by J. A. Baker
‘Alec! Slow down for God’s sake! What are you trying to do - kill us both?’
He glances at the speedo and slowly brings his foot up off the pedal. Almost a ton. Jesus. He hadn’t meant to go that fast, not on this road; an accident blackspot. He stays silent, not knowing what to say. His thoughts are so fucking muddled lately he’s not even sure he could put any of it into words anyway.
They’re almost home when it happens. The force of the connection knocks Peggy sideways. Her head smacks against the window with a sickening crack. She lets out a high-pitched shriek and Alec finds himself releasing a deep, throaty growl of pain as he is flung forward, his neck grinding and clicking viciously with the strength of the impact.
‘Fuck! What the hell was that?’ Ignoring the burning pain in his upper spine and Peggy’s quiet whimpers, Alec, fumbles with his seatbelt and is up and out of the car before she has chance to say or do anything. The cold is an assault on his body as he stumbles outside, his feet crunching on loose fragments of tarmac. In the distance, he can see the dim light of their cottage, the warm, welcoming haze of home. So close by yet still so far away. He slams the door shut and starts to make his way round to the front of the car but is stopped when a voice behind him pierces the night air and turns his blood to ice, ‘Murderer! How could you? You’ve killed him! YOU’VE KILLED HIM!’
Alec feels a sharp pain in his head as he turns to see a small shadow hunched over in the darkness, a crooked bony finger outstretched towards him.
‘Murderer!’
It takes him just a few seconds to shake off his fear and shock. His voice projects across the countryside as he bellows at the tiny figure standing watching him, ‘What the hell …? Who are you calling a fucking murderer?’
His heart thumps wildly as he continues round to the front of the car, his legs liquid at the thought of what he might find there. Alec’s breath catches in his chest as he lays his eyes on a small bundle tucked under the front end of his Qashqai. Considering the strength of the impact there seems to be very little damage but with only the car headlights for illumination it’s too difficult to inspect it properly. A sickening, dragging sensation pulls at his guts as he bends down and stares at the amorphous shape lodged under his front wheel.
‘Christ, what is it?’ Peggy’s voice is shrill, about to break as she tentatively steps out of the car and scurries round to the front end, clinging onto the bonnet to steady herself.
Alec thinks of her head hitting the glass and flinches, ‘Are you okay? You might need to stay in the car.’ It was quite a crack. She shouldn’t be out in the cold.
He rubs at his neck and lets out a long moan as he feels a dull ache set in at the top of his spine.
‘I’m fine,’ she murmurs, her eyes glued to the black mound on the floor. She stares up at the tiny frame standing on the craggy, moss covered tract of land next to the road and then back to the unmoving shape.
A voice fractures the still air, ‘Maude! What are you doing? Stay there and don’t move!’
A tall, lumbering silhouette bounds towards them from a distant farmhouse which is almost eclipsed by a copse of trees and high privets. Alec and Peggy stand transfixed by the surreal situation unfolding before them.
The silhouette reaches the edge of the car. Alec can see it’s a young lad in his early twenties and he is clearly distressed. Panting for breath he stops to rest his hands on his thighs before draping his arm around the tiny shoulders of the hunched figure who has started to cry. Alec rolls his eyes and does his best to curb his anger. Never mind your tears! What about my fucking car?
‘I’m really sorry. She managed to slip out while my back was turned. Really sorry,’ gasps the young lad as he starts to guide her back to the house.
‘Hey!’ Alec calls after him, ‘What about this?’ He points to the black object on the road and raises his hands up as if to emphasise his point.
‘Yeah sorry. That’s just probably Bobbin. Nothing to worry about.’
‘Bobbin?’ Alec shouts, his voice echoing across the wilderness. Who or what the fuck is Bobbin?
‘It’s Maude’s cat. Sorry I’ll come and get it.’
Alec feels his insides tighten another notch and watches out of the corner of his eye as Peggy slumps slightly against the front of the vehicle. They both wait silently, eyes wide as the lad leans down and says something to the woman, and then strides over to the front bumper bar. He kneels down and attempts to haul a black sack out from under the front of Alec’s Nissan.
‘It’s jammed. Sorry, can you reverse? I’ll be able to lift it out if you move your car back a bit.’
‘A cat?’ Peggy squeaks, her voice laced with anguish. Alec looks at her. He fears she might bubble up and burst; her cries and wails proving to be his final tipping point after a disastrous journey home.
The young man smiles and Alec suddenly wants to punch him square in the face.
‘Sorry,’ he says humbly, sensing Alec’s unabated fury, ‘I should explain. Aunt Maude has Alzheimer’s and I’m here looking after her tonight while her daughter is out working. Bobbin is her comforter - her toy cat.’
Alec groans then shakes his head in disbelief as he jumps in the car. The wheels screech as he revs the engine and the car jumps back slightly, releasing the object. He is back out in an instant, his impatience and fury palpable in the cold, evening air.
The young man reaches down and lifts the bag up off the road. Shoving his hand into the bottom of the sack the lad pulls out an old, tattered cuddy toy, decayed from years of use. He holds it out under the beam of the headlights for them to see. A ragged, filthy streak of fur.
‘And what else is in there?’ Alec growls, his temper augmenting by the second. That bang was caused by something much bigger than a bloody kid’s toy.
‘I’m really sorry,’ the young man stutters, ‘but I need to get Maude back home. She’s only wearing her nightgown and in her condition—’
The sound of plastic being torn apart fills the night air as Alec grabs the bag from him and rips it open, staggering back as half a dozen bricks and a handful of large rocks scatter noisily at his feet missing his toes by a fraction.
‘What the fuck?…’ he cries as he stares down at the pile of rubble sitting on the road.
‘Look, as I said, I’m really sorry. I have no idea how she got out or where she got this lot from. If you give me your name and number my cousin will pay for any damage and—’
‘Too bloody right she will, pal!’ Alec feels Peggy’s light touch on his arm. He picks up on her subliminal message to rein his temper in. Bollocks to that. The silly old bitch nearly caused a major accident. She could have written his car off. He will not rein his temper in.
The lad taps at his breast pocket, slips his long, slim fingers inside and produces a stubby pencil and an old receipt. He hands it over to Alec who quickly scribbles down their details and points over to their cottage in the distance, ‘That’s our place over—’
The shrill voice cuts into his words, forcing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end as the old lady begins to shriek again, ‘I saw you! I SAW YOU!’
He and Peggy stare at one another, dread twisting at his insides as the old lady continues to point at them. Her voice is like a physical attack as they watch wide-eyed in the darkness, ‘You hit her! Shouting, lots of shouting and then you hit her. I saw you! It was you - I saw you…!’
‘Come on, Maude, you’ve done enough damage for one night. You’re scaring these poor people. Let’s get you inside.’ The young man turns and speaks to Peggy and Alec, ‘I’m so sorry. It’s the Alzheimer’s, you see. She does this sometimes, gets really upset and aggressive. It’s just part of her condition. That’s why she was able to put that lot into the bag and carry them all the way down here,’ he says, pointing at the bricks and stones.
‘And throw them into the middle of the bloody road!’ Alec barks. A vein bulges on his temple, a crooked road of anger snaking out of his skull.
&
nbsp; ‘Yes, as I said, I’m really sorry about that,’ the lad replies, ‘it’s just that she has these fits of rage and inhuman strength. I know it doesn’t look possible but sometimes she can be so strong and determined. And once she gets an idea in her head, there’s no stopping her. It’s really difficult for Brenda caring for her all the time and sometimes …’ his voice trails off and Alec wants to laugh out loud at the absurdity of it. Shouldn’t he be the one here who is upset? Not this slip of a kid who seems to be fishing for sympathy.
He shakes his head in disbelief as Peggy steps forward and places her hand on the young man’s arm, ‘Don’t worry about it. Just get your aunt back inside out of the cold and we can sort it out.’
He wants to holler at her, to tell her not to side with the enemy, to distance herself from an old woman who is screaming out to the whole of North Yorkshire that he beats his wife up, but instead stands incredulous, his attention focused on how much the damage will cost to fix. With such a high excess, it might not even be worth going through the insurance. Stupid fucking, screeching old woman with her even thicker idiot of a nephew. What kind of fool would let a demented old woman escape into the darkness onto a road right near the sea for God’s sake? Perhaps madness runs in their family. Perhaps he even did it on purpose.
The pair of them head back over to the farmhouse, the tiny woman muttering under her breath with the lad soothing her and coaxing her along. Alec sighs and stares at the floor. He knows he should accompany them, he knows that. It’s the right thing to do, to help the lad get her safely inside. She’s an old lady, a tiny frail thing, but his temper is still too raw to think about anything but his car and the huge dent this whole unnecessary scenario will leave in his bank balance. Maybe tomorrow evening when he gets in from work he’ll call in to see if they’re all okay, talk rationally, be pleasant. Then he thinks about the old woman’s accusations levelled at him and feels a tic take hold in his jaw. Or maybe not.
‘Come on,’ he says to Peggy through gritted teeth, ‘Let’s get back home. I’m fucking freezing.’
9
Peggy
She wakes with the old lady’s words rattling around in her head and drags herself up and into the shower before Alec even stirs. She’s seen the dilapidated farmhouse in the distance before, but has always presumed it was empty. It’s usually shrouded in darkness. She wonders if the old lady lives there alone or whether or not her daughter lives there with her. Such a sad existence. For both of them. Peggy tips her head back under the hot water and tries to block it out of her mind. She doesn’t have room for anybody else’s problems. She has enough of her own to deal with. Today she wants to stay focused, finish a few more chapters, tidy the cottage, and do her best to drag herself out of the mire she has found herself in over the past few months. It’s not right, the way she has let things lapse, let her life spiral out of control. Especially her marriage. She is losing Alec. She can sense it - the rift - and it’s growing wider by the day. She needs to stop it, nip it in the bud. What she actually needs to do is sharpen up her act. Alec is an attractive man. She can’t risk losing him. Not now. Not after everything they have been through. Earlier in the year they almost lost one another but hung on by their fingertips. She did her utmost to sort it out, she really did, and look how that particular event turned out. An inferno starts up in her head, billowing flames attacking her brain, hot, fiery, persistent. She simply cannot go through anything like that again, so she will do whatever it takes to make sure her marriage remains intact. She has done it in the past and will do it again. Last night she had an air of confidence, she felt content, even happy. Until she saw Alec chatting to that other lady. Tall, willowy, blonde. Nothing like her. More like Sheryl. An intense load presses down on her at the thought of Sheryl. Peggy baulks and scrubs at her skin until it stings then steps out of the shower, her arms and legs red raw from the force of the exfoliating sponge that she has dragged across her body. She wraps her dressing gown around herself and stares into the mirror. The area around her eye is swollen and pulpy. Extreme heat always aggravates it, makes it seem especially raw. Like a re-opened wound. Lurking, waiting, always ready to remind her of who she is and what she’s been through. She dabs at it carefully, her fingers slowly tracing the tangle of scars. It’s an ever-visible reminder of how your life can suddenly be irrevocably altered, the rug pulled from under your feet at any given moment, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.
Alec staggers through the door, naked and bleary eyed just as she wraps a towel round her head.
‘You’re up early,’ he says, eyeing her up and down, taking in her washed hair and pink skin. ‘Everything okay?’
‘Everything is absolutely fine. Just thought it was time I started getting into a routine.’
Alec raises his eyebrows and nods as he stands in front of the toilet and empties his bladder, the splashing sound echoing around the bathroom as his urine hits the porcelain. Peggy stares at the amber stream and turns away as he catches her gaze, her cheeks hot with mild embarrassment.
‘Good idea. Maybe you can venture into town a bit more often as well.’
Peggy is prepared for his comment. ‘Getting out more’ is Alec’s answer to all of her problems. A catch all solution to her current predicament.
‘Perhaps,’ she mumbles as she sidles past him into the bedroom and shuts the door with a sharp click.
....................................................................................................................................................
Peggy is dressed and making breakfast by the time Alec comes downstairs. He snatches up a slice of toast, crams it into his mouth and manages a sip of juice before he grabs his briefcase and picks up his coat.. Always in a hurry.
‘No time for coffee?’ Peggy holds the percolator up and gives it a slight shake to entice him back.
Alec stops and looks at his watch. He sighs and shakes his head, ‘Sorry, no can do. Got a meeting first thing.’ He starts towards the door and stops, ‘I’ll be late back. I’m going to call in to the garage, get them to have a look at the front of the car. With any luck, they should be able to tap it out and T-cut it. If not … well our bank account will be fucked for the next couple of months.’
Peggy nods, silently praying the costs will be minimal. Even if the woman in the farmhouse pays up, the whole palaver will just rile Alec and she will be left to deal with the aftermath. What she wants right now is to be able to smooth things over and get their lives back on track. The memory of Alec’s hand wandering over her body last night burns bright in her mind. A glowing reminder of yet another rejection. She did her best, she really did try to go through with it but eventually feigned exhaustion and listened as he sighed heavily and rolled over away from her, silently seething before falling into a deep sleep. He has no idea why she is so averse to sex lately. He thinks it’s because of the miscarriages, which in a way it is. The difference is, Alec thinks she won’t make love to him because there’s no point if there is no baby at the end of it but that’s not it at all. She is terrified of falling pregnant again. Because falling pregnant is the easy bit. It’s keeping a baby inside her that is so hard to do, and the thought of losing another one - it’s almost too much to bear. It fills her with such a gnawing feeling of inadequacy. It only happens to other women, this falling pregnant business, giving birth and bringing up children. Everyone except her. Women everywhere with huge, swollen bellies, pushing buggies, chatting with their posse of yummy mummies, having three or four children; taking it all for granted. She can’t bear to look at them, to be around them or even speak to them. They have no idea how fortunate they are. Not a bloody clue. They expect everything to fall into their tiny, perfectly formed little laps. And in most cases, it usually does. They have it all these women - looks, fabulous symmetrical faces, perfect little families. Everything Peggy doesn’t have. What Peggy has is scars. Long, vicious lines etched deep into her face. So why would anybody as popular and handsome a
s Alec be interested in her? He once said in the heat of an argument after yet another rebuff, that he was convinced she was repulsed by him. If only he knew. It’s actually the other way around.
Two cups of coffee later and her manuscript is almost complete; plot holes plugged, language sharpened. Peggy leans back and closes her eyes, aglow with a warm feeling of self-satisfaction. For the first time in a long while, she has a sense of regaining control. She shivers, feeling suddenly chilled, and turns to look behind her. She also has a sense, once again, of not being alone. What is it with this house? Something clicks in her brain; an uninvited thought. She brushes it aside, pushes it away to a shadowy corner. Standing up abruptly, she shakes the feeling away that somebody is close by. Absolute nonsense. It has to be. There is no such thing as ghosts. She doesn’t believe in them. Never has. They belong in films and books; the only place for such rubbish. Once you are dead, you are dead. She stops and listens. There is nothing. Just a wall of silence, which is good isn’t it? No more scratching or scurrying. No more faint noises that threaten to send her into a complete meltdown. The mice appear to have gone - run straight into the traps at the prospect of a chunk of chocolate. Quite sad, really. She visualises their tiny broken bodies scattered about the cold concrete floor beneath her feet, their coal black eyes, staring and lifeless in the darkest recesses of the basement. At least they’re gone now. One less thing to worry about, thinks Peggy, as she shivers and stands up to turn the thermostat up as far as it will go. Bugger the cost. This cottage is bloody freezing. She needs to be warm.