Later that evening Hannah told Carl about the conversation with the older lady, Jane. "How did we get this place? You said it was rented by the last tenant, but I was told he owned it."
Carl smiled and his eyes were positively twinkling. "Well, they got it wrong, didn't they?" He said. "The place had been rented by the old man and because it was run down and full of old furniture, I managed to get it for a cheap monthly price."
All the things that Jane had told her, made Hannah wonder about Carl's story. Mr Grundy had owned the house, he had no family, but it was rumoured that he had money stashed around his home. He didn't believe in banks, apparently.
Carl laughed off these stories. "They are just guessing. We know the real story don't we. It would be good to find some money though."
Everybody liked Carl so it was notable that Jane had not succumbed to his charms. If Hannah was out with Carl and they saw Jane, the older woman would nod or wave from across the street, but never stop to chat. What could she see in Carl that nobody else could? He told Hannah that she was to avoid the lady, who, he had decided, was a troublemaker.
They now lived in exactly the right area to have a dog. It would be lovely to walk across the heathland and over the rocks which crowded next to the sea. Hannah asked Carl, but he was not keen on the idea. A bit of wheedling and cajoling should have the required effect. He was always anxious to please her and he knew how she missed Midge.
"I have something for you." Carl was hiding something inside his coat.
"Oh, Carl. Let me see."
"Here she is. I've named her Beulah."
"Oh…It's a kitten."
"I know that you had mentioned having a dog, but a cat is more suitable, I think. I've definitely seen a mouse or two out in the garden. She'll take care of them, won't you Beulah."
The cat mostly ignored Hannah. She was the one that fed it and gave it milk. She was the one that emptied the litter tray. Beulah didn't give a damn how much Hannah did for her because she was Carl's cat. She would occasionally allow Hannah to stroke her, but sometimes attempts at touching her ended with a hiss and a flash of claws.
Hannah searched the local papers and the internet each day for jobs. The village was remote and the cottage was a mile outside of the village. Often isolated, a job would bring her into contact with people who she could chat to and get to know. At the moment only Jane and Doreen, who ran the corner shop, could be counted as friends.
Her acquaintances were female, as Carl would be unhappy if she talked to men. Hannah could get away with chatting to a man if he was in his seventies or eighties, but there would be trouble if it was anyone younger. Carl never threatened her or even said very much, but his mood would change and he would stomp around the house scowling, if he even thought that contact with a male had been made.
"Stop worrying about getting a job. I'm earning good money and this place is cheap. Stay at home and make the place nice for us."
"I want to do something. I'm on my own out here when you are at work. Even a little part time job would be nice."
"I'm not out at work every day. You're not often left alone and you have Beulah here with you."
Every time Hannah mentioned work, she got a similar response. A year after moving to their new home, they had never gone back to visit her parents and she didn't have a job. She still only had two friends in the village.
Carl spent a lot of time with Hannah. He didn't go out to work every day, some days he would stay at home and keep her company. The more time he spent with her, the happier Hannah had been. His presence eased her worries and made the odd things about their lives seem normal.
When he was gone for a whole day, she would find that the doubt crept back in. Why hadn't they been back to visit her family? What was the real story of how they had got the cottage? Where did all their money come from? Carl would come home and look into Hannah's eyes and she would forget what had been troubling her. For a while anyway. The worry would inevitably return.
How had she been stolen away from her parents and her home and brought to this cold bleak village? She wanted a dog and she had ended up with a cat. Hannah had been isolated and she was just beginning to realise how she had been manipulated. Carl had been moody sometimes, but he had never physically hurt her or even been unkind. For some reason, it never seemed wise to push him too far.
What was going on in his head? Carl went off to work, but she only had a vague idea of what he did and where he went. She had asked many times, but Carl always managed to give an answer and not answer at the same time. Money was made available for shopping and clothes, but they did not seem to have a bank account. Maybe she should keep some money for emergencies, whatever that meant.
Carl was dark and mysterious and good looking. These had been good things. Now he was dark, but moody, he was menacing rather than mysterious and he was good looking in a hard and cruel way. Hannah knew all of these things and she also knew that she would not be able to leave him. Whatever he did she would be in love with him.
At any time, she could, theoretically, pack a bag and return to her family home. There would be a warm welcome for her when she got there. On occasion Hannah had picked up a bag. Once she had even been able to put a single shoe into it. That was the furthest she had ever got in her plan to run away.
When she had put the shoe in the suitcase and been unable to go any further, she could only think that Carl had put some kind of spell on her. It was ridiculous, but it was the only explanation for her inability to leave. Hannah mustered all her courage and asked him about their relationship.
"You love me, I know that, but you control me. Sometimes I want to leave, but I can't. You have never hurt, me but I'm scared of you. What is going on?"
Carl sighed and then he talked to Hannah and what he said was more or less the truth. "I am bad. I am bad right to my core. At the age of sixteen I knew what I was. You are good. If you are around, I have a chance of making it through this life without leaving too much carnage in my wake. I need you near me. Men like me, we seem to need someone like you. I can see how good you are Hannah. To me you shine with goodness. I chose you to share my life because you are special."
Carl's words were strange, but there was something real about them. They made a mad kind of sense. He didn't, just, love her, she was vital to his wellbeing.
As the explanation sank in Hannah could only wonder how she had not seen what Carl was. There had been something far, far back in her mind since she had met him, which was giving her a warning. He had always been able to win her around with his charm and excuses and she had ignored the alarm. As time had gone on its bell had grown quieter.
He had met her from school every day. It had been an act of devotion, but also one of control. She could see that now, but hindsight was often cruel with its revelations. He had moved them to this remote location to get her away from her family and to make her give up her job. He wanted all of her time and attention. Would he keep her like some willing slave forever, or would he cast her aside when she was of no more use.
His words were terrifying. Hannah could now see the evil on him, in him and around him. How had she gone on this journey with him and been so oblivious to his true nature? After listening to him speak she was frightened. Every day from that moment on she was frightened and yet she could not leave. She still loved him, too.