The Goat's Head

By Lex Sinclair

Swedish-born law student, Sofie Lackberg's life is sent into perilous turmoil when she spots a flyer advertising a care assistant job for one night in a palatial Victorian house of gothic architecture and a marble demon out front standing sentry. But the money is too good to turn down for Sofie to keep up with her student fees. Her decision however is the worst she will ever make. The occupants aren't what they appear. Hooded figures capture and restrain her for sacrificial purposes. Sofie has been the chosen one since her birth to give life to the creature only known as "the thing with the goat's head". Can Sofie change her destiny before it is too late? Or will the harrowing truth of her own existence be beyond her control?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Acorn Books
• Release date: Feb 6, 2014
• ISBN: 9781783335886

Book preview

22:18

1.

October 31 1985

Sofie Lackberg retired to the changing rooms, brow soaked in perspiration, chest rising and falling faster than usual and lowered herself on the wooden bench in front of her locker. Once she got out of her spandex and showered she’d return back to her dormitory and hit the books for another three hours before an hour TV then hitting the hay.

Her aerobics class never failed to get her heart pumping, following the gym instructor, Karen into numerous exercises that stretched and flexed her firm, lithe twenty-two year old shapely body. Previously, Sofie had taken out a membership in the local gym. However, she always got hit on by the guys, both young and old, until it started becoming harassment. She felt a lot more comfortable in her only-females aerobics class. Sofie wasn’t interested in boys; she was solely intent on getting her law degree.

The other women in her class often commented highly on her Swedish accent, which they said had a soft lilt that made everything she said have a hypnotic effect. She remembered blushing madly about that, embarrassed and contented.

She got dressed into her all-pink tracksuit, dried her hair, zipped her bag up and then headed out into the winding corridor, sipping her energy drink when she slowed to a stop alongside the notice board and saw a pink flyer reading: Care Assistant Wanted! No experience required. Applicant must be female and like elderly people to aid them in their chores, give them their medication and sleep over on the 5 & 6 November. Call 1991429035. Address (local area) will only be given to successful applicant.

Aware that the only job opportunities she’d had since coming to the U.K. a year ago was temporary job for the Christmas period at a retail store, Sofie’s studies prevented her from committing to a permanent occupation. Nevertheless, she - like every other college and university student around the world - could use the extra cash. Furthermore, the job didn’t require any previous experience and was for only two days. She supposed she could take her work with her and study while she took care of the old people or person.

Sofie pulled a flyer off the pin and took it with her. She walked a little further down the corridor until she sees a phone kiosk against the far wall. Taking a seat in the reception area, the young woman checked her purse for loose change and found an ample amount to use the payphone. No time like the present.

Holding the flyer in her right hand, Sofie dialled carefully with her left, tucking the receiver between the side of her head and her shoulder. She took another sip of her drink when she heard the familiar dialling tone and the monotone ringing of the number she’s just called and waits nervously for an answer.

‘Yes?’ a hoarse, nonetheless strong voice answered.

‘Oh, hi.’ Sofie paused for a second before speaking more clearly. ‘I’m calling about the care assistant job advertised.’

‘Oh, please forgive me. I almost forgot about that. You see, we don’t get my replies from the flyers. What would you like to know, my dear?’ The voice of the woman on the other end of the phone had lost its initial brusqueness and became soft, sweet.

Sofie wanted clarification on what the flyer said about not needing any experience and the dates involved and what the job entailed precisely.

‘You’ll be looking after my parents. You see my husband’s flight is not arriving until late in the evening at Heathrow and I shall be picking him up. Mummy and Daddy are not as young and as able-bodied as they used to be and I’m afraid a six hour drive in the car would be too much for them to bear. They can get about the house themselves quite well, except when going up and down the staircase. And if I left them alone they’d forget to take their medication. Also they struggle with opening their bottle caps and making themselves food.

‘All you have to do is warm their food in the microwave, give them their pills and make sure they get to bed at a sensible hour and be present during the night in case they need to go to the bathroom, that sort of thing.’

A long pause followed.

‘Are you still there, dear?’

‘Yes. Sorry,’ Sofie said.

‘Are you still interested?’

Sofie hesitated before asking the next question. ‘How much would I get paid, if I choose to do this?’

‘Approximately one hundred and fifty pounds,’ the woman said. ‘Money is not an option, to a certain degree. If I know you’re here it’ll remove a big burden from my shoulders.’

Sofie could hardly believe her ears when she heard the amount, but managed to conceal her incredulity. ‘May I bring some of my course books with me? I’m a law student you see.’

‘Why, of course, darlin’. That’s no trouble whatsoever. My parents are quite happy to sit in front of the TV for the evening. They just require some help doing physical things, as I’ve already mentioned.’

‘Then, unless you have anyone else to interview for the position, I’ll be more than happy to do it,’ Sofie said, unable to repress a broad smile.

On the 5 November, Sofie and Janice (a fellow student) drove out to the countryside, along the meandering road. Janice reduced her speed considerably due to the blind spots, afraid that another oncoming vehicle would drive head-on into her Fiat or cause her to swerve off the road and into one of the innumerable trees standing sentinel on either side, enclosing them, blocking out the diminishing daylight.

‘Still can’t believe how lucky your are,’ Janice said for the umpteenth time.

Sofie shrugged. ‘When I get paid, I’ll give you some money towards the petrol.’

‘I didn’t mean that. I just meant one hundred and fifty pound for a single night’s work. Well, not even that, really.’ She fell silent for a moment, shaking her head in disbelief. Then said: ‘Don’t you think it’s a little weird, though?’

‘No. She’s just in desperate need, that’s all.’

‘Yeah, but her parents should have care workers come out to the house all the time.’

‘Margaret looks after her parents by herself.’

Janice cornered a sharp bend, craned her head past the field where two brown horses stared at them and took her foot off the accelerator when she saw a black, wrought-iron fence either side the paved driveway surrounding the two acres of land.

Both girls gaped at the sight before them and shivered inwardly, too.

Travelling at roughly five miles per hour, the red Victorian house of gothic architecture with twin turrets; two stories high towered above them giving off a foreboding aura. The sudden reality that Sofie would actually be sleeping over for the night attending to two complete strangers needs rushed at her with the same velocity as a locomotive at top speed.

‘Jesus Christ!’ Janice exclaimed, unapologetic for the blasphemous remark.

The tiny hairs on Sofie’s arms and the nape of her neck stood on end; her skin shrivelled with goose bumps. She was just about to chastise herself for being so impolite to the proprietor of this magnificent house and paying her so handsomely for one night when her eyes bulged at the sight of what appeared to be a demon made out of marble or stone, staring right at her with one paw - or claw (it certainly couldn’t be called a hand) - raised in a mock greeting or farewell gesture.

‘What in God’s name is that?’ Janice almost shrieked.

Sofie exhaled. ‘I don’t know.’

Janice brought her yellow Fiat to a halt alongside the steps leading to the porch and applied the handbrake. Then she turned to her friend with worry masked all over her countenance. ‘Listen, say the word and I’ll stop at a payphone and you can call this woman and tell her you’ve changed your mind, if you want?’

‘No, that’s ridiculous,’ Sofie said, although the thought had crossed her mind. ‘It’s an old house. Magnificent. Beautiful. Not my taste, and not yours, either. But I can’t exactly go judging someone by their home. I haven’t even got a home. What would that make me? A hypocrite.’

Janice eyed the stone statue facing the front yard looking ominous.

‘If their decoration is anything to go by then these people are pretty freaky if you ask me.’

Sofie deliberated for a couple of minutes.

‘So, what’s it gonna be, huh?’

‘I need the money... and I said I’d do it. A promise is a promise.’

Janice leaned over and kissed Sofie on her cheek. ‘You be careful. And if you change your mind or somethin’ is fucked up, don’t hesitate to call me, you hear?’

Sofie smiled. She gave Janice a quick hug, thanked her for caring about her wellbeing, assured her she’d be fine then grabbed her bag with her pyjama bottoms in, a toothbrush, comb and study books. A wave of fresh air welcomed her to the outside, as she walked around the car and reached the first step.

Janice blew her a kiss, waved then slowly turned her car around and headed back down the paved driveway until she was out of sight.

The Swedish born law student turned on her heels, faced the immense structure before her, climbed the steps onto the porch and announced her arrival...

After the perfunctory greetings were completed, Margaret permitted Sofie to enter the dim interior and closed the front door behind her. The woman with lank, black hair to her shoulders took pleasure in observing the young, gorgeous woman’s amazement at the grand vestibule which was the centre for the typical Victorian layout. The living room was to the right; the dining room to the left where a long pinewood table stretched to the perpendicular window letting in a dazzling ray of sunshine brighten the dimness. The staircase was slightly to the left and on the right were two doors leading into the library and the boudoir.

It suddenly dawned on Sofie that Margaret and her husband and her parents weren’t short on a few quid. One hundred and fifty pounds was pennies to them. Nevertheless, she still felt uncomfortable with some aspect of the job she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

Sofie commented on the splendid home and Margaret thanked her sincerely, appreciating the young woman’s admiration whereas another girl wouldn’t care less, simply intent on getting the night over with and getting paid.

They went to the kitchen towards the rear of the house and Margaret put the kettle, explained whose bottles of antibiotics and medication was for whom then proceeded to pour Sofie a cup of tea before lowering herself on the other side of the dinette table.

‘Any questions, my dear?’ Margaret asked. When she smiled the lines on her face intensified increasing her age in that one cordial gesture by at least a decade.

Sofie racked her brain. ‘No. I don’t think so,’ she said, shaking her head. Then she added: ‘Oh, what time do I give them there medication?’

‘The sleeping pills need to be given to them an hour before bedtime so by the time they are in bed they are already feeling sleepy. The antibiotics for Charles - my father - should be given to him on an empty stomach with a four hour gap between. I’ll be leaving shortly. Perhaps four o’clock. They like their food to be done by six or six thirty at the latest. Everything else is written down. But that’s pretty much it.’

Sofie nodded, scribbling down the instructions on a piece of paper in her diary.

‘Do I give your father his antibiotics after breakfast? If so, how long do I leave it?’

‘Two hours,’ Margaret replied. ‘Help yourself to the fruit in the bowl and to packets of crisps in cupboard. And I took the liberty of writing down the takeaway numbers for the Chinese and the Dominos Pizza.’

Thanking her, Sofie took a sip of her tea and then returned it to the coaster.

‘Would you like to be paid now or when my husband and I return home?’

She didn’t want to so impolite. ‘I’ll have it when you get back. One hundred and fifty, right?’

‘I’ll make it two hundred for not being impatient, how doest that sound, dear?’

Taken aback by Margaret’s generosity, Sofie blushed. ‘Oh, really. You don’t have to do that. Honestly.’

‘I know, but I want to. Because you’re the perfect girl,’ Margaret said, the words lingering in the ambience.

2.

Margaret rolled the sky-blue Jaguar out of the double-garage and down the drive, tooting the horn as Sofie watched the proprietor of the old, creepy-looking house with demon statue in the front yard, raising her hand in the exact same posture as the demon.

That thing gives me the creeps, she thought.

She had considered whether or not she ought to have enquired as to why there was a stone demon standing sentinel in front of the house that’s facade looked as though it had been drenched in blood not paint. However, when Margaret smiled and her face appeared to crack with deep vertical lines all the way from the jaw line to the cheekbones, Sofie prudently decided that it was in her best interest to not be so nosy and impolite. It was none of her business what sort of décor Margaret, her husband and her parents’ tastes were. After all, she had an Abba and an I Am Legend poster on her wall in her dormitory.

Feeling a cold draught on her neck and face, Sofie returned indoors.

Regardless of the fact that the house had no carpet, all floorboards, Sofie had still opted to take her trainers off. The sound of timber creaking beneath her feet unnerved her. It made sense. Here she was in some strangers’ home tending the needs of two elderly people she’d never met before. She needed to relax otherwise when it was time to turn off all the lights and retire to the spare bedroom down the hall from Charles and Yvonne she’d be on the verge of an anxiety attack, for no apparent reason.

She headed up the broad staircase and down the hall towards the bathroom to do her business. Once she’d finished she went to the sink and proceeded to wash her hands when she caught a flicker in the reflection of the mirror on the opposite wall behind her.

Whirling around, inadvertently flicking droplets of warm water onto the tiled floor, Sofie stared at the scarlet coloured wall for the flicker or change of light or whatever it was she’d thought she’d seen. On the verge of continuing to wash her hands, the young woman saw a small black hole and only now recognised it because she was staring intently at the otherwise featureless wall.

Tentatively, she edged closer to the black hole in the scarlet wall and saw, much to her horror, that the flicker had to be something or someone moving on the other side, spying on her while she’d been using the bathroom. While she’d been making her toilet. While the bottom half of her had been naked.

A sound of utter repulsion and creepiness emitted her.

Either Charles or Yvonne had been spying on her.

No! That’s not right. Neither Charles nor Yvonne can climb or come down the stairs without assistance. That’s one of the primary reasons she had been hired. Unless...

Stop it! The other part of her psyche rebuked her.

Just go downstairs and see if they’re Yvonne is reading in the boudoir and Charles is in the living room watching the football.

Calming herself back to rationality, Sofie dried her hands on the towel then headed downstairs, noticing that the room behind the bathroom was in fact Charles and Yvonne’s.

Stop speculating!

The TV in the living room was blasting. Charles wasn’t quite deaf, although he was hard of hearing. Furthermore, he told Sofie he liked the volume cranked up when a game was on because it created a life-like atmosphere.

She approached the doorway and craned her head around, seeing Charles sitting on the sofa with his feet on the chaise lounge, turning his head to her. He stared at her and Sofie realised she was doing the same to him. She glimpsed the big TV.

‘Good game, is it?’

‘Aye, not bad considering our defence are running around like headless chickens - 0-0, half-time in five minutes.’

Down the hall Sofie wandered until she arrived at the door offering the boudoir where Yvonne out to be. She knocked gently on the timber and then eased the door open. Yvonne rested her hardback book on her lap and looked up at her expectantly.

‘Sorry,’ Sofie said, embarrassed.

Yvonne never averted her unblinking gaze as Sofie retraced her steps and closed the door over once more, feeling the heat burning in her cheeks.

They had been downstairs the whole time she’d been in the bathroom, and yet she couldn’t seem to convince herself that her imagination had played a cruel trick on her in spite of the fact that her mind had admitted to being slightly unnerved by being in the same house as two strangers who weren’t the normal, cordial folk most elderly people she had known.

Perhaps they don’t like you invading their privacy whenever you feel like it, she thought. Concurring with her consciousness that that was the case, Sofie headed into the library, opened one of her course books and did some much-required revision. She got up and flicked the light switch when darkness surrendered the day into night.

The pendulum on the antique clock next to the fireplace made an incessant ticking noise that inflicted her mind spoiling any concentration for her studying. Using the mind over matter technique, she put the ticking noise from the clock into the back of her mind, after several minutes of it driving her crazy and managed an hour of reading and writing notes from the text without any interruption whatsoever. Then she exhaled wearily. She rose from the chair and crossed the cosy library and shrieked in fright at the sight of Charles and Yvonne standing directly in front of the doorway, staring fixedly at her.

‘Christ! You scared me half to death. What are you both doing standing there like a couple of statues looking at me?’

The elderly couple didn’t speak for a couple of moments and Sofie believed they weren’t going to either, until Yvonne spoke in a croaky voice, ‘It’s nearly six. We’re hungry, and I usually have my cough medicine and syrup for my throat, if it’s not too much inconvenience.’

The young woman, still recovering from being startled, chastised herself for forgetting about the sole reason she was here, nodded, apologised to them both and then aided Yvonne down the hall towards the kitchen to give her medicine. Charles shuffled along in their wake.

‘Charles would you like your food now or would you prefer to eat it with Yvonne in twenty minutes?’ Sofie asked, helping Yvonne into a straight back wooden chair around the dinette table.

‘I’ll eat with my wife... in the living room.’

‘No problem. I think you’ve both got microwave lasagne and some microwave fries to go with it. Sounds like a pretty good meal to end the day on if you ask me. I brought some ham and cheese sandwiches with me, but I can save them for the morning. I might order a Chinese. I don’t think your mum would mind if you joined me. Or we can order a large pizza? Whad’ya reckon?’

The both shook their heads at her.

‘Okay. Just a thought, that’s all.’

She didn’t say what she thought out loud but there was something not quite right with Charles and Yvonne, and not only because they’d made her jump out of her skin. She sensed it earlier and believed it to be a normal uneasiness at staying over a stranger’s house for the night.

‘Look, I’m sorry about almost forgetting about your dinner, okay? But you were both doing your own thing, so I went and done some studying. I’m studying for a law degree. Maybe work in a prison or something along those lines anyway...’ she trailed off, seeing that they were evidently not the slightest bit interested in her studies or her sincere apology.

Sighing inwardly, Sofie grabbed the two bottles of medicine undone the caps, got a spoon and studiously offered it up to Yvonne’s closed mouth. Her dry, cracked lips parted when the spoon neared and as it disappeared into her mouth, the old lady spat the spoonful of medicine into Sofie’s face. She leapt back, scraping the legs of the chair on the tiled flooring and wiped the syrupy liquid out of her face. The spoon clattered to the floor beneath her feet.

Furious at the elderly woman, Sofie whirled around and faced her.

‘What the hell did you do that for?’

‘I coughed,’ Yvonne said in an unapologetic tone.

That might well have been true but Sofie’s intuition insisted that the old woman deliberately spat at her. She leaned her back against the worktop, cleared her head of the anger that had rushed to the surface then bent down and retrieved the spoon, swilled it with hot water from the tap then turned and faced Yvonne.

‘Let’s try again, shall we?’ she said in a taut voice.

This time Yvonne took her medicine from both bottles and even thanked Sofie when she handed her a glass of water to wash it down.

Sofie aided the elderly couple back into the living room; put the TV on and returned to the kitchen, gritting her teeth; the incident that had recently occurred still playing over and over again on a never-ending loop in vivid detail. Her sense of uneasiness towards the elderly couple increasing the more time she spent with them. They seemed to be shocking her or frightening her from one moment to the next, nothing like the old people or her grandparents back in her native country. What she also found peculiar was that neither Yvonne nor Charles offered any apology; not even obligatory. Old people tended to be loving and warm-spirited. Charles and Yvonne were cold - ice cold.

Shaking her head, Sofie opened the refrigerator and took out the two lasagne meals and the fries, placed them on the worktop then picked up the bottle of milk in the door, undone the cap and took a thirsty gulp of what she assumed would be cold, fresh milk.

Her gag-reflex rejected the curdled milk as quickly as she poured it down her throat onto the tiled flooring. Eyes burning, vision blurry, the young woman stood bent at the waist, holding her slender hips, staring at the mess she’d created on the floor. What came to the forefront of her consciousness was Margaret specifically telling her to help herself to the milk in the fridge earlier on.

Had she known it was curdled? Was this yet another coincidence? Did her imagination really play a cruel trick on her when she thought she saw a flicker of movement in the room behind the bathroom upstairs? Did Charles and Yvonne deliberately try to scare her out of her wits? Did Yvonne spit rather than cough the medicine back into her face? There were starting to be too many coincidences for her liking. One or two, perhaps. But ever since Margaret departed and the unease she felt increased, even her normally unimaginative mind refused to accept that this was all very normal.

After cleaning the mess on the floor up, Sofie screwed the top back on the milk and checked the date, doing her utmost to conceal her vexation when she saw the expiry date had run out over two weeks ago. She blasted the two ample-size microwave meals and set the trays on the worktop ready to be carried in one at a time for the two emotionless old fogies awaiting there meals, like two corpses that refused to die, void of any heart or soul.

Their drinks on the table and their trays of food on the their lap, Sofie finally relaxed onto the sofa as Charles and Yvonne ate their food ravenously, as though they hadn’t been fed all day. Perhaps they haven’t, Sofie thought, watching them with mild disgust.

She had ordered Chow Mein and a portion of chips from the Chinese takeaway and even offered Yvonne and Charles to have some if they were still hungry when the delivery guy decided to turn up. They both declined without thanking her.

Don’t mention it. And in case you hadn’t realised I don’t like you two either. You’re both old and smell and are bloody rude!

‘Beg your pardon?’ Yvonne asked, regarding Sofie.

Shit! She’s a goddamn mind reader.

‘I didn’t say anything,’ Sofie said, trembling, facing the TV.

‘And what if we were mind readers?’ Charles asked with a mouthful of lasagne.

‘What?’ Sofie’s voice trembled audibly.

Charles glanced at his wife who shook her head once at him. Then he said: ‘Nothing.

Sofie made sure to switch her thoughts off whenever she was in their company from now on.

The doorbell chimed, announcing the arrival of the takeaway guy. Sofie used her arms as levers to get up off the comfortable sofa she had sunken into and headed towards the front door, opening her purse for the correct amount of money.

The Chinese gentleman with short cropped black hair smiled benignly at her. He handed her the plastic bag containing her order, accepted the money, quickly checked the amount was accurate and then headed back down the porch steps to his idling van, hopped in and drove back down the long driveway. Sofie couldn’t help but notice how fast the young man was to get off the property.

Having put her Chow Mein on a plate with the bag of prawn crackers, Sofie returned