Shambles
Page 7
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Not the Firefly
It is late, it is dark, it is very humid; I am in bed and suddenly very wide-awake.
When you live alone, out of the city, not exactly in the bush yet the nearest neighbour is half a mile away, you tend to notice unusual sounds. I’d heard something just now and I cannot settle.
Sometimes it is better to be over cautious. Get up if you must, but don’t put the light on. If it turns out to be nothing then there is only you to laugh. On the other hand,
The kitchen is dark and so are all the other rooms. Dark and empty. No, what is that? I pad across to the screen door and breathe out in relief. It is just a firefly, clinging to the mesh. And there is another outside on the doormat. Silly me! I smile. Then I remember fireflies are soundless.
The house is definitely empty. I can close the windows and doors and lock everything up. I can retire to the bedroom: and become a nervous sweaty wreck for the next six hours?
Very quietly I step outside. There is no moon and clouds obscure most of the stars. There is one, shining brightly, to the North West. I am sweating and although the gentle breeze is welcome I’m not cooling down.
This is very stupid. From here, just outside the back door I can peer into the gloom on three sides of the house. As far as I can tell there is absolutely nothing out of place. So, check the fourth side then go back to bed.
As I walk softly along the verandah my brain is working overtime trying to recall what I’d heard. More than one sound. There had been some muffled shuffling, rather like I am making now. And also, possibly a cough, or a groan? But that means a person is out there, in trouble maybe. It might be me in trouble, if they are dangerous.
I round the corner of the house and stop dead in my tracks. A few yards ahead is the shed I’d built last year. The lights are on!
I’d subdivided the interior to make a workshop at the far end and a hobby room into which the access door is set. All the windows are on the other sides so I cannot see in.
There’s nothing worth stealing in there. Leave well alone; go away, whoever it is let them get on with it. No tool or model is worth walking into danger. Go back in, lock up and call the police.
I hear a solid object crash to the floor, followed by a muted curse. I breathe in heavily, growing anger replacing fear. That could be the ship I’ve laboured on for so many hours, now tossed aside and smashed by an ignorant, thieving intruder. Without thinking I stride to the door and fling it open.
The glare is painful yet moth-like my eyes are drawn up to the light source even as my mouth gapes open. In my peripheral vision I pick out a scruffy man, then another, and then two women. About to panic I read the banner, stretched from wall to wall just below the ceiling. “WE LOVE YOU. HAPPY CHRISTMAS, DAD!”
The whole family are there, kids and all, bottles and streamers and open hampers beside the table they’d knocked over. The ship is safe on a shelf. Seeing my gaping mouth they are laughing at my reaction. I grin, all of us very happy with the success of their surprise. Boy, do we have a party, just a bit earlier than they had planned!
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