ABEL'S REVENGE

by Ross Greenwood

Olivia flies away as the children aren’t allowed out the front unsupervised. She’s gullible too. Mike stands next to me. His teeth smile, but his eyes glint.

  ‘You have an amazing wife.’

  It’s not a compliment. He’s delivered a threat.

  When Mike’s gone, and the kids are bathed and in bed, I don’t have the enthusiasm for a full-on row. I settle for a few low blows while we watch TV.

  ‘Very cosy. I’ll wait in the garden next time. You could put a deckchair out so I have somewhere to sit. Cotton wool as well for my ears, please. Or shall I call you when I leave the office, then you can get rid of him, and clean up with a mop and bucket before I arrive.’

  ‘You’re funny.’

  ‘What was Doctor Death doing sampling my wares?’

  ‘He came to fix the dishwasher.’

  ‘Is that what the kids are calling it nowadays? Seems to me he came to drink our wine and interfere with the maid.’

  ‘You drank all our wine. He brought his own. And I’m not the maid, as you so nicely state. He isn’t a doctor either.’

  That statement disarms me. She’s far from repentant. I hear the dishwasher gurgle in confirmation through the open door to the kitchen. Olivia’s phone rings. She gives it a strange look and lets it go to voicemail. Then, she listens to the message.

  ‘Why didn’t you answer it?’ I ask.

  ‘I keep getting weird calls. I can hear them breathing and then they hang up.’

  ‘It will be those dodgy lawyer’s calls, wanting you to sue for an accident you had five years ago.’

  ‘One kind of growled my name. He sounded like the Gruffalo.’

  ‘Maybe it was the Gruffalo. Did he offer to come over and fix your dishwasher?’

  ‘Very funny.’ She is smiling though.

  ‘What does Mike do then, assuming he isn’t Superman?’

  ‘He’s a dentist.’

  I perk up, as even though The Dentist of Death doesn’t work, there’s potential. It makes sense too, what with all that unsettling grinning.

  ‘A dentist, eh? I bet many a young lady, or gentleman, has woken up after his hastily administered gas to find they had a sore bottom or teeth marks in their underwear.’

  ‘Do you see the best in anyone?’

  I pause to think.

  ‘Do you mean famous people, or people we know?’

  I’m not sure why I do it. It’s as though the only method of communication I can manage is sarcasm. The news headlines come on and save me digging a bigger hole.

  ‘The police are warning everyone to be cautious after three different women were assaulted at parks in the suburbs. Joggers in the early morning should be particularly vigilant and go with a friend if possible. They want to speak to a man approximately five feet ten with an average build. They suspect the man’s name may be Abel. If anyone has any information, or believes they could help the police, please ring this number.’

  Olivia reaches over for my hand and squeezes it. ‘I’m starting to feel unsafe here. I’ve never thought like that in my life. Those silent phone calls aren’t helping. That drunk girl who wandered off from her friends and was found burnt and tortured in a field has now died. Who would do such an evil thing? I can’t even begin to imagine what her family is going through. The awful fact is someone committed that act and you might be sitting next to them on the bus the next morning.’

  ‘There do seem to be a lot of sick and angry people living here.’

  ‘Do you know the cleaner at our place had her handbag snatched off her shoulder while walking on the pavement. She’d just left our office and a moped went past and then it was gone. Poor girl. Obviously, there was no police anywhere. She was on the way to pay a deposit for her holiday. We all chipped in to get her the money back. I’m sure it didn’t used to be like that here.’

  ‘Why don’t we move with your business to California? Screw this place. I always wanted to learn how to surf.’

  ‘You know I can’t leave my parents. I’m worried for them as well.’

  ‘That’s a shame. In that case, try not to worry too much, those incidents were miles from here.’

  ‘That’s true, but it isn’t only that. Since we’ve had the kids, there are dangers everywhere.’

  ‘Isn’t that just part of being a parent? Besides, Abel is after the joggers. So as long as you knock that on the head, you’ll be fine.’

  She gives me a filthy frown, and drops my hand.

  ‘You mustn’t change your life for the sake of these bastards. He won’t stop me running.’

  ‘You’re mad. They’ll catch him soon. Can’t you go on your rowing machine until then?’

  ‘You broke that remember. I’ll take my pepper spray. He’ll pity the day if he ever messes with me or my family.’

  She turns to glower at me. There’s a ridge of fire to her I never experienced until we had Grace and Charlie. There isn’t anything she wouldn’t do to keep them from harm. Do not come between a mother and her children. Her eyes search mine and the arguments and mindless routines of our lives are, for the moment, forgotten.

  ‘Worried about me, are you?’ she says.

  ‘Always, although I’m concerned for him too if he leapt out at you.’

  She shuffles over to my side of the sofa, and puts her head on my shoulder. After a pause, she reaches up to kiss my cheek. I turn so her lips touch mine and, as often happens, that’s all it takes. The planets align, and our problems melt away.

  Chapter 18

  Abel

  A month later

  I do my best to hide my gift under my massive raincoat. It isn't raining or even cold, so I look unusual, but you don't bump into anyone normal at this time of night on Turpin Street. The important thing is the absence of wind. I hear the music before I see them. What is wrong with these people? The three youths sit in deckchairs in the small front garden passing a joint between them. I cough so they notice me.

  ‘Heh, man. What are you, a clown?’ They jeer as I pull the balloon from under my coat. One of them falls off his chair as he struggles for breath from laughing. The other two bump fists.

  ‘Kind of. It’s for you. I brought you a present.’

  ‘Get out of here. We don’t need a fucking balloon.’

  ‘This is a special balloon though. I filled it with super-strength marijuana smoke.’

  In their befuddled state, they’re interested. That is enough. Apart from the parked cars, the street is empty. This will only take a minute so that’s fine. Stepping towards them with a smile, I consider popping the balloon on the fire, but stick with the plan. I’ve practised many times.

  It’s a latex balloon twice the size of a football. That gave the best results under optimum conditions. With a flourish, I hold it in the air. The one with the golden tooth notices my latex gloves and looks at my face. Dim recognition opens his eyes. Too late, my friend.

  I deliver the message. ‘You are weak, and I am mighty.’

  With the large hood over my head, I slide the goggles down and pull up my scarf — in case there is a mist. I dip under the balloon facing down, and with a sharpened nail from my pocket, jab up and pop it. It’s easy to get acid. I didn’t need much.

  The three of them clutch their faces and thrash around. They are surprisingly quiet, considering. Agony, I expect, after the initial shock. I considered using a sledge hammer. I like their finality, but they are heavy and cumbersome. The club hammer fits in my belt though, and will do the job.

  It’s a tricky technique to master. You need to swing with your hips. One blow each stops the screaming. I roll gold tooth over and decide a trophy is in order. With concrete behind his head, his face collapses with the impact.

  Now, who’s next?

  Chapter 19

  Dan

  As per usual when I leave the railway station and start the walk home, I lurch like I’ve been in a wrestling ring for an hour and a half. I pass the pub that Ian and I frequent and note the beautiful people at the bar. The sta
ff, that is. It’s still empty.

  I haven’t seen Ian for four weeks, which is unusual. The reason for that was the thawing of relations at home. We had sex twelve times in that period. A fair effort I reckon. More than we managed when we tried for Charlie. I found necessity an effective contraception.

  My job still sucks. People are quitting in droves. A joker started leaving toy rats near the doors and windows, but even they’ve gone. Few serve their notice. The sales targets though, stay the same. It’s a collective insanity. We plough on in a march to the death. The end is nigh, and that will be a release. I for one shall be thankful. Perhaps I can headbutt Ken on the way out.

  If I’m lucky, it will open a new door to a better future. Saying that, I’ve been looking online at jobs for a guy with my experience and they are spread thinly. Knowing my luck, I’d get a shittier job, further away, for less money, and Ken would still be my boss. Maybe a role where I’d have to share a desk with him.

  I stand outside our home and sigh. The truce is forgotten. The same rows are re-surfacing. Those of moving from this place, who created the mess, and other bollocks I don’t understand. Each day leaches more energy from my depleted resilience.

  The main argument, which will never go away, is the fact I’m happy to reside in a reasonably clean sty. Olivia, on the other hand, isn’t. Her madness is thinking she can tidy for respectability and it will stay that way. She does after all live with three pigs, and I suspect even Bailey is a porker in a furry overcoat.

  I can’t see the point of hoovering twice a day, or tidying the toys up if Charlie’s only going to pull them out a few minutes later. Fair enough, I can understand if we have visitors. Each time the doorbell rings, Olivia imagines it’s the film crew from ‘Clean House’. The cameramen would burst past while the host commented, ‘What is wrong with these people?’, and, ‘Who could live in this?’

  Our sex drives returning was the lull before the end of the world. Now all the arguments we have ever had climb out of their graves like zombies. They wander around the house, attacking us at will. Such as, her excessive use of Fairy Liquid, shampoo, washing powder, bin bags, soap, and her infuriating habit of eating the fresh stuff first. The slightly older things; bread, yoghurts, milk, fruit and so on spoil, edging me closer to insanity. I hurl those facts at her like I’m in the front row at a stoning.

  She shields herself with her own grievances, of which there are many. She has reserves, too, as my shortcomings are legion. The battle ebbs and flows, with no one winning a clear advantage. That’s a good thing, or the vanquished, in a rush of spite, is liable to drop the atom bombs of weight gain, money, or marriage into the melee. Could we survive the fallout from that?

  Mike’s lounge curtain twitches as I walk up our drive, but he pulls his head away before I can give him the finger. I’m a western gunfighter with nerves shot through drink. I’m not alone; the whole city’s nerves are on edge. There was a terrorist attack in the centre again which fuelled the fears. The news is all negative at the moment.

  Another woman was raped in a park north of us. They suspect Abel is casting his net further afield. A stadium collapsed in South America killing thousands. A dam burst in China wiping out entire towns. Our world is becoming a sinister place.

  I was invited to leaving drinks after work for two of the admin staff. They planned to travel together. The state of affairs at the company meant the choice for them became easy. I could barely stand to acknowledge the lucky gits. I declined. Instead, I came home hoping for a thawing of relations and maybe some action.

  I’ve always found sex was one of those things if you don’t have it for a while, you forget about it. I’d been awakened and therefore it dominated my thoughts. So, I bought a bottle of that red wine with the little bull attached for Olivia, even though it’s drain cleaner to me. There’s a new Thai place opened nearby that delivers.

  I take a deep breath at the door. No bickering tonight, Daniel. Remember, knobheads don’t get nooky. I walk into the hall with a smile. Olivia glides past me in a long, black dress that makes jackpot bells ring in my head. My grin widens. Has she had the same idea? The light perfume she wears fills the house, and I gaze at her as she throws a bone to Bailey. He stares at it and wishes for younger teeth.

  I present to her the wine!

  ‘Ah, the bottle with the bull attached. Isn’t that expensive, or was it on offer? Don’t save me any, I’ll be late.’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘Did you forget?’ She squeezes my cheek as though I’m an errant child.

  ‘Do I need to get ready?’

  ‘No, silly. It’s a work thing, remember. Beau won a new contract. A big one. We’re celebrating. There’s a busy French place in town getting rave reviews. Beau’s paying for everything. The prosecco will flow tonight.’

  Beau is Beaumont Arundel. Her super-successful young boss. He’s good-looking in a private schoolboy way. You know the type; loafers, untucked shirts, and chinos. The same outfit for work, funerals, parties and for sleeping.

  I hate his name. It’s the kind of thing you see on the bars of soaps in posh hotels. He, too, has fallen for Olivia’s charms, despite there being a ten-year age gap. He often comes to pick her up in his latest BMW even though it is miles out of his way.

  Olivia denies his interest, and says he’s a wonderful man. The only pleasing part of the sorry saga is that Beau occasionally bumps into Mike. That makes me smile. They are like a pair of toffs about to tussle. I should leave duelling swords on the front lawn.

  ‘Why doesn’t Beautastic invite partners as well if he’s so great?’

  ‘They are welcome. I said you’d have to look after the kids.’

  No way. I’m missing out on a posh meal at the latest swanky restaurant. Dare I ask what her idle-backed parents are up to this evening? Grace and Charlie love it in their massive house.

  ‘Mother and father busy, were they?’

  ‘You know I don’t want to use them too much.’

  Olivia looks stunning in the mirror as she checks her lipstick next to me. Her flowing black dress is an off-the-shoulder number. It’s classic and classy. I’m sweaty and dishevelled in comparison. A little bonkers-looking too. I need to shave my head again soon, or I’ll resemble Jack Nicholson in The Shining. My face has blotches on it which no doubt is a reflection of my poor diet of late.

  ‘The children are in bed and sorted, so you have a night to yourself.’

  A car horn beeps outside the house. She puts her highest heels on which make her legs resemble the finest lollies, and air kisses me so as not to smudge her lippy. Her tiny jacket top, which makes me think of toys from my youth, is pulled on and she skips down the path. I follow her and wave. Damn him.

  He opens the door for her like a scruffy chauffeur, and shoots me a toothy grin. I involuntarily run my tongue over my own inadequate teeth. I bet he uses Mike as his dentist. I doubt Beau wears pants so he won’t see the bite marks. And his arse is most likely always sore from sitting on his massive pile of uncomfortable cash.

  They burn off, leaving a trail of smoke. A sense of doom comes over me as I turn to go back inside. Mike’s curtain twitches and this time I have the reflexes to insult him.

  I can’t be bothered to eat. I stick the wine in the freezer — I can drink it with a straw later if it’s cold enough — and clamber the stairs. Bailey pulls himself up the steps with equal energy. The bed gives reassuringly as I crawl under the duvet. The hound lies heavy over my feet. I’m exhausted.

  I remember the two of us staying at a hotel on the banks of the Mekong River in Phnom Penh, Cambodia. We’d travelled there together as a group after meeting in Vietnam. Ian had tried it on with Rachel who’d politely declined, but everything remained amicable. The hotel restaurant had a terrace on stilts which made you believe you were sitting on water. We bought chilled beers and sat looking at the moon.

  No doubt dead water buffalo and human poops floated past, but we couldn’t see or smell them, so it was extre
mely romantic. She told me she worked in Fintech. It sounded so cutting edge, mysterious and dramatic. It still does to be honest as I can’t remember what she said. I should look it up.

  There are vast sums of money, looking for the right investments, circulating around the world. She whispered of expensive hotels and beautiful parties. I imagined myself in a tuxedo on her arm. Tonight, is one of those times I dreamt of.

  A small trump drags me into the present and Bailey rolls over onto his back. We were up early together, pounding the streets after he’d surprised me by bringing me his lead, so he’s shattered, too. He is usually such a lazy dog. I should force Bailey downstairs as he isn’t allowed to sleep up here.

  The room is stifling, so I get up and open the window. I prefer sleeping with it pushed wide. She’ll shut it when she returns. I ponder, for the thousandth time, about our compatibility. Bailey’s presence is comforting though, so I slide back under the covers, and nod off with my memories.

  Chapter 20

  Olivia

  The interior of Beau’s car reminds me of science fiction films. The whooshing sound is not dissimilar either. I adore Beau. He’s so one dimensional in his affection and love for people that it’s pleasant being around him. My eggs drying up made me want to do something radical. He agreed to me having three months off without a thought to the hamstringing it gave his department at our old jobs. When he started his own business, he wanted me with him.

  I recommended Rachel to him when I left on maternity and she seamlessly took over. They make a good team too, although he’s scared of her. Many men are. She’s bold. The main difference between us is I’m not as forthright but I have a feel for the market which few others do. I’m not naïve enough to believe Beau hasn’t tried to replace me, but I know now he’s failed.

  ‘Exciting times, Oli?’

  I forgot to say, he calls me Oli. Dan says he’s given me a sex name, and he rolls around in his damp satin sheets dreaming of me and shouting it.