by Norman Wills
Marie had been similarly afflicted until she gave birth to John, and although she knew what her daughter was going through every month she could only offer words of wisdom such as “it will improve over time”, and ensure that they had a plentiful stock of paracetemol handy for the really bad days. Sally-Anne didn’t like Lucy’s suffering either, but she was glad of the paracetemol, it would allow her to put a halt to any move to Scotland, either now or in the future, that is unless it was ever Lucy’s, and Lucy’s decision alone, to go.
Sally-Anne seized her chance the Wednesday after Lucy’s fourteenth birthday. Marie had her final interior design night school class before the Christmas break and, as was usual when you get a group of adults together for an evening class so close to Christmas, it had been decided to have a celebratory drink in the Black Swan afterwards. Marie had jumped at the chance and told David he would have to fend for himself for one evening. Marie would make his evening meal as usual but he wouldn’t have her company until much later in the evening. Marie had caught Simon, her tutor, looking intently at her while he had suggested it to the whole class. That got her thinking that under different circumstances she probably wouldn’t make it home until well into the following day, if at all.
Sally-Anne swung into action the day before the last Wednesday of term. After everybody had gone to bed and she was sure they were all sound asleep, including Lucy, she ‘borrowed’ Lucy’s body for the second time. She crept down stairs, like someone carrying out an SAS blackout mission, to the kitchen where she could begin to put her plan into action. With deliberately slow, stealthy movements making sure the silence was only broken when absolutely necessary, she took a saucepan out of the rack and poured about half a pint of water from the filter jug into it and placed it on the hob to boil.
Whilst the water was heating up she began popping paracetemol tablets from their packaging into the water. Fortunately the stocks of paracetemol in the kitchen cupboard, which doubled as the medicine cabinet had been more than plentiful. She had counted nine full boxes in all, Marie was obviously the sort of person who bought painkillers every time she shopped and had lost track of exactly how many there were in the cupboard. Most were hidden at the back so wouldn’t be missed. She took eight of the boxes, leaving one box so nobody would complain. Marie would soon rebuild the stock back up.
When Sally-Anne had started to drop the eighty tablets she had decided to use into the water they began to dissolve quickly. She added some more water to the now boiling saucepan and within twenty minutes of leaving Lucy’s bedroom she had a clear, deadly liquid which contained eighty dissolved paracetemol tablets. This liquid was poured with great care into a small flask and the saucepan quickly washed and replaced. Taking the empty paracetemol packaging and boxes she placed these and the flask in a plastic carrier bag. After checking the kitchen to make sure there was no sign that anyone had been in there during the night brewing up a deadly liquid, she left as quietly as she had arrived.
When she got back to Lucy’s bedroom she hid the carrier bag at the back of a wardrobe under a pile of discarded clothes and climbed into bed. During the night she gave Lucy her body back. When Lucy woke the next morning she knew nothing of her night-time adventure and neither did her parents.
Sally-Anne was good, no she was better than good, she was very good and she knew it.
The following morning was fairly typical, Marie had seemed pre-occupied with something at the breakfast table then reminded both Lucy and David that tonight was the night she would be out with her friends from evening class. Lucy thought she might just spend the evening in her room doing her history assignment. At the moment having her teeth extracted without any anaesthetic would be better than having to spend all evening with her dad. Nothing had been mentioned about the possibility of another move but she couldn’t get the feeling of bitterness out of her head, an evening with David was the last thing she wanted.
Her day at school had been uneventful to the point of boredom and when the bell had finally rung at four o’clock she had practically fallen off her chair, the bell having only just stopped her from being sucked into a very deep, very long lasting coma. At least that was what it felt like. Yippee home time, she just couldn’t wait to be home… an evening with her dad to look forward to. Bring on the coma, please!
Come on, Lucy. It’s only an evening with your dad. What’s the problem? He’ll probably be in his office and we’ll be in your room as far away from him as possible.
I know but don’t tell me you don’t know. If you can feel what I feel you must be feeling how totally pissed off I am at the moment with him.
Of course I can, I was being ironic, trying to get a reaction. I guess I succeeded. Don’t worry. You know you don’t have to spend any part of the evening with him alone. I’ll be there too, all the time.
Oh yeah, I know that but can you stop us having to move to Scotland if he decides we’re going, little guardian angel of mine?
Lucy, you don’t know what’s going to happen in the future, and I never said I could perform miracles. Any way I think there’s something eating at your Dad at the minute, he looks pissed off too, maybe his decision about the future is fucking up his brain as well as yours. Now that would be ironic.
When she had arrived home her mum was in a very strange mood. She had an air of expectancy about her that she very rarely let others see these days. Lucy thought this was sad, her mother getting so excited about a drink with her classroom ‘buddies’, as her dad had called them. She felt like telling her to get a life and her dad to piss off, but thought better of it; she hadn’t seen her mum this excited in a long time. Lucy knew her mum was menopausal and thought this must be just one of the symptoms. Marie knew better, she felt hot, but not the menopausal hot flush type of hot, she wasn’t having a ‘senior moment’ as she called them, no this was wet between the legs hot she was feeling, and yes she did have an air of expectancy about her. Lucy went upstairs to get changed out of her school uniform.
Marie felt good, she was preparing Lucy’s tea and David’s evening meal for later, he could reheat it in the microwave when she had gone out for the evening, roast beef and Yorkshire pudding with all the trimmings, his favourite. She had decided to treat him because of the guilt she felt when she’d thought her evening might just have more in store for it than David would want it to have.
Marie was looking good, she should do, she’d spent all morning at the health spa being pampered, she liked to treat herself occasionally, not too often, and some women were there every week. Marie went when she wanted to feel special. She’d had a relaxing massage session, spa bath and her nails were now looking perfect. She felt great.
She may have been a fifty-year-old but she knew she had a body that most thirty-five-year-olds wouldn’t mind trading in their own body for. She’d picked out a nice outfit to wear for the evening class but then they were going out afterwards so she wanted to look good. She had also called at a small, very exclusive shop she’d heard about in the next village on her way home and spent well over one hundred pounds on the most delicate lace lingerie imaginable. She’d had fun picking it out and when she arrived home she ran up the stairs like she was going to pee her pants and needed the toilet to try on her new purchases.
She had been very pleased with the results, so pleased she had reached into her bedside cabinet for her ‘emergency TOOL kit’, switched it on and spent the next ten minutes in a world of her own with only a low buzzing sound and Simon’s imagined body for company.
When Lucy came downstairs again it wasn’t Lucy at all but Sally-Anne, borrowing Lucy’s body. She carried with her the flask she had prepared the previous evening, putting it into the fridge before Marie could see what she was doing; Sally-Anne turned round with a carton of milk in her hand.
“So you won’t be eating in tonight, mum?”
“No, I might just have a sandwich later before I go out, like I normally do on Wednesday. We’re supposed to be going to the pub after clas
s and I might get a bite to eat while I’m there if they serve food. It’s just you and dad tonight.”
“Is that roast beef? I’m starving. Don’t we usually have a casserole on Wednesday night?” Lucy said.
“Yes dear, normally but tonight I’m going to be out until late so I thought I’d do your dad’s favourite” said Marie, “another hour and you can eat. Your dad can warm his up later.”
“Anything I can do to help while you get yourself ready, make the gravy perhaps? It’s about time you let me do something in the kitchen without watching me like a hawk, I won’t burn the house down you know?”
“I do not watch you like a hawk,” Marie said, “but that’s very thoughtful, Lucy, yes you can do the gravy, tonight I need to spend a bit more time getting ready since we’re going out after class, the older you get the longer it takes, you’ll find out yourself one day.”
Sally-Anne had taken a gamble on this and had even been prepared to remake the gravy after Marie had left if she had needed to. When Marie left the kitchen Sally-Anne made the gravy using the paracetemol solution, gravy granules and some of the juices from the meat. She made only enough to use up the solution and boiled it up to reduce it, after all she wouldn’t be pouring it on her own plate and she knew David couldn’t resist finishing off the gravy if there was any left, he was a sucker for gravy.
When the gravy was finished she tried a small amount to taste, it tasted just fine. With this done she poured the gravy into a gravy boat, washed out the flask put it back in the cupboard and went back upstairs, sat on the bed, put the headphones on, hit play on the CD, lay back and returned Lucy’s body to its rightful owner.
Lucy thought she must have been daydreaming for a little while but wasn’t surprised after the day she’d had at school, she carried on listening to the CD as if nothing had happened. When the CD finished she went downstairs just as her mum was serving her tea. She skipped the gravy, didn’t feel like it tonight for some reason, but like most fourteen-year-olds she made short work of the rest of it, eating like she didn’t know where the next meal was coming from.
Sally-Anne had thought about letting Lucy in on her plan, she wanted her to know that she was looking after her but she wasn’t sure that Lucy would fully understand. Fourteen was still young to fully take on board what was happening. She would be old enough one day and when that day came she would look back on this and laugh, Lucy would be so grateful.
When David arrived home Marie was ready to leave, she pecked him on the cheek telling him not to wait up, she hadn’t been out on a Christmas party for a long time and didn’t know what to expect.
“Enjoy yourself, dear. But don’t drink too much you know what you’re like when you’ve had a few. You can tell me all about it tomorrow if I don’t see you later. I’m knackered I’ll probably have an early night, enjoy yourself. By the way what’s for supper I’m famished.”
She was gone before she heard the comment about supper, her mind was elsewhere.
Lucy was in her bedroom working on her homework so he popped his head round the door to say hello, told her he was going to have a shower then eat. This was about as good as conversation got these days with Lucy, but it seemed after speaking to his colleagues at work that this was the norm for a fourteen-year-old girl and her father so why should he and Lucy be any different.
While Lucy worked on her history assignment David tucked into his supper, he relished it, even wiping a roast potato around the gravy boat to make sure he hadn’t missed any. Yes indeed Marie was a fine cook, always had been. It was a wonder he wasn’t built like a twenty stone sumo wrestler.
After supper he did the dishes just like any other Wednesday then settled down to watch television for an hour then an early night. After a short while he decided he would feel more comfortable in bed and if he dozed off he would be in the right place. England were playing Sweden tonight on the box and he wanted to watch it if he could keep his eyes open. He popped into Lucy’s room to say goodnight, got a grunt back for his efforts and went to his and Marie’s bedroom, got undressed, turned on the TV and got in bed.
Marie had forgotten just what a good night out felt like, she realised her life had become humdrum. She had made a decision within five minutes of entering the Black Swan, when she had found herself separated from the main group with only Simon for company. Should the opportunity come her way to leave the pub with just Simon she was going to take it. Life was too short to carry on worrying, she knew what she wanted and she wanted it now, she wouldn’t be denied.
As soon as Simon suggested that the group was getting along fine without them and would she like to go somewhere where they could be a little more intimate she surprised him by how quick she said yes, with no hesitation, and no second thoughts. Simon knew his luck was in tonight and he lived only five minutes away by taxi.
When the taxi came they slipped away quietly; they couldn’t keep their hands off each other all the way to Simon’s flat. She could feel Simon’s erect penis straining through the cotton of his trousers and couldn’t believe what she was about to do, the anticipation was unbelievable, and she had to remind herself to breathe, she felt dizzy.
When they were in his flat they were like two animals, tearing at each other’s clothes in a race to see who could undress the other first. Their mouths were devouring everything in sight, Simon’s tongue flicking at her nipples gave her her first orgasm of the night; about three minutes after entering his flat, she soon slowed her pace, but not by much, only enough to allow her to savour every moment of their lovemaking. It had been a long time since she’d felt this good sexually. Simon was a good lover and so was Marie. They made love until midnight but could have gone on much longer.
Before she left they’d promised each other that this was not a one-night fling and would happen again, very soon. Shortly afterwards she left, just like Cinderella rushing to be away from there and get home. The taxi ride vanished into oblivion as she hugged herself and caught the smell of Simon’s aftershave on her skin.
She felt reborn, why hadn’t she done this earlier in life? She had been faithful to David since the day they’d first met. She was sure that this affair would continue behind David’s back for as long as she wanted it to, and she wanted it to go on for a long time.
When she got home she crept up the stairs into an en-suite bathroom in one of the spare bedrooms and quickly had a wash to get rid of the scent of their lovemaking. She hid her new lingerie, worth every penny according to Simon, in the bedside cabinet so that David wouldn’t question her about it if he saw it. She then crept into the main bedroom, making every effort not to disturb him from his sleep. In doing this she didn’t notice the envelope that Sally-Anne had placed on David’s bedside cabinet only an hour beforehand.
She was too busy dreamily thinking about Simon’s smooth hands and expert lips touching her like she’d never been touched before and the feel of his thick cock deep inside her for her to notice the complete lack of movement from David’s side of the bed. She reached down between her legs and felt a satisfying dampness developing, she slipped in a finger and for all she cared David could have been buggering a dead pig in the bed next to her, she wouldn’t have noticed that either.
Eight
David was dead before Marie had even reached Simon’s flat, overdosed on paracetemol. Severe liver failure was what killed him, Ironic really since he’d had overall charge of the plant where the painkillers that killed him had been manufactured. They found the note while waiting for the doctor to come and certify the body.
Marie and Lucy had been stunned by the discovery of David’s cold body when he hadn’t made a move to switch off his alarm clock at six thirty that morning, but they were both speechless when the suicide note had been discovered and realised that he had taken his own life.
I can’t handle this anymore; it’s just too hard to go on, I just want it to stop now, put an end to it all.
I’m very sorry
David Kirkpatrick
Marie had never seen this before; Sally-Anne had never asked her to help with the handwriting task for psychology homework. There had been no handwriting task at school. Lucy didn’t even do psychology at school. No one would ever see the other piece she had asked David to write out either, the upbeat piece of writing, full of encouragement. That had been destroyed soon after it had been written.
The police had been very sympathetic; after all, nobody would wish that on the wife and daughter, both looking genuinely shocked. They had said they would speak to David’s work colleagues but had tried to reassure Marie that it was not uncommon for a spouse to first find out about their loved ones true state of mind by reading their suicide note. They said she shouldn’t feel guilty, but she couldn’t help it, David had been at home taking his own life while she had been having the best sex she’d ever had in her life with another man, and she didn’t even have an inkling of what David had been about to do to himself.
The police had asked for a specimen of David’s handwriting to check against the note, to make sure it was David who had written the note, but they had been pretty sure it was his when they had seen the empty paracetemol packaging by the side of the bed and the glass of water the note had been found under. When they saw David’s hand written meeting notes, taken from his briefcase, they were in little doubt that the note had been written by David. They would take it away for comparison but they had little doubt in their own minds that the poor sod had had no outside help in ending his life. They saw it all too regularly these days and put a lot of it down to the pressures of modern society, more and more they were coming across cases of people David’s age committing suicide.
Looking at the wife the two policemen had passed a knowing glance at each other; it conveyed the unspoken thought that she was probably playing away from home regularly anyway. She looked much younger than her dead husband and neither of two of them would have passed up the chance had it been on offer, after all, there was a lot to be said about the expert touch of an older, more experienced woman. Couple the experience with a body like Marie’s and it was a winning combination in most men’s eyes.