by A. M. Clarke
Chapter Fourteen
Gladys didn’t live far from the village, a ten minute walk at best, but this was the longest journey home of her life. She walked gingerly, sore from internal bruising and sore from the self-flagellation she was inflicting upon herself. What had she been thinking? Going into a complete stranger’s room for sex. She couldn’t even call it rape, even though that is what it felt like. That guy should be reported, but without exposing herself to public ridicule and landing herself in it with her husband, she really couldn’t. They would say she asked for it, that anyone who would put herself in that position was nothing more than a tramp and that he was the innocent party, I mean what guy is going to turn down sex handed to him on a silver platter. However, there was something else, something menacing, something very very wrong with that man. Arriving home, she looked in the hall mirror, convinced that her face was a message board with every dirty, sceevey little detail printed in bold letters.
‘Your home already, I thought you were doing an extra shift?’ her dull and boring husband called from the TV room.
‘Yes the other girl made it in after all.’
‘Why don’t you get your knitting and join me for the evening show.’
‘Ok, Ill be right in.’ In the kitchen she looked at her knitting, a red scarf for Jim that she started six months ago when he bought her all the knitting equipment, and so far she had conquered ten rows. What girl would not jump for joy when she gets balls of wool and needles for a birthday gift? Gladys picked up the knitting and went to join her husband. He was in his usual chair in front of the TV. With his back to her, she watched him for a minute. He might be dull she thought, but she knew unequivocally that he would never hurt her, never humiliate or degrade her. She walked up behind him and kissed the top of his head, then plunged the knitting needles into each side of his neck. Driving them home with such force that they exited out the opposite sides. Riveted to the floor, she watched as his life spurted out and soaked her clothes, almost black in the dim light. She giggled and said ‘X marks the spot, and delighted at her own wit, Gladys went upstairs and drew herself a lovely hot bubble bath, with extra bubbles. She lowered her defiled body into the cleansing liquid and marinated for a while. Picking up her late fathers old cutthroat razor, she dragged the blade slowly, from her wrist upwards, fascinated with the blood spilling out. After repeating the process on the other wrist, she leaned back, closed her eyes, smiled and welcomed oblivion. Down below Adam strolled away from the front garden whistling a jaunty tune.
Chapter Fifteen
Sitting on the beech wood decking, greedily inhaling the intoxicating fumes from twelve year old scotch, it was hard to imagine such horrors as today’s could happen beneath the same sky that produced such a magnificent sunset. The orange and reds transforming Mother Nature’s already perfect vista into a surreal vision worthy of Michelangelo’s pallet. They sat, muted by unspeakable images that they wanted left unspoken. They each edged and dodged, parried and weaved, circling the days events as if stepping around something nasty. Which was true? Stephen found that the fire victims disturbed him more than the boating accident. It was something about they way they stood together at the window, as if watching and waiting for a saviour that would never arrive. Their blackened remains in unity, another affirmation of his beliefs. There was no god.
Mikes thoughts roamed between the present horrors and his past. His mental photo album kept the images as sharp and clear as anything captured digitally. He has never questioned his belief in God. As certain of his existence as he was of his own, he believed that Gods greatest gift to man was free will. This felt different; this did not feel like free will.
‘I need to confess something, well unload really,’ his head low on his chest, ashamed or embarrassed, he wasn’t sure which.
‘As tempted as I am to state the obvious, Ill refrain, I can see your discomfort. Go on, spill.’
Mike recounted his encounter with the beautiful creature called Evelyn. He did his best not to over enthuse too much about her attributes but he found it impossible to keep the longing and want out of his voice. An inflection he didn’t know he possessed. A vocabulary new to his ears fell from his mouth that would make a mills and boon novelist jealous. Not until he was finished did he raise his head and look Stephen in the eye. When he did, if he hadn’t been so twisted up inside, he would have laughed aloud. Stephen’s face was a picture, literally a comic representation of a befuddled and bewildered, yet captivated spectator. Mouth agape in utter disbelief and eyes widened to such an extent that one good jolt would pop them out. ‘Well say something man, anything, I’m in torture over here.’ he begged his friend.
‘Wow. Of all the things I could have thought of, that was most definitely not one of them. Bloody hell Mike, what gives?’
‘I don’t know Stephen, I just don’t know. I have never felt this before, felt this - this desire for anyone. This is abhorrent to me, a God awful curse.’
‘Careful there Father Mike, that’s blasphemy you know.’
‘Please, Stephen this is not easy for me. I know you don’t believe, but this is life-changing, faith changing. If I am having thoughts and feelings like this then how can I carry on with my vow of chastity to God? How can I carry on as a priest?
‘Wooh back there, let’s not get carried away. I know you, and this is not you. So you had a moment of weakness, and that is all it is. You have not done anything and you will not. If god is all you crack him out to be, he will not take it personally. He must make allowances for the odd misdemeanour.’
Mike hung his head again and mumbled ’what if it isn’t?’
‘Look, you’ve only met her once, right? Mike nodded his still bowed head, ‘and she’s only visiting’? So just avoid her, stay clear of her and bide your time until she leaves.’
‘I know your right, I know everything I believe in is more powerful than lust fuelled thoughts, but even through this terrible day and the atrocious things we’ve seen, my one overwhelming thought was her.’
‘Jesus Christ Mike, what has this gal done to you?’ Through this bloody awful day my only thought has been for this, several large scotches and a drunken oblivion.’ An unspoken consensus followed, and they veered away from that subject and settled on less controversial issues, like death and misery.
They sat together, refilling their drinks and chatting about the day, which now didn’t seem quite so overwhelming. Talking and laughing, they put behind them the significant events that earlier loomed so threatening. They passed out on the deck, under the stars that glistened with frosty promise and blissfully alcoholic stupor prevented and denied unwelcome nightmares.
Chapter Sixteen
‘Welcome to Island Haven, rest home and sanctuary. Good morning sir, how can I help you?’
‘Good morning, my name is Adam Gardener and I’m looking for an uncle of mine. His name is Albert Gardener, and my mother said he is living here. I’m just here for a few days visiting and my mother would never forgive me if I didn’t look up uncle Albie.’
‘Well Mr Gardener, I know each guest here personally, and I can assure you that there is no Albert Gardener, or any Gardener residing at Island Haven. Your mother must be mistaken. Is it possible that your uncle moved to the mainland?’
‘It certainly is possible Mrs- oh I’m sorry I didn’t get your name.’
‘It’s Miss Lake, but everyone here calls me Vera, we are a family and only use first names.’
‘That’s a beautiful name, Vera; may I also call you Vera?’
A blushing Vera beginning to perspire a little answered that of course he could. How could she not allow this Adonis to speak her name, to deny herself the joy of seeing her name formed with his pink perfectly shaped lips? How could she keep him here?
‘Mr Gardener, maybe you could talk with some of our guests, if they were around the same age as your uncle, then someone might very well know him and know
where he is.’
‘Please it’s Adam, and that would be most helpful Vera, I’m very grateful to you,’ he placed his hand over hers and squeezed it gently. Her heart was having palpitations at his touch. He could feel the pulse through her dry and creased skin, smell the sensible soap and dandruff shampoo off her middle aged and yet unused body.
’Why don’t you come back this evening for dinner Adam, its meatballs and scrabble and you could spend some time with them and ask about your uncle,’ she tried to keep her tone noncommittal and indifferent while praying inside her head that he would return.
‘That’s a date Vera, I look forward to seeing you then, that is I hope you’ll be here?
‘Yes Ill be here, say six for half six?’
‘Great, see you then.’
As soon as Adam had disappeared from sight, Vera picked up the phone and dialled. ‘This is Vera Lake; could you fit me in this afternoon, around three? Wash and style please. Thank you. Bye.’ She knew she was nothing to look at, but her mother always said, 'There is a shoe for every horse and a hat for every stand.' Her mum loved her clichés and reminded her often,' There’s nothing wrong with stacking the deck in your favour' and 'There’s a lot to be said for window dressing.' With a newfound spring in her step, she set off for the kitchen, to instruct the staff to use the good china, the wine they only serve when family visit and the ingredients they reserve for themselves. A special guest was coming to dinner and they needed to make a good impression. This done, she continued with her usual duties, counting down the time until she saw Adam again.
Chapter Seventeen
Lucy decided to keep the girls home from school so they could have a fun, family day together. Playing hooky with them made her feel naughty and young again. Since meeting Evelyn yesterday, she had been feeling fresh and crisp like laundry fresh from the dryer. Her confusion and memory lose seemed to have hibernated for the interim and she wanted to make every second count. ‘Come on girls, let’s get going. We have a swinging good time to have, lots of monkeying around and slip sliding silliness to be done.’ Laurie giggled at her mums daftness about her favourite playground games, and Clara rolled her eyes and exclaimed,
‘Ahhh mum,’ but she was happy to hear the lightness in her mother’s voice. It was something that hadn’t been there for a while.
‘I hope you girls are hungry, I’ve packed a picnic full of our favourite things. Holy moley, the day is running away from us, let’s go, go, go.’ They set off for their day of fun and adventure, hopping and skipping down the path in unison.
They played together like three children, uninhibited by life’s endless insistence at sabotage and derailment. Feigning tiredness, Lucy retreated to the picnic blanket to observe her treasures, her reason for continuing to battle against all the odds. She was so focused on the monkey bar gymnastics that she didn’t notice that they had company. A shadow fell over her and when she looked up Lucy was surprised and inexplicably happy to see Evelyn standing over her.
‘This is beautiful Lucy, to see you having such a wonderful time with your children after how low you were. I hope our time yesterday helped you to see that life is still there for those who choose to live it.’
‘Welcome to our happy hour, family style,’ Lucy spoke to Evelyn as if she were a fast friend. ‘So what do you think of my girls, their something aren’t they?’
‘Yes - yes, they really are. You know you can have your life back; your illness can disappear as if it never invaded your body. A sacrifice or two will give you back what God has taken from you.’
She took Lucy’s hand and held her confused stare. ‘Heed me my dear, free yourself from a painful, humiliating and inevitable death. God will welcome your kids and I will show you a new life that will make this one seem like a boring short story. Ill leave you now to think about things and Ill see you later.’ Evelyn walked away with a wave to the girls and shouted over to them, ‘See you later girls, play safe.’
Chapter Eighteen
It was late when they woke. They looked across at each other from their patio recliners, sleep still etched on their faces, more tired than before they slipped into a drunken coma. Stephen muttered something about coffee and half fell, half staggered into his kitchen. He somehow managed to fill the percolator, go to the bathroom, pour two mugs with life saving liquid and make it back to Mike without any serious injury.
‘What time did we finish up?’
‘Somewhere between sundown and sunrise. Last thing I remember, you were doing your impression of the Pope.’
‘Is that why I have your Halloween costume on? A confused Pope asked,
Please tell me I didn’t make you kiss my ring.’
‘No Your Holiness, but you did try to canonise me. After that awful day, it was so good to be with a friend and have a laugh. Even if it was at the expense of the church.’
‘Oh don’t worry, the church can take it,’ a laughing defrocked Pope sputtered. They sipped their coffee as they struggled to return to the human form that they inhabited earlier. The day was well on its way, unsettled and a little frenzied. The air was heavy with heat, boiling the rain that was gathering in the clouds. They rolled dark and threatening, fighting for dominance over the friendly clusters of cotton.
. . . . .
Chequers suddenly appeared on the deck. Having to walk himself, he hadn’t felt the need to return on any time limit. He had been gone all morning and it was great. No leash and no one pulling him back from unexplored delights. He was able to chase the rabbits over the dunes, and when a pheasant flew up from the rushes and scared the be-Jesus out of him, Stephen wasn’t there to laugh. Every tree got a sprinkle and every smell got a double extra long sniff. When he arrived back Stephen and Mike were looking like they had spent too much time in the toilet bowl and eaten too much of that meaty stuff Stephen called pate , that always made him icky, and Stephen always shooed him away from, saying it would sicken him.'
. . . . .
‘Well where have you been, you dirty little stop out. I’m sorry we were out of sorts my little man but I wondered why you weren’t sitting on Mike and licking him into saliva induced vomit. Are you hungry?’
‘Now that you mention it, I could go for a few sausages.’
‘Actually I was talking to Chequers, but that’s exactly what he would ask for. Only he would say snausages. Are you two in cahoots?’
Mike, lifted by the light hearted banter, extracted himself from his papal robes and hangover misery. He gazed at the sky and watched as it sped by. This day was heaven sent and he didn’t want to waste any more of its tumultuous beauty. Together they mustered up a feast of snausages, eggs and crispy hickory bacon.
‘Here you go wee man; sorry you had to take care of yourself today. All my fault,
A hungry Chequers stayed close and helped dispose of any contrite morsels, willingly given up by guilty hands.
Sometimes it paid off having your humans on a guilty leash.
Chapter Nineteen
Vera left the hairdressers full of anticipation and smugness. She looked good and felt even better. Adam wont know what hit him, she thought to herself. She definitely felt the deck was stacked in her favour. Adam might be beautiful, but she was determined and more importantly, she was horny, and that was a winning combination in her book. She strode on towards the home, sniffing the air like a feral animal trying to detect a vulnerable prey. The afternoon smelled of delicious flavours only the sexually deprived would notice. The hot sun was heating the atmosphere to a sweaty and salty sweetness. It had been some time since she had tasted the savoury delights of a man’s body and she could not wait to jump into Adams particular pool of flavours.
Living with her mum had a detrimental effect on her love life for sure, and it wasn’t even that her mum minded her bringing guys home, she was all for 'her Vera' landing a man, but unfortunately, the guys did mind. When her mum passed away, she thought that side
of things would automatically right itself, but the well had run dry and so had she. Now new blood had presented itself and she wasn’t about to let a new fresh spring turn arid and bake in the sultry sun.
Chapter Twenty
Returning home, Lucy felt as if a something physical and emotional had shifted from her earthly body. A serene feeling overwhelmed her and rendered her free from the nonsense of everyday life. She moved through her chores of laundry and boring tedious housework with a carefree and disembodied drift. She pulled together a dinner of sausages and canned alpha betty spaghetti, her girls favourite. They liked to make silly words that always made them laugh. Always.
While the sausages were cooking, Lucy went upstairs to check on them. She didn’t have to go to their rooms, their laughing innocent voices told her where they were and what they were doing. She went along to her bedroom and picked up the pill bottle that she dropped yesterday. She shook her head at how stupid she had nearly been, put them in her pocket and went back downstairs. The sausages were almost ready, sizzling and spitting fat on the stove. She removed the pills from the bottle and crushed them with the bottom of a glass, and then she shared the powdery mixture between two glasses and filled them with ice-cold milk from the fridge.
‘Girls, dinners ready, wash your hands and come down.’