by Carla Blake
“ No, why would I? It’s a lovely idea and I promise you we’ll do it, just as soon as I can get my legs to work.”
Thirteen
Kate’s back was stiff when she finally woke up and her right hand was numb from where she’d been lying on it.
Above her, the lights from the Christmas tree still flickered amongst the branches and reaching for the base she flipped a switch and turned them off, allowing a gentle gloom to replace the muted glow they had fallen asleep in.
The love making they had planned earlier had been delayed, initially by the enticing aroma of mince pies and coffee and then by Kate who suddenly remembered she had a home made lasagna baking in the oven and dashed to the kitchen just in time to save it from complete annihilation. Then they’d opened wine to go with it and that had delayed them still further, as had switching on the TV to pass the time whilst they ate their meal and getting thoroughly engrossed in an old James Bond movie they’d both seen a dozen times but couldn’t resist being sucked into yet again, even though they both knew the plot inside out and in Kate’s case, most of the dialogue as well.
Making love under the Christmas tree, therefore, had taken place rather later than expected and afterwards, nicely glowing and wrapped in each other’s arms, they had fallen asleep. With the lights still on and the back door still open.
Now with several hours sleep behind them and with the night pressing darkly against the windows, Kate winced at the pins and needles in her hand and got up from the floor. Reaching for the blanket she had folded over the arm of the sofa, she then covered Rachel with it and gently stroking the hair away from her eyes, dropped a kiss onto her forehead and wandered out into the kitchen.
The floor was cold and she sat down quickly, pulling her feet up under her and lighting a cigarette from the pack on the side. The dishes she’d used to make and serve the lasagna were still in the sink, wallowing in cold, greasy water, but there was no way she was going to wash them now, and turning her back, she drew on her cigarette.
The clock ticked, loudly proclaiming that it was way past the witching hour and fidgeting in her chair, Kate rubbed her aching back and marveled at how they had managed to sleep on the hard floor of the lounge for so long. The sex had been great – there was no doubt about that- but she hadn’t expected it to knock her out quite so effectively. Usually she nodded off for a couple of minutes and then came to, with the smell of Rachel still on her fingers and the damp residue of their fucking still wet inside her pussy.
But tonight they’d both conked out beneath the Christmas tree and known no more about it, which would have been great, if, like Rachel, she had stayed asleep, but now she was awake and her muscles were starting to come round, she was beginning to think it hadn’t been such a great idea after all, especially as poor Rachel was still in there, blissfully unaware of the potential agony she was going to be in the moment she opened her eyes.
It seemed a shame to wake her though, especially when she looked so sweet, lying there all curled up beneath the blanket, but what was the alternative? She could hardly leave her to spend the whole night there, sleeping on the cold, hard floor, and she didn’t really fancy re-joining her. Getting back to sleep now would be nigh on impossible and she could hardly sneak off upstairs and climb into bed without her, Rachel would never forgive her.
God, why did these problems always have to come in the middle of the night?!
Yawning, she ran a hand through her hair and pressed her forehead against the chilly glass of the back door. It was clearly freezing outside but she opened the door anyway, recoiling when an icy blast swept over the threshold and across her naked skin.
“Shit!” She swore, and tossing the cigarette butt into the garden, hastily locked the door before hugging herself to warm up.
It was also windy and pressing her fingertips to the glass, she felt the glass rattle violently before a gust of wind whistled around the side of the house and let out a low, mournful wail as it scooped up soggy leaves from the patio and plastered them against the fence.
“Windy.” She muttered to herself and shivered, feeling sorry for anyone on Father Christmas duty tonight. Even pretending to traipse about outside and leave footprints in the frost would be enough to freeze your socks off and it didn’t look it was going to be a white Christmas either. Not that she’d been expecting one. That particular fantasy had been crushed several days ago when the weather men had infuriatingly predicted wind and rain instead of the crisp, white soft stuff everyone was praying for. It would have been nice though, to have a bit of snow, especially as she finally had someone special to share Christmas with.
Instead all she had were freezing cold tits, an arse that felt like it had been dipped in liquid nitrogen, and the only white stuff on the lawn, the bread she’d thrown out for the birds.
“Kate?”
Clutching the blanket and with her hair sticking up all ways, Rachel stood in the doorway. Nodding towards the back door, she asked what Kate was looking at?
“ The weather.” Kate replied, hugging herself. “It’s blowing fit to bust out there. And it’s cold. A bit like you by the look of things. Want to go to bed?”
“Yeah.” Rachel yawned. “After I’ve had a drink. My throat feels like sandpaper.”
“Not surprised.” Kate teased, raising an eyebrow. “All that licking you were doing, it’s a wonder you still have a tongue in your head.”
“It’s a wonder you’re still walking, you mean. Shall I put the kettle on?”
The bed was like an oasis of warmth after the chilly hardness of the floor, and impatiently waiting for Kate to finish banking the fire and finding somewhere to deposit the huge Polar bear they had named ‘Paws’ – so original Kate had declared- Rachel snuggled under the duvet and sipped tea from a white, china mug.
“I love Christmas Eve.” She said, reaching across with one hand and rearranging the candles on her bedside table. “It’s like the whole world is holding its breath.”
“That’s because it is.” Kate replied. “Worrying whether the turkey will fit in the oven.”
Rachel laughed. “That’s not quite what I meant!” She said. “And you know it. It’s the thought of all those kids lying in bed dreaming of waking up to loads of pressies piled up around the bed and a brand new bike hiding in the shed. It’s the thought that for one day, everyone is happy, no one is fighting and it’s absolutely okay to eat and drink as much as you want without some do-gooder pointing at a bloody calorie chart or nagging you about your cholesterol.”
Climbing into bed, Kate poked her in the ribs. “ You, my love, have thought about this way too much.” She said.
“And you haven’t? Okay. What’s Christmas eve to you then?”
“Well, Christmas eve is usually the time I breath a huge sigh of relief because I know everything’s done. Or I’m lying here wracked with guilt because I’ve forgotten to buy someone a present and the shops are all shut and there’s absolutely no way I can find something now. Sleigh bells and bikes in sheds, I’m afraid, have never really come into it.”
Rachel cupped a hand to her ear. “There.” She said. “If you listen very carefully, you can just hear the magic of Christmas dying a death, you old romantic, you.”
Kate huffed. “I am romantic!” She insisted, looking hurt. “Who put up all new decorations just for you? And built a fire. And lit hundreds of bloody candles just so it would look all Christmassy.”
“And who’s lying in bed now worrying if her turkey will fit in the oven?”
Kate looked smug. “Not me.” She said. “I measured before I bought. But enough of all that. You heard from Polly?”
“Only to say that she’s arrived and that it’s freezing down there and that the rain is coming in horizontally. I bet she’s having a great time, though. Her parents spoil her rotten and I can absolutely guarantee she’ll come home with at least three new hats.
Oh, and a side of ham.”
Kate laughed. “Why the ham?”
“Because her parents don’t think she eats enough. One year she came back with a whole turkey and enough sandwiches to see her through a tour of Europe – God! What was that?”
Kate looked puzzled. “What was what?” She asked. “I don’t hear anything.”
Rachel shushed her. “There!” She hissed.
A faint tapping was coming from downstairs, as if someone was trying to gain their attention by rapping on a window and this time Kate heard it. Reaching under the bed, she pulled out a baseball bat.
“What?!” She said, when Rachel looked shocked. “You didn’t think I was living alone without some sort of protection did you? Or would you rather I went downstairs unarmed?”
“I’d rather you didn’t go at all. Let me come with you.”
“No, you’re alright.” Kate replied, pulling on a bathrobe and tying the belt. “No point in us both getting cold. It’s probably only a fox going through the bins. I won’t be long.”
“Careful though, yeah?”
“Of course and don’t worry! If I need help I’ll yell. Loudly. Now snuggle down in that bed and keep it warm. I’ll need thawing out when I get back.”
The bedroom felt strange once Kate had gone and with only ‘Paws’ the polar bear for company, Rachel swung her legs out of bed, drained the last of her tea and reaching for her bathrobe, padded towards the door.
The landing was shrouded in silence, and listening hard as she approached the stairs, Rachel was surprised at the lack of noise. Kate’s house was old and there was still a lot of wood integrated in its construction, yet she couldn’t hear a thing. No creaking, no scuffling, no shouts - thank God- just the wind, rattling against the windows and making her too scared to look towards them in case she saw someone looking in.
Someone like Simon.
Shivering, she clutched her bathrobe to her chest and then forced herself to release it the moment she realised what she was doing. Simon wasn’t outside, she reasoned. How could he be? It was the middle of the night. It was cold. He didn’t know where Kate lived and more importantly he didn’t know she was here, and even if he did, he wouldn’t skulk around outside, gently tapping on the window. He’d shout and scream and ring the doorbell ‘til the battery ran out.
There was no way Simon was here.
Except…
What if it was him? He’d told Polly he wanted revenge, hadn’t he? What if this was it? What if he was downstairs right now, with one hand across Kate’s mouth and the other holding a knife to her throat? What if he was just waiting for her to be there before he slit Kate’s throat and left her for dead? And what if that wasn’t enough? What if he planned to kill her too and leave their bodies lying beneath the Mistletoe and the Fairy lights? Until someone found them.
And what if she was simply getting carried away and Kate was downstairs right now, facing nothing more threatening than cold tiles under her bare feet?
It was the more likely scenario. If Simon was here, he wouldn’t want Kate to be quiet. He’d want her to scream. To beg. To shout her head off so she would come running.
But if it wasn’t Simon creeping about down there, what was it? And why was it so damn quiet! She hadn’t heard a thing since Kate had left the bedroom. Not a footstep, not a creaking floorboard, not even Kate’s voice yelling at the wildlife in the garden to clear off and leave them alone. Only the voice inside her head. Warning her, despite her argument to the contrary, that Simon was in the property.
Heart thumping, Rachel took a step nearer the banisters and peered over the side. A faint, orange light, courtesy of the lamp post outside, spilled through the glass panels of the front door and swam across the hallway carpet, but there was no sign of Kate. Just silence. Thick and heavy and metallic tasting on her tongue.
Quietly, she called out. “Kate? You there?”
Kate stepped out of the lounge. “Yeah.” She said, startling Rachel. “I’m here.”
Rachel sighed with relief. “Thank God!” She said, looking annoyed. “ I’ve been going nuts up here. What you been doing?”
“Looking. What you think I’ve been doing? Nothing to report though, unless it was something in the garden and I’m not going out there again! Too bloody cold. Anyway, what are you doing up? Thought you’d be asleep by now.”
“I couldn’t..”
“Couldn’t what? God, you didn’t hear something up there, did you?”
Rachel looked anxiously behind her and taking this to mean she had, Kate was up the stairs two at a time, her expression now matching Rachel’s as arrived on the landing and started peering into the corners, waving the baseball bat in front of her. “ Where..?” She puffed, worry snatching at her words. “Where do’ya hear it? I’ll smash their bloody brains in!”
“Nowhere.” Rachel replied, shaking her head. “I didn’t hear anything. I just couldn’t sleep, not with you wandering about like the bloody Lone Ranger. Really, Kate, it’s okay. It’s nothing. Let’s go back to bed.”
“Not until you tell me what you heard. Look at you, you’re as white as a bloody sheet and no one shakes like that over nothing. Come on Rach, what was it? What’d ya hear?”
“Nothing! I didn’t hear anything!”
“So why are you shaking? Tell me!”
“Because.. I thought it might be Simon!” Rachel said, annoyed with herself for allowing her ex boyfriend to dominate her thoughts like he did. “There. You happy now? I thought it was Simon.”
Kate wound an arm around her middle. “Okay, so you thought it was Simon.”“ Yeah, I did and now I feel stupid. I know there’s no way he could’ve found out where you live, and I know there’s no way he’d come creeping round in the middle of the night, but I can’t help it. Every time something like this happens my brain automatically thinks he’s behind it.”
“And is he? Other times I mean.”
“No, not as a rule, but that doesn’t stop it happening. He’s like some evil Jack-in-the-box, popping up inside my head whenever there’s trouble. Five minutes ago I had him pinning you to the kitchen table about to cut off your head.”
“Fat chance.” Kate said, brandishing the baseball bat. “I would have brained him first. But why is this still happening do you think? You’re not still feeling guilty about dumping him are you?”
“No! Dumping him was one of the best things I ever did.”
“Then what about the threats he made? Are they still playing on your mind?”
Rachel shrugged. “I guess they are a bit. But it’s the unpredictability I hate the most. I expected him to be angry when I told him it was over and I was ready for that, but when he sent the bloody flowers and invited me to lunch, I didn’t know what to think.”
“And it threw you off your stride.” Kate added. “Yeah, I can see how that would work.”
“Exactly! It’s like he’s always trying to wrong foot me. To keep me on edge and scared and then there was Wendy. “
“ Hmm, her.”
“Yes, her. But you see what I mean. I can never be sure what he’s going to do next.”
“But you can’t spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder, babe, and why should you? You dumped him! I’d have him for harassment if I were you.”
“Do you think I could?”
“Are you nuts? Of course you could. You’ve only got to look at what he’s doing to you to know that. And I’m sure Polly would stand for witness, and me. Probably Veronica too, if you asked her. So don’t waste any more time worrying about it. Tell him, Rach, if he comes near you again, you’ll report him to the cops. And do it! Don’t faff around wondering if it’s the right thing to do, just do it! It’s what he’s doing that’s wrong.”
Rachel nodded. “You’re right.” She said decisively. “If he tries anything again, I’ll report him to the
police.”
“Promise?”
Rachel nodded again.
“That’s my girl! And by the way Rachel, it’s Christmas morning. Happy Christmas babe, I love you.”
Fourteen
Gazing into the bathroom mirror, Rachel pulled a face at herself and beamed. Still wearing her bathrobe, with her hair a mess and the beginnings of a spot starting to blossom on her chin, on any other day she would have been reaching for a comb and a tube of concealing foundation, desperate to put right some of the mess she was currently staring at. But not today. Today she couldn’t have cared less. Kate had told her she loved her. It was Christmas morning and the world was a beautiful place.
And I’m happy, she confirmed to her reflection. Happy and settled and unafraid, which is an awful thing to have to admit to, but I am. I’m not afraid to go downstairs and face Kate, even though I look like crap because it doesn’t matter anymore. She isn’t going to shout at me, or criticize me for looking less than perfect. Kate’s just going to love me, like I love her. Like I’m going to love her the rest of the day and then the whole of the night, and if I’m really lucky, directly after breakfast as well.
The kitchen smelt of roasting turkey, toast and cigarette smoke.
Kate, busy at the hob, was flicking through a cookery book whilst simultaneously stirring something in a saucepan. She greeted Rachel with a suitably pained expression.
“I knew I should have gone to Marks and Spencer’s and bought one of their ready made dinners.” She sighed when Rachel asked if she could help? “ But no, I had to listen to that bloody Nigella tell me it was easy and that I’d have Christmas dinner done in minutes! Well, it might be easy for her, but it’s flamin’ impossible for me. And what the bloody hell is a ‘cup’ of something? That isn’t a proper measurement, a bloody cup.”
“It is if you have measuring cups.” Rachel answered. “And what is that you’re poking around with anyway? It smells foul!”