by Graham West
***
Jake stared at his phone. Jenny had learned to interpret his moods, and there was something in his eyes that told her he wasn’t in a particularly good one. But she waited. The dreams had made her nervous.
Jake turned. “I’ve just been checking out your posts online,” he said abruptly.
Jenny saw that look. “Why? What’s up?”
“Jen, you’ve still been putting some really personal shit up there! All this stuff with the grave—why are you telling the friggin’ world?”
“I’m not. I’m telling my friends—it’s not public!”
Jake glared at her. “You have one hundred and thirty-nine friends. Can you vouch for all of them?”
Jenny didn’t reply. She couldn’t. It wasn’t even worth wasting her breath.
“Why did you put up that stuff about Sebastian getting beaten up? And that bit about camping out in the car, waiting for that prick? You don’t know who’s watching, babe. You don’t know who’s doing the graves. It’s dangerous! I told you before—if the wrong person gets hold of this, you’ll be sorry!”
Jake rarely ranted unless he was right. Jenny had found that out a while ago. If he had any doubts about an opinion he held, there would be a discussion. She knew that looking for support on social media was pretty crazy. She hadn’t thought. It was just a way of sounding off.
“I’ll delete them,” she replied meekly.
“It’s a bit late, now,” Jake snapped. “Look, there’s probably no harm done. Just leave all this shit out in future, okay?”
Jenny nodded. She wasn’t in the mood for an argument anyway. She gave him a half smile and picked up her college bag—a fake leather satchel that her father had bought her last Christmas. Jake was still studying her.
“Stop stressing!” she said. “I’ll take those posts down today. I’ll do it over coffee. Promise!”
“It’s not that.”
“Then what? Why are you looking at me like you don’t trust me?”
Jake shrugged. “I do trust you. It’s just that you’ve been a bit weird recently.”
Jenny tensed. “Weird?”
“Yes, weird. You look as if you’re a million miles away most of the time. I talk to you but I know you’re not listening—”
“It’s all this stuff with the grave. It’s just got to me,” she replied, trying to sound casual.
Jake shook his head. “It’s more than that, babe. I just wish you’d talk to me.”
“About what?”
“About what’s going on in your head.”
“I’ve told you, it’s the stuff with the grave.”
Jake blocked Jenny’s way as she made for the door with her satchel slung across her shoulder.
“Tell me, babe. Please!”
Jenny squirmed. “Tell you what?”
“About the dreams you’ve been having! Just tell me about the dreams.”
***
Dennis Blakely sat opposite his wife, wondering how he was going to tell her that their ten-year marriage was over. He and Kim had that talk, lying in each other’s arms, and agreed that they belonged together. But he knew Kim wasn’t going to hang around playing the mistress, waiting for her man, even if it was going to be messy.
Penny looked after herself. She always did. Every time she left the house, in fact. Sometimes he wished his wife could just pull on a pair of jeans and tie her hair back. Did she really need to spend an hour in front of the mirror to visit the local shops?
“So, do I get to see this big adventure park then?” she asked, taking a sip from a large glass of white wine.
Blakely’s eyes shifted. Kim was nowhere to be seen. That was probably a good thing. “No problem,” he replied. “I’ll take you later on.”
Penny smiled. “Well, I’d like to see where my husband spends most of his time,” she teased, “and check out any girls that might be hanging around!”
“It’s a long day,” Blakely mused, ignoring the comment and wishing his wife was a little less enthusiastic about the park.
“Yes, and long days make short nights. So what are you doing with them?”
“Doing with what?”
“The nights. The nights when you seem too tired to talk to me.”
Blakely squirmed. Why do they ask the very question you can’t answer without lying? “You know what I’ve been doing.”
Penny smiled. “Yes, but I can’t see your face over the phone, so I can’t tell if you’re telling me the truth.”
“It’s TV and a beer, mostly.”
“Just the one?”
“I’m not a big drinker, you know that, and I have to be up early.”
Penny nodded and took another sip of wine. Actually, he hadn’t lied. He did watch some TV and yes, he liked a beer. She hadn’t asked him if he’d been sharing a bed with the waitress, had she?
“Anyway, you’re looking good. New dress?” he asked, changing the subject quickly.
Penny nodded, and their eyes locked. “I’m wondering if you’re still interested in what’s under the dress,” she said, lowering her voice. “Or have you lost your appetite?”
Blakely felt that familiar pain in the pit of his stomach. Did she suspect something? Did she actually know? Maybe she was playing him. Women loved to watch their men squirm—they loved to see the beads of sweat forming on their foreheads. He couldn’t even remember the last time his wife had tried to seduce him, if she ever had.
He shot her a weak smile. “Never!”
Penny took several mouthfuls of wine and stood. “I’m going up to our room to freshen up. Then perhaps we could go to the park, if that’s okay?”
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll wait here and finish this glass.”
He watched his wife walk across the bar room. She still had it. She was still as classy as hell. Okay, she wasn’t passionate, but sex wasn’t everything. Penny was sophisticated and smart, and they made a good team. He knew that. Was this a mistake? Would Kim really make him happy? Did he really love her, or was it just some crazy infatuation? He had been so sure when they had talked this morning. Kim was the one. But now…
He decided to order another drink. Penny might only be freshening up, but that would still take her a good half hour. The waitress arrived with the second glass of wine a couple of minutes later. He looked up to see Penny standing behind her. “That was quick!” he said “You fancy another drink before—”
She stood over him, hatred in her eyes. If she could have breathed fire, he would have been toast.
“What is it?” he asked feebly, feeling himself withering under the heat of her gaze. “I have a question for you,” she snapped, her eyes like daggers. “Why is there a naked woman lying on your bed?”
***
It was good to see the old guy back in his home even if Rob was convinced they had tipped him out of his hospital bed a little too soon.
“Fancy a brandy?” Sebastian enquired, attempting to push himself out of his chair.
Rob grinned. “Nope. I’m still on the wagon!”
“Oh dear. I’m sorry!” the old man replied. “I’d completely forgotten!”
Rob shrugged. He could use a drink right now, and he knew Sebastian always liked to share a bottle. “It’s no problem. I’m just best staying off the stuff.”
“I admire you,” Sebastian said. “It must take a great deal of willpower.”
The old man looked glum, and Rob guessed it wasn’t about his drink problem. “Are you okay?” he asked, catching the look of concern in those old eyes.
Sebastian hesitated before answering. “You say that no one has been near the graves in…how long is it now?”
“Over two weeks. Why?”
“It seems strange.”
“Maybe they’ve got bored.”
Sebastian shifted uneasily. “There’s something I haven’t told you,” he said. “Something that you need to know.”
Rob had an impending sense of dread. “I’m not going to like this, am I?” he
said.
The old man looked down at his bruised hands, his bony fingers interlocked. “A few weeks ago, I felt something. The best way I can describe it to you…well, it’s like a kind of weight resting on my spirit. That was before I found the blood on the grave—before I was attacked.”
Rob went cold. “So you kind of sensed something was going to happen?”
Sebastian nodded. “But I don’t think it’s just about that. I still feel it now.”
“What? You think you are still in some kind of danger?”
The old man shook his head. “This isn’t over, Robert. Just because there has been no activity for the past few weeks, you shouldn’t relax. I don’t know what it is—I don’t know who it is or what they want—but I’m worried. I think you and your family may be in danger.”
***
The word sorry had never sounded so hollow—so empty and meaningless. But he could think of nothing else to say to his wife.
“How old is the little slag?” Penny was glaring at him. “Young enough to be your daughter?”
Blakely sat, frozen. “No! She’s—”
“Young! She’s a fucking kid!”
Penny closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “How long, Dennis? How long have you two been at it?”
It was too late for lies. Kim had well and truly screwed him over, backed him into a corner. “A few weeks,” he replied faintly “Just a few weeks.”
Penny’s eyes filled with tears. “Where did you meet her? Some club?”
“She works here. She’s a waitress.”
“Here? She works here? I’ll tell you something—she won’t for much longer!”
His wife had turned into something resembling a female warrior. Talk about a woman scorned. If Kim had any sense, she’d cut and run.
“Staff are not supposed to sleep with guests, Dennis, and if she thinks she’ll get any kind of reference—”
“It’s not all her fault,” Blakely protested. “It takes two—”
“Don’t say it!” Penny shrieked. “Don’t you dare say tango! Tango is a dance! You haven’t been dancing with that slag. You’ve been shagging her brains out behind my back!”
Penny launched the glass, narrowly missing his head. It shattered against the wall above his left shoulder. “She’s a child, you fucking pervert!” Blakely spun around in a blind panic. There was no one else in the room apart from the woman behind the bar, who was doing her best to ignore the scene. He turned back. “Jesus, Penny! Can’t we be civil?”
“Civil? Civil!” she sneered, “You want me to be civil? I’m sorry, but if you think I’m going to make this easy then you can think again! You’re a cheat and a liar, Dennis!”
No one had warned him. No one had told him how hard this would be.
“I don’t want to fight, Penny. I’m sorry. I’ll go see a lawyer tomorrow. I’ll start proceedings.”
“Yep, you do that! Go and live with that little slut with her dead-end career!” The anger drained from her and seemed to be replaced by disbelief. Penny stared at him. “I never thought you’d do this, Dennis. Not you.”
Blakely nodded. “I’m sorry,” he spluttered. “I’m so sorry.”
The tears trickled down Penny’s cheeks. She looked beaten. “I hate you, Dennis,” she sobbed. “I really do hate you!”
Blakely preferred the glass-throwing avenger. Was it worth it? Was Kim worth this pain? “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he said softly.
“Oh for fuck’s sake, spare me!” Penny snarled. “No man ever means it. It just happens, the moment some girl drops her knickers—or in this case, nappies!”
Blakely shook his head. “That’s not fair! It wasn’t like that!”
“Oh my god! Can’t you at least think of something original? All the same old shitty lines?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Oh, I dunno, Dennis. How about telling me that you’re just a weak, spineless bastard who has no control and no morals!”
Blakely’s phone rang. Penny snatched it from his hand. “Is this her? Is this the little bitch?”
He watched helplessly as she pressed the phone to her ear. “Hello, this is Dennis Blakely’s wife,” she snapped. There was a pause. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Adams. My husband is too busy fucking the staff at the hotel. Could you call back later?”
She flung the phone back across the table and stood, towering over him once more. “Even if I wanted to give this another go, you’re not even willing to try, are you? You want her!”
The woman behind the bar approached with a dustpan and brush.
“I’m going home, Dennis, but I’m not done! Enjoy the sex and good luck with your future, because that girl won’t have a job for much longer. I can see it now, you’ll be sweating your bollocks off while she sits at home Snapchatting with kids her own age!” She glared at him. “Not that you’ll have a home, by the way, because by the time I’ve finished, you won’t have a pot to piss in!”
Blakely watched her walk away without a backward glance. She was right. He was going to need some good luck. Kim was young; maybe she was just a kid. But she was a kid who knew how to get what she wanted.
***
“What dreams?” Jenny replied, looking away. Eye contact made lying so much more difficult.
Jake smiled. “Come on, Jen. You’ve been tossing and turning in your sleep for the past couple of weeks. There has to be something going on to make you so restless!”
“I’ve always been restless,” she retorted. “Now, can you please let me go? I’m going to be late!”
Jake shook his head. “There’s a difference between sleeping with a fidget and feeling like I’m on an airplane caught in turbulence.”
Jenny shrugged. “I’m okay—honestly. I’ve just been dreaming about Mum and Hanna.”
Jake cupped her face with his hands and their eyes met. “Look, babe, we’ve talked about this before. No secrets! I want the truth.”
Tears stung Jenny’s eyes. She hated lying. “Yes. I’ve been having dreams.” She sighed. “But I don’t know what they mean.”
Jake kissed her gently on the lips. “Okay,” he whispered, “Take it easy. Tell me everything,” Jenny threw her satchel down and slumped back onto the dining chair. “It started months ago,” she began. “That’s when I first saw Amelia. I saw her reflection in the bathroom mirror.”
***
Dennis Blakely took the stairs three at a time. It all felt so different now. Last night, he had lain beside Kim, dreaming of his future through rose-tinted spectacles. A future with his young bride who would greet him each evening in an idyllic home where they would eat before cuddling up in front of the TV beside a roaring fire with a bottle of wine. They would retire to the bedroom, sometimes early, where they would make love before falling asleep in each other’s arms.
How foolish could he have been? Did he think Penny was going to stand back and give them her blessing? In his fantasy world, Penny and Kim would become friends. The ex and his new wife bonding over coffee. He had been dreaming. This was reality, and the pain he’d seen in Penny’s eyes had torn him apart. Her heart had been shattered, just like the glass she had thrown. Tiny fragments, beyond repair, only to be swept up and discarded.
He burst through the door to find Kim lying on the bed wrapped in a nightgown watching a film on the movie channel. She looked up and smiled. “I thought I’d make it easy for you,” she said.
Blakely glared. He had never raised a hand to a woman, ever, but right now, his hands clenched into fists. “What?”
Kim paused the film and sat up, cross-legged. Blakely could see she hadn’t bothered with any underwear. “You said you were going to tell her about us.”
Stay calm. Keep your distance “I was, but—”
“Exactly!” she said. “There is always a but, isn’t there? I told you before, Dennis. I’m not prepared to hang around for months, waiting for you to pluck up the courage to finish with your wife. I’m not taking that chance
because we all know the script. The mistress ends up crying into a glass of cheap plonk while lover boy goes back to his wife with a bottle of champagne and a bunch of roses!”
She was right. Penny would have left, none the wiser. “I would have told her,” he snapped.
It was a lie and they both knew it.
Kim shrugged. “Okay, then why are you so pissed off with me? You got the result you wanted!”
“I would have broken it to her a little more tactfully! What you did was cruel!” Blakely replied, his voice rising in anger.
“Tactful doesn’t work, Dennis.” Kim sighed. “She’d have tried to talk you round, and there’s nothing worse than a begging wife. Sometimes you just need to be heartless, make them hate you. It’s easier in the end.”
He closed the bedroom door behind him, throwing his phone on the dressing table, wishing he could press a button that would catapult him from the hell hole he’d fallen into.
Kim watched him silently with steely eyes. Her lack of compassion angered him. “I was married to that woman for ten years,” he retorted, unable to hide the frustration. “I asked her to marry me. I promised Penny that I would be with her till death parted us—death! Not some sex-crazed tart! I’ve broken my promise, those vows.”
Kim opened her mouth to reply, but Blakely raised his hand. “Don’t! Don’t even bother. I was stupid—stupid to believe that you had a conscience! You don’t give a shit about anyone but yourself. You see something you want and you grab it, regardless of who you hurt!” Blakely stared at the woman sitting on his bed, wondering who she really was.
Kim looked wounded; his attack had taken her by surprise. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve never done anything like this before. I’d have never gone near a married man. I’ve never been a home wrecker. You have to believe me, Dennis!”