Rita climbed over him as he lay in a drunken stupor and made her way to the bathroom. A noise from downstairs stopped her. The bottom of the stairs was in darkness. Had someone broken in? In her curious half drunk, half asleep state, she tiptoed to the bottom of the stairs and listened. She could hear a faint knocking sound. What the hell was it? It was coming from the dining room. Rita’s heart began to pound, all the while her bladder crying out to her. She placed her hand on the dining room door and pushed it open, praying that a crazed man wouldn’t jump out at her from the darkness.
The door opened slowly, revealing the corner of the dining table. The room was in darkness but it was not empty. The familiar sound of hot, quick breathing and skin ricocheting off skin sent Rita into a panic. She knew fine well what she was hearing. But she couldn’t stop herself. Rita peered into the room and to her horror, there they were, her husband and his best friend’s wife.
Their half-dressed bodies wrapped around each other, Maggie under Stewart, his face buried into her neck and her legs curled around his waist. And the worst thing, they hadn’t even noticed she was there.
‘What the fuck are you doing?’ She cried out, her bladder threatening to take the control away from her. Rita hadn’t even noticed Stewart was absent from their bed when she got up.
Stewart looked up. She could barely see his expression in the darkness. Reaching for the light switch, the room was flooded from above, revealing her husband and Maggie’s sweaty and reddened faces. He didn’t speak. Maggie tried to sit up but with Stewart still on top of her, she struggled. The disentangled from each other and Maggie pulled her skirt, which was up and round her waist, back down to cover herself. She kept her back to Rita as she did up the buttons of her blouse. Stewart zipped up his trousers but left his shirt unbuttoned. All the while, Rita kept her eyes on them. Shock and disgust coursed through her veins as she watched Maggie awkwardly turn to face her.
‘Slut!’ Rita slurred, the wine and the vodka was still clearly in her system.
‘Rita,’ Stewart began. ‘You’ll wake the kids.’
‘Ha, like that was your priority when you were having sex with someone else in our house!’
The stairs above them creaked and a moment later, Andy was standing in the room with them.
‘Welcome to the fucking party,’ Rita said.
Andy rubbed his eyes. ‘What the hell is going on?’
‘Andy, we should go.’ Maggie said, rushing past Stewart towards the dining room door.
Rita stuck her arm out and stopped Maggie in her tracks. ‘Nah, you’re going nowhere.’
Maggie pushed Rita’s arm out of her way and made for the front door. Rita followed her, making it to the front door before she could get out.
‘Rita, let me past.’
Rita shook her head, her eyes blazing with fury.
‘You’re drunk.’ Maggie replied.
‘How dare you!’ Rita raised her voice.
Andy appeared by Rita’s shoulder. She turned to face him, his expression cold. He knew. He’d have to be thick not to have worked it out. Rita turned her attention back to Maggie, who resembled an animal backed into a corner.
‘So, you think you can just walk out of here after sleeping with my husband and I’m going to say nothing about it?’
Something inside Rita collapsed, a feeling that made her feel sick. Maggie wasn’t looking at her, or at Andy. She was looking straight past them. Rita turned to see her husband, who was now standing at the bottom of the stairs.
‘You absolute fucking bastard,’ Rita said, her eyes burning into Stewart. ‘How could you do this to me? How could you do this to the kids? To Andy?’
Silence hung in the air for what seemed like forever, the only sound breaking it was Andy’s footsteps crossing the floor towards Stewart.
‘Tell me this is another of her drunken episodes?’ His voice was low, his nose almost touching Stewart’s.
Stewart looked away from Maggie and at his best friend. He shook his head.
‘Hang on, one of my drunken episodes?’ Rita said, her reaction slow after processing the words.
‘Oh, you didn’t know? He’s been telling me all about your alcohol problems and how you’re always sneaking a drink when you think he’s not looking.’
Rita didn’t know where to look. How long had Stewart been thinking this of her? And why was this only just coming to light now?
‘So you see why I think this is a little hard to believe? I mean, Stewart wouldn’t do this to me, would he? This has to be one of your stupid, drunken ideas.’ Andy’s sarcastic tone hung in the air, all the while his face just inches from Stewart’s as he directed the words at Rita.
‘I can assure you it fucking isn’t. Your wife was under my husband while you lay comatose at the top of the stairs.’ Rita began to shriek.
Maggie disappeared out the front door and for a second Rita wanted to go after her but thought better of it. She’d deal with her later.
‘Andy, mate…’ Stewart began but before he could finish, he was clasping his nose, which had burst under the impact of Andy’s fist.
Rita didn’t move. She watched as Andy grabbed his coat which was hanging over the rail at the bottom of the stairs and left the house. Stewart peered at Rita through bloodshot and glazed eyes.
‘I can’t look at you right now.’ Rita said, moving towards the stairs. ‘Sleep on the couch. Fuck, sleep on the bloody pavement outside for all I care.’
Closing the bedroom door behind her, she cupped her hand over her mouth to stop herself from crying out. She eyed the drawer of her dressing table. Rushing to it, she pulled it out and gripped the half bottle with her hand. The warmth of the liquid slid down her throat, providing a small amount of comfort to what she had just witnessed.
The image of Stewart on top of Maggie haunted her dreams.
Chapter Three
PRESENT DAY
Lewis waved goodbye to Patrick and Jodie and he disappeared into the playroom at his nursery school. Patrick felt Jodie grip his hand as they watched him go off to play. They followed the head teacher into her office and they sat down at the desk opposite her.
‘How can I help you today, Mr and Mrs McLaughlin?’ Anne Sharp asked.
‘Well, we have concerns about Lewis. And we wanted to know if you share these concerns.’ Jodie said, her voice shaking.
Anne glanced at Patrick. ‘What kind of concerns?’
‘Well, you’re aware of our background, Mrs Sharp.’ Patrick began.
‘Please, just Anne. And yes, I am aware of your line of work. It’s quite interesting, even if I am not sure I believe in it.’
Patrick nodded. ‘We are beginning to suspect that Lewis is like us, that he may share our gift. However, things have been happening at home that we are a little concerned about. Are you aware of his imaginary friend?’
Anne smiled. ‘Ah, the famous Tommy.’
‘He talks about him?’ Jodie interjected.
Anne smiled. ‘It’s really nothing to worry about. Children his age develop imaginary friends all the time.’
‘Yes, I understand that. But Anne, his behaviour isn’t normal for a child with an imaginary friend. He refers to this friend as his brother. And he refers to him in the past tense.’
Patrick watched as his wife began to panic, her eyes widening as she said the words.
‘Mrs McLaughlin, try not to worry. Lewis is a happy child, who does enjoy his own company. This type of behaviour, I can assure you, is completely normal. We need to allow Lewis to develop his social skills at a pace he is comfortable with. In having an imaginary friend, he is preparing himself for future relationships for when he goes to school.’ Anne stressed.
‘See, didn’t I say there was nothing to worry about?’ Patrick placed a hand on her shoulder.
Jodie nodded, but Patrick saw defeat in her expression, like she knew she was never going to win this argument.
‘I will speak to his teacher and I will inform you if we com
e across anything of concern. But please, Mr and Mrs McLaughlin, try not to worry.’
Patrick thanked Anne for her help and he and Jodie left the nursery. Sitting in the car, Jodie was quiet.
‘Are you okay now?’ Patrick asked.
‘No, I am not. Something isn’t sitting well with me. I know I’m right.’ Jodie replied, not bothering to look at her husband as she spoke.
Patrick sighed. ‘Jodie, you’re going to make yourself ill over this. Just leave it now, if anything else happens that concerns you, then we will do something about it. He’s only talking to this Tommy when he is playing. It’s not as if he is causing us real problems. He’s not being aggressive or troublesome. Just relax.’
Patrick knew that this wasn’t the end of it. Jodie’s determination was stronger than anyone he knew. When she had something on her mind, she wouldn’t let it go until she sorted it out. He had been with her long enough to know that.
They arrived back at the house and Jodie went inside first, saying that she would make them some lunch. Patrick went into the garage, having decided that he would look out his old ouiji board, just in case he had to do some investigations of his own should anything happen with the imaginary friend scenario.
In fairness, he knew Lewis shared the same gift as his parents, he had proved that to them already. Patrick had come to accept that about his son, he was even proud of it. Jodie, on the other hand, was not. She feared the worst for her son when it came to being able to communicate with the deceased, she had made that perfectly clear to Patrick.
Opening the storage box at the back of the garage, Patrick pulled the ouiji board out and held it in front of him. He hadn’t used it for a while and if he was honest, he really didn’t want to use it. But if his son needed help to get through this situation, then he would do whatever he had to.
Suddenly distracted by the door adjoining to the back if the house flying open, Patrick put the board back in the box as Jodie thrust a piece of paper in his face.
‘Look at this and tell me you think our son is still fine!’ Her voice was shaking.
Patrick retrieved the paper from her hand and glared down at it. What he saw was something unimaginable. Something that Lewis would never be able to draw unless he had seen something like it with his own eyes.
‘Where did you find this?’
‘In his bedroom. It was on his bed under one of his bears.’ Jodie stifled a sob. ‘What the hell are we supposed to do with this?’
Patrick shook his head as he continued to stare at the drawing. Wherever he got the vision to be able to create this drawing couldn’t have been a pleasant. For any child to be able to create an image like this is shocking, but for Lewis, a child who isn’t exposed to anything like it, this scared Patrick.
‘Just stay calm, Jodie. You freaking out about it isn’t going to make this any easier.’
‘What the hell do you expect me to do? He’s our son and he’s drawn something unimaginable.’
Noting his wife’s growing hysteria, he gripped her shoulders. ‘Jodie, if you don’t calm down about this, you’re not going to be able to talk to him about it. You’ll scare him.’
‘I’ll scare him? He’s scaring me, Patrick. Something is wrong with him. I tried to make you see this but you just ignored it.’
Patrick began feeling exasperated. ‘I didn’t ignore you. It’s just that I accept him for who he is more than you do. When he was born, we talked about the possibility that he would be like us and we agreed that if he was, we would deal with it together. But you’ve gone against what we agreed, thinking something is wrong with him when you know that he is psychic like us.’
‘That doesn’t explain this drawing though, does it?’
She was right, it didn’t explain the drawing.
‘Just let me talk to him about it, OK?’
Jodie nodded before allowing Patrick to pull her into his arms.
‘Why do you have that out?’ She said, looking at the storage box Patrick had opened.
‘I was looking out the ouiji board, in case I needed to look into things further.’
He expected her to protest but she didn’t. As he held his wife, Patrick wondered how he was going to ask his son about the drawing. He was only four years old, how had he managed to put so much detail into the drawing? Not only that, how had he conjured up something so horrifying? The thought that Lewis had somehow envisioned the scene in the drawing was unbearable.
Pushing the thought from his mind, he and Jodie left the garage and went into the house.
Chapter Four
(1992)
Rita Michaels walked into the pub at the end of her street, her eyes adjusted to the darkened space. Smoke hung in the air above her head and the smell of sickly sweet syrup warmed her. She smiled when she saw who was behind the bar.
‘Alright, Rita. What can I get you?’ Andy smiled across at her.
‘I need a favour. I don’t get my money until Friday. I need a little pick up.’ She whispered, leaning across the wooden surface.
Andy pursed his lips. ‘Seems like you’ve already had enough, Rita. Maybe sleep it off. Come back another day, when you’re head’s clearer.’
Laugher from the back of the bar made her turn. She spotted a few of the daytime regulars, huddled around a table, nursing their glasses. Old Willie was looking in her direction, his brow raised slightly.
‘What you all laughing at?’ She slurred.
‘Aye, Rita. Nice tae see you to.’ Old Willie answered.
Turning her back on them, she gripped the bar with her fingers. ‘Come on, Andy. For an old friend?’
Andy shook his head. ‘Go home, Rita.’
‘Aye, fuck off home, you’re bad blood.’ Another regular called from the back. She couldn’t see them, the lighting didn’t reach that crevice of the pub.
‘What the fuck would you know?’ Rita retaliated.
‘Rita, come on. Let me take you home.’ Andy reached over and gripped her hand.
Pulling away, she stepped back from the bar. Falling on to a bar stool, her hands flailed out but gravity pulled her down. Laughter erupted from the group of men in the pub and her stomach fill with anger.
Before she could say anything, Andy’s hands were under her and pulling her off the sticky floor. ‘Come on, let’s get you out of here.’
‘Andy, why you bothering with her?’ Old Willie called over.
Rita’s head began swirling as she tried to stand. Her head wasn’t straight but she could hear everything that was being said, loud and clear.
‘Willie, leave it, eh?’ Andy replied.
‘Nah,’ Rita shouted. ‘Willie, if you’ve got something to say, just fucking say it.’ The words left her mouth like a sloth, slow and lazy.
‘You’re a disgrace, Rita Michaels. What would Stewart think of all this?’
‘Willie, I said leave it.’ Andy persisted.
Rita focused on Old Willie as best as she could. His face blurred as she steadied herself, Andy’s arms still supporting her.
‘What the fuck is your problem, old man?’
‘That husband of yours, he’d be disgusted if he could see you now.’ Old Willie spat.
‘Aye, well my husband isn’t so fucking perfect, is he? I mean, you all know what went on.’ Rita gestured to the men.
‘Is it any wonder he did what he did? Look at yourself, Rita. You’re a mess. Always will be. I feel for those kids of yours, I really do.’
Rita lashed out at Willie, hands waving around in order to strike him. But Andy was too strong for her and he pulled her towards the door.
‘Let go of me, let go!’
‘Aye, take her away, Andy. I cannae bare to look at her any longer.’ Willie turned his back on Rita and returned to his table.
Outside, daylight assaulted her eyes. Andy let go of her and held his hands out. Breath coming in short rasps, she rubbed her hands over her face and through her hair.
‘You really need to get a grip of yourself, Rit
a. Willie’s right, you need to think about what this is doing to Tommy and Louisa.’
‘You’re taking his side? Seriously? He was referring to Maggie in there, you know? Doesn’t that bother you?’
‘I’m not on anyone’s side. All I am saying is, look in the mirror. You have two lovely kids at home who need a mum. Everything else that’s happened is in the past. Your future is staring you in the face but you can’t see past the bottle.’
Rita smirked. The one person she thought she could rely on thought of her the way the whole village did. An absolute mess.
‘Fuck off, Andy.’ She said as she staggered away from the pub.
‘Rita, I only want what’s best for you, you know that.’
‘No, you don’t want to be seen associating with a drunken old tart. That’s what you really think of me. I can see it in your eyes.’
People walking past stared at her but quickly averted their eyes when she made contact. ‘Aye, run along and tell your mates that Rita’s at it again. Causing mayhem. Well, I don’t give a shit, do you hear me?’
Andy was in front of her now, his hands gripping her shoulders. ‘Let me help you.’
‘Why do you want to help me?’
‘Because I’m your friend, no matter what you think.’ Andy smiled. ‘And I know how you feel, they cheated on me too, remember?’
Rita relaxed, her shoulders falling.
‘What about the pub?’
‘Jim’s in too, he’ll be fine on his own for a bit.’
Rita sighed. Andy took her by the hand and led her home.
***
Andy handed Rita a coffee and sat down on the couch beside her.
‘Thanks,’ she said, holding the hot mug in her hands. She was beginning to sober up, the reality of her life sinking in once again.
‘How did things get so bad?’ Andy asked. ‘You were coping fine in the beginning.’
Rita laughed a little harder than she’d meant to. Andy’s expression was soft.
‘No, Andy. I wasn’t coping. I was just,’ she paused. ‘Getting on with it, I suppose.’
THE BOY WHO WASN'T THERE_a supernatural short story Page 2