by Lee Mather
“There is nobody else, is there?”
Andy shook his head and looked away. The tears came then and he convulsed with their force. Nor pulled him close and he buried his head against her shoulder as he wept.
“I’m so sorry Andy,” she whispered. “So sorry. Everything is going to be okay.”
Eventually he straightened himself. Nor still held onto his hand and with the other he wiped the tears from his eyes. “I miss him. I miss him so much.”
Nor nodded and smiled sadly.
“I didn’t know what to do,” Andy said quietly. Nor squeezed his hand. It was an injection of courage and he smiled at her, able to continue. “I should have– I should have told someone. I didn’t know what to do. Sometimes it didn’t feel...like it was actually happening, but I think that was my condition.” He paused, realizing he had no idea how to move forward. “I’m so scared. What am I going to do?”
Nor didn’t answer. She gripped his hand even harder, and seemed close to tears again. She let out a faltering breath. “My cousin died two years ago. He was five, got hit by a car.” She hesitated and Andy felt the tremble in her hand. He waited for her to continue.
“It was terrible...” She stopped and drew in a breath. “My aunty didn’t leave the house for almost a year and, you know what? She has my uncle Vinnie, Rae my older cousin, my grandparents, Mum and Dad, me, Anita. You– I don’t know how you’ve made it this far. I don’t know how you’ve coped at all.”
Andy fought off the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. He just about held himself upright. Humbled, he searched for something to say. When he spoke, it wasn’t what he expected. “I’ve felt so alone.”
Nor smiled and touched his face again. “Not anymore.”
They stayed like that, just staring at each other, until Nor leaned in, moved her face toward his, her eyes softening. Andy braced, his heart fluttered. He had never kissed anyone. Butterflies danced inside him. He felt electrified, nauseous; empowered yet exposed.
Andy tilted his head. Closed his eyes.
The door burst open and he and Nor sprang back as if a wall of fire had erupted between them. They stared at each other sheepishly.
“Feeling better then?” Anita asked. She stepped to one side and allowed Dr. Weller into the room.
Andy stared at her blankly at first until he remembered where he was and why he was there. Everything came back in one unwanted bundle.
“Miss Patel has agreed for you to stay with her family for the next couple of nights.” Dr. Weller tilted her clipboard to read something off the page.
Nor looked to her sister and flashed her a curious yet grateful look. Anita ignored her and kept a smile aimed in Dr. Weller’s direction.
Dr. Weller placed the notepad down on the desk with a thump. She stared at Andy over the top of her spectacles. “You’ve been though a considerable trauma, Andy, and I want you to make an appointment with Dr. Grant over the course of the next few days...as an outpatient, though. He’ll make a call on whether we need to increase your dose of medication. But, for a start, you need to follow the current prescription. Religiously.” She studied him then continued. “It doesn’t end here though, Andy. Arranging your Grandpa’s funeral, sorting out his estate–just going back home. These things will put you under a considerable amount of stress. There are people here you can talk to, if you need the help, that is.”
Andy nodded.
“He can talk to me too,” Nor said fiercely.
Dr. Weller smiled. “Absolutely.” She grabbed an envelope from a set of in-trays on a gray filing cabinet beneath the notice board. “This is a pack the hospital prepares for people coping with the recently deceased. It contains help and guidance, as well as useful telephone numbers for things like arranging the funeral, processing death certificates etcetera. The mortuary will be in touch once they’re able to release your Grandpa to whichever funeral home you decide on.”
“Thanks,” Andy said, standing tentatively. Dr. Weller smiled as she ushered them to the door. Andy saw a rainbow above her then, a brilliant sky over the tundra he had originally envisaged her as.
Anita and Nor were both smiling until they cleared the corridor and Dr. Weller was out of view. Anita instantly scowled. “He can’t bloody stay with us, you know.”
Nor shook her head angrily. “Then why say he could! I thought you’d talked to Dad!”
“Ha!” spat her sister. “As if! Dad will go mental if he knows why you’re out at this hour. Maybe I’ll tell him your new boyfriend is a cra–”
“Say it.” Nor stepped toward her sister, her fists balled. “Just say it and see what happens.”
“Wait,” Andy blurted. The sisters stopped, looked at him as if they were only just aware he had a voice in this. “Thanks for being here for me. Both of you. But I’ll be okay to go home. Really I will. Don’t argue. Please.”
Neither girl spoke. Anita looked at Nor then exhaled. “Seriously, you can’t come home, but Rob has a spare room. His flatmate is in Spain. He won’t mind if you stay for the next couple of nights, just until you get your head back together, that is. I phoned him while you were...talking.”
Nor grinned and rubbed her sister’s arm. “Thanks,” she said quietly.
Anita shook her head, mock scolding. “You’re a bloody nuisance. We’d be here all night if it wasn’t for me.” She paused and managed an embarrassed smile. “I’m sorry about the tickets. I didn’t think he’d react as badly.”
Nor nodded to her sister then flashed Andy a wink. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
Chapter 15
Andy watched the bus disappear then turned his attention to his house. It loomed darkly against the bright spring day.
Two hours had passed since he left Rob’s that morning to return home for the first time since departing the hospital. Anita’s boyfriend was a twenty-three-year-old aspiring actor, and he worked currently as an extra on Coronation Street. Anita and Nor had stayed too that night, concocting a story for their father that they had planned to stay there all along but hadn’t told him because of the argument earlier that day. Anita had insisted that Andy stay in Rob’s room and, as such, he had slept in a sleeping bag on the floor. They had gone their separate ways before noon. The sisters returned home to face the music, while Rob headed to an audition for a mouthwash commercial. Andy had to face the first day of his new life alone. He didn’t feel ready.
You might never feel ready.
He had stopped at Edgerton’s Hardware on the way back and now carried multiple bags full of bleach, detergent and cloths. There was too much to carry so he had waited for the 314 bus outside the shop. There was no sign of any accident occurring there last night. Hal’s Place was busy, and Andy resisted the urge to go inside and ask the server if he had seen anything. Maybe it would be better not to know if he had imagined the whole thing.
Andy gathered the bags and stared at the house. There was plenty of hot water in the tap and he would need a lot of it to clean the sitting room. He would scrub the whole house if need be. Then he would take a long shower and change his clothes, before reading the information Dr. Weller had given him. He would phone a funeral director and get the ball rolling. Then he would open the biscuit tin and get to grips with Grandpa’s estate, with his legacy, his future. How hard could it be? He would eat then, have a hot drink, maybe watch some television in the sitting room, before phoning Nor to ask her if she wanted to go with him tomorrow to buy tickets for the concert. Maybe he should phone her first? Give her time to come up with an excuse for her father. He would phone her. Yes, that was the plan. Easy.
Then why couldn’t he move?
Andy remained rooted, misery gnawing away his sense of purpose. His home seemed bleaker than ever. He was exhausted, impotent. His gaze flicked to Mr. Masters’s house. The curtains were drawn, the place so quiet and still it seemed as if death had settled there. He considered Glib for the first time since reporting Grandpa’s death. In his pocket he could feel the
pencil and the folded paper he had taken to carrying with him. Was it for protection? Could he sketch Glib then maybe erase what he’d drawn? Would that be enough to kill the demon?
There is no demon.
Sighing heavily, Andy managed to urge himself through the broken gate and into his front garden. His movements were leaden, his stomach a stormy sea, but his resolve hardened quickly. He was up the path in a flash, the key in the door.
Andy stopped, head spinning. His legs wobbled and he almost threw up.
Get a grip.
He straightened. He could do this. Nor had stuck with him. He could go through the door and start to put things right. He would take her to the Oasis concert. He wouldn’t let her down.
Hand trembling, Andy turned the key.
The door swung into darkness and the smell of death washed over him in a violent tide. Andy stepped inside, wobbling. He felt the cancer then, a tangible swell of evil in the house. It wasn’t coming from the sitting room. He looked to the stairs, his breath shortening. Black stains covered most of the wall and crept along a proportion of the ceiling like torn arteries. He stared at it aghast. The darkness that consumed the Emerald Forest was worsening, infecting the entire house. He tried to remember painting the stains when the madness took him, but he couldn’t.
Andy remained still, unmoving, until he realized he could do little just standing there. He sighed and took the cleaning materials into the kitchen. A clutter of crockery covered in all manner of gruesome leavings faced him. It was a long time since he had been in the kitchen, as he had lived on food straight from the packet since Grandpa passed. He unloaded the bags, found space for his armory of detergents then filled the sink with hot water. He opened the largest window and an instant blast of clean, fresh-smelling air blew into the house. Andy drank it in. He turned off the tap and loaded as many dishes as he could into the water to soak then dried his hands. Tentatively, he turned a head to the door that led into the main hallway. To the left was the sitting room.
Trembling, Andy focused on Nor, on putting things right. He grabbed a bin liner and the paperwork pack Dr. Weller had given him and walked slowly to the room he had spent weeks avoiding. He stepped inside and stood perfectly still. He stared at Grandpa’s chair and then the television set, silent now for the first time in weeks, then his gaze moved to the cabinet with the biscuit tin. Breath escaped him in a hiss as he crossed the room to open the curtains. Light tumbled in and the shadows disappeared. He struggled with the window and pushed it hard to open it, to allow the stench of death to escape. He sucked in air for a moment then moved to the phone and sat on the two-seater settee beside it rather than in Grandpa’s armchair. He dialed the number Nor had given him, praying silently that her father wouldn’t answer. The call rang out and Andy shakily placed the handset back in its cradle.
He thought of Glib again then and shook even harder. He buried his head in his hands and reminded himself the demon wasn’t real. But his words didn’t help. Glib felt as real as ever. If the demon hurt Nor he’d...he’d what exactly?
Andy stared at Grandpa’s empty armchair and considered things. Surely Glib was a product of his illness? But what of the black stains on the wall? Were they imagined too? He wondered if he should paint the demon again then destroy the picture. Would that end things? He let out an angry cry, furious with himself for allowing the insanity a way back in. He hurriedly unpacked the leaflets and readied the list of funeral directors, shuffling them over and over until he made an unnecessarily neat pile. He couldn’t afford to think about Glib any longer. The answer wasn’t in painting anything. He needed to start taking the Prozac. He needed to visit Dr. Grant.
A better man would act.
He could be that man.
Andy read a handful of the leaflets quickly. He found a funeral director listed near his postcode. He drew a circle around the number then placed the leaflet to one side.
Before he called them he needed to do something first.
Andy stood and walked over to the cabinet, to the tin that contained his future.
Chapter 16
The murky water swirled briefly then disappeared as the drain swallowed it with a gurgle. Andy brought the bucket back inside the house to fill it once again. He mopped his brow as steam and suds rose to the top of the bucket before he turned off the tap then heaved it to the sitting room, spilling a little of the soapy water as he moved. He rinsed his cloth then scrubbed the armchair where Grandpa had died. He gripped the cloth hard, his knuckles white, and he rubbed it forcefully, his jaw set, until the material began to split and tear. Eventually he stepped back, breathless and tired, his t-shirt sticking to his skin. Every window in the house was open and Andy was grateful for the cooling breeze. His home smelled better now and, with the putrid stench of death and decay alleviated; the house had undergone an exorcism of sorts. He wrung the cloth, and deciding that the chair had suffered all the cleaning it could take, he dragged the bucket into the hallway to face the dark stains. The great black bleed ran down the walls of the stairwell. Andy stared at it, cloth in hand. Could he wash the stains away? Would it be that simple, to cleanse the evil?
One step at a time.
They were minor successes, but successes nonetheless. The funeral director was booked now, Hanson’s, and they were due to visit Andy after the weekend to discuss his wishes for the funeral. In the interim they would liaise directly with the morticians to arrange transport of Grandpa’s body. As well as the funeral there was the small matter of the will. The biscuit tin had contained the details of a solicitor, Davis, Bland and Hopkins, and Andy had contacted them to arrange a meeting to confirm transfer of Grandpa’s estate. It would happen on the Thursday after the concert. The house would be his soon, black stains and all.
Andy still had to buy the concert tickets, but he had money now, more than enough to see him through the next weeks and beyond. His new life was moving along nicely. The cleaning helped. Sweating and straining and earning those simple victories were the key. For once he felt as if he had a say in things. It was purifying to remove the mess that had built up over the past weeks. He was the master of this. He was in control.
The knock on the door made Andy’s skin leap from his bones.
Breathlessly he looked to the door and saw a shadow behind the small frosted pane. His heart thumped and the cloth slipped from his hand and splashed unnoticed into the bucket.
“Andy? Are you in?”
Nor!
Andy sagged then looked back to the blackness, which seemed to bristle, to writhe on the wall. He knew it didn’t move. It was all in his head.
Would Nor even see the stains?
“Andy!”
He sucked in a breath and opened the door.
Nor stood there, her hair dank and plastered against her face where she had been caught in the morning rain. “Andy, can I come in?”
Andy lurched and wanted to stand in the doorway, to keep her from seeing the blackness on the walls.
“Andy!” she snapped.
Andy stared at her surprised, then realized how distressed Nor was. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
Nor stepped forward impatiently and Andy moved aside to let her in.
She glared at him before softening her stare.
“I’ve told Dad.”
Andy shut the door behind Nor. He glanced at the black stain and then back to her. She hadn’t noticed and she seemed too worked up. He stared at her. It felt weird for her to be in his home. He had never brought a girl home. She didn’t seem to be aware of the enormity of the moment.
“Told him?”
Nor nodded angrily. “Yeah. I officially moved in with Anita about an hour ago.”
“What?”
Nor paced the hall then hung her denim shoulder bag on the banister of the stairs.
“He knows I’m not going to uni anymore. He’s, well... He’s not happy, to say the least. It’s done now. Fuck it.”
“Fuck it?”
“Yeah. I
’ve had enough of his shit. He started again today, on and on about how I’d keep failing unless I applied myself, how I couldn’t give in to temptation like my friends.” She stopped and found Andy’s eyes. He saw a little self-reproach there, maybe the need for some affirmation. “So I told him. Told him how I couldn’t stand the pressure he was putting me under, that I was failing biology, that I hadn’t applied for Oxford...and that I was going to the gig this weekend–with you.”
“With me!”
“Yeah. He’s going to hunt you down and kill you.”
Andy’s jaw dropped and Nor managed a thin smile. “Okay, so the last bit was a lie. He’s pissed off with me, not you!”
Andy could breathe again. “So what did he say? Did he kick you out?”
Nor nodded angrily. “He called me ungrateful! Can you believe that? He didn’t even play the disappointed card. I shocked him.” She paused then looked away. “I saw my father as the bully he is today. He was a spoiled brat when I told him something he didn’t want to hear.”
Andy didn’t say anything. Nor didn’t look at him. Her body trembled. She whimpered softly. He moved swiftly, instinctively and threw his arms around her and drew her close to him. He was relieved, surprised even, when she didn’t resist. He held her against his chest and felt the aftershocks of her tears.
“What am I going to do?” Nor muttered.
Andy gulped back an unexpected pain. “Maybe I could speak to him?”
Nor pulled away sharply. The fury on her face caused Andy to withdraw from her.
“No! Absolutely not!”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Nor studied him hesitantly, and he couldn’t be sure whether she wanted to attack him or return to their embrace. “I had to say what I did. He knows now. This is what we needed. It’s in the open. We can move on from here, but I have to see this through. Nobody else can sort this out for me... I’ll talk to him when things are calmer.”