Estronomicon Christmas 2008

MARIE O’REGAN outlines of that familiar face – feeling the chill pervade his body. Matthew. A happy, cheeky Matthew – not the quiet, untouchable shadow he had become.

Next to this was a photograph of Elise with her husband, Mark; as yet untouched by the world’s harsh reality. These pictures spoke of happy times, and he struggled to remember them…to remember his place in all this. And Matthew’s.

He looked back at his chair, and froze. His beloved chair was gone, replaced by something newer, sleeker. He didn’t like it. Yet when he closed his eyes and touched this…the familiar cloth sprouted beneath his fingers, only to vanish when he looked again. The smell of smoke made him cough, and for just a moment the heat in the room was intense – then the chill settled in once more.

And what of Matthew? He stared at the sleeping boy, wondering whether to wake him; he knew the child wouldn’t react well. He rubbed his eyes, unsure of his vision suddenly – the boy appeared dimmer, somehow. Less there. He wondered how many more of these tricks the house would play on him before the night was over.

He stumbled into the hall, lost in this space that, once so familiar, now felt so strange. Music floated downstairs again, and he cried out in fear. Where was she? He made his way quickly up the stairs, eager to see his daughter, have her tell him what was happening.

Elise sat on the bed, clasping a picture in her hands, her face wet with tears. A bedside lamp made the tear tracking down her cheek glisten. The old man hovered in the doorway, unwilling suddenly to intrude on this, his daughter’s grief. A door on the other side of the bedroom opened, and Mark appeared.

“Elise?”

She smiled up at him, put the photo back on the bedside table. Matthew laughed at her from it, caught in delight at some past party. “I’m sorry. I’m okay, really.”

Mark nodded, sympathy evident as he asked, “Can I get you anything?”

She thought for a moment. “A tea would be nice, if that’s okay?”

He grinned at her, then. “Should have known.” He crossed to the bed, kissed her on the forehead. “Of course it is. I’ll be back in a minute.”

He brushed past the old man without acknowledgement, his face set. The good humour was purely for his daughter’s benefit. What was wrong, he - 22 -