The Liminal Space

by Jacquie McRae

  A Muscovy duck yanking on the edge of my coat, and voices from people on the river walkway, wake me up. As my eyes adjust to the light, I look across the river and see a shape under the bridge. At first I think it’s a small boulder, but then I realise it’s a crouching person. Their arms are wrapped around their knees. It looks like a young man, but it’s hard to tell, as they’re obscured by an old willow tree. The wind blowing the leaves distracts me as it rustles its mournful tale.

  What starts as a dull thud in my temple intensifies, and I have to move. I remember a bush of feverfew I saw by the side of the bridge on my way down. A few of the leaves steeped in hot water should make my headache subside. I cross back over the river and clamber halfway up the bank. The person is still crouched here; it is a young man.

  ‘Hello.’

  He jumps up, and I see that I startled him.

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.’

  Without saying anything, he steps behind a boulder. I shrug and climb further up the bank to the bush. As I pick a handful of leaves, I remember the boy’s face and realise that he’s the lawyer’s son. Juno decides to use that moment to race back down and check out a possible new companion. I call her and am surprised when she doesn’t return. I have to traipse all the way back down.

  ‘Sorry,’ I say, walking around the boulder and grabbing Juno by her collar. ‘You probably don’t remember me, but I used to meet you and your mum on the riverbanks when you were a boy. I’m William, and this is Juno. I’m afraid she doesn’t see the point of manners. James, isn’t it?’

  He nods without really looking at me and walks away. I suffer an overwhelming sense of compression, like the air above me is pushing me down. Sadness rested in the corners of his mouth. He didn’t let me see his eyes, and a part of me is grateful. Juno looks up at me and whines. ‘I know you want to follow, but we’re not invited.’ We scramble up the bank and walk the path home. I feel like I’m dragging my legs, and it takes a few minutes for the heaviness in my body to subside and for me to let go of the boy’s muddied colours. I’m momentarily confused when I open my garden gate and a female voice calls out to me from my back porch.

  ‘I was just going to leave you a note, William.’

  It’s the girl who was behind the counter at the doctor’s yesterday. She waves a piece of paper in the air as she walks towards me.

  ‘We don’t have a phone number or email for you, so I thought I’d just drop by. We got you an appointment in a few weeks, but I couldn’t book you in because I didn’t have your NHS number. I typed “William Newton” into the database three times, but I still couldn’t find you.’

  ‘It’s probably just entered in the system wrong. I’ll pay them cash on the day,’ I say.

  ‘Yes, that’s fine, but they’ll still need a number to process it.’

  ‘It’ll be somewhere inside. I can give it to them.’

  ‘I’m on a break, so I’ll just wait here till you find it.’ She sits down on a log seat that Arlo made from a tree that came down in the last storm. She stares across the fence into Arlo’s kitchen.

  ‘I’m sorry. What was your name again?’

  ‘It’s Kay.’

  ‘Right. Sorry, Kay. It could take me a while to find it. I’m not one for paperwork.’

  ‘That’s okay, William. I can come back tomorrow.’

  ‘No. I’ll bring it to you when I find it. It’ll be buried under something in the office.’

  She looks disappointed, but finally leaves. I let out a long breath that I didn’t realise I was holding.

  EMILY

  I light the fire in the kitchen and throw the lamb mince into a bowl along with some rosemary and thyme. I heard Rob tell someone that he married me for my shepherd’s pie. I throw the potatoes in a pot and turn the element on to hot. I jump when I hear the front door slam.

  Rob surprises me by coming into the kitchen. He throws a brown package on the table.

  ‘I got you this,’ he says, nodding down at the parcel.

  I wipe my hands on my apron and pick up the parcel like it’s a newborn baby.

  ‘I can’t believe you brought me a present,’ I say, grinning like I’ve won at the fair. ‘Is it an anniversary present?’

  ‘Can be. Open it then.’

  I undo the string slowly and pull back the paper on one side. I spy something red. He remembered my favourite colour. I see it’s shiny and then notice some black lace. I pull out a negligee and feel the grin slip from my face.

  ‘What, don’t you like it?’

  ‘Yeah, no, thank you. I just thought it was something else.’ I turn away from him so he can’t see the disappointment on my face. I pull the potatoes off the stove. ‘I better get these potatoes mashed, or you’ll be eating late.’

  ‘Is there a problem?’

  ‘No, no, Rob. You go into the lounge. Dinner’s nearly ready.’

  I push the ugly thing back into the paper and put it on the sideboard. I can’t believe I let myself think I’d be getting a real present. I take him his dinner and eat mine by the fire in the kitchen. After dinner, I wipe all the cans in the pantry and check all the spices for their expiration dates. When I hear the theme music for the dart show, I creep off to bed. I’m nearly asleep when I hear the floorboards creak on the stairs, and my whole body stiffens.

  He flicks the light on, and I feel something land on the bed.

  ‘Go try it on then.’

  I pretend to be asleep, but he pulls the covers back and shoves my shoulder.

  ‘Go on.’

  It’s easier not to argue. I force myself into the bathroom and pull the negligee over my head. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror; I feel so ugly. I pull the material up to cover my breasts, but then it exposes my lower half. I tug at the hem as I walk back into the bedroom.

  ‘You’ll bloody rip it if you keep doing that.’

  I let the hem drop, and I walk towards the light switch.

  ‘Hang on. Let me look at you.’

  I turn around and keep my hands down beside me. I feel the heat in my face and will myself to feel something other than stupid.

  ‘Actually, your boobs are too small for the top, and your ribs are sticking out. Turn the light out.’

  MARCO

  I’m usually the last to arrive at the office, but this morning I’m seated at my desk long before Owen gets in. I’m hoping that he didn’t notice my absence yesterday. He looks directly at me as he walks into the office and beckons me into his cubicle.

  Oh shit.

  ‘Have a seat, Marco.’ He nods towards a chair without looking me in the face. ‘We’ve got a problem.’

  ‘Yeah, sorry about yesterday. I had to go home and check on my dad.’

  ‘That’s not what I want to talk about. You haven’t had a sale in ages, so I have to give your region to someone else.’

  ‘What? It’s just a bad month. It’ll pick up.’

  ‘Yeah, I don’t think so. It’s been a long time. You can work till the end of the week, which will give you time to hand over the paperwork. I’ll pay you for the month. The others aren’t doing great, but they’re at least making a few sales.’

  ‘What do you mean, Owen? I’ve outperformed all of those idiots.’

  ‘Maybe at one time you did. I can’t afford to keep you. I’m sorry, but it’s business. It’s you or me.’

  ‘Ohh. Fuck.’

  I leave his cubicle and have to walk past Derek and the rest of the staff in the open-plan office; everyone would have heard our conversation. I don’t even bother looking at Derek, but I imagine the smug look on his ugly face. He knows he’s about to get my region.

  I grab a folder from a filing cabinet and head out the door with it tucked under my arm. They can find their own fuckin’ clients. I walk to McGinty’s, five minutes away. The tiny Irish pub is squashed between two restaurants. The wooden bar just inside the entranceway stretches all the way to the dimly lit area at the back. I order a double bourbon and c
oke with no ice and slide into one of the grimy booths. I down the drink and order another two. I wait for the alcohol to make me feel better, but it’s going to take a few.

  I sidle home and traipse up the three flights of stairs to my apartment. My key won’t open the door. I peer more closely and see that the prick’s changed the lock. Fuck. I told him I’d pay him by the end of the week. I pick up the mail outside my door and shuffle through the envelopes. Bill, bill, bill. I toss them to the ground.

  There’s a handwritten note from the cock.

  You get your stuff when I get my money.

  I slide down onto the floor and thump the back of my head against the door. I just can’t get a break. The old bird from across the hallway opens her door and peers out. She frowns as she sees me sitting on the floor.

  ‘Piss off!’

  ‘Ooh,’ she says as she pops back into her apartment.

  I sigh as I thrust myself up. What a fuckin’ mess.

  I walk down to the landlord’s flat on the ground floor. I’d gladly walk away without paying him, but some of my designer suits are worth a lot more than the rent. The lousy prick couldn’t wait a few weeks for things to get sorted, and yet I had to wait a month for him to fix a dripping tap. My stomach actually cramps as I count the money into his hand. I clench my fists beside me as he makes a production of counting it out again.

  ‘This just brings you up to date. I’ll need another two weeks’ rent in advance.’

  ‘I don’t have that at the moment. I’ll get it to you soon.’

  ‘We’re done playing that game. If you don’t have it now, you can get your stuff and go.’

  I follow him back up the stairs. He stands guard by the door as I throw my few things into a suitcase. I toss my bag into the back of my car and screech out of the basement carpark. At least I have the satisfaction of knowing that the next time he takes his prized Audi out, he’ll have a key scratch along his passenger door to remember me by.

  A neon bar sign calls out to me on the fringe of the city, and I pull in and park. I order a Jack Daniel’s with no ice and slug it back. I tip out the change in my pocket. After paying for the drink, I’m left with a pound to my name.

  The fuel indicator light comes on as soon as I get back on the M1. I gaze straight ahead and pretend for a moment that I’m free to keep driving. Then I indicate left at the last minute and take the turn-off for Radley.

  JAMES

  ‘You need to let some fresh air in here, James.’ Mum pushes the window open as wide as it will go, but the air remains hot and still. I pick a book up from the bedside table and pretend to read, but the words swim on the page, and I don’t absorb any of them.

  Mum moves around my room slowly. Hovering. Picking up folded clothes from a chair and moving them to rest on top of my tallboy. I keep the book at face height as a barrier between us. I have no words to explain to her about the fire that’s raging in my brain, or that I think my brain may explode at any moment. Even the thought of forming words is exhausting. I try to concentrate on the pressure at the back of my head where it rests on the pillow.

  I feel her sit down on the end of my bed.

  ‘Can I get you anything from town, James?’

  ‘I’m okay.’

  ‘What about some fruit?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘A magazine?’

  ‘No. I don’t need anything other than to be left alone.’

  She sighs and pushes herself up. I see the sag in her shoulders and instantly regret my words.

  ‘I just need to rest, Mum.’ My tired is unlike any other tired I’ve known. It’s a physical and mental lethargy that makes getting out of bed seem like an insurmountable task. No one could possibly understand this. Every day I hope that I’ll wake up and feel normal, and yet each day that state seems further away.

  ‘Maybe you can rest this morning and then take a walk to the library this afternoon. I have to go to the city with your dad, but I have a stack of books that need returning. Can you please do that for me, James?’

  ‘Sure.’ I turn towards the wall so I don’t have to see her face. It’s enough coping with my own pain.

  EMILY

  I tilt my face up to the shower head and let the hot water rain down on me. The cascading water helps me to think and washes away my tears. I touch the tender part on the inside of my thigh. All I ever wanted was to be someone’s wife. I want so much to stay married, but I don’t think I can. I step from the shower. Although the mirror is half fogged up, I see the dark purple colouring at the top of my arms. Something has to change. I just need to open my mouth and say what needs to be said. I have to pick my moment. I pull on a long-sleeved jersey and rub some concealer on the dark shades beneath my eyes. I need to do it tonight.

  I miss having Colleen to talk to. Until I got married, she was like my mum and my best friend rolled up in one. I could talk to her about anything, and she always knew what to say to make me feel better—but this is different. I already know what she’ll say about Rob. She’s told me that she doesn’t trust him or believe he has any nice qualities. Yesterday, she had a problem with the way his upper lip stretched tight across his top teeth. She said it was a sure sign of meanness. I told her that was definitely the pot calling the kettle black.

  I tuck my bag under the front desk at work. I gather up the book-covering roll and our library stamp from one of the cupboards.

  ‘I’ll make a start on covering these children’s books,’ I call out. I take the stuff to a corner table. Colleen drops her bag beside mine, grabs a pile of books and joins me at the table. She’s quiet for about a minute.

  ‘If I can do something, I’d like to,’ Colleen says.

  ‘Yeah, you can do the stamping.’

  ‘I don’t mean that.’

  I lower my head. I have to squint to check that I’ve placed the book exactly in the middle of the covering. I use an old duster to squash out creases and air bubbles. When I’m finished with the front, I flip the book over and do the same on the back.

  I can still feel Colleen looking at me.

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Okay. When you decide that you’re not, let me know.’

  She bangs the stamp on the inside of the book and claps the book shut, then picks up another. I’m saved from any more comments by Mrs Ester—Mrs Wildfire if her back is turned. If there is anything you want spread around the village, she’s the lady you go to.

  ‘What’s happening about that documentary, Mrs Ester?’ I ask, knowing that I’ll get more than the full story.

  ‘You’ll never believe it, Emily, but they’ve put a chair in the square.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘A chair, Emily. They’ve built a little shelter up in the market square and put a chair in there.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘As well as walking around and filming us, they’ve got some fancy camera that people can turn on and film themselves with. Annie says it’s some sort of reality show about life in a village, but I’ve got no idea what she’s talking about. I think they’re having another meeting tonight. In here, isn’t it, Colleen?’

  ‘Yes, just after the church meeting. It starts at seven.’

  Mrs Ester nods and walks towards the romance section. Several people come in at once, so I gather up the stuff on the table and return it to the cupboard. Colleen places some new releases on a stand at the front of the library. We have a mountain of returned books; I sort them alphabetically before placing them on the trolley. As I wheel it down one of the rows, I hear Mrs Ester’s high-pitched voice again. For a moment, I don’t know who she’s talking to.

  ‘Did you hear about William?’ she asks.

  ‘No, what’s happened?’ I crane my neck to see who she’s talking to. Ah—it’s Mrs Ashby.

  ‘I heard that he isn’t who he said he was.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, apparently, the surname we know him by is different to the name on his NHS card.’

 
‘Who told you that?’

  ‘Myrtle did.’

  ‘How would she know anything?’

  ‘Her daughter works at the doctor’s. Didn’t I say that there was something fishy about him? That he was hiding from something.’

  ‘He’s been here for twenty years, Ina.’

  ‘Well, years don’t lessen people’s crimes. I heard that he was involved with a minor.’

  ‘That’s just village gossip.’

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t be surprised. Just look at the way he dresses—and the way he hangs around our Emily.’

  I step from behind the shelves. ‘Can I help you two find something?’ They both look surprised, and I’m happy to see that at least Mrs Ashby looks embarrassed to be caught gossiping.

  ‘No, just found it.’ Mrs Ester grabs a book from the display shelf and moves off.

  I have to wait a moment for the shaking in my hands to subside before I follow her to the counter. ‘People need to check their facts before they spread rumours,’ I say as I scan the barcodes and thump her books into a pile.

  ‘I’m just passing on what I heard, Emily.’ She stuffs her books into her bag and marches out of the library.

  WILLIAM

  A ferocious wind came unannounced and uprooted trees and took down our power lines. I watch from my window seat as it rips the last of the leaves from the branches and hurls them to the ground. Juno whimpers and cowers until I feel sorry for her and bring her bed in from the porch. Arlo brought over a camp stove and some candles. He told me that the main road out of town is blocked by a fallen oak.