Depravity

by Woodhead, Ian

  “Wait, are you comparing Jodie to a dog?” he growled.

  “Shit, no. Of course not. We had this guy in the office. He used to boast about knocking the crap out of his wife all the time. He thought it was hilarious, can you believe that? Anyway, I met his wife at a Christmas party. Her eyes were like your Jodie's She used to flinch too. Not as obvious as the dog but it was there.” He paused. “If you were looking, that is.”

  “What did you do about it?”

  “I'm not with you.”

  “I mean about her man beating her half to death.”

  Trevor frowned. “What can you do? I mean, what other folk get up to in the privacy of their own home has nothing to do with anyone else. For all I know, she might like it. He might have been talking out of his arse, or at least exaggerating some of it.”

  “So basically you're telling me that you don't know anything about what Jodie might or might not have been through?”

  “Christ, Michael. I don't know. Okay, I'll admit it. I know fuck all about women. If I did understand them, I might have been able to save my own fucking marriage. Can we talk about something else? All of a sudden, I feel very uncomfortable.”

  “Sorry, buddy. I didn't mean to push.”

  “S'ok.”

  “Look, let's go back to the farmhouse, Trevor. We still have that crate of beer that so needs drinking. There's also those other buildings that I haven't had the chance to explore yet.”

  Trevor shook his head. “We're here now. Besides, that museum owner's probably watching us as we speak.” he turned to face Michael. “He'll be praying to his cheese-rolling pagan Gods that we go inside and pay his admission fee. We're probably the first visitors that he's had all summer.”

  “Fair enough, buddy. After all, we don't want the poor fella to starve to death.”

  Michael followed his friend into the building, thinking if he should push Trevor for more information over what's happened between him and Fern. He still couldn't wrap his head around that bombshell. Something told him that it wasn't as simple as falling out of love. It never was.

  He stared at the back of Trevor's neck, his mind going over all that weird stuff about the dog and that violent work colleague. What was all that about? Was that Trevor's subtle way of begging him not to pursue this any further? No, it couldn't be. Trevor didn't do subtlety. He decided to let the matter lie, at least until Michael had thrown enough beer down Trevor's neck, then he'd ask a few more questions.

  If that failed to produce any results, then there was always the option of grilling Jodie. Fern was bound to have told her everything. Women did stuff like that.

  Michael handed over a five pound note and told the grizzled looking gents, sitting in an ancient plastic chair to keep the change. The man smiled and let him through the turnstile. He caught up with Trevor, who's found a couple of fossils behind a glass display to study.

  He'd known Trevor a long time, he considered the man a valued and trusted friend. Michael was damned if he was just going to sit back and allow his best mate to self-destruct, not a chance. Not on his watch.

  “It's pretty cool in here.”

  “They're just stone shells, Trevor. It's not that interesting.”

  “No, I mean it’s cool, I like the dim lighting too. I find it quite relaxing.”

  Michael moved to the side to allow a young couple to pass them. He turned and watched them chat to the older man. Should he have been surprised to see other people in here too? He remembered the last time he visited, this place was quieter than a morgue.

  Judging from how the doorman is reacting to their questions, the couple must be local. Michael averting his gaze when all three of them stopped talking at stared at him. Trevor had found the prehistoric diorama, where two muscle-bound men, dressed in fur were butchering a deer carcass.

  “That's a bit gruesome.”

  The three locals, by the open door was taking up most of his attention. He could see them in the glass reflection, they were still staring at him and Trevor. The temptation to spin around and ask them if they had a problem was so hard to suppress. Having a go at some teens in the privacy of the toilets was one thing, but open aggression to complete strangers was another.

  Then again, what did he expect? The pair of them were obviously more interesting than the exhibits in here. Those poor buggers must have been inside here hundreds of times. They probably knew this museum like the back of their hands. He slowly grinned. Now he knew why they were staring. Those two must know a few little secret spots in here where they can kiss and cuddle, away from prying eyes. No wonder they look pissed at him and Trevor.

  “I really fancy an ice-cream, you know.”

  “That's what you get for only having one bacon roll. Wait, you had that éclair!”

  “What, I'm a growing lad. Hang on here. I'm going to go ask the weirdo on that chair if he has any.”

  Michael leaned against the glass display. He tipped an imaginary cap to one of the cavemen whilst staring at the black ceiling. He felt almost at peace. Such a peculiar sensation, considering the news Trevor gave him outside. His friend sounded a lot better as well, maybe sharing the shock had helped to lift him up a bit?

  He moved away from the caveman display. Those eyes were a little bit too realistic for his liking. It felt as though they followed him around the room. Trevor could always catch up once he’d finished stuffing his face.

  Would he be able to find that secret hiding place where those two young lovers had crept out from behind? That made him smile. Michael could not explain where this good mood had come from, not that he was complaining about it. He turned around, wondering where Trevor had gone to, had he gone outside? That sounded about right. After all, he didn’t see any sign of a freezer on his way in. Come to think of it, Michael wasn’t sure where you’d get an ice-cream in town. Shit, now he wanted one too.

  Michael paused when he reached the first junction. According to the garish green painted sign, if he took the left corridor, he’d learn all about fashion through the age. Michael took the right direction, he had no interest in staring at the load of mouldy clothes. Besides, he so wanted to have a closer look at this museum’s large collection of vintage cars.

  Jodie had been singularly unimpressed at his reaction the last time they visited. As far as she was concerned, they were just a bunch of old cars, nothing all that spectacular. Even his comment that some of them, in this immaculate condition were rarer than hen’s teeth and were worth an absolute fortune. Her only reply was she hoped the owner was well insured.

  He stopped in front of the first car, a 1965 Aston Martin db5. Michael leaned back, ensuring there was nobody looking before he stepped over the red rope barrier. Slowly walking around the car, he couldn’t understand how it could still be in here. Michael stopped in front of the boot and gazed at the metal shutters that he presumed led to a courtyard. The security here was just abysmal. “Unreal,” he muttered. “There must be at least a good few million pounds worth of cars in this museum.”

  He ran his fingers over the car’s rear panel, whilst admiring the other cars in the collection. He decided that once he’d got himself settled in at the farmhouse, he’d pay another visit to this little gem and see if he could discover exactly who donated all of these vehicles. As well as perhaps suggesting some modifications to the museum’s security system. Before striding over the red rope barrier, he couldn’t resist peaking inside. Michael wrapped his fingers around the handle, pressed the button and to his utter surprise, the door opened. “You have got to be kidding me,” he muttered, seeing a set of keys in the ignition. Michael wrinkled his nose. It smelled as though, somewhere in this car’s past, a cat had crawled inside and died.

  “Where have you gone?”

  He straightened his back, just in time to see Trevor running past the car. “Over here. Man, you have got to see this!”

  Trevor skidded to a halt and ran back towards him.

  “I take it that you couldn’t find an ice-cream t
hen?” His jollity fell away when he saw just how pale the man was. “You ok?”

  “Need your help!”

  Michael jumped over the barrier and followed Trevor as he raced towards the exit. He saw no sign of the old man or the young couple. His friend ran through the open door. He spun around. “Do something, man!”

  He looked past Trevor and saw the old man and the pair stood three abreast in front of an old tree. Michael looked at Trevor, about to ask for an explanation when he heard a muffled yelp. He raced over to the three and saw the three boys from the toilet on the floor. The leader had pinned down some young girl; his knees were resting at either side of the terrified girl’s head as he sat on her chest. The two other boys held a leg and an arm each. What confused him more than anything was that none of them made any sound.

  He blinked several times, the sun’s harsh glare took him completely by surprise. He’d forgotten just how dark it was in there. As the landscape shifted into focus, Michael noticed the three from the museum standing at the other end of the car park, in front of a large tree. It looked like they were all having a piss. “What the frig is this?”

  “Michael, don’t just stand there, you need to help her! Those bastards just pushed me away.” He pointed to the others.

  He ran across the car park, now spotting other people partly obscured by the stationary figures. Michael leaned between the two men and gasped at the sight of the three boys from the toilet, pinning down some young, dark haired girl.

  “What the fuck are you playing at?” he screamed. The two men attempted to push him away, they both received a sharp crack against their ears for their trouble. The leader had his knees on her arms while he sat on her chest. The other two were holding onto the girl’s legs. Michael gave one of the boy’s a savage backhand then grabbed the leader’s hair and dragged him off the girl. The other one jumped up. Michael was already waiting for him. As he threw a single clumsy punch, Michael ducked under it and gave a boy a hard jab in his solar plexus.

  The leader couldn't take the hint. He growled and threw himself at Michael. He neatly sidestepped the boy's charge and punched him hard in the kidneys as he moved passed him. This time, he fell into the white gravel and stayed down.

  Satisfied the thugs weren’t likely to attack again, he gently helped the sobbing girl off the floor and put his arm around her shoulder. “Are you okay, honey?”

  “What the hell do you think you are doing?” shouted the museum owner.

  Michael rounded on him. “Why don’t you shut your face, before I hit you again! What the hell is wrong with you? These fuckers were attacking this kid and you just stood there watching?” Trevor’s description of the old man beating off in the café, gate-crashed his mind. The other two boys stood a safe distance from Michael. They didn’t seem to be in any hurry to continue their assault. “Trevor, have you rang for the police yet?”

  His friend shook his head. “You’re joking? I can’t get any bloody signal.”

  He checked his own phone and discovered the same problem. “No matter, we’ll drive there.”

  The girl shook her head. “No, it’s alright,” she murmured. “There’s no harm done.” She glanced at the museum owner. “I’ll be okay.”

  The old man stepped forward. “Son, I appreciate that you’re trying to help here. Really I am, but you’re not taking her or those kids anywhere.”

  “And you’re going to stop me?” he growled. That red mist has already started to veil his sight. Somewhere a million miles away, he could hear some girl crying. Michael couldn’t tell whether it was the girl in his arms, or the boy’s girlfriend. It didn’t matter either way. The old man stumbled back, as if that was going to stop him.

  “Please!” shrieked the girl in his arms. “You’re only making it worse.”

  She held onto his arm, stopping Michael from reaching that trembling old man. He so needed to teach that cowardly little cunt a lesson in proper behaviour. The three boys and the young couple fled inside the museum and slammed the door shut.

  “Michael!”

  He blinked hard, seeing for the first time he had something in his hand. It was a warrant card. “Are you having a fucking laugh?”

  “Do you see me laughing,” he said, through gritted teeth. The man glared at Michael. “If I were you, I’d get back into your fancy car, take your fancy friends and go back to where you came from. We don’t need people like you in our town.” He looked at the girl. “As for you, Pamela Overton, there’s going to be repercussions for this, see if there isn’t.”

  “Just who the fuck do you think you are?”

  “Michael, come on.” Trevor pulled him away from the old man. “Come on, we need to go.” He looked at the girl. “I think we’d better take you home, miss.”

  He allowed Trevor to gently escort him and the girl back towards his car. The rage he felt hadn’t gone anywhere. If he didn’t hit something right now, his head was going to detonate. “Trevor, just take her a moment, will you?”

  He shook his head. “Not a chance.” He opened the passenger door, swiped the car keys out of his hand then guided the girl into the back seat. “Get in, Michael. I’ll drive. We have beers to sup, remember?”

  He turned around to watch the old man enter the museum.

  “They’ll calm down in there,” said the girl. We all go in there when the situation gets too much for us.” She sighed. “Thank you for helping me, Mr Sandhurst, but it wasn’t really necessary. The beating wouldn’t have been as bad as it normally is.”

  Michael managed to climb into the car without putting his fist through the side window. There was something in that girl’s tone that put a cap on his fury. At first he thought it was despair, but it wasn’t, it was inevitability.”

  “Where do you live, honey?”

  The girl leaned between the seats. “Mr Sandhurst, if you hadn’t confronted the boys in the café, they would have probably left me alone.” Pamela pointed in the general direction of the town. “Just drop me off on the other side of the town please. I don’t want you to take me home. My family are in enough trouble as it is.”

  Michael just gazed at his friend as his friend slowly reversed out of the parking space.

  4

  “Are you sure that you’ve never done this before?”

  Trevor caught the beer, dug the axe into the tree stump and rolled the can across his forehead. “I once saw John Rambo do it in one of his movies, if that counts.”

  Michael chuckled quietly, leaned back in the rocker and took a swig of his own beer. His friend's pile of split wood almost equalled the amount Michael had created. “How are you feeling now?”

  His friend pulled the axe out of the wood, laid the instrument in the wheelbarrow and sat on the stump. He shrugged. “Tired, I guess, still confused, but I don't have that urge to hit something anymore, so that's good news. What about you, man? I'll tell you a secret now. You proper scared me back in that car park.” He took a swig of his beer. “Come to think of it, that unease only got worse when I watched you chop up that wood. Have you any idea how psycho you looked?”

  He sighed. “Yeah, sorry about that. I did kinda lose it back then.” Even now, Michael had no idea how he'd managed to lose control. If Trevor hadn't been there to calm him down, he didn't know what would have happened, only that there would have been a lot of blood and no doubt him ending up in a jail cell. He paused. Then again, maybe not. Knowing what he did now, he believed he'd have woken up inside the boot of someone's car.

  “You can't fault the view, buddy. I'll give it that.”

  Michael had never felt so helpless. The hate he sensed from that girl continued to haunt him. At first, he still thought he'd done the right thing in giving those thugs a bit of a slapping. Thing is, the longer she stayed in the back of the car, the more he believed that he was the only one who clung on to this train of thought. Trevor obviously only wanted Michael to pull them off, maybe give them a bit of a bollocking.

  How are you supposed to
help someone who doesn't want your help? He stared at their growing pile of empty beer cans. The pleasant alcohol buzz was a long time coming today. Judging from Trevor's performance chopping that wood, he doubted he'd be able to get him in any inebriated state for Michael to start probing.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  “About what you said. You know, staying here,” he replied. Lying.

  “This place is in a time warp, man. Seriously. Come on, you saw how those yokels acted in that car park. Since when was that normal behaviour? Dude, I'm worried about the pair of you. I mean, how long will it take for some of those freaks to build up enough courage to march up here, holding their pitchforks and put you and Jodie inside a giant straw man and set it on fire?”

  “Tell me about why you and Fern are separating.”

  “What? No, don't do this to me. Don't change the subject.” He stood up, put the can on the stump and headed towards the farmhouse. “Need to go piss.”

  Michael stayed in the rocker, not willing to move for anyone. He sure as hell wasn't going to follow him into the farmhouse to apologise for a lack of subtlety. “What is wrong with me?” he shut his eyes, imagining another Michael racing after Trevor, begging him to forgive him, that Michael and Fern's marriage break up had nothing to do with him. He then saw Michael turn around, only it wasn't Michael anymore, it was that little girl, still wearing the same hateful expression she had when they let her out of the car.

  He couldn't explain to Michael his reasons for wanting to stay here, any more than his violent reaction towards those people wanting to hurt that little girl. Trevor was right there though, he did lose control. No, he and Jodie were staying here, it was that simple. He'd never really explained his reasons for wanting this farmhouse. Not that she was going to put up an argument. He suspected that Jodie was just glad of a place where she could truly call her own.

  As soon as he saw those photos, he knew that this was the place for them. Not just the farmhouse either. That feeling just increased when they drove through the town. They'd never been here before, despite living in the next town. Not that it mattered. He really did feel that he belonged here. He was like a moth attracted to a flame.