‘How long will we be at daddy’s house?’ Louisa asked Rita as she twirled her hair around her finger.
‘Same as every weekend. He will bring you both back on Sunday.’ Rita replied.
Rita knew she had to get it together for the sake of the children, Tommy was already openly disgusted with her and a child should never need to look at their parent that way. Everything that had happened with Stewart and Maggie had piled on top of her and the drink just blocked it all out.
‘Tommy, you’re quite.’ Rita said, realising it was the first time in weeks she had spoken to the children without having had a drink.
‘I’m fine.’ Tommy replied without looking up at her.
Rita startled as Louisa jumped up at the sight of Stewart’s car pulling up to the house. Her little legs carried her quickly away from Rita and towards her father. Tommy stood up and uttered a goodbye without making eye contact, before making his way over to the car.
Rita eyed Maggie in the front passenger seat and felt her chest beginning to close in on her. Stewart got out of the car and hugged the children.
‘Hey kids, fancy a trip for some ice-cream?’ Louisa jumped up and down as if she were on a trampoline and Tommy nodded before ducking into the car. It killed Rita to think of Maggie playing mother to her children. But then, she barely played that role herself these days.
Stewart approached Rita, his expression blank. ‘Can I have a word?’
Rita choose not to reply, she knew Stewart was going to say what he wanted regardless what she said.
‘I saw Willie the other day, he said you were in the pub causing a scene?’ He said with accusation in his tone.
‘Old Willie has a bloody cheek to talk.’ Rita spat.
‘He doesn’t have two young impressionable children to take care of.’
Rita laughed loudly. ‘You weren’t thinking of our children when you were at it with your best friend’s wife, were you?’
Stewart’s eyes narrowed and he moved in closer. ‘Tommy says he doesn’t want to live here anymore.’
There it was, the words she’s dreaded to hear. ‘You’re lying.’
‘Ask him.’ Stewart paused, as if he was waiting for her to do exactly that. ‘He said that he’s having to take care of Louisa, get her up and out to school while you lie in bed, or more recently the kitchen floor, with a hangover. And when they come back from school, you’re hammered again.’
Rita tried to speak but Stewart took hold of her wrist and gripped it so tightly she wanted to cry out. ‘I’ll not be bringing the kids back on Sunday evening, instead I’ll be coming by to pack up the rest of their clothes. They’re coming to live with me.’
‘But, they need me. I’m their mother.’ Her voice was weak.
‘Yes, they did need you. But you were absent, Rita. It’s not the first time Tommy’s mentioned your behaviour, but I stupidly decided to give you the benefit of the doubt. I really thought you’d have made a change. But you haven’t, you’ve got worse.’
Rita had to steady herself as she felt her legs threaten to buckle from under her. Stewart stared through her. Could he still see the woman he had fallen for all those years ago? Rita doubted it very much.
‘I’m not saying you can’t see them. But it’ll be under my supervision until you can prove to us that you’re making an effort to get off the drink.’
‘Us? I don’t have to prove anything to that little…’ Stewart held his hand up as Rita eyed Maggie.
‘Maggie’s the closest thing those kids have to a mother right now. So I’d get on her good side if I were you. Louisa loves the bones of her.’
Rita’s chest ached at the words. This was all her own doing, she knew it deep down. But she wasn’t going to say that to Stewart. She barely had any pride left.
‘I’m not going to let this happen.’ Rita said, her voice barely audible.
‘Don’t even think about fighting me on this, Rita. You’ve put the kids through enough already. I’ll be in touch so you can come over to spend some sober time with them. So much as a drop passes your lips, and you’ll not see them again for a very long time.’
With that, he turned on his heel and walked away from her. Rita looked into the car from the front door and Louisa was chatting happily to Maggie, who had twisted in her seat so she could see her. Tommy was staring out of the opposite window, presumably avoiding eye contact after what Stewart had just said to her.
The sound of the car door slamming shut made Rita flinch. She stood in the doorway of what was once her family home and allowed the tears to spill over and fall.
‘You can’t take them away from me, they’re my children.’ She shouted, running towards the car.
Louisa turned and began waving at her, mouthing, ‘by mummy.’
The car was gone.
Chapter Ten
(Present Day)
As Patrick reached the bottom of the stairs, he saw his wife and son asleep on the couch. The spirit of the woman upstairs had disappeared almost as soon as Jodie had taken Lewis out of the room. What he had noticed was an empty bottle by her side. And it gave him an idea.
‘Hey, is she gone?’ Jodie whispered, waking to Patrick’s presence.
‘For now. But we need to sort this so that Lewis can move on from it. He’s too young to properly use the skills he has. We have to do it for him.’
‘I’m not leaving his side, Patrick.’ Jodie said, sitting up slowly.
‘You won’t have to. Let me do all the work and you stay with him. If this works, it’ll be over soon.’
***
That morning, Patrick sat in front of the computer and searched for Rita Michaels - Glasgow, in the internet search engine. What popped up on the screen was shocking but not surprising. It made sense now as to what Patrick had experienced in Lewis’s bedroom, and what Lewis himself was going through.
It was time to put the spirits to rest.
Chapter Eleven
(Present Day)
Patrick sat down at the dining table, with Jodie across from him. He showed the article to her and she gasped at the severity of the words.
‘This is just horrific.’
‘I can make them go away. But we have to talk to them first.’ Patrick said, setting up the ouiji board in the centre of the table.
Lewis played happily in the corner of the room with his toy garage but Patrick knew that the spirits of Tommy and Louisa were not far away.
‘He’ll be okay, won’t he?’ Jodie asked, anxiety in her tone.
‘He’s perfectly safe. We can stop at any time. But the quicker we do this, the quicker they’ll leave him alone.’
Patrick placed his hand on the planchet and Jodie followed. Before Patrick could say anything, it swiped across the board towards NO.
‘No to what?’ Patrick asked.
‘She said daddy can’t take us away.’ Lewis said from the corner.
The planchet moved around the board between the letters, M, I, N, E.
‘Patrick?’ Jodie said warily.
‘It’s okay.’ Patrick said, moving the planchet back to the centre of the board. ‘Keep your hand there.’
Patrick moved towards the kitchen cupboard and pulled a bottle of vodka out. He put it on the table and then placed his fingers on the planchet again.
‘What is that for?’ Jodie asked.
‘That was mummy’s favourite.’ Lewis said, although this time his voice was different. The pitch was higher.
‘Did you hurt your children?’ Patrick asked. He eyed Jodie, who kept her eyes on Lewis.
‘It was an accident,’ Lewis said. ‘She didn’t mean to hurt us.’
The planchet began to vibrate as it continually spelled out the word MINE.
‘Tommy told daddy about mummy and he took us away. She was angry with daddy, not with us.’ Lewis said, still engaging with the toy garage.
Patrick watched as the bottle began edging along the table. He quickly gripped the bottle and carried it to the sink. He unscre
wed the top and poured the alcohol down the drain.
Lewis began to cry. ‘She won’t like that. Tommy tried to hide them all the time and he got into trouble.’
Sitting back down at the table, Patrick shook his head. ‘You hurt your children and now you’re all stuck between two worlds. You have to let them go, Rita. Let them be with their dad.’
‘I don’t like this, Patrick.’ Jodie said.
The air grew cold and Lewis stopped crying. He stood up and peered into the lounge. Patrick slid the planchet to END and stood up, looking in the same direction as his son.
There she was, sitting on the floor by the window, a bottle by her side. Bloodshot eyes and yellowing skin, she was crying. But she smiled at Lewis. ‘Hello baby girl.’
‘Hi mummy.’
Rita clutched her hand over her mouth and sobbed. ‘I’m so sorry baby.’
Patrick felt Jodie’s hand slip into his and when he looked at her, she was crying too.
Chapter Twelve
(1992)
It had been a few weeks since Stewart took the children away from Rita. She had spoken with Louisa on the phone, but Tommy refused to talk to her. Stewart had said he would need time, and that Rita would have to put in an extra effort into staying sober.
And she had managed to stay clear of alcohol for the last week. It had been the hardest thing she had ever done. But now she was beginning to feel the frustrations of not being in control of when she could see her children and Rita decided to take action.
Standing outside Stewart and Maggie’s house, she felt sick to the stomach. Watching her husband bring up their children with another woman was killing her. To see him look at Maggie the same way he used to look at her felt like a knife to the chest.
The tingling need for a drink was ever present but she pushed the thought out and knocked on the door.
Maggie appeared in front of Rita and she felt her legs go weak.
‘Can I come in?’ Rita asked.
Maggie stepped out of the house and closed the door behind her. That would be a no then, Rita thought.
‘Let me smell your breath.’ Maggie said, with menace to her tone.
‘Excuse me?’ Rita drew back in shock.
‘You heard me, let me smell your breath.’
‘I don’t have to answer to you. I want to speak to Stewart.’
Maggie smiled. ‘No can do, I’m afraid. He’s taken the kids up to St Andrews for the weekend. They needed to get away for a bit. They’re not coping so well.’
Rita eyed Stewart’s car in the driveway and suspected Maggie was lying.
‘They took the train, if you must know.’
Rita wanted to punch Maggie square in the face. But logic told her not to. It would only make things worse.
‘I want to see my children. This is my family, not yours.’
Maggie stepped closer and placed her mouth to Rita’s ear. ‘Really? Then how come he’s sleeping in my bed and not yours?’
Nausea climbed up inside her and it gripped at Rita’s throat until she could barely breathe. Everything around her fell silent as Maggie disappeared inside the house.
‘Wrong move, Maggie. Wrong move.’
***
The last droplets from the bottle warmed her throat as she stared up at the house. Surrounded by darkness, she believed that what she was about to do was the only way.
Stumbling over the back fence and into the garden, Rita made her way up to the back door, attempting to be as quiet as possible.
Pulling a handkerchief from her pocket and a bottle of acetone from the other, she soaked the material and shoved it through the cat flap. Pulling out a box of matches, she struck one and pushed it through, watching a sudden orange glow fill the space behind the flap.
She stood up and half ran, half stumbled towards the fence at the back of the garden. Climbing over clumsily, she faced the canal listened.
The moonlight beamed off the surface of the water. At this time of night, there was no-one around. The smell of smoke was beginning to strengthen as she turned towards the house and watch the glow of the flames reach the top.
After everything that had happened, after everything that woman had put her through, the pain she had caused, this was revenge. And it was sweet. As terrifying as it was to watch a house burn and know that she was responsible, she knew it was the only way the message would be heard; stay away and don’t mess with her life again.
The stars above her twinkled as the crisp, cold air bit her skin. The smell of smoke was now so strong that she was sure the neighbours would be have called the fire service by now. She would have to leave and make sure that she wasn’t around when they arrived. She couldn’t afford to be seen, not after everything that had happened. People would suspect she was involved.
The sound of the sirens could be heard in the distance now. She began walking slowly along the canal path. Staying in the dark and hidden away was all she could do until she got home. But something stopped her as she made her way through the darkness. She looked up towards the back of the houses which lined the canal path and in the black she could see blue lights glowing in the shadows of the gardens.
But someone was screaming. She couldn’t make out the words, not at first. But then, as she strained her ears and listened closer, she recognised the voice. And it chilled her to the bone.
The voice was frantic, screaming incoherently that someone was inside the house.
‘Please, get them out. Get them out.’
Gritting her teeth, she wanted to run back to the house and jump over the garden fence. She wanted to pull her over and onto the path and throw her into the canal. She wanted to hurt her so much that she was beginning to scare herself.
All she wanted to do, was kill her. But as she listened further, the words she heard coming from Maggie made her go numb.
‘My partner and his kids are in there! Please, help!’
The words echoed out over the canal as Rita began to realise what was happening. Maggie had lied to her. Stewart hadn’t taken the kids up to St Andrews at all. She’d just said that to stop her from seeing them.
And now, the house was ablaze with the flames of revenge that Rita had lit. Her children were going die and it would be her doing.
Maggie’s screams echoed out over the water as the sirens grew nearer.
Chapter Thirteen
(1992)
Rita scrubbed at her face and hands with water as hot as she could take it and swallowed back the whisky she’d found behind the bathroom sink.
Shit, shit, shit. How did this happen? What have I done?
Rita poured the acetone down the toilet with shaking hands and blinked away burning tears.
This isn’t happening, they’re okay. They have to be okay.
Walking into the living room, she sat down on the sofa and gripped at her hair as she rocked back and forth. Rita let out a sound she didn’t know she was capable of, but she was cut short at the sound of a knock at the door.
Taking a few deep breaths, she stood up and walked to the door, gripping the handle with all she could. Pulling it open, she saw Maggie standing there, dark circles under tear soaked eyes. She was visibly shaking.
‘Stewart and the children are dead.’
Staring at Maggie, Rita couldn’t speak. What was she supposed to say?
‘I came home from a drink with some friends to the house ablaze.’ Maggie cupped her mouth, presumably to stop herself from crying out like Rita had. ‘I just thought you should know.’
Maggie walked away and Rita stood at the door, staring out to the street. She screamed so loudly and with such force that she collapsed to the floor and kicked the door closed.
***
She sat on the floor, resting her arm on the empty bed. Relentless tears rolled down her cheeks as she sobbed. The bottle in her hand brought little comfort to her now. Staring down at it, she cursed the day she ever turned to alcohol. It had been the beginning of her fall. How could she have let any o
f this happen? Life had been just perfect, and now?
The house was so empty, like death had crept in and swept up her previous life, leaving her nothing but grief in its place. But death hadn’t come for her, not yet, anyway. Lifting the bottle to her lips, she shook her head at the thought that she hadn’t even bothered to attempt to refrain from drinking its contents. What would be the point in not drinking it? Everything was ruined, she had nothing left to lose.
Pouring the last of the drops into her mouth, she threw the bottle down and got to her feet. She made the bed to her left and then to her right. The pillows looked odd without the familiar soft toys placed on top of them. Fixing the corners of the duvets, she staggered out of the bedroom and made her way to the kitchen. Switching on the gas from the cooker, she sat down at the kitchen table and opened another bottle of vodka. She hated the stuff, it was poison. But it was the only thing that came close to numbing the pain.
The smell of the gas was beginning to make her feel sick, which meant almost enough had escaped for her to put an end to the suffering.
She lifted the framed photograph from the table. The one that used to make her smile. But now, it only made her weep. Her heart ached for those days. But nothing would ever bring them back. Nothing would ever make the pain leave her, not really. The only way she could be free from everything was to leave this place, leave this world and become nothing but ash. The world didn’t need a person like her.
Placing her lips on the cool glass in the frame, she kissed all of the faces except for her own. After everything, she hoped they knew that deep down, she still loved them all.
Reaching into her pocket, she pulled the cigarette packet and lighter out at the same time. Lifting one from the pack, she placed it in her mouth and put the lighter to the end of the tobacco. Her hands were quivering with fear, but this was absolutely the way things had to end. There was no coming back from what had happened.
Tears streaming down her cheeks, she placed her thumb on the flint and took a deep breath.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I’m so sorry.’
THE BOY WHO WASN'T THERE_a supernatural short story Page 5