Incantations

by SIMS, MAYNARD

  ‘Oh, right. So you and I are colleagues.’

  He smiled. He had a nice smile, she decided. ‘No, actually I’m a lecturer at the local college. You’re starting at John Somers, right, or have I misheard that piece of gossip?’

  She laughed. ‘No you heard right. Actually I’m being awfully rude. Would you like to come in?’

  He checked his watch. ‘Can’t, I’m afraid. I’m due back at the college in half an hour, but listen, are you free for a drink tonight? I know all the best watering holes in the area.’

  I’ll bet you do, Joanna thought. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’d like that.’

  ‘I’ll call for you at eight then.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Fine.’

  She closed the door and went back to unpacking her case.

  A short while later there was another knock at the door.

  Mrs Eversleigh stood there with a tray containing a pot of tea, a cup and saucer and a round of salmon sandwiches. ‘I thought you might be hungry,’ she said. ‘And it’s not as if you’ve had the time to go shopping. There is a post office-cum-grocers in the next street, but this should tide you over ’til you go out.’

  Joanna smiled gratefully. ‘You’re very kind,’ she said.

  ‘Think nothing of it. And if, of an evening, you’re stuck for something to do, my door is always open. Come down for a gossip.’

  ‘I will,’ Joanna said.

  ‘What about tonight? We could open a bottle of wine. Celebrate your arrival in style.’

  Joanna bit her lip. ‘Hmm, not tonight, I’m afraid. I have a date.’

  Mrs Eversleigh’s jaw dropped. ‘A date? But you’ve only just arrived.’

  Joanna jerked her thumb at the wall. ‘Robert, from next door, asked me to go for a drink with him. I said I would.’

  A frown creased Mrs Eversleigh’s brow.

  ‘Oh dear,’ Joanna said with a grin. ‘Why do I get the feeling you’re going to warn me off him?’

  The frown disappeared. ‘No, not at all, Robert’s a lovely guy. And single now. I’m sure you’ll have a nice time. I’ll save the bottle for another time.’ She started to pull the door shut.

  ‘Mrs Eversleigh!’

  The woman paused, her hand on the doorknob.

  ‘Thanks for the tea, and the sandwiches.’

  ‘That’s all right, my love. And the name’s Jean. I can’t be doing with this Mrs Eversleigh nonsense.’

  ‘Okay, Jean,’ Joanna said. ‘Tomorrow night, eh... for the wine.’

  ‘You’re on. I don’t know, only here five minutes and two dates already. I bet you’re popular at home.’

  If I were then I wouldn’t be here, Joanna thought bitterly but said nothing. Instead she smiled as Jean Eversleigh shut the door.

  Once her suitcase was completely unpacked she opened the wardrobe and started putting things away. When it came to her underwear she pulled open the top drawer of the small chest of drawers and started laying things inside. When that one was full she pulled open the next one down. Unlike the top drawer this one wasn’t empty. Tucked away in the deepest corner was a small leather case, rectangular, about six inches by four, with a zip fastener joining the two halves of the case together. On the side of the case the letters M L had been branded into the leather.

  She slid it out of the drawer and set it down on the top of the chest. For its size it was quite heavy, and it rattled slightly when she shook it. She only hesitated for a moment before unzipping it.

  The zip opened smoothly. At first she’d thought it might be a jewellery case but the reality was much more prosaic. It was a gentleman’s travelling kit complete with hair brush, comb, a complete manicure set, a small chrome plated soap case, a glass bottle with a chromed stopper containing a stick of shaving soap, and finally an ivory sheathed, straight-blade, or cut-throat, razor.

  The case must have belonged to a previous tenant who had now moved on. Perhaps he had left Jean Eversleigh a forwarding address. Joanna would ask her later.

  She poured herself another cup of tea from the pot, sipped it and winced at the stewed flavour. It was nearly cold. It was over an hour since Jean brought the tray up. Where had the time gone? She would have to dash if she were going to catch the shop before it closed. She needed the basic provisions and something for dinner. The salmon sandwiches filled a gap, but she’d need something more substantial before she went drinking with Robert this evening, or she’d be under the table after two bacardis.

  After a meal of pasta and tuna, she laid in the bath, up to her neck in scented water, a thick towel wrapped around her wet hair. She’d only just made the shop before it closed, but she'd been able to stock up with the essentials. And essential for her was a bottle of frascati, some of which she’d drunk with her meal, the remainder she took to the bathroom with her. She’d also taken a couple of scented candles and her portable cd player. Now she lay there, luxuriating in the flickering candlelight while the mellow voice of David Gray washed over her.

  The candles cast soft shadows on the wall, and she squinted her eyes, making shapes out of the shimmering light and shade; a squirrel, a boat, a face. She used to play this game as a child, with her grandmother; sitting on granny’s lap, watching the glowing coals of the open fire, laughing with delight as granny pointed out all sorts of fantastical shapes in the glowing embers, and making up stories, wild flights of fantasy, about them. God, how she missed her grandmother!

  Her relationship with her mother was always strained. The woman was a drunk, an actress of sorts, and could never be bothered to spend time with Joanna. Her father was a small black and white photograph in a theatre programme, and nothing more. Her childhood was spent with her grandmother in a cramped house in Ruislip. When she was thirteen her grandmother suffered a stroke from which she never recovered, and it was then Joanna looked to her mother for support and help with her grief. But her mother was embroiled in a relationship with a man several years her junior and did not want an emotional adolescent cramping her style.

  Aunt Peggy came to the rescue with her own brand of no-nonsense care and comfort. Joanna owed her a great deal. Without Aunt Peggy there would have been no sixth form at school, no college, no future, no life.

  She yawned. She was drifting, letting her mind wander. The shadows were closing in, growing darker, denser, creeping up the walls and spreading over the ceiling. She could no longer see shapes; just the deep, velvety, seductive shadows, drawing her in, making her feel incredibly sleepy.

  She gagged as she breathed in water.

  The water was over her head, and the towel she had wrapped around her hair was soaked, sucking at the water, so heavy it was impossible to raise her head. Her arms flailed at the sides of the bath, but her hands were wet and slippery and kept sliding off the cold cast iron. She thrashed her legs, rapping her instep against the metal tap, drawing blood. All the while she was fighting for breath, images of her white, dead body floated through her mind. What a ridiculous way to die, she thought. Drowned in the bath. The indignity of it!

  Her mind was detached from her body, drifting away with the shadows on the wall. All she wanted to do was sleep. That would be so easy, so peaceful. She stopped struggling – stopped fighting it.

  Suddenly her nose and mouth broke through the surface of the bath water and she gulped in air. The water level was falling, and there was the sound of water pouring away down the plughole. The chain of the bath plug was tangled in her toes. Her thrashing had pulled it free, and saved her life.

  She climbed from the bath, trembling violently. What scared her more than anything else was the ease in which her mind had accepted her fate, her drowning. Did she really want to escape that much?

  ‘You’re limping,’ Robert said as he stood in the doorway watching her fetch her coat from the wardrobe. He glanced down at her foot and saw the pinkness of a sticking plaster covering a purple bruise. ‘How did you do that?’

  Joanna hesitated before answering. She didn’t want to talk about he
r experience in the bathroom. Two hours later and she was still feeling uneasily guilty about it. ‘I dropped my suitcase on it when I was unpacking,’ she lied.

  ‘Ouch! Must have hurt.’

  ‘It stung a bit,’ she said with an easy smile, dismissing the topic casually. ‘What pub are we going to?’

  ‘The Baker’s Arms. It’s not the most local, but it’s by far the nicest. And they sell real ale, so that’s a bonus.’

  The evening passed quickly and pleasantly. Joanna spoke about her hopes and ambitions for her job at the new school, though she sidestepped questions about her past with a deftness that was now becoming second nature to her. Robert was easy company, an undemanding conversationalist, and a source of risqué and very funny anecdotes. At ten Joanna checked her watch. ‘I don’t want to spoil a lovely evening,’ she said, ‘but I must get home. I’m all in and I want to be fresh tomorrow.’

  ‘Ah yes, the big day. The saviour of the John Somers Primary School must have her beauty sleep.’

  She frowned. ‘Are you making fun of me?’

  He grinned at her. ‘Not a bit of it, it’s nice to meet someone with a mission. And hearing you talk tonight that’s indeed what you are on.’

  ‘And there’s something wrong with that?’

  The grin dropped from his face. ‘I remember being like you once. Such zeal is to be much admired. I just wish I could remember what it felt like.’

  She realised with a shock that he was drunk, and like many drunks – her mother included – he had entered a serious and maudlin period. Suddenly the fun evaporated and the evening turned dark. She wanted to go home.

  ‘I want to go home now,’ she said, getting to her feet.

  ‘Off you go then. I’ll just sit here and finish my pint.’

  ‘So I’ll find my own way then.’

  ‘Sit down and wait. I’ll only be a moment.’

  There were hundred things she wanted to say, a hundred put-downs, a hundred insults. None of them found their way to her lips. She knew that anything she said now would not register in his bleary drink-addled thoughts; you can’t insult a drunk. Much the same way they can fall over without feeling the pain, drink anaesthetises and deadens. She’d seen it enough in her life. She was not going to go through it again... with anyone.

  She turned on her heel and walked from the pub, Robert’s cry of ‘Joanna!’ echoing in her ears.

  By the time she reached Halifax Road it was half past ten and two wrong turnings had increased the hostility she was feeling towards Robert. She turned the key in the door and entered the house. Jean Eversleigh was coming down the stairs, wearing a purple silk robe and smoking the obligatory cigarette. She watched Joanna enter the house, looking beyond her for signs of Robert. There was an expression of concern on her face when she said, ‘Nice evening, dear?’

  Joanna grinned mirthlessly. ‘Oh yes, terrific,’ she said in a voice heavy with irony.

  ‘I see,’ Jean Eversleigh said resignedly. ‘Look, Joanna, don’t judge him too harshly, eh. He’s had a rough couple of months.’

  Joanna shrugged. She wasn’t feeling very forgiving. Besides, she was tired and very apprehensive about tomorrow. All she really needed to do was to climb into bed and go to sleep. She yawned.

  ‘You must be all in,’ Jean said, laying a solicitous hand on her arm. ‘Would you like a nightcap before you go up? It would help you sleep.’

  Joanna shook her head. ‘No I’m fine, really.’ She remembered the leather travelling case. ‘There was one thing though. Something I should give to you. I found it in my room.’ Leaving Jean Eversleigh at the bottom of the stairs she went up to her room.

  She’d left the travelling case on the top of the chest of drawers. Now it was gone. She pulled each drawer open in turn, but there was no sign of it. Jean Eversleigh followed her up and stood in the doorway. ‘Can’t find it?’

  Joanna was on her hands and knees, looking under the bed, as if by some miracle the case had fallen from the chest of drawers and hidden itself under there. ‘This is stupid. I left it there.’ She pointed to the chest.

  ‘What is it you're looking for. Can I help?’

  ‘It's a tan leather case, about six by four inches. It had the initials M.L. burnt into the leather... like a brand.’

  ‘That was Matthew’s case.’ Robert appeared in the doorway. Neither of them had heard him come in, or for that matter, come up the stairs.

  Joanna glared at him, Jean said nothing but shook her head at him sadly.

  Robert put his hands up in front of him. ‘I know, I know. I was out of order. Joanna, I’m sorry.’

  Joanna got to her feet, shrugged and turned her back on him, pretending to straighten the candlewick bedspread.

  ‘I thought Matthew’s brother picked up all his stuff,’ Jean said.

  ‘Well, he must have missed the case. Where is it, Joanna?’

  ‘That’s the whole point,’ Joanna said irritably. ‘That’s why we are searching the room. I found it earlier in one of the drawers and left it on top of the chest. Now it’s gone. Jean, does anybody else have a key to this room?’

  Jean Eversleigh was affronted by the implication in the question and struggled to hide her annoyance. ‘No, Joanna, no one has been in here. I have a master key for all the rooms, but I would never enter a tenant’s room without their permission.’

  Joanna caught the undertow of anger. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply...’

  Jean turned briskly and took Robert by the arm. ‘No doubt the case will turn up eventually,’ she said to Joanna, and then to Robert, ‘Come on. Joanna has an important day tomorrow, and...’ she glanced at her watch, ‘...and it’s late.’ She guided him from the room and without looking back said, ‘Good night, Joanna.’

  ‘Sorry again,’ Robert called as Jean closed the door. Joanna heard their voices as they went down the stairs. Jean Eversleigh’s voice raised in anger, Robert’s placating, soothing.

  Joanna sat down heavily on the bed and swore. She could feel tears pricking at her eyes. What an absolutely brilliant start, she thought bitterly. She couldn’t have made a bigger mess of things if she’d tried.

  She unbuttoned her blouse and started to get undressed.

  Robert was waiting for her, outside the school gates at four o’clock the next day. His presence there annoyed her, but she didn’t want to show it, at least, not here.

  ‘Can we go somewhere and talk?’ he said.

  ‘Not to a pub,’ she said and nodded to some of the parents who were at the school gates collecting their children.

  ‘I know a coffee bar in town.’

  ‘Fine.’

  The place was fairly upmarket and practically empty. The girl behind the counter seemed bored and served their coffee without a smile or any attempt at pleasantness.

  Robert took the coffees across to the booth where Joanna was seated. ‘She won’t win any awards for customer service,’ he said.

  Joanna stared at him blankly and said nothing.

  ‘I get the feeling I’m still in the doghouse,’ he said.

  ‘And you feel you shouldn’t be?’

  ‘No, I deserve it all right. I behaved like a complete arse last night. I deserve everything you care to sling at me. But I sense you are close to forgiving me, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.’

  ‘Don’t push it. What did you want to talk to me about? It seemed pretty urgent.’

  Robert sipped his cappuccino and stared out at the people passing by outside – people on their way home from work or shopping in the high street. He often wondered about their lives, what they did when they got home. Did they live in dingy little bedsits, with nothing to go home to, and no prospect of there ever being anything to go home to. ‘I don’t think you should be staying at seventy-three. I think you should find new digs.’

  ‘I beg your pardon.’

  He looked at her over his coffee cup. There was a serious expression in his eyes. ‘The house, it’s not going to do you any favour
s. In fact I think it’s going to be plain dangerous for you to stay.’

  Joanna pushed her cup away, slopping the coffee into the saucer. ‘That’s it. I’ve heard enough. I’ve never listened to so much rubbish. I’m going.’

  ‘Sit down!’ He said it with such force that she sat back down in her chair. ‘That’s better. Now you’re going to listen to what I have to say. If, when I’ve finished, you still want to leave, then I won’t try to stop you. Okay?’

  Joanna picked up her cup and sipped at her coffee. Her silence was her assent.

  ‘The travelling case you said you found belonged to a previous tenant. In fact your predecessor, Matthew Longsdon. He was in his fifties and a lecturer at the college. I liked him from the outset, but then he was very easy to like. He had a very... very persuasive manner, almost as though he was suggesting that you should like him, and you just went along with it. I probably haven’t described that very well, but that was Matthew – very difficult to pin down.

  ‘I’d not long started at the college and at the time I was going out with a girl called Caroline. We’d been together since we were sixteen, so it was pretty serious. I was looking forward to a future of marriage, kids, the whole suburban dream. Caroline, however, had other plans. Six months ago I found out she was seeing someone else. We split up and I fell apart. So did my life.

  ‘I started drinking far too much. I was suffering from wild mood swings – euphoric one moment, suicidal the next. It was then that Matthew stepped in and took me under his wing, so to speak.

  ‘I’d noticed before that he was an exceptionally good listener. I’d seen him at college often in one to ones with students and even members of the faculty. Everyone would go to him with their problems, and he would take them on board. He would listen, counsel, comfort and empathise. It was as if he was collecting their pain, taking it for himself, because he was so much better at dealing with it than they were.

  ‘My life was slowly going down the toilet. Without Caroline I felt diminished, worthless, but I couldn’t bring myself to go to Matthew with my problems, even though we were living next door to each other. But eventually he came to me.