Influence

by Stuart Johnstone

  ‘Yeah. Sorry about that,’ said Lizzie.

  ‘No, I’m glad. Besides, you’ve left now haven’t you?’

  ‘I have yes. And don’t worry I won’t say a word.’

  ‘Thank you Lizzie. It was nice to meet you, and if you ever want to chat about things, about anything you will come and see me won’t you?’ he gave Lizzie a knowing look.

  ‘I will, I promise,’ she said sincerely.

  Eighteen

  Jerk, he’s forgotten his damn key again, he thought. If we have to get into another debate about respectful cohabitation, he’s gonna get it this time. He pulled on a T-shirt and checked the time on the clock on the shelf. I am going to kill him, he knows I’ve got a damn test tomorrow.

  All things considered he wasn’t that bad a guy to live with, sure he was out most nights, but then that meant he had the place to himself, and the forgetting the key thing only happened now and again, but why did it always seem to be on the worst possible night?

  ‘I’m coming damnit,’ he yelled at the door, beaten hard for the fourth time. He searched around for something to put on his legs, but when the door was slammed for the fifth time he gave up on it and stamped into the hall. ‘Next time I’m leaving you out there all night you inconsiderate-’ he heaved the door open to deliver the rest of his sentence straight into his face, but it was not his face.

  His sleep addled eyes strained to focus, but the dark on the doorstep and the light in the hall made it all the more difficult. ‘You? He said, recognition dawning. ‘What the hell are you doing here? Do you have any idea what time it is?’

  ‘Yes I do. My apologies for the late hour, couldn’t be helped, had to try a few doors before we were pointed in the right direction.’

  We? He suddenly noticed the man standing further back. ‘May we come in?’ It wasn’t really a question, the visitor was already in the hallway, the man who accompanied him slipped in through the doorway before had a chance to shut him out. There was a look on that man’s face he didn’t like, or rather a lack of look, his face was a pool of still water, utterly expressionless.

  ‘You’re alone?’ asked the visitor.

  ‘Yes, I mean, no. Well he’s due back any time.’

  ‘We’ll be ever so quick then,’ the door was closed over, and he suddenly felt a great menace in the atmosphere.

  ‘Look guys, I don’t mean to be rude, but it really is late and I have a test in the morning.’

  ‘A little rude, yes. I mean at this hour it might well be an emergency that brings me to your door.’

  ‘Okay, is it an emergency?’

  ‘No,’ The visitor grinned at him.

  ‘Then, what do you want?’ He felt utterly exposed, half-naked and outnumbered, completely at a disadvantage.

  ‘We need two favours, neither of which requires any great effort on your part. First of all I need to introduce you to my friend the Serf here,’ the one with the expressionless face stepped forward. The half-naked man backed up sensing danger, but his back found only wall. The Serf took hold of his shoulders. For a moment he stood there allowing himself to be held by the Serf, but then he felt it, an attack, not physical, something worse, something deeper.

  He screamed in pain, and grabbed the arms of the Serf trying to wrench him off. He was a big man and his strength should have been more than sufficient to break free, but the Serf, even in the limited body of Vince, held him firmly in place, then pushed the large man to a sitting position on the well-worn hall carpet. He continued to scream.

  ‘Why is it taking so long?’ asked the visitor holding his ears. ‘What does he know?’

  ‘The scrolls have been united,’ said the Serf, ‘but he doesn’t know where they are.’ There was a bang from the ceiling, a disgruntled neighbour.

  ‘He’s making too much noise, cover his mouth.’ The Serf release one of the man’s shoulders and placed a hand across his face, muffling, but not ceasing the yelling. With one arm now free the man’s survival instinct took over. He hauled himself to his feet, the small body of the Serf, as freakishly strong as it was, carried little weight. He slammed his fist into the side of the Serf’s head, a blow that might have killed a man.

  The Serf did not flinch.

  He hit him again and again and felt a bone in his hand shatter. His muted screams still produced considerable volume.

  ‘This is pointless. We’ll wait for the second one. Time for the other favour,’ the visitor said to the man, but doubted he heard over his own screaming. The Serf took his cue, and moved its other hand from the man’s shoulder to the back of his head and twisted.

  Normally this would have spelled a quick and merciful end to human life with one quick movement, but the large man’s strength was impressive and his grip and resistance caused the Serf to break the man’s neck in a slow agonising coil.

  Nineteen

  She sat at the kitchen table, the envelope propped up against the potted plant in the centre and stared at it, sipped her coffee, and stared some more.

  Janice came into the room every five minutes or so under the pretence of fetching this or that, or washing and drying a single cup. She understood waiting and staring would not alter the envelope’s contents, but she was not ready to face whatever reality awaited within.

  Lizzie left the room and the unopened envelope, much to Janice’s frustration. She showered, trying to put the envelope out of her mind which proved impossible. She dried herself in front of the bathroom mirror, and examined the mark on her ribs which in the days following her attack had grown black and furious, but now had faded to a yellow indifference. The injury to her eye had required three small stitches where the socket had been fractured, these had since been removed leaving a small pink scar which she had been assured would fade over time and, with luck, might even disappear altogether. For the first time in her life she wore makeup on a daily basis, concealer mostly, but the newly formed habit had grown and she had taken to adding eye liner.

  Over the first few weeks the makeup did little to disguise the injuries, it could hide the colour but not the swelling. Now that her face had returned, more or less, to its normal dimensions the makeup illusion was more effective. Like her ribs, her face had gone from bad to worse after she left hospital. She could avoid mirrors but she could not escape the expressions on Janice and Maggie’s faces every time they looked at her. She had spent weeks indoors and had had little contact with anyone. Vic had called unexpectedly one night and she happily chatted to him at length about everything and anything but her attack or his brother. Vic seemed to know instinctively what she needed, bless him.

  Lizzie brushed her hair noticing that it was just about long enough to tie back now. She gave it a try and was pleased to find that only a few strands could not reach the elasticated band and hung around her freshly prepared face.

  Lizzie found that Janice had replaced her at the kitchen table, coffee in hand staring at the envelope.

  ‘What do you think?’ asked Lizzie.

  ‘I think if you don’t open it soon my head is going to explode like that guy in that movie.’ She didn’t want to pressure Lizzie but since the moment the large envelope had thudded to the hall floor it had been like an insufferable unanswered telephone, ringing and ringing, ignored and grating. She had tried to be patient, tried and failed.

  ‘Time to rip of the plaster?’

  ‘Only if you’re ready of course,’ said Janice springing to her feet freeing up the chair for Lizzie. She sat while Janice poured her a coffee. She flexed the envelope which had a cardboard backing to protect the documents inside, she had received a similar one last year and she remembered ripping it open the moment it had arrived, expectant and excited. This year was different. Janice stood side on to Lizzie watching her carefully peel away the tab of the envelope. She wrung her hands and bit on her finger as Lizzie turned the envelope upside down allowing the documents to slide onto the table in front of her. She set aside the unimportant covering letter and found the only sheet
amongst the pile that mattered. Janice studied Lizzie’s face as she looked over her results trying to find any indication of success or failure however Lizzie’s demeanour gave away nothing. ‘Well?’ said Janice, in a high pitched squeak she did not intend. Lizzie placed the sheet on the table with the discarded pile.

  ‘Two A’s Two B’s,’ said Lizzie without any discernible emotion.’ Janice processed the information and quickly calculated what that meant.

  ‘That’s good Lizzie, that’s really good.’ she tried hard to sound as sincere and encouraging as she could, but her faced stretched downward and her eyes filled, ‘Oh Lizzie, I’m so sorry,’ she began to blub.

  ‘That’s enough of that,’ said Lizzie getting to her feet. She consoled Janice with a cuddle, realising the backwardness of the situation. ‘I got the marks I need for Edinburgh, this is no disaster. Besides after the few months I’ve had it will be nice to change things up.’ Lizzie almost meant what she said.

  ‘Can you at least appeal?’ asked Janice.

  ‘No, I could only appeal if my prelim results had been better. It really is okay Janice, really. Listen I think I’m going to get out of the house for a while, maybe I’ll pick up something nice for dinner, maybe you could pick up a bottle of wine? Trust me these results are better, a lot better, than they might have been, so let’s celebrate, okay?’ Janice dried her eyes with the back of her hand.

  ‘God, look at the state of me, sorry. You know, every now and again your mum just comes out of you, right now for example,’ she kissed Lizzie on the forehead. ‘You want me to drop you off somewhere?’

  ‘Actually, could you? I think it’s time I visited Vic.’

  The summer holidays left Queen’s Grove House looking like a haunted mansion from a film, all empty and foreboding. It was a glorious afternoon, which Lizzie resented as it failed in any way to reflect her mood. She wasn’t as devastated as she might have thought, but it still stung. Lizzie waved to Janice as she turned the car and drove back up the drive. Lizzie made her way round the side to the accommodation hall, the low hum of a gardener’s mower from a distant part of the grounds echoed off the walls as the sun beat down. She removed her jacket and tied it round her waist.

  During their telephone conversation Lizzie had asked Vic if he would be going home, like the vast majority of students during the summer break, but it turned out that his mother had taken a turn for the worse and was currently in “respite”, whatever that meant, at a facility in London. Queen’s did cater for student stays during the summer months on exception and Vic had said he thought it was pretty cool, since he had the full run of the place.

  She found the door to the accommodation hall wedged open with a “Caution Wet Floor” sign and the smell of pine disinfectant almost burned her eyes as she climbed the freshly scrubbed stairs. One of the fluorescent tube lights in the common area was on the fritz and it flickered and buzzed its death throes. It was so quiet she could still hear the mower outside. She made her way down the hall towards Vic’s room; she was a good twenty feet away when she heard the sounds of distress from within.

  Lizzie’s decision to leave the house today was based on a determination to break recent bad habits. She was weary of feeling so bloody tired, and utterly drained at being so pissed off all the time, and more than anything she was tired and pissed off at being so afraid. So it was anger, not fear that flushed through her as the sound of a lamp, or something similar, smashing to the floor echoed down the hall. Lizzie ran to the door and tried the handle, locked. She put her ear to the door, she could make out someone struggling and moaning. She backed up to the opposite wall and threw herself at the door.

  The lock immediately yielded, which Lizzie had not anticipated, she had overestimated the cheap fixtures of the building. She stumbled headlong into the room and a piercing scream filled her ears. She kept her feet but slammed into the foot of the bed where Vic lay straddled by a dishevelled Hilary.

  Lizzie wasn’t sure from whom the scream had erupted. It could just as easily have been either of them by the looks on their faces. ‘JEEEESUS LIZ,’ yelled Vic, Hilary tried to climb off of him but was unable due to Vic’s arm being buried up her top.

  ‘Your watch Vic, ouch careful, it’s stuck on my bra,’ said Hilary, her voice a mix of whisper and growl. He tried to yank it free but he was anchored, Casio incarcerated by cleavage. Lizzie wanted to look away from the car wreck unfolding in front of her, but she could not. Hilary stepped off the bed taking Vic’s arm with her, her superior size and strength gave Vic no choice. She wrenched her own arm into her jumper and a loud snap eventually separated them. It was unclear whether it had been her bra, his watch or his arm that had fractured. Lizzie could only stand there and struggle to hide her amusement. She covered her mouth with the back of her hand to shield her grin as Hilary, red faced and flustered, gathered a few items of clothing which appeared to have been blithely discarded in their passion.

  ‘I’ll speak to you later,’ Hilary called to Vic who lay on the bed with his hands across his face. ‘Lizzie, um, could I speak to you quickly?’ Hilary was unable to look Lizzie in the eye, she took a bag from the hook on the door Lizzie had just crashed through and stepped into the hall. Lizzie followed her out, closing the door over. Hilary walked to the common area before turning to Lizzie. ‘I’m so sorry you had to see that,’ she said finally looking up at Lizzie. Not nearly as sorry as me, Lizzie thought.

  ‘It’s quite alright Hilary, these things happen,’ Lizzie congratulated herself at her straight face.

  ‘It’s just that Vic, well he had sort of intimated that you, and him were, sort of-’ Lizzie’s snort cut her off.

  ‘Oh Hilary,’ she said shaking her head, ‘you have nothing to apologise for, nothing whatsoever, Vic has quite an imagination. So, you and him huh? I think it’s great, really.’ A look of relief dawned on Hilary’s face.

  ‘Yeah, he is pretty great, I don’t know how things will work out, but I have a good feeling,’ said Hilary dreamily. There’s one other thing though Lizzie.’ She went quiet trying to formulate the words, but Lizzie grasped her concern.

  ‘You’re dad, he can’t know about this?’

  ‘Exactly,’ she said, surprised. ‘So he told you?’

  ‘He’s very forthcoming your dad.’

  ‘Yeah, he does that. It’s bloody annoying.’

  ‘Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me,’ said Lizzie patting Hilary reassuringly on the shoulder. Hilary threw her arms unexpectedly around Lizzie, almost knocking the wind out of her.

  ‘I wanted to come see you in hospital, but dad thought it would be inappropriate. Are you okay?’

  ‘I’m just fine, thanks. I was in and out of the hospital in no time.’ Lizzie patted her back, a sign that the embrace had lasted quite long enough. Hilary released her, and picked up her things.

  Lizzie found Vic trying to piece back together his bedside lamp.

  ‘Sorry for bursting in on you there, I didn’t realise you had company. How long’s that been going on?’ asked Lizzie.

  ‘With Hilary? Pretty much that day we met her. So… you’re alright with it?’ said Vic sheepishly.

  ‘I wish people would stop asking me that question, but yes Vic I think it’s fantastic. I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything important? I mean are you guys… You know…’ Vic blushed fiercely.

  ‘Not yet, we’re working up to it, not really ready you know?’

  ‘Well that’s good you’re taking it slow, don’t go pressuring her.’ Vic laughed.

  ‘Pressuring her? Are you kidding me? If it was up to her we’d probably be on to whips and chains by now. She’s an animal. On the one hand she’s the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to me and on the other she scares the living beejeezus out of me.’ Lizzie laughed this time and considered that it had been silly to think it might have been the other way around.

  ‘Did you get your results?’ asked Vic, knowing that she must have but it seemed a good way to change the sub
ject.

  ‘I did yeah, you?’

  ‘Yes, and?’

  ‘Edinburgh next year, you?’

  ‘Two C’s,’ the grin on Vic’s face suggested that his results had been satisfactory.

  ‘Didn’t you sit four subjects?’ asked Lizzie.

  ‘Yeah, but let’s focus on the positives. So, no Oxford next year?’ Vic forced his grin from his face in sympathy, Lizzie shrugged.

  ‘You want to get out for some fresh air?’ she asked.

  ‘Sure, since you scared away my girlfriend I have some free time. Oh before I forget I was home last week to pick up some things and I had another root around Rob’s room. I found another journal in his desk drawer, was sort of tucked inside a text book.’ He pulled the thin book from a pile on his floor and handed it to Lizzie. She sat on the bed and started to flick through it. ‘As usual it’s full of nonsense, but there’s one or two bits in English and one section mentions this council again.’ Lizzie hastily searched through the book for the appropriate entry. She noted that the book was only one third complete meaning it must be the most recent of them.

  ‘That’s it,’ said Vic as Lizzie turned a page. She placed her thumb between the pages to keep the place and closed the book over.

  ‘Maybe we should just leave it Vic, I mean it must be upsetting for you.’

  ‘I’m fine Liz,’ said Vic sincerely, ‘but if you’d rather not, I understand, after what happened to you. Actually, can I ask what exactly did happen? You never really said on the phone,’ Lizzie sighed.

  ‘It’s a long story Vic.’

  ‘Does it have something to do with all this?’ he asked pointing to the book.

  ‘I honestly don’t know, maybe.’ Vic saw the apprehension in Lizzie’s face.

  ‘Here, give it over, I’ll put it away and we won’t mention it again.’ Lizzie was grateful for his sensitivity, and she considered handing back the book.

  ‘Thanks Vic, you know I’ve spent the past few weeks trying to decide what to do with all this. I’ve considered going to see-‘ Lizzie caught herself just in time, she had been about to say - Hilary’s dad. ‘-the Police again, but it seems pointless given how little we know.’