The Camden Tales

56 - Thirty-five

-=₪ November 1932 ₪=-

The Mansion / Margate / 2.53am

Malka was jolted awake by a sudden and loud sound. Her eyes darted open, and she strained her ears to listen for any more noise. As the sound of multiple doors opening reached her ears, she threw on her robe, grabbed an oil lamp, and made her way towards the source of the commotion.

She soon realised that the landing lights had already been turned on, as most of the household was gathered outside a closed door. Ishmael, Abigail, Louis, and Anna huddled together with worry etched on their faces. All eyes turned on Malka as she descended the stairs with the lamp in hand, it seemed an odd fixture to them given the bright bulbs of the electric lighting.

"We heard a loud yell... or something... come from in there." confirmed Ishmael pointing to the guest room door.

Malka quickly concluded that Tommy was having a troubled night. She then cast an anxious glance at Louis as his lips parted, preparing to speak. He intended to draw parallels between Tommy and Alfie like she just had, but the others gathered on the landing remained ignorant of Alfie's torments back in Camden, and she was determined to keep it that way. Silently pleading with him to keep the secrets of Alfie's night terrors concealed, she watched with relief as Louis heeded her unspoken request and remained silent.

"I will deal with this." she then stated turning back to Ishmael.

"Ya sure?" he asked with concern for his sister's safety.

With a firm nod, Malka instructed everyone to go back to their rooms and assured them that she would handle the situation perfectly fine alone. Once they had all retreated to their quarters, Malka flicked off the electric lights, placed a firm grip around the brass doorknob, and took a deep breath.

Her oil lamp provided the only source of illumination as she entered the room and closed the door behind her. Tommy was writhing on the bed, drenched in sweat, and clearly in the grip of a nightmare. Malka approached him tentatively, trying not to startle him as she whispered his name. When that failed, she spoke a little louder, shaking him gently until he jolted awake with a panicked yell.

She backed away from the bed as Tommy breathed heavily with an expression of terror followed by exhaustion. Lifting a lamp to get a better view of him, Malka observed the tattoos on his chest and arm for the first time. Having not realised Malka was standing there, his eyes slowly shifted to the lamp and then to her.

"What me to leave?" she asked.

He let out a sigh of relief and flopped back down onto the bed. She observed Tommy for a moment or two as he lay there, his arm resting across his forehead, staring blankly at the ceiling. Deciding that nothing more was to be done, Malka turned to leave.

"There is no logic or pattern to it," he said, his eyes still fixed on the ceiling.

Malka knew what he was talking about, Alfie had once said the very same words to her. The faces and blood curdling screams of every person he had ever overseen, organised, or otherwise been responsible for the murders of. No names, just numbers. Thirty-five on last count. All of whom, Alfie had said, tended his dreams each and every night with no logic or pattern to it. The consequence being that Alfie woke up every morning like Tommy had now, in sheets that had to be rung out from the sweat. What surprised her though, was she had never imagined that this sort of thing troubled Tommy like it did Alfie. Turning back, she raised her lamp to better see him with while contemplating the man's consciousness.