The Grave

by Diane M Dickson

  “Hey, you stupid bugger, watch where you’re going, asshole.”

  “Sorry, we’re sorry.”

  Sylvie gasped an apology and twisted to smile at the man but he’d turned his back and lowered his head as he stomped towards the lights of the building. There were a number of trucks parked up. Many of them had the curtains pulled over the windscreens, the drivers sleeping away the hours until they could legally get back behind the wheel. He ignored those and the ones that were obviously local, based in Preston, Lancaster, Morecombe, there was no point stowing away on something only going five miles down the road or worse still which had only just left the depot and wouldn’t be stopping again until Portsmouth or Dover.

  A great red truck with a curtain sided trailer attracted Samuel, he laid his hand on the bonnet. Cold, the cab empty but not curtained, the depot in Liverpool. They were on the southbound carriageway and so by deduction it was a safe bet this guy had been heading for home. Probably his taco graph had demanded he stop, and so he had slept away the day and had now gone in, to the toilet or for a cup of coffee and some carbs before finishing his delayed journey. He would be annoyed because he hadn’t made it home in time and so hopefully, less likely to do much checking before he got back on the road, especially in the rain and cold.

  Putting his finger to his lips to warn Sylvie against speaking he took a knife from his pocket. He cut an L shaped slit in the heavy siding, he lifted the edge to peer inside. The truck was part loaded with wooden boxes, tied and secured and he judged it to be as safe as they could hope for.

  He ran around the back without much hope and, as expected the doors were padlocked. Using two hands he stretched the gap he had made in the curtain.

  “Do you think you can get in here, if I lift you up?”

  She nodded and raised her hands to hoist herself towards the entrance he’d made, holding the wet curtain away from her face. Wrapping his arms around her he lifted her to the space and she slithered inside on her belly, kicking and squirming. It was dark, dirty and unpleasant and she was terrified. As soon as her legs were in she rolled over onto her behind and pushed herself into a sitting position. Shakily she rose to her feet, Samuel was pushing the bag of money in through the hole and she bent down to grab it with both hands and drag it across the scarred wooden boards. He followed and then turned to pull the trailer side back into place. He couldn’t do much but it was taut and would face away from the wind as the truck moved. Providing the driver didn’t examine his charge on this cold, wet night they should get away with it, all they could do was hope.

  The light was very dim, only the glow from a small window in the roof, but Samuel checked the strapping on the boxes, watching him Sylvie saw this wasn’t the first time he had done this. He shoved and pushed at the load testing it for movement, though it had obviously been okay for the first part of its journey. He turned back to her and tried a smile, it was a valiant effort under the circumstances but it was empty, she took what she could from it and curved her lips upwards in response.

  There was a pile of dirty blankets neatly folded in the corner near to the back doors and Samuel pointed to them, she nodded and flopped down onto the hard makeshift seat. Her insides were in turmoil, this was very frightening. She had no idea what it would be like when this great leviathan moved off but she didn’t expect it to be pleasant, she was cold, wet and scared. Samuel lowered himself to the floor, wrapped his big arms around her and hugged her to him. She laid her head on his shoulder and relinquished all responsibility for what was happening, her eyelids closed squeezing out two fat tears which dribbled down her cheeks and unregarded dripped away to be lost in the muck and moisture on her jeans.

  She had never felt so tired, so dreadfully weary or so utterly content all at the same time. She was shivering still, from fear and cold, but as his body heat and the strength of him leached into her bones she relaxed and let herself drift in the dark, cold void that held her now.

  Chapter 31

  In the event the movement in the back of the trailer wasn’t as bad as Sylvie had feared. It was disconcerting to hear the traffic swhooshing by on the road without a view of it, but the rocking was soothing and they sat cradled together, silent in their exhaustion.

  She had left everything behind save the things in her handbag, her phone was there but the battery had flattened long since and with no charger it was useless. Samuel had flung his from the car window before they had reached the service station. She had some money, not much, her debit and credit cards and some bits and pieces of cosmetics. Samuel must have even less, only what he had in his pockets and anything else stuffed in the big bag along with the money.

  It was liberating, she felt cut loose, free-floating. Nothing to hold her to her past life and no evidence of where she came from. She relished her new-found anonymity for such a very short while. Mulling it in her mind she realised she had no means of identification, her driving licence was back in her other bag, at first she didn’t mind, she could change her name, re-invent herself, her past was in the car park on the motorway. With this thought the fragile sense of peace deserted her, bursting like a soap bubble in the rain and she shot upright. Samuel had been snoozing but now he was alert and awake, his head flicked back and forth.

  “What, what is it.”

  “My driving licence, it’s in my bag, in the car. They’ve got my name, my old address, the flat. There’re some photographs in there as well, me and Phil.”

  He didn’t speak but merely drew her closer to him, they both knew she was now complicit, her name was linked indelibly with his. No matter what, she was a part of his problems and had taken on board all the things he was fighting and fleeing from. They didn’t know Phil was no longer a threat; the great storm had taken him from their lives forever.

  For a moment she buried her head in his chest. What did it mean? she raised her eyes to his.

  “Shit Samuel, I guess we’re stuck with each other now.”

  Surprisingly he grinned at her, bent and kissed her forehead.

  “Well, I think you may be right.”

  There was nothing they could do and so, accepting the reality, they settled in the cold darkness of the trailer and listened to each other breathing.

  In little over an hour the speed changed and there was a difference in noise. They had left the motorway and were weaving through urban streets. Samuel moved across the wooden boards and lay down in front of the slit in the vinyl; he lifted it and peered into the night.

  “Looks, like we’re nearly there, wherever ‘there’ might be, can you push the bag over. Be careful stay on your bottom, don’t stand in case he goes round a corner. Slide across. Be ready to jump out if he stops.”

  They waited tense and watchful; Samuel held the gap open, waiting for the truck to pull over.

  “When I tell you to go just jump out and get to safety as quick as you can. Then, no matter what, stay where you are. I will try to get out at the same time but if I can’t I’ll come for you. I promise you, okay.”

  She nodded and reached up to kiss him briefly on the mouth.

  “What I said, in the café, about the way I feel.”

  He nodded.

  “I meant it. I really do care about you Samuel. No matter what happens I want you to know I really do care.”

  “I know.”

  He didn’t say anymore but turned back to the slit, peering out into the rain-swept night.

  “Right, now, jump down.”

  The truck was stopped at a six road junction, the lights were red, there was little traffic. He held the space open as Sylvie lowered herself backwards dropping the last few feet and then he threw the bag after her. He turned and came behind her lowering himself almost to the road and then letting go with his hands, landing with his knees bent. He grabbed the bag and pushed Sylvie ahead of himself onto the pavement and into the darkness of a shop doorway as the truck drew away, onwards towards the city.

  “Are you okay, not hurt?”

 
; “No, no I’m fine, are you?”

  “Yeah, no problem. Okay, first of all, let’s see if we can work out where we are. Come on, which way, left or right, it doesn’t matter, you choose.”

  “Oh, erm, okay left, let’s go left.”

  It was cold, wet and inhospitable. They were on the outskirts of a city, they assumed it to be Liverpool but as yet had no real proof. It was a main road of shops and garages. There was a glow in the sky, the promise of bigger things a few miles distant. Here there were a couple of small supermarkets still open and the ubiquitous kebab shops and pizza places. The electric colours spilled out to shimmer in kaleidoscopes on flagstones soaked by the continual downpour. Wet litter shifted in the cold wind and they had to jump back from the kerb as cars sped through the lying water sending great fountains across the pavement.

  Samuel stopped outside a snack bar.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “No, I’m not hungry, I could use a drink, just some water or juice but I don’t want to eat anything.”

  “Hang on then.”

  He went into a small convenience store, came out with cartons of juice and a bottle of water. He had bought some chocolate and broke a piece from the bar and fed it to her.

  “You have to keep your sugar levels up. It’s cold and we might have to walk for a bit.”

  As he spoke they saw, up ahead, a bus stop with a small queue of people huddling under the meagre shelter. Samuel spoke to a couple standing with arms wrapped around each other, locked together, spacey looking.

  “Excuse me mate, can we get a bus here for the town centre do you know.”

  “Yeah, number thirty-six takes you in. Where’re you going?”

  “We just need to get into town, find somewhere to stay. We were supposed to be going away.” He hefted the bag as evidence of the trip, “But we had some trouble, my mate was taken ill now we just need a place for tonight.”

  “Well if you get the number thirty-six it’ll take you in, but you could stay at the place up the road if you only need somewhere to sleep.” He pointed towards a building, a large house, a few hundred yards away from where they stood. There was an illuminated sign on a post in the almost empty front garden which had been tarmacked over to form a car park.

  “Oh, right. We didn’t see that, do you know if it’s okay.”

  “Yeah, my mate’s mum runs it. It’s not dear and you get a brilliant fry up for breakfast. Tell em, Stano sent yer.”

  Samuel stretched out his hand and the youth simply knocked at it with the back of his knuckles.

  “Thanks Stano.”

  “No problem.”

  With the dismissive comment he turned his attention back to the spliff his girlfriend had been holding out to him.

  The hotel was small, old-fashioned and warm. It smelled of dust and cooking but it was clean. The middle-aged woman who opened the door had a friendly smile, a spare room and a nod when they mentioned Stano.

  “Mates rates then for you.”

  She grinned as she said it and they all acknowledged the emptiness of the statement. She pushed the register across the top of a small wooden counter positioned in the corner of the hallway.

  Without a moment of hesitation Samuel signed them in as Mr and Mrs S Percy.

  “‘Ave you some i.d?”

  “We lost some of our bags, is it going to be a problem?” Sylvie stood silent at his side, afraid to speak in case she spoilt the confident act.

  “Well, normally I’ve to keep to the rules, but seein’ as you know Stano. Again she grinned. “Are yer payin’ with a card? cos if yer are I need to take it now.”

  “Cash okay?”

  She nodded.

  “Just one night?”

  “I think so, if it changes is that okay?”

  “‘Course, let me know before twelve thass all. Double room, fifty for cash.”

  She grinned at him as the tax man was denied his cut, Samuel winked at her, unzipped the bag top and bending low to block her view he slid out some notes handing them over in a crumpled bunch. She stroked at them, easing out the creases, a questioning look on her face.

  “It’s not hot this is it?”

  “No, we haven’t got cards, we had to go bankrupt, bloody bankers.”

  The story was familiar and she accepted it with a nod.

  “Bloody bankers, soddin’ government, sod the lot of em I say. Well, you guys ‘ave a good sleep, breakfast from seven-thirty to nine-thirty and you ‘ave the room till twelve, less you tell me otherwise. Okay.”

  “Thanks.”

  The key was attached to a large wooden fob painted with a number eight.

  “Second floor, ‘ave you just the one bag?”

  “Yes, thanks, it’s fine we can manage. Can we get a cup of tea.”

  “Kettle and stuff in the room love. Do you want a sandwich or somethin’?”

  Samuel glanced at Sylvie, she simply shook her head. Her mind was already full with thoughts of a hot shower, clean sheets and stretching out beside Samuel. It felt like years since they laid together in the little room in the Lake District.

  Chapter 32

  The walls ran with steam, hot water beat down on Sylvie’s head, it was bliss. Their filthy clothes were draped around the room dripping onto the grey and pink floral carpet. She had washed her underwear in the tiny sink and put it to dry on the radiator. It was the best they could manage but feeling warm, safe and clean was enough, for now.

  The cubicle door slid back.

  “Sylvie?”

  She nodded and his bulky body filled the moist space. Wrapped in the circle of his arms she felt his skin begin to warm and the tension leave his muscles. His hands were in her hair now, fingers raking it back pulling the tendrils away from the wet of her face. She stared into his eyes till he bent to her, his lips brushed her neck. Thrills of passion skittered through her body taking the strength from her legs. She gasped as he licked at a nipple. On a tiny shelf in the corner there was a small bottle of shampoo. He tipped the fluid into his palm; it barely filled the centre of his hand. He screwed up his face at the amount and shrugged. Rubbing his hands together coaxed up a feeble amount of foam which he smoothed across her shoulders, down over her breasts and sliding down the curve of her waist. It was gone and they laughed as he tried to catch the last of the bubbles and force them back against the flow of the water.

  Clinging together they revelled in the comfort of heat and cleanliness until the closeness of their bodies, the touch of skin on skin and the evidence of his growing passion forced them back into the bedroom. The towels were surprisingly luxurious. She sat on the floor wrapped in the fluffy whiteness as he perched behind her on the bed, rubbing at her hair and combing out the knots and leaning forward now and then to nibble at the edges of her ear and kiss her neck.

  The comfort of this warm room and the quiet of the night, after the stress and fear of the day felt dreamy and surreal. He lifted her and laid her on the bed, kicking aside the thin duvet and throwing the pillows to the floor. He stroked her legs, and her belly, kissed her shoulders, neck and then back again and again to explore her mouth. Still unaccustomed to their growing closeness they experimented, teasing and stroking, kissing and caressing. The journey found its end in the closeness and intimacy that is almost holy and as he took her body Sylvie knew she had given him her heart.

  Afterwards sleepy and fulfilled they dragged the covers back and coiled together, put aside the mounting problems and future dangers and surrendered to exhaustion…

  A door slamming further along the hallway brought Samuel to his senses. For a minute he lay still, his arm had curled in sleep to cuddle the slight body beside him. Her hair spread across the pillows and her face, in repose looked heartbreakingly childlike.

  He was troubled; this girl had turned his life on its head. Everything he thought he had forfeited, the feelings he had subdued, interaction with other people, pleasure, passion and hope she was relighting them all. The flame of life had been rekindled
and he didn’t know how he felt about it.

  She was so very different from what he had first expected. Though life had hardened her she was in truth soft and gentle, caring and vulnerable. He wanted her to be safe, wanted to spend some time with her. He had chosen to live an empty, lonely life, punishing himself for continuing to survive when Marie and the baby were dead. He had felt his existence to be a burden and many times he’d considered leaving it all behind, taking what he thought of as the easy way out. Now though, with Sylvie he had someone else to consider, he couldn’t leave her on her own to face the danger she had inadvertently walked into. Tenderly he brushed the hair from her face and kissed her awake, she stretched, cat like and slid her arms around his neck kissing him back, warm and sleepy, still part lost in her dreams. It reminded him painfully just what it’s like to wake with someone who cares. Was he ready to experience all this again and in truth could he even begin to hope for it with all the ugliness and pain in the past and the undeniable danger in the future. It was too late to think ‘if only’ and he wasn’t sure there was any room for ‘what if’.