me.”

“Of course I’m missing you, you gorgeous lady,” I replied, “How’re Jennifer and the baby, and Tom of course?”

“Everyone’s fine Robert, Jennifer and Tom have picked a name for the baby. Do you want to try and guess?”

“Aw come on, Sarah, my love, there must only be about ten thousand possibilities when it comes to boys names. Just tell me, there’s a darling.”

“You’re a spoilsport Robert, you really are. Well, OK then. I must admit I was a bit surprised at their choice, but he’s their baby. They’re going to call him Jack!”

I was stunned. I must have gone deathly quiet and didn’t reply to Sarah for a few seconds.

“Robert, are you there darling? Did you hear what I said?”

“Yes, of course Sarah, Sorry, I was just mulling it over in my mind, you know, how it sounds, that sort of thing. Jack Reid. Yes, sure, sounds ok to me my love. I’m glad he’s well. I’m sorry if I sound a bit distant. Don’t worry about me; I’m fine, just a bit preoccupied with these papers that’s all.”

“Yes, I know, I’m sorry I’ve disturbed you when you’re busy. Listen, I’ll get off and give you a ring later, when you’re not so busy. Is Mrs Armitage calling to check on you from time to time?”

“Yes darling, she is, silly old busybody.”

“Now don’t be cruel Robert. You know she only means well.”

“Yes, I know, bit I’m sure she thinks I’m a little boy who’s been left home alone and needs constantly looking after.”

“Don’t worry darling, it won’t be long until I’m home. You just look after yourself. As I said, I’m sorry for disturbing your work. I’ll ring back later.”

“Alright my love, give my love to Jennifer and Tom, and to little Jack of course.”

“Right then, I’ll say ‘bye my darling, take care, I love you.”

“Love you too, ‘bye Sarah.”

The room felt deathly quiet after I’d hung up the phone. Jack! What on earth had inspired Jennifer and her husband, my cousin, to decide to call their new-born boy Jack? It was almost too much of a coincidence, and why had Sarah chosen this very moment to telephone me and inform me of it? It was almost too spooky for words. I needed more coffee, it was cold, I’d have to go back to the kitchen and make some more before I carried on.

As I made the refill, I reflected on my conversation with Sarah. I’d not been entirely truthful with my wife, though not through any intentional desire to lie to her. It was just that I didn’t think I should mention the journal to her, not at this time anyway. I didn’t even know the truth of it yet anyway, or how it would end, so I thought it best to keep the whole thing to myself for now. As for Jennifer, it might not be the best time to reveal that I was reading the purported journal of Jack the Ripper, and that my family might have been involved in the affair just when she’d just decided to call her first son Jack!

It was almost dark outside by the time I returned to the study. The desk lamp still cast its eerie glow over the desk, but I needed more light, so switched on the wall lights. Their warm glow seemed to take some of the gloom and chill from the air, and I felt a little more relaxed as I sat down once again. My wife’s telephone call, inconvenient as it might have seemed at the time, had in fact helped to release some of the tension that had been building up inside me, and I felt lovingly grateful to her for that.

I looked down at the journal, and the words on the paper seemed to virtually rise upwards from the page to meet my eyes as I refocused my attention on those long-ago dark days of the year 1888.