Murder-De-Sac

by Jim Bennett

  Julie was now sitting in the shop’s small staff room, eating the ham sandwich that she had made the night before. There was still a clammy quality to her skin. Despite the inordinate amount of coffee she had drank this morning, her mouth remained claggy. She had been resting her head on the table when Mike popped his head around the door.

  ‘Hullo’, he said, ‘can I join you?'

  Julie gestured for him to sit, before realising that she hadn’t been in what they laughably called the ‘staff room', with anyone before. Come rain or shine, Mr Peg always took his breaks outside. Julie supposed she would have to get used to this poky solitude being invaded from now on. With two of them in there, the small space now had the air of an interrogation suite.

  ‘Mr Peg said that we shouldn’t take our breaks together normally', Mike said, attempting to make himself comfortable on an upturned bin. His poncho made an obnoxious noise as he moved. ‘But it wouldn’t hurt on my first day’.

  ‘Most of the customers we get come first thing, so it won’t make much of a difference. Funny thing about old people, isn’t it? Always wanting to get home as soon as they can’.

  ‘I know someone who used to be like that’, Mike said. There was something sad in his voice as he spoke.

  ‘Are we serving drinks now then?' Julie said, changing the subject. ‘Is that why we need a pot boy?’

  ‘Pot man, thank you very much’. Mike puffed up his chest and Julie laughed. ‘I still don’t really know what he wants me to do. I think it’s fetching and carrying’.

  ‘I’m surprised he’s letting you move the blessed things. We normally have to bend to their will'.

  Julie took another bite of her sandwich, before remembering that Mike’s lunch was now spread down the front of his t-shirt. ‘Did you want a bit of this?' Julie pushed the tinfoil towards Mike. He eyed the sandwich hungrily. She thought he might protest a little bit before taking half of her lunch, but he readily accepted it without a second thought.

  ‘You don’t move the plants and we’ve had, what? Three customers this morning? What do you normally do all day?' Mike spoke between bites of sandwich, covering his mouth with his hand to hide the masicated mass.

  ‘Not a lot if I’m honest’, Julie said, folding the now empty tinfoil. ‘He wants someone here just in case most of the time. Doesn’t have a lot of time for the customers'. Julie absentmindedly rummaged through her bag as she spoke. ‘It’s more pastoral care than anything else ninety percent of the time. These old loves who come in rarely buy anything. They just want someone to talk to'.

  ‘My Aunty Jean was the same. Got the bus into town every day so she could chew the driver’s ear off. No need for it. I’d get her sorted before I left, make something for her lunch and everything'.

  ‘My advice is to not do anything too quickly. Otherwise you will find yourself bored stiff by lunchtime. Especially now that there’s three of us’.

  ‘He did mention some new big project, so maybe that will keep us all busy. That’s probably what all the sand is for'.

  Having finished his sandwich, he returned his full attention to Julie only to realise that she was now frantically pressing buttons on her mobile phone.

  ‘Sorry’, she said, looking up at him briefly. ‘My son called me, and I missed it’.

  ‘Maybe he wants a lift or something?’

  ‘I don’t think so, he’s in Thailand'.

  ‘There you go then’, Mike said encouragingly. ‘He just wants to let his old mum know how he’s getting on.

  She winced inwardly at the phrase ‘old mum’, especially given that Mike couldn’t be any more than a few years younger than her, but moved past it. ‘I doubt it, he never calls’. Julie began to feel panicked. ‘Christ, I hope he hasn’t done anything stupid'. She attempted to call him, but it immediately went to the answer phone.

  ‘Well if he’s got some poor girl pregnant, a phone call isn’t going to help much, is it?'

  Mike reached for Julie's bag of crisps without asking. He opened the packaging and then ripped it all the way down side so they could both easily get at its contents.

  Mike attempted to give Julie a winning smile. Julie scowled at him, and tried to call Harry again.

  Chapter Three

  Julie had spent the rest of the day in a low level panic. She still hasn't got through to Harry, despite having tried calling every half hour or so since lunch. When she pulled up outside the house, she convinced herself that this time the call would connect. She had proved to the universe that she could be patient, and this would be her reward. She had no such luck and the call once again failed. On further reflection, Julie thought the universe probably knew that she had been driving, so her small display of patience didn’t count.

  She rested her head on the steering wheel and tried not to lose her mind. He was a nineteen year old boy, away from home for the first time. Of course he wouldn’t be waiting in his hostel for stray phone calls from his family. He'd been out with his friends, that was all. She tried to channel her frustration into something constructive, although was struggling to think what that might be.

  Julie picked up the flowers that Mr Peg had asked her to throw away. He was always doing this, chucking perfectly good stock because of some imagined imperfection. Honestly, sometimes she didn’t know what planet that man was living on. Fair enough if business was booming, but she doubted if they were even breaking even most of the time. He couldn’t afford the luxury of getting rid of merchandise which didn’t meet his impossible standards. She had wrapped them in brown paper and tied a piece of string around the middle. She didn’t know why she had made the effort. For some unknown reason, it felt important. Even if she found it difficult to care about much in the world anymore, she didn’t want other people to know.

  When she lifted them off the passenger seat, she saw that they had left a horrible red stain on the fabric below. Not the normal kind of stain you would expect from flowers, but something all the more violent and messy.

  Looking at her hands, she realised that the pollen had made them look as if she was afflicted with some contagious skin disease. She let out a small groan of frustration, before grabbing the flowers by their packaging and leaving the car.

  She heard that someone was playing music. Not a car stereo, but an actual guitar. The light melody soothed her and the severity of her posture softened ever so slightly. It was the kind of music that you would expect to find in a picturesque restaurant overlooking the ocean, the setting sun on your face and the warm breeze in your hair. As Julie crossed the road, the music increased in volume, and she thought that her imagination was getting the better of her.

  Having temporarily forgotten her missing son, Julie reached her own front gate feeling much more relaxed. The music was much louder now, it must be coming from somewhere in the direct vicinity.

  Julie was so lost in her thoughts that she only looked up when she got to the front door, ready to put the key in the lock. She was so astonished to find the guitar wielding youth sitting in front of her house that she let out a small yelp and staggered backwards.

  'Fuck', the youth said, springing to his feet. 'Mrs Giles, are you okay?'

  Any zen that she had found had immediately evaporated with the fright. Her heart was once again racing, her head swimming.

  'Fine', she said quietly. 'I'm fine'.

  'Jesus, you look like you're going to faint. Here, why don't you sit down?'

  Without thinking, she let him help her down to the floor so she could perch on the front step. It was only afterwards that she reflected on how stupid this was. Any number of rapists and murderers would be absolutely delighted with a victim who lay on the ground voluntarily.

  'Can I get you something?' he said, looking concerned. She didn’t feel like a woman in early middle age who had suffered a small fright. Instead, it was if she had adopted the persona of some old biddy who was one shock away from the pearly gates.

  'No I'm fine, thank you'.

  'I think some
water might help Mrs Giles'.

  'I'll be fine in a moment'. He didn't challenge her, but continued to look at her intently, waiting for any change in her condition.

  After her head had stopped spinning, she raised her eyes from the concrete and looked at him properly for the first time.

  'How do you know my name?'

  'Didn't Harry tell you I was coming?'

  'You know Harry?'

  He bobbed at the knees and rolled his shoulders backwards in excitement. . 'There you are then, no wonder you were surprised'.

  He took his phone out of his pocket and after pressing a few keys, put it to his ear. Julie made a token effort to get back to her feet, although almost immediately decided it wasn't worth the effort.

  'Harry?... How you doing mate?... Not bad, yeah. Listen, I've got your mum here… No dramas, here she is'.

  He handed Julie the phone. His enthusiasm for God knows what was almost overwhelming.

  'Alright Mum, how you doing?

  Julie's emotions were now indistinguishable from one another. She felt the relief that Harry was okay with the blind fury that this anonymous friend had been able to reach him so easily.

  'Harry, what on earth are you playing at', she said, already regretting how sharp she was being with him. 'I've been trying to call you all afternoon'.

  'Bloody hell Mum, calm down. How many times do I have to tell you? No signal here. You've got to do it through WhatsApp'.

  Julie wanted to argue that she had definitely been trying to call him through WhatsApp, but she really wasn't sure.

  Her voice lost all of its previous conviction. 'Well it still shouldn't be this hard to get hold of you'.

  'It's easy'. She thought of the several other times that Harry had attempted to school her in the use of technology, and how quickly it had descended into a nasty squabble. She found it easier to muddle through alone, or not as the case may be. She now left the assorted icons at the top of her phone to look menacingly, their warnings going unheaded.

  'I'll have another look then. How have you been?' She was struggling to hear him over the rhythmic beating of a drum and youthful laughter in the background.

  'Yeah fine. Listen, Mum. Is it okay if Jack stays for a while?'

  She almost asked who Jack was before remembering the grinning young man standing in front of her.

  'Is he a friend of yours?'

  'No Mum, he's a psychopath who I thought I would ask to stay in my old bedroom'.

  'Very funny Harry'. Jack was still standing over her, positively beaming. 'Are you enjoying yourself?'

  'Yeah mum, all good. Listen, I'm in the middle of something, so I'll let you go. Talk soon, yeah?'

  'But Harry…', she started to say before realising that he had ended the call.

  'All good then?' Jack said as she handed the phone back to him.

  She didn't have the opportunity to answer him before the garden gate swung violently open. Julie couldn't see the cause, however the alternating scraping and tapping of a cane gave her a pretty good idea.

  'What are you up to lad?' Mrs McGrath growled.

  'I'm called Jack', the young man said. She couldn't say for certain as he was facing away from her, but she was certain that he wasn't smiling anymore. Mrs. McGrath had that effect on people.

  'That's your name boy. It doesn't explain what you're doing standing over that wee old girl there'. Julie thought that Mrs McGrath must be at least twenty years her senior and made a mental note to re-examine her wardrobe.

  Jack attempted a response to no avail. To his merit, he did manage to splutter a few incoherent noises, which was better than most in the face of the belligerent Scot.

  'I'm fine', Julie said. She pushed herself up and her knees cracked. They gave way underneath her and she fell back down.

  'Shocked to an inch of her life!' Mrs McGrath was near to shouting now. Jack had raised his arms in surrender, most likely in response to Mrs McGrath brandishing her cane like a sabre.

  'Mrs McGrath, I'm fine'. With some unceremonious grunting, Julie managed to get to her feet. 'His name's Jack. He's a friend of Harry's'.

  'They sound like a group of wronguns to me. Vagrants, are they? He's been out here begging for hours'.

  'I was only playing my guitar', Jack whimpered, recovering his confidence for a second. Mrs McGrath responded by jabbing her stick in his leg. Jack gave a small cry, then once again fell into a submissive silence.

  'Harry is my son. You remember? The tall boy with dark hair that used to live here?'

  'I’ve seen a lot of people in my life. Can't remember them all'.

  'What is it that you do?' Jack asked, trying to get the conversation onto friendlier terms. Mrs McGrath responded with another stab of her stick. Jack was too quick for her this time and dodged to one side.

  'Jack, go inside and out the kettle on'. Julie unlocked the front door. Jack gathered up his bags and took the first few steps towards the house backwards, no doubt so he wouldn't have to take his eyes off Mrs McGrath. As he passed over the threshold, the old lady narrowed her eyes at him, giving him one last point of the cane before he disappeared over the threshold.

  'Been keeping an eye out, ever since that toerag this morning tried that funny business'.

  'You really can't attack people just because you don't like the look of them'.

  'I'm doing a public service. Them bloody rozzas were no good. Half an hour it took them to turn up, and that's only because I wouldn't stop calling'.

  'So he wasn't doing anything wrong? The telephone engineer?'

  'Nothing that they can prove, lass. There's one hell of a difference'.

  'Well I'm going to go in now. It's been a long day and I'm hungry'. Julie raised a hand and turned to go.

  'Wait'. Mrs. McGrath hobbled towards her. She took a small notebook out of her pocket and wrote something down in it. 'You're better off calling me if that boy of yours tries anything. Bloody pigs will only come if you're a corpse'. She ripped the page from the pad and handed it to Julie.

  ‘I thought your phone wasn’t working?’

  ‘It’s fixed now, don’t know how’.

  ‘You don’t think it had anything to do with that telephone engineer?’

  ‘I told you already, he wasn’t a telephone engineer'.

  Too tired to argue, she took the phone number from her neighbour and went into the house.

  Jack was nowhere to be seen. His bags were still sitting in the front hall. Not only was she met with the general mayhem that she normally left the house in, but also the aftermath of Mrs McGrath's primitive DIY. Julie’s unwanted guest this morning had unsuccessfully attempted to lift one of the tiles off the ground, snapping it at an ugly angle. She'd left it where it lay, in a bed of the grouting that she had seen fit to try and dislodge.

  Julie stuck her head in the lounge and considered whether she had the energy to tackle the mess in there. Compromising, she straightened the throws and the pillows on the sofa and collected the dirty plates. She placed the two empty wine bottles under the sofa, hoping she would remember to move them when she left for work tomorrow morning.

  When she entered the kitchen with the dirty plates, she found Jack sitting at the table drinking a glass of wine.

  'Hope you don't mind', he said, giving her a hundred watt smile. 'Bit late in the day for tea'.

  Happy to have an excuse, Julie took a glass from the cupboard and poured herself some. Jack had brought his guitar into the kitchen with him, and was idly plucking at the strings as he stared at the far wall pensively.

  'That's very nice', she said.

  'What? Oh, this? Thanks so much. It's not really about the music for me, you know? It's more about the state of mind that music gets me to. Do you know what I mean?'

  Julie nodded, despite not having the first clue what he was talking about.

  She got her first good look at him in the light of the kitchen. There was no denying that he was attractive. The temperature had started to dip outside, and ye
t he was still wearing a white vest with nothing over it. His body had the quality of a lithe cat, all muscle and grace. While his hair looked effortlessly quaffed, Julie expected it had taken quite a lot of time to get it to stay that way. He had his feet propped up on one of the other kitchen chairs. He wore a pair of dirty sandals on his feet that looked exhausted.

  ‘What brings you to Brumpton? It's not exactly Paris'. Julie asked, trying not to sound like his mother.

  ‘I’ve got a gig. Standing slot at a place in town, you know. This really trendy little bar'.

  ‘And when you say town, you mean…?’

  ‘Where else, the Big Smoke!' he said gleefully.

  ‘You do know that we’re an hour’s walk from the train station, and even then, it’s another half hour into London?'

  ‘I don’t mind cadging a lift off you. Harry said he used to do it all the time, no problem'.

  Julie tried to stop her face from dropping. She didn’t think she quite managed it.

  ‘It will give us the chance to get to know each other’, Jack said, winking. He slid his hand across the table and placed it on Julie’s forearm. In spite of herself, Julie’s cheeks began to flush. He was obviously only interested in securing free transport to and from the station, and yet she had allowed herself to be immediately taken in.

  ‘Yes, well’, she said, moving her arm away from him and picking up her glass of wine. ‘I do have a job, you know. I’ll help where I can’.

  ‘Nice one’, he said, returning to his guitar.

  ‘Do you want anything to eat?'

  'I'm doing the whole vegan, organic thing at the moment, you know? Trying to do my bit for Mother Earth'.

  Julie walked to the fridge and peered tentatively inside. 'I don't think I have anything like that'. She tried her luck in the freezer instead. 'Nothing in here but fish fingers'.

  'Are they from a sustainable source?'

  Julie turned the packet over a few times. 'They're dolphin friendly?'