Truestory
Page 16
Larry wrenched his trousers up and staggered to the door. I grabbed my jeans in a blind panic and thrust my legs in. I hadn’t time to bother about my knickers – I’d find them when I was decent. I tried to drag my T-shirt on before Larry opened the door. It was inside out and for a second I was shoving my head down an armhole; I twisted the T-shirt this way and that. Shit. What a mess.
With a clatter Larry opened the plastic flap and I heard a weird yelp of surprise that was obviously Sam. I was facing away from the door dragging up the zip on my jeans. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Sam stumble backwards from the polytunnel door.
Larry was out of breath and red in the face. Was it obvious to a child what we’d been doing? Larry tried to yank the plastic sheeting shut behind him but it was bent and folded and Sam peered at me past Larry’s shoulder as I sat on the pile of sacks with my back to him.
‘What’s the problem, son?’ I could tell Larry was trying to make his voice sound normal. He tugged on the plastic sheet and straightened it out and the glimpse of Sam disappeared.
I don’t think Sam answered, or if he did it was in a whisper.
‘You okay?’ Larry said.
Still there was silence from Sam
‘I’ll find your mother, son, you go in the house.’
‘My mother is not lost.’
‘She’ll be inside in a minute. Go on.’
After a minute, Larry pulled the plastic aside and came back in.
‘He’s run inside,’ he said.
I dropped my head into my hands; I was going to throw up.
‘S’okay, Alice. He didnae see anything.’ Larry rubbed my shoulder. ‘He was only standing outside.’
I slumped forward on the sacks. I put my hand on my stomach and bent right over. I was going to heave. I needed fresh air but my heart thundered and my legs shook and all I could do was bury my head in my hands and groan with the horror of it. Could I ever act normal in front of my son again?
What had he seen? I broke out in a sweat picturing how much worse it could have been. Thank God I’d seen that ghost of a hand pressing on the side of the tunnel.
Larry sat beside me. ‘You best go see the lad’s okay,’ he said.
He took my hand and stroked it. ‘Bad timing eh?’ He smiled. ‘You okay?’
Tears welled up in my eyes. How stupid had I been treating this place like a bubble separate from reality? It was only a bit of plastic offering no privacy or protection at all.
I squeezed Larry’s hand. If only we could wish ourselves away from here, away from Backwoods and Duncan and Sam and everything. I imagined cutting a cord and me and Larry floating higher and higher, looking down at Backwoods as it got smaller and smaller until it vanished altogether.
Larry wiped away a tear that slipped down my face.
‘It’ll be okay,’ he said. ‘Honestly, he didnae see anything.’
‘I’d better go,’ I thrust my shoes on and stood up. My legs were weak. I grabbed my knickers and shoved them in my pocket. I was a woman old enough to know better who was taking stupid risks for the sake of having sex with this man.
‘Come into town with me tomorrow,’ I said.
Larry was still sitting. He nodded:
‘Aye,’ he said. He put his hands on my waist, slid them onto my bottom and squeezed me to him. ‘We’ve got unfinished business,’ he said.
I bent and kissed him and for a split second imagined tearing my clothes off again and pushing him backwards onto the sacks. It felt good to want him so much.
But I needed to see Sam. Breaking away from Larry I said, ‘Tomorrow.’
I paced around Sam’s bedroom for what must have been ten minutes before I started to pull the quilt off.
‘Come out, Sam,’ I begged. ‘Everything’s okay, come out. Please. You can show me your Field Note things.’ At first I tugged gently on the quilt but Sam held on underneath with fingers as strong and determined as those ivy suckers and he refused to let go.
I kept pleading with him: ‘Sam? Come on, Sam. Are you all right? Please come out.’
Then I gave a big tug. This time I was determined not to let go and eventually Sam’s fingers slipped off the inside of the quilt. I flung it aside. He was curled in a ball, his notebook and pen beside him. I sat on the edge of the bed and I felt him stop himself rolling towards me as the mattress sagged. I put my hand on his side and he flinched and curled up smaller.
‘Why don’t you go on the computer?’ I said. ‘Or draw a map?’ I kept rubbing his arm but he couldn’t shrink away any further because there was nowhere left to shrink to. ‘Everything’s all right,’ I said over and over. Silent tears ran down my face.
I’d never pulled the quilt right off before when he was hiding underneath. Usually I gave it a couple of tugs then I’d leave him to come round on his own, but today I needed to see him – I needed to make sure he hadn’t seen anything. I’d been in his room for fifteen minutes and he was still hiding his face and refusing to talk and lying there like a dead person. I could see the livid teeth marks on his arms from yesterday. I stroked them. He recoiled and tucked his arms tighter up under his armpits.
‘Larry could work on the summer house with you after lunch,’ I said, more in hope than expectation. There was no reply. I sighed and wiped my face.
‘I’ll call you when your lunch is ready – all nineteen pieces. How’s that?’
I stood up. It was as though his curled body had the power to force me off the bed, to physically repel me and eject me from the room.
Chapter 30
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Is it better to keep a secret or to tell the truth?
Truestory
Date: 16 June 2014
Time: 11.44
Is it even a secret if no one has said it is a secret?
Re: Is it better to keep a secret or to tell the truth?
Fizzy Mascara
Date: 16 June 2014
Time: 11.48
If it looks like a secret and quacks like a secret, it’s a secret.
Re: Is it better to keep a secret or to tell the truth?
FlyAwayBlackbird
Date: 16 June 2014
Time: 11.51
I love a secret!! Tell me what it is!! Pleeeese Truestory!!!
Re: Is it better to keep a secret or to tell the truth?
Boody Queen
Date: 16 June 2014
Time: 11.57
Secrets cause division, guilt and fear – they take control – so avoid them, is my advice.
Re: Is it better to keep a secret or to tell the truth?
Root Toot
Date: 16 June 2014
Time: 12.00
Depends what the secret is. If it’s trivial ignore it. If it’s serious tell it. And the sooner the better – a big secret can rot you from the inside out.
Re: Is it better to keep a secret or to tell the truth?
Truestory
Date: 16 June 2014
Time: 12.01
Yes, Boody Queen and Root Toot, this secret is creating fear and could be rotting me from the inside out. On the internet it says if I live until I am 73 years of age my heart will beat three billion times but my heart has been racing at one hundred and twenty beats a minute since I saw this secret and I am worried that I will get through my three billion beats too soon. I tried to work out how many beats I had left but my calculator flashed a big ‘E’ and turned itself off. Running out of heartbeats is a new fear since I discovered the secret. My heart is still beating like it has been turned up to SUPERFAST speed. Each heartbeat is one beat nearer to my three-billionth heartbeat, which is the last heartbeat I will ever have.
Re: Is it better to keep a secret or to tell the truth?
Boody Queen
Date: 16 June 2014
Time: 12.05
Re: Is it better to keep a secret or to tell the truth?
Truestory
Date: 16 June 2014
Time: 12.07
Yesterday Chocolate Moustache told me to deal with my fears by burying them or burning them. I have decided to follow that advice because despite drawing up a Wish List and going exploring, saying Affirmations and taking Field Notes to make the world a more predictable place, I have more fears today than I did yesterday, and even more than I had the day before.
Re: Is it better to keep a secret or to tell the truth?
Boody Queen
Date: 16 June 2014
Time: 12.08
Okay, Truestory. If you think that will help. Good luck.
Re: Is it better to keep a secret or to tell the truth?
Truestory
Date: 16 June 2014
Time: 12.21
I have written my fears on a piece of paper and cut round each fear and folded it into a square, the fear-squares are now in my pocket and I am going to bury them and burn them. There are 6 fear squares. They are: 1. I am using heartbeats up too fast and will run out. 2. I will fall down the well to the burning centre of the earth. 3. I will give Larry’s magic grass too much water and it will die. 4. I will burn my eyes with yellow and go blind. 5. I will never be able to leave Backwoods and will be here until I die. 6. My mother and Larry will continue to have sexual intercourse in the poly tunnel.
Re: Is it better to keep a secret or to tell the truth?
Boody Queen
Date: 16 June 2014
Time: 12.22
Okay, Truestory. Like I said: Good luck.
Re: Is it better to keep a secret or to tell the truth?
Fizzy Mascara
Date: 16 June 2014
Time: 12.28
Whoa . . . Big secrets are mad, bad and dangerous to keep – they breed, take over and fight to get out. And they will get out – no doubt about that. Anyway, you’ve answered your own question – that’s why you’re called Truestory isn’t it?
Chapter 31
Despite him refusing to talk to me this morning he turned up dead on time for his nineteen pieces of pasta with nothing on. I watched him from the corner of my eye. Was he okay? What had he seen? I could feel myself sweating. He was certainly agitated.
He forked up a piece of pasta and chewed it determinedly; five chews no more, no less.
‘I want to burn and to bury something.’
‘What?’
He stuck his hand in his pocket and took out these folded scraps of paper. He dropped them on the table picking off the last few that stuck to his sweaty palm.
‘I need to bury and burn these.’
‘What are they?’
‘Secret.’
Sometimes it was better not to question but to go with it.
‘Okay, well, you could put them on the fire tonight when it’s lit.’
‘No, that is not the perfect place.’
Larry and Duncan came in then and before Larry could get his boots off Sam turned to him: ‘I want to go back to the old well.’
‘Oh no, Sam,’ I said. ‘I don’t think you should go near that well again. We had enough stress with that thing yesterday. Why not use the fire pit? That made a great fire for the sausages didn’t it?’
Larry frowned: ‘Better listen to your mother, I reckon.’
Duncan strode over to the table. ‘Better keep away from that well – the bloody state you were in yesterday.’ He reached out for the scraps of paper. ‘What are these?’ He was about to pick them up but Sam lunged across and grabbed them.
‘They’re secret,’ I said.
Sam shoved them back in his pocket.
‘I am going to put them down the old well. They can fall onto the rocks and the rubble and work their way through the gaps and down into the burning centre of the earth.’
‘Right,’ I said. ‘But the fire pit would burn them just as well.’
‘It is 7,000 degrees Celsius in the burning centre of the earth,’ said Sam. ‘Not in the fire pit . . .’
‘But – ’
‘. . . and that is 4,800 degrees hotter than lava.’
‘Yes, but – ’
‘. . . which is 6,990 degrees hotter than Backwoods Farm. Even in the fire pit.’
Larry looked at me. I shrugged, and he refastened the lace on his boot.
‘Now? Okay, let’s go.’
Larry, Sam and I walked slowly across to the workshop and turned down the back.
Sam slowed to a shuffle as we got nearer to the well, which Duncan had covered with an old outhouse door. Larry didn’t say anything but walked in front. When Sam was ten feet from the hole he stopped and Larry turned round.
Sam held out both hands, palms open, to reveal the squares.
‘Throw them in,’ he whispered.
‘What are they?’
‘Bad things.’
Larry picked the squares off Sam’s sticky palms and walked to the hole.
‘You want me to throw them down?’
Sam nodded. Larry squatted beside the well, shunted the old door aside, and dropped the squares in. He looked at Sam to see if he was satisfied.
‘Okay?’
Sam nodded again and backed away his eyes fixed on the hole.
‘Do you want a picture, son?’
Sam managed a single nod and kept backing away in slow motion, like he didn’t want the hole to notice and jump up and bite him. Larry rooted in his pocket for his phone and took a snap down the hole then came to show him. Sam held his breath and stared at the photo.
‘What is on the paper is a secret,’ he said.
‘Ok, son,’ Larry said. ‘Whatever’s on them is your secret. No problem with having a secret is there, Alice?’ He looked at me. Feeling terrible but elated, I shook my head. ‘Want to explore anywhere else?’ he asked Sam. But Sam shook his head. ‘I am going to sit in my bedroom and wait for my fears to disappear one by one,’ he said.
As soon as Duncan and Larry sat down for supper that night I screwed up the courage to go through a little charade about tomorrow’s trip to town.
‘I’m off to town tomorrow. Anybody need anything?’
Larry pretended to think. ‘Yeah, matter of fact I do.’
‘Feel free to jump in the car if you want.’
‘Aye. I’ll probably hitch a ride if it’s all the same to you.’
‘No problem,’ I said, glancing at Duncan to see if he’d noticed anything.
I leant against the kitchen unit to pick up the shepherd’s pie and I felt a bump in my pocket digging into my hip bone. I remembered it was my knickers stuffed in there from earlier. I wasn’t embarrassed. On the contrary I stopped myself from smiling remembering Larry sliding them off, his hand running down my thigh. I put my face straight before turning round.
I sat at the table toying with my supper and trying not to watch Larry who was tucking in like he was starving.
I knew people would judge and sneer and say it was undignified if they had any idea what I was planning. But I didn’t care. Dignity was neither here nor there. I wanted to be on my own with Larry and if it took pretending to go to town and sneaking off in the car and having sex on the back seat or in a field somewhere or up against a tree – so be it.
‘Bloody terrible trade at the auction,’ said Duncan.
‘Getting worse?’ asked Larry.
‘Practically had to give ’em away,’ said Duncan. ‘Carry on like that and we’re as good as working this bloody farm for nowt.’
‘Well if we can get the polytunnel planted up this week – ’
‘Aye,’ replied Duncan, looking a bit more cheerful.
I gazed at the table, replaying the scene from the polytunnel over and over again. Not the horrible scene when Sam turned up but the scene before that – me and Larry lying on
those sun-warmed sacks as the wind blew a cacophony all around.
Duncan and Larry were still discussing the farm and the auction and stock prices, but I wasn’t listening.
Chapter 32
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How do you know when to stop waiting?
Truestory
Date: 17 June 2014
Time: 13.15
Burying and burning my fears has not worked. I have been awake for 25 hours and 14 minutes waiting for my fears to disappear but they have not.
Re: How do you know when to stop waiting?
Root Toot
Date: 17 June 2014
Time: 13.22
I’ve got to say – I never thought that was much of a plan.
Re: How do you know when to stop waiting?
Truestory
Date: 17 June 2014
Time: 13.47
I expected my fears to float away or dissolve or burn up and disappear. They did not. Now I will have to stay at Backwoods Farm for ever. I will die here and will never see the graves cut from rock where St Patrick landed, or anything else. I will never travel down Hell Fire Pass and out into the Rest of the World. Never.
Re: How do you know when to stop waiting?
JC
Date: 17 June 2014
Time: 13.52
Do not despair, Truestory. ‘We are afflicted in every way but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed.’ 2 Corinthians 4: 8-9. Maybe one day you will go on a pilgrimage to St Patrick all the way to County Mayo. Bless you, Truestory.
Re: How do you know when to stop waiting?