by Kit Tinsley
The boy, Smash, directed them up the road about half a mile and then told them to take the next right. The road, if you could call it that, was little more than a dirt track that ran alongside a field of golden wheat. It went on for about a mile. The car bumped down the road; it would be doing the suspension no good. She considered telling Mark to slow down, but could see from the look on his face his was determined to get there as quick as possible.
The house came into view on the right. It was a large Victorian-built farmhouse. With the right love and attention, it could have been a beautiful home. Instead, it was a weather- and time-battered heap. Brickwork was falling away on the side, the chimney was protruding at such an angle that it seemed to be defying the laws of physics by staying up on the broken roof. Several windows were broken and just left boarded up, and the whole thing was covered by brown, skeletal and long-dead ivy. Outside the house were a couple of beaten up old Land Rovers, a rusting white Mercedes van and a tractor that looked as though it had been bought when most people were still using horses and carts. A pair of shirtless and grubby looking children ran around the overgrown garden. Kelly guessed they were Smash’s younger siblings; they had the same dark, greasy hair that seemed to have been just left to grow with no particular style.
Mark pulled up next to one of the Land Rovers. The somewhat feral-looking children stared over at them, but made no attempt to approach. Mark turned off the engine and opened the door.
‘Wait in the car,’ he said to Kelly as he helped Smash out of the back seat.
‘No chance,’ she said, getting out herself.
Smash led them to the front door. As he opened it, Kelly was hit by the smell from inside, a combination of body odour, cooking meat and something else she couldn’t quite place.
‘Come in,’ Smash said to them as he limped through the door. ‘Mum, I got company.’
The woman who stepped out into the hallway was enormous. She was at least twenty-five stone. She wore a dirty, yellow, floral print dress that looked more like a bed sheet than actual clothing. Her hair was dark and wildly curly. Her piggy features were virtually being swallowed up by the fat of her cheeks. Her jowls hung low, giving her the appearance of having no neck, just a fat head melding into a fat body. Her arms were covered in faded, blue and obviously home done tattoos. She gave off an aroma that was like rotting fish in gone off cheese, undoubtedly caused by the build up of mouldy yeast that inhabited her gargantuan rolls of fat.
‘What ya done to ya sen now?’ she said in accent even thicker than her son’s. It had always confused Kelly the way that Lincolnshire people used the word ‘sen’ instead of self.
‘I had an accident,’ Smash said gingerly.
‘Yes, I’m so sorry but we hit your son with our car,’ Kelly said. ‘I think he might need a doctor, but he refused to go to the hospital.’
The woman walked over and grabbed Smash’s face, turning it from side to side.
‘No harm done,’ she said. ‘Bet you weren’t looking where you were going, were you?’
‘No, Mum,’ Smash said.
‘I’m a nurse and I would advise you to take him to the hospital,’ Kelly said.
‘He’s fine,’ the woman snapped, then added more gently, ‘he’s had a lot worse.’
Kelly could blatantly see that this was true. She wanted to ask how he had got the other wounds he had, but felt that it would be prying, and that this was a woman who would not take kindly to prying.
‘Of course,’ Kelly said.
‘Thank you for bringing him home, duck,’ she said. ‘Can I offer you a cuppa?’
The idea of drinking anything prepared by this monstrous woman, or in this filthy house, made her stomach do a little flip. If she hadn’t already been sick on the marsh, she would have thrown up right there.
‘No, thanks,’ Mark responded for them both, ‘but I do need to use your phone.’
‘Yes, we need to call the police,’ Kelly added.
‘The police?’ the woman said, concerned.
‘Yes, we found...’ Kelly was going to say it, but something made her hold back. ‘We found something on the marsh they need to know about.’
The woman looked from her to Mark and then back.
‘All right,’ she said finally. ‘Smash, show him where the phone is.’
‘Yes, Mum,’ he said, leading Mark off down the hall.
Kelly was about to follow when the woman stepped in her path.
‘Why don't you wait in the living room with me?’ she said. ‘It’s not often we have visitors.’
Kelly really didn’t want to, but smiled politely and followed the woman into the living room.
It was a cluttered and dusty mess, a large room with several mismatched sofas. An enormous, dark wood dresser took up most of one wall, the kind of thing that people would use to display their finest China, but instead this one was empty. It stood there looming over the room like an ominous shadow. The carpet was threadbare and stained with God only knew what.
Kelly sat down on the sofa opposite the woman. This was one of the rooms with boarded windows, it made the air heavy and the woman’s stench even more potent. She was eating from a large plate of meat; to Kelly it looked like it was most likely pork though she was not sure what cut.
She offered the plate to Kelly, who put her hand up to refuse it.
‘Vegetarian,’ she lied.
‘No wonder you’re so skinny.’ The woman said, laughing as she took a handful of meat. Kelly didn’t see herself as that skinny, but she supposed that to this behemoth she looked like one of those size zero models.
There was a clock on the wall behind her and it ticked loudly. The woman did not try to engage her in conversation; instead, she just sat there chewing her meat, slapping her chops as she did. The combination of that and the sound of the clock quickly became maddening. Tick, slap, tock, slap, tick, slap, tock, slap, tick and on and on. Kelly felt more on edge than she could remember ever being before. Something was wrong here, very wrong, the way the woman just stared at her as she chewed. She hoped that Mark would hurry back, that they could leave this house, leave this whole fucking area behind and go home.
‘Could I use your bathroom?’ Kelly said, wanting to get out of the room and away from the woman’s unflinching gaze.
‘Bathroom’s upstairs, but there’s a shitter just across the hall,’ the woman said.
Kelly faked a laugh politely and then got out of the room. She stood in the hallway, she strained to listen for the sound of Mark’s voice, but she couldn’t. A strange feeling came over her like she had experienced out on the marsh, that feeling of being watched. She looked up and saw the two children she had seen outside were silently observing her from the stairs. Now that she saw them more clearly, she could tell that they were twin boys, identical twin boys. She guessed that they were around nine or ten years old. She smiled at them. They just continued to stare at her.
She went into the small toilet under the stairs. The toilet itself was filthy, caked in shit and swarming with flies. The nausea returned, she covered her mouth and closed her eyes, concentrating on not being sick. After a few moments, she felt a little better. It was hard for her, a nurse married to a man who ran his own successful consulting firm, to imagine that there were still people living like this nowadays. It was as if when she stepped through the front door of this house she had gone back in time a hundred years, or been magically transported to a third world country.
She decided that her best course of action was to wait in here until she heard Mark in the hallway, then she could step out and they could leave. It stank in the small cramped toilet, and she was sure that just breathing the air could give her dysentery, but it sure beat sitting opposite the woman as she pushed handfuls of meat into her monstrous mouth or standing in the hallway being studied by those creepy twins.
How long she stayed there she wasn’t sure, but it must have been at least ten minutes, and still there was no sign of Mark’s return. Thi
s was getting ridiculous, what could be taking him so long? Given the nature of what they had found on the marsh surely the police would want to get out there quickly, not keep Mark on the phone for so long.
She opened the door quietly, hoping not to make the woman in the living room aware of her movement. For a moment as she pulled the door slowly opened, she imagined the woman stood outside the door waiting for her, still stuffing her face with the meat. However, the hallway was empty, a great relief. Kelly stepped out of the toilet and turned to look up. The twins had gone.
When they had arrived, Smash had led Mark to the room at the end of the hallway to use the phone. Kelly decided to go down there and see what was taking so long. She walked on tiptoes trying to make as little noise as possible. When she reached the door, she turned the handle slowly, pulling the door open. The room was a kitchen, or at least as near to a kitchen as this hellhole could offer. The floor was covered in faded green vinyl that felt sticky under her feet, like the floor of one of the grim pubs she frequented in her college days. The worktops were littered with pots and crockery that looked as though they had not been washed in decades. A group of mangy looking cats were licking crusted food off the plates. Mark, however, along with Smash was nowhere to be seen.
The phone was attached to the wall on the other side of the room. Kelly walked over to it, hoping that Mark was on the phone in another room, suddenly she longed to hear her husband’s voice. The phone was dead, not even a dial tone. There was a door that led out to the rear of the house, and another that led down a set of stairs to a cellar. She could think of no good reason why Mark would be in the cellar, but she was running out of options so she walked to the door and listened carefully. Though she could not hear her husband talking, there was a sound coming from below. A frequent wet bang, like you would hear in a butcher’s shop.
Fear told her to run to the back door and exit the house now, nothing good could come from that sound. What would she do when she got outside? Mark had the car keys, would she just run aimlessly through the fields?
Smash appeared at the bottom of the stairs. He was wearing a blood soaked apron, and carrying in one hand a meat cleaver and in the other a black refuse sack dripping with blood.
‘Stay calm, Miss,’ he said when he saw her at the top of the stairs, looking down at him with an open mouth.
For a moment, she was paralysed. Grief, horror, and self-preservation were all vying for control of her emotions. Smash dropped the sack to the floor and started up the stairs. Kelly saw Mark’s head roll from the sack.
‘You monster!’ she cried out. Her mind cleared, self-preservation had won the battle and she turned to run, only to find the woman behind her brandishing a mallet. The woman was wild as she swung the mallet at her, but Kelly was a lot quicker than this hulking creature. She ducked, avoiding the swing by inches. The woman had put such force into the swing that she was momentarily off balance, it was just the advantage that Kelly needed. She shoulder barged the unstable woman towards the cellar stairs; the woman screamed as she fell down the stairs, knocking her son to the floor as she did.
Kelly looked down and saw that the woman wasn’t moving. Smash, on the other hand, was getting to his feet. Needing no more motivation, Kelly bounded for the back door, only to find it was locked. She could hear Smash ascending the stairs quickly. She elbowed the large glass pane on the door and it shattered violently outward, she knew that she had some nasty cuts on her arm from doing this that would need stitching, but now was not the time to worry about that. She climbed through the broken door, cutting herself again on the broken glass. She fell to the ground but instantly got to her feet. Looking back, she saw that Smash was in the kitchen now, heading for the door. She took off, running as quickly as she could.
She knew that the road was at least a mile back up the dirt track, but it was an isolated country lane. There was no guarantee that she would find help that way, besides which she wanted to run away from the house, not around the side of it. She headed straight, away from the back of the house, hoping that she would come to another road or another house. She looked back to see Smash was climbing through the broken door. He hit the ground running, and he was quick, she pushed herself harder hoping to keep ahead of him. She saw a hedgerow up ahead, this must mark the end of the property. She prayed that there was a road the other side of it.
Looking back, she saw that Smash was gaining on her, despite his limp when walking, he ran like a big cat hunting its pray. The hedgerow was no more than a hundred meters away when she stumbled, her ankle twisting in a rabbit hole. The pain was immense. She kept her balance and managed to stay upright, but the delay cost her dearly.
She turned to see Smash right behind her. He swung the meat cleaver and it connected with her side, just below her rib cage. It must have gone a good three inches into her body. The pain was like a fire in her side. Smash pulled the cleaver back out of her. She clutched the wound and felt the blood pouring over her hand. Smash prepared to take another swing with the cleaver, the one that would end her for sure. Without a second’s hesitation Kelly kicked out, her foot connecting full force with Smash’s groin. He screamed in pain and the cleaver went flying from his grasp, far off into the distance. The last time she had inflicted this pain on a man he had dropped to his knees instantly, then fallen to the ground writhing in agony. Smash, though, was made of stronger stuff. He grabbed at his groin and bent over, but he did not drop to the floor.
‘You bitch!’ He screamed. ‘I’m going to skin you alive for that.’
He made a grab for her arm, but she avoided him, it was clear she was going to have to keep running. The pain in her side was going numb, she knew all too well that this was a bad sign, her body was going into shock. Not only that but she knew she was losing too much blood too rapidly, if she didn’t get help soon she would bleed out, the dizziness she was starting to feel was a symptom of this. She pushed on through it, keeping her eyes on the hedgerow. Smash had begun to chase her again, but the kick to the balls had slowed him down. She would make it to the hedgerow before him.
She heard the sound of an engine in the distance; there was a road on the other side of the hedgerow. She made it to the thick hedge of brambles and pushed her way through. The thorns scratching her were nothing compared to the wound on her side. She barely even felt it. She saw the road ahead of her and ran for it. Unfortunately, she did not see the dyke between her and the road. She fell straight into it, her damaged body hitting the dry bottom with a thud. She tried to clamber up the side of the dyke, but her strength was leaving her, her body was shutting down to protect itself from the injury. She heard a thump behind her. Turning, she saw Smash had jumped into the dyke. He smiled at her.
‘Still with us, Miss?’ he said cheerfully. ‘Good, good. We’ll have some fun later, but there’s something I have to do first.’ With that, he climbed out of the dyke leaving her where she lay.
She heard the sound of the engine very close, then the screech of brakes and the thump of a boy against metal.
She heard voices. She tried to cry out, but she could not. Her lungs had started to fill with blood.
‘Oh fuck!’ A woman said hysterically. ‘Is he dead? Did I kill him?’
‘I don’t know,’ a man said.
After a pause, she heard a familiar voice.
‘Sorry,’ Smash said. ‘I weren’t looking where I were going.’
Tears filled Kelly’s eyes as the lights began to fade.
HOODIES
The nighttime Streets of Darton were bathed in the sickly, orange glow of the street lamps. Benton roamed the streets with the gang, all of them dressed in their jogging bottoms, baseball caps and hoodies. They wandered around like a pack of sneering jackals, taunting those who crossed their path. They lived for the fear they instilled in the hearts of others. Like so many youths from the wrong estates, it was the only power they would ever feel.
Tonight was the first time that Benton had been included in the gang. B
efore tonight, he had always been well behaved and hardworking at school, but to what end? To his teachers he was invisible just because of the geography of his home. It seemed like his postcode had determined his destiny. He was to be at best overlooked his entire life, at worst judged as a thug. So why not follow the path that society seemed determined for him to take?
When he was a young child, his best friend had been Steve Murphy, the boy next door. As they had grown older, though, Steve had set off on the road to villainy. He became a bully and a troublemaker. His family had a reputation as thugs and criminals, and it was one that Steve was happy to live up to. Though the same age as Benton, Steve had already left school, not officially, just in the sense that he never turned up and the teachers and school board were happy to have him gone.
Now Benton was hanging out with Steve and his cronies. He had to admit he felt excited, his heart thumping with the prospect of what might happen. Whenever they saw someone that they took exception to, they would shout abuse. The victims of these tirades would just hang their heads and quicken their pace. Benton had never felt so empowered.
As they headed into the market place, Joe, the youngest boy in the gang, jumped up and knocked the pay and display sign off its stand. This got cheers from the other boys. Steve rubbed Joe’s hood roughly as a show of acceptance. Benton longed to feel that, he wanted to see that his peers were proud of him. Suddenly an idea occurred to him. Adopting the monkey swagger they all seemed to walk with, he sauntered across the market place to St Leonard’s church. There, he turned his back on the gang, who were all watching with curious gazes, and began to piss over the church wall.
This gained him not only a cheer, but also a round of rapturous applause.
‘Oi!’ came a shout from the main road, making Benton freeze in fear midstream. ‘What are you doing?’
Benton turned to see a policeman approaching. He wanted to run, he wanted to hide. He looked to the others who were just stood giggling across the market place. As the policeman got closer Benton could see that he wasn’t an actual copper, he was one of those Police Community Support Officers. That was bad enough, though. He walked right up to Benton.