House of Straw

by Marc Scott

  Why, Bree thought, if you know something is wrong, are you making this call from the comfort of your comfy sofa some fifteen hundred miles away? Of course, there is something wrong, my beautiful brother has been taken away from me, my whole world has stopped. I miss his smile, I miss his touch, I miss his voice. God, I miss his voice so much! Not wanting to provoke her mother into making that journey back to England, Bree’s response was aimed at simply pacifying her. ‘I will get something from the doctor’s. I just need a bit more time.’

  ‘Are you eating? Has Kayleigh been there to help you?’ More questions from the absent matriarch.

  ‘Yes,’ Bree replied, knowing that her answer to the first part of her question was a lie. She could not remember the last time she had eaten a proper meal. As for Kayleigh, she could not really keep her away. Her mother had given her best friend the keys to the house and asked her to visit her at every possible opportunity.

  The inquisition continued. ‘Is Kayleigh with you now?’

  ‘No, she is coming today, after work.’

  ‘You shouldn’t be alone, Brianna, I don’t like the idea of you being alone.’

  Once again Bree thought to herself, If I shouldn’t be alone then why is my mother calling me from her new home overlooking the lake in Tampere? She kept her answer brief. ‘Kayleigh can’t just give up her job. She comes round most days. She is doing all the cooking and cleaning, she is looking after me.’ As soon as the words left Bree’s mouth she looked around at the chaotic mess in her living room. The place looked as if it had been ransacked by burglars. But that was her fault. She had insisted that her friend, cleaner and part-time cook not touch anything, fearing that some small remnant of her brother’s existence might be thrown away in error.

  ‘Have you spoken to the people at the office?’ More insensitive questioning from her mother. Maybe she really has compiled a full list of things to ask me, Bree thought.

  She suddenly found herself answering her mother’s questions, like a zombie reading their lines from a movie script. ‘They are fine. They told me to take my time.’

  ‘You don’t want to lose that job!’ her mother said firmly. ‘You could get a really good career with them.’

  The last thing on Bree’s mind was her job prospects. The creature from the horror film spoke again. ‘I will be back to work soon.’

  Her mother seemed to be running out of things to ask, unless of course she had another page of questions she needed to fetch. ‘Per wants a quick word with you,’ she said and handed the phone to her father.

  A small smile broke on Bree’s face as she heard his distinct voice. ‘Hey, baby girl, we have been worried about you.’

  Tiny tears appeared in her eyes and ran down Bree’s cheeks, as the zombie’s voice was replaced with that of a grieving young girl. ‘Hey, Dad!’

  ‘I know things are tough for you, baby girl, but it will get better. I promise you, it will get better.’

  Bree’s eyes were now filled with tears. She so needed a massive hug from her father at that moment. ‘I will be OK, Dad,’ she said, rubbing her eyes. ‘It just hurts so much, but I will be OK.’

  ‘We can fly back if you need us, you know that, Brianna, we could be there tomorrow morning.’

  ‘No, there is no need, Dad. Kayleigh is around here most of the time, she is looking after me.’

  ‘OK, baby girl. You have my cell phone number out here. You know you can call me anytime, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ Bree replied, wiping the tears from the side of her face. ‘Miss you!’

  ‘Miss you too, baby girl. I will pass you back to your mother now. Love you.’

  ‘Love you more!’

  Her mother’s voice returned. Bree hoped she hadn’t found that second page of questions, she desperately wanted to return to her tomb of sorrow now. Even this short conversation with her parents had drained her energy.

  ‘Why did you take so long to answer the phone?’ her mother asked. ‘I have been trying to reach you since Saturday.’

  ‘Sorry. I have just been trying to rest.’

  ‘And what about your mobile? I have called you on that at least twenty times. Have you lost it again?’

  There was complete silence. Bree was dumbstruck. ‘Brianna, Brianna, are you there?’ her mother asked. Her daughter was there. She was shaking violently, as if she was going to have a seizure.

  Suddenly Bree threw the landline onto the living room floor. ‘My phone! My phone!’ she screamed in her croaky voice. ‘I have to find my phone!’

  Bree could still hear her mother calling up to her. ‘Brianna, what is it, what has happened?’

  Immediate mayhem ensued as Bree flew around the living room in a state of complete panic, throwing cushions off the sofa and opening and closing drawers. ‘Where is it? Where is it?’ she yelled. ‘Where is my phone?’ The rampage continued as she raced through to the kitchen. Cupboards were flung open, cutlery on the draining board was brushed aside as her search continued. ‘Where is my bag? Where is my bag?’ she screamed.

  As she returned to the lounge, Bree could still hear her mother’s faint voice from the telephone on the floor. She lifted the handset and simply said, ‘I need to find my phone, I will call you tomorrow,’ before slamming it down onto the receiver.

  Her frantic mission continued. The shouting had by now turned into screaming. Bree flew up the stairs, all but missing the last step and falling headfirst onto the landing. She dragged herself to her feet and pushed open her bedroom door, immediately throwing open the doors to her wardrobe and chest of drawers. She was resolute, like the first police officer arriving at the scene of a drugs raid. ‘Where is it?’ she screamed. ‘Where is my fucking phone?’

  Those terrible noises came back to haunt her again, as the landline began to ring downstairs. She knew it would be her mother. ‘Go away!’ she screamed down the hallway. ‘Go away and leave me alone!’ Maybe her mother had finally accepted that her daughter wanted to be left in peace, or maybe she had just found something better to do with her time. Whichever it was, the phone stopped ringing.

  Now she was back in Jamie’s room, she pulled the bedclothes off the bed and kneeled down. She began to search underneath, crushing a few more of those scattered pills with her knees in the process. ‘Where is it? God, please let me find it!’ she pleaded, as her search became frantic. Suddenly, it came to her. As she remembered where she had left it, she stood up sharply. ‘The bookcase!’ she said under her breath. ‘The bookcase!’

  Her weak legs were suddenly replaced with those of an Olympic sprinter. She raced down the staircase and ran to the back of the living room. There it was, her brown Mulberry handbag, the place where she always kept her phone. ‘Please God, let it be in here!’ she said and then repeated it more loudly. ‘Please God, let it be in here!’ She pulled down the bag and all at once a beaming smile of satisfaction shone across her face as she saw her mobile phone. Snatching the handset, she switched it on and waited an agonising thirty seconds for the lights to appear and that familiar noise to tell her that it was ready.

  Her back slid down the wall and she sat down on the floor, cradling the phone in her arms, much like a mother would hold onto a newborn baby. ‘Thank you,’ she said, looking at the ceiling, but probably aiming her appreciation at some place much higher. When all the lights had appeared, she pushed the video replay button and sat in eager anticipation, waiting, waiting for the recording to start.

  Her chin trembled as he appeared on her tiny screen. ‘Do you think I look like a film star?’ he said. ‘You know, like that actor in the new Bourne film.’

  ‘No,’ she replied in the video, but now wished she had said more. Maybe, ‘No, Jamie, because you are more beautiful than any film star I have ever seen.’ He was wearing that smart grey suit with the waistcoat and that bright pink silk tie. She had tied his knot that morning when they got dres
sed together in her room. She wanted him to be the smartest one at his friend’s wedding that day, and he was. Lewis was in the background, he was with Tia, they had just cut their wedding cake. Suddenly, the music started up, the DJ spoke. She hated these old soul songs from the 1970s. Jamie didn’t. ‘I love this tune!’ he yelled directly into the camera. ‘I bloody love this song!’

  Bree’s eyes lit up and a smile beamed across her face as he started to move around. He was dancing to the music. Now he was doing those funny moves he used to do, his actions imitating the words of the song. He was back, Jamie was back, he was here in the room, he was with her now, where he belonged. Her smile grew bigger and her head bobbed in time with the music as she watched her brother dancing in front of her on the small screen, but then suddenly, it stopped, the screen went blank, he was gone, Jamie was gone again.

  ‘No!’ Bree yelled, instantly pressing the replay button.

  Her smile returned as he reappeared, he was back with her. ‘Do you think I look like a film star?’ He was talking again, he was singing again, he was dancing again. Her and Jamie were back together again. She took the phone up to his room, her head bobbing along to the sound of that old song that her brother liked so much. Falling onto his bed, Bree pulled the duvet covers over her head so that she could be alone with him.

  The song played over and over. There were small signs of motion under the covers as Bree’s head swayed in time with the music. After a short while, her heavy eyes began to tire and although she did her best to keep her eyelids open, she found herself fighting a losing battle. With the familiar tones of her sibling still ringing in her ears, she slowly succumbed to the trials of her emotional turmoil. Her mobile phone finally slipped from her vice-like grip and landed amongst the remains of the crushed tablets on the carpet.

  It was the first time she had found some peace in her head in a long time. Her sleep would be deep. Images of her brother’s singing and dancing raced through her brain. A thousand whispering voices seemed to be reaching out to her. She could hear the echoes of tiny waves as they crashed against a deserted shoreline. They brought a soothing melody into her head. The images of Jamie were becoming cloudy and his dulcet tones began to fade away.

  * * *

  The dimly lit streets ahead of her gave Bree an uncomfortable feeling inside, but that did not stop her feet from moving forwards. The pavements were wet, as though a recent downpour had yet to be washed away. It was cold, extremely cold. A swirling wind brought the sounds of angry waves crashing up against the harbour wall. A single lamplight seemed to be beckoning her down to the water’s edge. It flickered wildly, throwing all manner of dancing shadows into her pathway. She felt a compulsion to be nearer to the light. It was calling out to her. She wasn’t frightened, she was curious. She began to walk towards the lamp, her tiny feet splashing through some small puddles on the way.

  A figure appeared from her right. It was a large figure. She could not see his face, but she recognised that long grey trench coat. He had bought it the previous year. It was her brother’s. ‘Jay,’ she called. ‘Jay, I am over here.’ The man kept walking, as if he hadn’t heard her. He was heading for the lamplight. She called out again, this time much louder. ‘Jay, it’s Bree, I am over here.’ There was no response. The figure kept moving forward. She knew that walk, she would know it anywhere. It was Jamie’s walk.

  As the large figure reached the light, the dancing shadows seemed to gather as one and form strange shapes on the stone pavement. Bree picked up her pace, walking much faster, desperate to catch up with her brother. She called out to him again, but he seemed oblivious to her presence. As the shadowy figure ahead of her reached the water’s edge, he began to walk down some slippery-looking stairs beneath the slime-covered walls of the harbour. There was a small boat, rocking gently in the dark water. He looked as if he knew that it would be there. Bree yelled out loudly, ‘No, Jay, don’t leave me here!’ Her cold feet scurried along the pathway in the direction of the waiting vessel.

  As she made her way down the rain-drenched stairs, she noticed that he had moved to the front of the boat. Why was he not speaking to her? she thought. Bree was now becoming slightly anxious, but still held no fear. She needed to be close to him. As she entered the boat, it rocked violently, as if they had been angered by her intrusion. Suddenly, she lost her footing, falling backwards and landing on her back amongst some heavy ropes. The large figure stood rigid at the front of the boat, motionless, unconcerned by her fall. She called out his name again. ‘Jamie, it’s me, it’s Bree. Jamie, please say something.’

  Suddenly, just as Bree began to drag herself to her feet, the boat began to move, the steady waves beneath them carrying the vessel away from the lamplight. As the boat picked up speed the sudden change in motion sent Bree crashing back down to the floor again, causing her to hit her head on the ropes. There was a tone of concern in her voice now as she called out to the figure ahead of her, ‘Jay, please say something, you are scaring me.’ The large shape at the stern of the boat did nothing and said nothing.

  As the small wooden craft glided through the dark waters, she called out again, this time with a tiny tremble in her voice, as the fear inside her began to grow. ‘Jamie, it’s me, it’s Bree!’

  Suddenly the boat came to a halt. The waves were much calmer now. A beam of moonlight shone across the sea ahead of them and an eerie silence followed. Bree pulled herself to her feet. This time she held her balance. She had a much clearer view of her surroundings now. She was standing directly behind her brother. Slowly and with caution, she moved one foot in front of the other and began to move towards the figure wearing Jamie’s coat. She stopped, less than two feet behind him. She was shaking now, but she knew that she had to see him, she had to tell him that she wasn’t frightened, she wanted to stay with him, if that was what he wanted. Slowly she raised her arm and found herself touching his shoulder. He was real. She was so sure now that she was touching her brother. In an instant the figure swung around to face her, startling her and almost causing her to fall over again. He was the same height as Jamie and had the same colour hair, but this was not her brother. The head above the trench coat had no face, nothing, just a blank canvas shaped like a face. It looked like a glove puppet. Bree stepped back, she struggled to catch her breath. Half of her was terrified, the other half disappointed. She was so sure she would see her brother’s face at that moment. Before she could work out what was really happening, the moonlight disappeared from her view and the boat was thrown into total darkness. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as the small vessel began to rock gently backwards and forwards. Bree suddenly became disorientated and felt queasy. She was finding it hard to keep her balance. And then, as the moon reappeared, and the beams of light returned to the boat, she could see he was gone, the man in Jamie’s coat was no longer there. She desperately wanted to believe that it was her brother that had been standing there, but now she was confused, she didn’t know what to do. She shouted his name loudly, hoping he might return. ‘Jamie, come back, don’t leave me!’

  Had he fallen over? Was he in the water? She had to know. She moved forward, very slowly, feeling much more scared than she had been before. A dark mist seemed to follow her as she reached the front of the boat. She could not see him, but she could make out a shadowy figure, lurking in the water. She didn’t know what to do. Maybe it was Jamie, maybe he needed her help. She reached down, slowly stretching out her arm in a bid to pull him back into the boat. She began to tremble, her heart was pounding, faster and faster. ‘Jamie!’ she cried. ‘Let me help you!’ She leaned further forward, her hand now half-submerged in the icy cold sea. ‘I am here, Jamie, I am here for you.’ But before Bree could call out again, she saw a flash of bright yellow and a small hand appear from beneath her. It grabbed her arm and dragged her head first into the depths of the murky water. She took in a sharp breath as her whole body became submerged in the freezing cold sea. The first
thing she saw was the shiny coat, that bright yellow coat. She recognised it immediately, it frightened her. Bree began to panic. She could see her face now, it was as clear as it could be. It was the girl, the small girl she had seen before. Bree began to struggle as she felt the girl grab her tightly by the arms. She couldn’t breathe, she needed to get out of the water. But her opponent was winning the battle, she was holding Bree’s wrists, squeezing them tightly so that she couldn’t move. She was pulling her deeper and deeper into the dark abyss.

  As her body plunged further into the freezing sea Bree tried again to free herself from the grip. She gyrated her body and kicked out at the girl, but it was all in vain. The girl’s arms were small, but they were strong, they were very strong. Bree began moving her shoulders, kicking her legs, twisting her whole body, but she could not break free. And then, as they sank even deeper, they finally came face to face, they were just inches apart. Bree could see the twisted torment in the eyes of her opponent. Those eyes were black, a deep, soulless black, they were lifeless. In one last desperate bid to free herself Bree pulled one arm free and pushed at the girl’s head, grabbing her jet-black mane and pulling it for all she was worth. But she was still fighting a losing battle, she could not break free. She closed her eyes tightly, she could feel her lungs slowly filling with water. A buzzing sound started inside her head and began searing through her brain. It was getting louder and louder. She wanted to scream, but she could not open her mouth. The girl pulled harder on Bree’s tired and helpless arms as the pair sank further down. She could feel the reeds of the seabed beneath her. They were close, almost close enough to touch. Just as they neared the bottom, she heard the buzzing noise in her brain again, so loud it was almost deafening. It was all around her, it was ripping her in half. And then, in a split second her eyes opened, the girl had gone, Bree was no longer in the freezing water, she was in another place, a safer place. The buzzing sound started again, only this time it was less distant. Bree knew that sound, it was the bell on her front door. She was home, she was in Jamie’s bed. She looked across to see that the coffee cup was now lying empty on the floor, the contents running, like a tiny brown stream, down the bedside cabinet. Bree pulled her legs out of the bed and made her way across the landing to the window in her mother’s old bedroom. ‘It can’t be Kayleigh,’ she mumbled under her breath. ‘Kayleigh has a key.’