Spider

by T E kessler

  She stared at him in shock. Then, ‘Grow up? I’m the one who has a drinking problem, eh? I’m the one who spends the rent money, am I? I’m the one who crashes the fucking car to create this–this nightmare!’ That was below the belt and deep down she knew that, but her anger from last night, and from being unable to shout at Yash, just came pouring out.

  Steven looked shaken, but trying to act cheerful, said, ‘I’ve cleared out the backyard of all my empties, and you’ll not find any drink in the house. It’s all gone, and it’ll stay all gone.’

  ‘Am I supposed to be grateful for that?’ she snapped. She should’ve been pleased. She should have embraced him and told him how proud she was of him. That’s what a counsellor once told her. Praise and encouragement. But what about her? What about her emotions? Her feelings of being left to cope while he wallowed in alcohol?

  She caught Sarah hovering under the archway as if uncertain about joining them in the lounge or not. Her presence enraged her more.

  She shoved her dad away, yelling at him, ‘What about the times you pissed yourself unaware on the settee? Or what about the day when I came home to find Mum had forgotten to get dressed and was heading to the shops in her nighty—you didn’t even know she’d left the house! What about me giving up school so I could look after you, Mum, and Lara! What about me, Dad?’ Her voice was shrill, and she wasn’t proud of it. She felt hysterical, but the rage burning inside her was intense. Too strong for her.

  The cheerfulness her dad had been trying to hold on to dropped away. ‘I’m trying, love,’ he said.

  ‘Trying?’ she screeched. ‘You don’t know the meaning of the word!’

  Beth spun from him towards the small door beneath the stairs where they kept their coats and shoes, and things like the ironing board and the vacuum. She dragged out the vacuum cleaner and, releasing buttons, pulled out the dust bag. Looking at her dad, she dug inside and pulled out a bottle of vodka. It came out with a mist of dust and dirt from the vacuum.

  ‘Your drinking is a joke. You’re an embarrassment.’ She threw the bottle onto the settee where it left a dirty mark.

  ‘Beth, you can’t say things like that—’ said Sarah, finally joining them in the lounge.

  ‘Who the fuck are you to tell me what I can say or not say?’ Beth returned.

  ‘I know you’re angry and I’m annoyed with Steven too for blurting, er, us out like that, but nothing’s happened. We’re just two friends at the moment. Friends who have a connection.’

  ‘Did I ask for your input?’ Beth said tartly. She turned her attention back to her dad. ‘Get her out of here,’ she said and turned her back on Sarah.

  ‘Beth,’ Sarah said behind her. ‘I’m not going anywhere. Steve’s not pushing me away again. He needs my help, and I’m going to make sure he takes it. But, to clarify, we’re not together.’

  ‘Has she gone?’ Beth said over her shoulder to her dad.

  Her dad sighed. ‘I want her to stay. Please Beth, hear us out. Look, it isn’t all bad news. The landlord has given us a month to find somewhere else, and with my job that shouldn’t be difficult.’

  She turned around. ‘And where will that be? We’re reliant on the council to home us. We can’t rent—you need references and deposits for that.’

  Beth watched Steven glance at Sarah.

  ‘Oh, no! No, no, no,’ said Beth. ‘I’m not moving in with her! Definitely not with her!’

  ‘Only if we have to,’ Steven said.

  ‘It might not come to that,’ Sarah agreed.

  ‘Jesus, I don’t believe what I’m hearing.’

  ‘Look, this isn’t all your dad’s fault,’ Sarah said. ‘Alcoholism is a type of illness, and your dad’s problem is a dependence on alcohol brought on by grief, which hasn’t properly been identified. The illness has been overshadowed by—’

  ‘Don’t talk to me about his drinking. I’ve lived with it since I was nine! At age nine, I had to be a mother to my baby sister, a nurse to my brain-damaged mother, and a cleaner to my pissed dad! I didn’t have time to fucking grieve!’

  ‘I know you’ve had your own set of problems.’ She didn’t raise her voice, and her face remained calm and serene-looking. Beth wanted to punch her. ‘And you’re dealing with them in your own way. Your dad, unfortunately, dealt with them by drinking. You want him well, don’t you?’

  ‘Don’t you dare try and guilt-trip me!’ Beth shouted, waving a finger beneath Sarah’s nose. She moved her wagging finger towards her dad. ‘First, he spent our house and compensation money on fun times to ease his own conscience, and now he drinks the rent money I gave him. I’ve had it with him!’

  ‘I swear I didn’t use your money for drink, Beth,’ Steven said.

  Sarah’s face took on a stern look. ‘He isn’t blaming you for not paying your share towards the housekeeping, so why are you blaming him?’

  Beth gasped. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Beth, but I can’t stand here and listen to you badmouth your father. He’s tried so hard to keep a roof over your head when you failed to pay your share of the rent. He sold his car, jewellery, and other possessions to find the money.’

  Beth rolled her eyes. ‘He sold the car years ago, and that was because we couldn’t afford to keep two!’ She looked at her father. ‘I gave you the money for rent each month. I put it just over there if you weren’t around.’ She pointed to the sideboard. ‘Why lie about it? If you’re so insistent on being sober now, why lie about that?’

  ‘Because I’m not lying, Beth,’ he said.

  ‘Bollocks to the pair of you,’ Beth said. She grabbed her bag off the settee. ‘I’m going to get Mum.’

  THIRTY-SIX

  When Beth and Alison arrived home, there was no sign of Sarah. A smell of something grilling wafted through the house. In the kitchen, Steven, a tea towel over his shoulder, was sprinkling salt into a bubbling pan of vegetables. He turned and smiled at them.

  Alison grinned back while Beth stared at him stony-faced.

  ‘I’m sorry, Beth,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t have brought Sarah here, but she was helping me clear out all the empty bottles. She calls it a revalidation. Anyway, while we were clearing out the shed, after you’d, er, gone to collect your mum, we found some old memory boxes of Ali’s which I think—’

  ‘That woman looked through Mum’s boxes?’

  Steven took the tea towel from his shoulder and dropped it on the counter. He turned to Alison. ‘Love, your favourite program is on in a moment. Want to go and put the telly on?’

  Alison bounded off like a five-year-old instead of a fifty-two-year-old.

  ‘Sarah is just helping me,’ he said to Beth. ‘I wouldn’t have told you about her except I wanted to be honest with you.’

  ‘You’d like more than just her help, though, wouldn’t you?’

  He looked at her levelly. ‘Yes,’ he said.

  Beth made a scoffing noise.

  Steven sighed. ‘I know you’re upset with me, and you’ve every right to be, but you need to listen—’

  ‘To you?’ She began to move away, but Steven barred her way by putting two hands on her shoulders. She tried to wriggle away; he gripped her harder. He bent to her face.

  ‘No, Beth, hear me out, I’m still your father despite what you think of me, and I love your mother—my wife—dearly. But she’s not there anymore.’ His fingers squeezed into her shoulders as he saw how his words caused a tremble in her lips. His gaze softened. ‘Darling, the mum who brought you into the world is gone.’ He brought her against his chest and spoke over the top of her head, ‘I know it hurts, but she isn’t going to get better.’

  Beth must have made a sound because he let her go. He peered down into her face and brushed something off her cheek. Tears. She was crying again.

  ‘I’m sorry, Beth. I know this isn’t what you want to hear. Your mum today isn’t the mum you had yesterday. She’s a child, Beth. And we need to move on with our lives.’

  D
istantly, she heard her phone bleep a text message.

  She pulled from her dad and wiped her face. ‘I… I need to get that.’

  ‘Can’t it wait? I need to show you something—’

  Ignoring him, she grabbed her bag and pulled the contents apart looking for her mobile. It was a message from Yash:

  Wandle Bridge. 6 p.m.

  ‘Love?’ Steven had followed her.

  Beth checked the time. It was 5.45. She’d never make it.

  Bastard! Yash knew she’d not make it in time!

  There was no point in arguing. She texted back.

  On my way. Please wait!

  She pushed her phone back into her bag. ‘I have to go.’

  ‘Love? Beth!’

  She heard her dad call out to her as she ran out of the house. She felt all thumbs as she climbed in her car and pulled away from the kerb. As she was driving, her phone rang and, keeping one eye on the road, she peered at it.

  It was Harry.

  She felt a surge of guilt going to meet another man, albeit a Jelvian man. She grabbed the phone and answered.

  ‘I’m driving so can’t talk. I’m heading to Wandle Bridge.’ Then she dropped the phone and put her foot down.

  She knew the Wandle crossing well. It ran through Wimbledon, and she and a group of friends used to mess about on the river’s edge until Beth’s homelife became too complicated to have a social life.

  She arrived at 6.23 p.m. and parked on a side road as close to the bridge as possible. Shoving her mobile in her pocket, she climbed out of her car. She ran across the street towards the barrier that prevented people from falling into the river and peered across at the bridge.

  She had no idea which side to meet Yash on. Not seeing him this side, she jogged towards the bridge and ran over it to the other side. He wasn’t that side either.

  Breathing heavily, she reached into her pocket for her phone. She had two messages. One from Harry, which she ignored, and another from Yash. She opened Yash’s.

  Parkside.

  She looked up. Up ahead was a park, and she could see Yash sitting on a park bench. He was in full Jelvia uniform. His long hair was blowing slightly in the wind. He tossed it back over his shoulder.

  Beth walked towards him.

  ‘Where is she?’ she asked as soon as she was in earshot.

  ‘Who?’ asked Yash.

  ‘You know who. My sister.’

  ‘I said I’d find her, I didn’t say I’d bring her in.’

  Beth clenched her fists. ‘Don’t do this to me, Yash. We had a deal.’

  He held out a piece of folded paper to her.

  Beth took it and unfolded it. It looked like a phone number. She looked at Yash quizzically.

  ‘It’s Lara’s number,’ he said.

  Before she could react, he reached over and circled her wrist, trapping the paper in her hand. He pulled her to sit beside him on the bench. ‘I found your sister in a holiday resort in Spain. She’s working in various bars and clubs as a waitress. She wasn’t kidnapped. She went voluntarily.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘I had someone meet your sister, he got to know her, and she opened up to him. Told him all about the stresses of home and how she needed to get away to save herself. Your sister told my investigator that she’d been planning her escape for months.’

  Her eyes searched Yash’s face. He didn’t appear to be gloating. His face was deadpan as always.

  ‘She left me?’ Although Harry had been the first to put the idea in her head, she hadn’t believed it. She was glad her sister was safe, but the knowledge that she’d chosen to leave hurt like hell.

  ‘Yes.’

  She stared at him. She should be ecstatic that Lara was safe, and she was. It was just—her sister had chosen to leave her to cope with her mentally ill mother and an alcoholic father alone. Beth stood up and walked away from Yash. She could feel his all-black stare on her, but she didn’t care.

  She clutched the telephone number in her hand. It was a small scrap of paper, but it was her whole world right now. A sob rose up in her throat.

  What was the point of caring if no one cared about her? Everyone she’d cared about left her: her brother, her mum; her dad didn’t care enough to stay off the booze, and now her sister had walked away from her.

  Beth’s breath was catching in her throat as she walked back over the bridge. She could feel her heart race, and the same horrible feeling, she’d come to recognise as a panic attack, grew inside her.

  I never did book that doctor’s appointment, she thought fleetingly as her throat began to close.

  River Wandle was calm below, and Beth pulled on its calmness to try and stop the panic inside her. She looked down at the water as it slapped against the river’s edge, sending up a slight spray. The river might be quiet, but its depths were not. She heard a crunching of something beneath someone’s shoe and looked up and straight into Yash’s eyes.

  They stared at one another, then Beth said, her voice raspy, ‘You said you kidnapped her. You said you had her and th-that you’d bring her back if I… I sold myself to you!’

  She felt beaten. Life had crippled her.

  Finding strength from somewhere, she drew back saliva in her throat and hawked spit straight into Yash’s face.

  Snarling, he lurched forward, grabbing her by the back of the neck, raising her off her feet, and suddenly she was pitched forward, facing down towards the river. It was how he’d held her over the trapdoor, all that time ago. Instead of scaring her, she felt exhilarated.

  ‘Go on then,’ she said. ‘Drop me. Do it, Spider. Do it!’

  She was pulled back and dropped unceremoniously to the ground. She scrambled up, breathing heavily.

  ‘Still disobedient, Beth?’ he said. ‘I’ll enjoy punishing you, and this time I won’t be as lenient.’

  Her hands clenched into fists, and she brought them up and hurled herself at Yash with a roar. She kicked, bit, and threw every piece of abuse at him that she could think of. Clutching Lara’s number in one hand, her other clawed at his face.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Yash grabbed her hands and pinned them painfully behind her back, then he spun her around and pressed her against the metal rail of the bridge until she was forced, once again, to look over at the grey water below.

  She tried to kick back but her legs were rammed against his. She turned her head, her teeth bared, and tried to bite her way free, but his hands and arms were just out of her reach. Her head whipped from side to side, but his body could have been steel for all the good it did.

  He held her firmly, tightly.

  From the corner of her peripheral vision, she saw a figure running over the bridge and then heard a grunt from Yash. Beth staggered at her sudden release, clutching at the bridge’s rail to save herself, but could only watch as the precious telephone number fluttered into the water where it bobbed gently on the surface.

  ‘Beth!’

  Harry calling her name went unheard. She hadn’t even seen him. She leaned over the rail, raising herself higher by standing on the lower lip of the balustrade and stretched a hand towards the water. She could reach the piece of paper; she knew she could. She vaguely heard a scuffle behind her and moved higher, raising a leg and cocking it over the railing.

  ‘Beth!’

  This time it registered, and she looked around. With a start, she noticed Harry. He had a gash on one the side of his cheek. He looked ruffled, whereas Yash looked calm. Both men were staring at her.

  She looked down in surprise at her leg, half-cocked over the railing. She glanced for the piece of paper with Lara’s number—it had broken up in the water with part of it tangled in weed. Suddenly a thick biceps crushed her arms against her chest, and she was pulled from the railing and placed uncourteously on the ground. Then Harry was beside her, shoving Yash away, and encasing her in his arms.

  Harry was breathing heavily. Beth could hear the thudding of his heart.

  ‘Lara’s n-nu
mber,’ she wailed. She tried to pull from Harry’s arms, but he wouldn’t let her go. ‘It’s in the river.’

  ‘Do you have a copy?’ Harry’s words were washing over her as he spoke to Yash.

  ‘At a cost,’ Yash replied.

  ‘You’re some piece of shit,’ Harry said.

  ‘Stop it! Stop it!’ She pulled herself away and stood between them, her hands held out to ward both off. ‘I’m tired and I really don’t care anymore. Lara’s safe, and that’s all that matters.’

  ‘Do you really think ending your life will end the payment you owe?’ Yash was talking. ‘With you dead, I’ll come after your sister, mother, father, your friends, him, and all who know you. So don’t even attempt to try and get out of it by injuring or killing yourself.’

  ‘I hate you so much,’ she said.

  ‘Fine. Then let your hate keep you alive.’

  Harry gasped, as if the notion of Beth killing herself had shocked him. He pulled Beth towards him, giving her a little shake. ‘Beth? Were you about to jump?’ he asked.

  With the two men looking at her, she felt judged, analysed and labelled. Pulling from Harry, she took off, running across the bridge until she thought her lungs would explode. She skidded around a corner and onto the main street. People glanced at her in surprise but no one stopped to ask if she was okay.

  She stopped at a vacant bus shelter and flopped down on the graffiti-covered seat. Neither Yash nor Harry had followed her. She held her head in her hands as she struggled to regain her breath. She felt a giggle burst from her throat, but then she was crying again.

  Her life was a mess.

  ‘Beth!’

  Her head jerked up. Harry stood looking down at her. He was breathing heavily and looked as if he’d been running. He flopped next to her, putting a heavy hand on her knee.

  ‘Don’t ever run off like that again. Or at least give me a head start.’

  Beth was glancing around. ‘Where’s Yash?’

  ‘Gone.’

  She relaxed slightly. ‘It won’t be for long. Yash will want his pound of flesh now he’s found Lara.’

  ‘We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.’