by Jan Swick
He slept.
The next day was a blur of useless nothingness. It was one of those days you could wipe from your mind and suffer not a jot for it. Nothing learned, nothing achieved. He got bored, then lethargic, then stale. Bed called him even earlier that night. He stared into space and decided he had to be proactive tomorrow. Sleep didn't come easily because he was aware that it had been a week since Karen's death. This time last week, just a few miles from here, a man had put his hands around her neck and squeezed.
On Sunday he hit the laptop and created a CV and lied about what he'd been doing the last seven years. Mum and Dad got dressed up again and went out, and came back with long faces. Danny trailed in after them, and looked at Matt with something only just shy of anger. He didn't speak until Mum and Dad went upstairs to get changed.
"Why didn't you come?" he snapped. Matt raised his arms in a puzzled gesture. "We just arranged the funeral. It's in ten days, if you can hang around that long. Where the hell were you?"
He was shocked. Mum and Dad hadn't mentioned anything about going off to arrange the funeral. He told Danny this, but got no sympathy:
"Well it's in ten days, if you can be bothered to hang around that long."
He turned to leave. Annoyed, Matt flicked a foot and caught his ankle, tripping him. Danny got to his feet and clenched his fists, like a slighted kid in the schoolyard. He stared at Matt for a few seconds, then turned and left, shouting a goodbye to his parents just before he slammed the door.
He heard a bellow from outside. Danny shouting at someone. Fearful that his brother's anger was going to get him in a fight, Matt rushed to the window.
He saw Danny running to his car. He saw a guy on a dirt bike tearing away. He didn't understand what had happened until Danny reached his car and plucked a slip of paper from where a wiper held it against the windscreen. Something bothered Matt about this event. A guy dropping an advertising leaflet wouldn't tear out of there like that. He went to the door.
Danny heard the front door open and got in his car. He slammed it and Matt heard the lock engage just as he grabbed the handle and tried to open the door.
Matt said, "What did he give you?"
Danny started the engine. Matt rapped on the window. "Danny, let me see what he gave you. Let's not be children."
Danny sneered at him, clearly more upset now following that insult. The car jumped away. Matt watched it go. He watched the window come down and a balled piece of paper fly out. Matt retrieved it. By that time, Danny's BMW was turning a corner, then gone.
Matt unrolled the sheet of paper. It was a betting slip, but there was nothing on it. No bet. He turned it over.
On the back was a picture drawn in pencil. It looked like a letter C on its back with a child's version of a cloud inside it: three bumps together.
He screwed it up again, cursing himself. What had he expected, a sorrowful confession from a man already dead? Would that have made Matt feel better anyway?
Jake had once woken up in ditch with a canvas bag tied over his head, some kind of warning by a rival drug dealer. That was scary. He'd woken one time in a pub toilet, drunk as hell, with two freaks rifling through his pockets, giggling like banshees. That was scary. But this one topped both. His eyes fluttered open and, in the orange glow from the streetlight outside his window, saw a guy in a balaclava kneeling on his bed, between his spread legs. The guy was leaning over him, holding a pair of garden shears, blades wide apart, across his throat. There was pressure on his flesh that said this was no bloody dream. His own fucking garden shears, the ones he kept under the bed. Meant for use against anyone who broke into his bedsit. Fuck if that hadn't backfired.
"Sorry, I just couldn't take it any longer," the guy said. Jake didn't recognise the voice, although it was a drunken slur, which made Jake that little bit more scared.
"Take what?" Jake croaked. He gulped and felt his Adam's apple move against the blades.
"I was actually in bed an hour ago, but I'd had a drink and then I couldn't resist coming to see you, my friend."
"What do you want?" His mind tried to cycle through his enemies, but there wasn't one he could think of who would come at him in such a fashion. Most of them were backstabbing little shits minus the gonads needed to sneak in here like this.
"To see you, Jake. Only living guy who ever got one over on me."
"Don't know what you talking about. Honest. Can you put the shears down –"
"I say living because there's another guy, but he got off easy by killing himself. It's going to hurt that I can't get revenge on that bastard."
To that Jake didn't have a response. He just looked at the white eyes in the slit in the black mask. Their emotion was unreadable.
"Up you get," the guy said. "It's time."
Jake gulped again. "Time for what?"
The guy didn't answer. He moved back and, with a hand in Jake's hair and the shears forever in place, brought him along. The going was slow and awkward, mostly because of Jake's size, but eventually they were both stood up, face-to-face. The guy was big, six-four at least, and of thick shoulders.
"I have a very big ego, Jake, and I don't like to lose. Turn around."
"I haven't done anything," Jake moaned. He was shivering. Pure fear.
"I've gotten revenge against every single person who's ever scored a point against me, Jake. I obsess like you wouldn't believe. It would drive me mad if I let someone get away with getting one over on me, trivial or not. It's never happened. Never will. Turn around."
"I don't know you, man! Honest!"
The guy pulled at his shoulder, making him turn. So Jake turned, slowly, and felt the cold metal of the blades rasp along his skin.
"Tonight, Jake, it's your turn."
Then the blades were gone, and Jake froze, unable to move but fearing a stab right in the back any second. He let out a moan like a scared cat.
Matt pushed Jake forward, stepped after him, and booted him hard in the ass.
"Hey, sexy, Matt here. You over me yet? Want to test that techno brain of yours. Guess the object. XX"
A photo was attached. Lisa opened it. She saw a strange picture. A letter C on its back with a child's version of a cloud inside it: three bumps together.
She put the phone on the bedside table and got out of bed. On the toilet, she thought about the picture. Or rather, what Matt's sending of the picture signified. He was back on the hunt. He had a new clue. And that pleased her, because she was missing him.
She flushed and returned to the bedroom to get changed, and froze in the doorway as she saw Adrian sitting up in bed, her phone in his hands.
He said, "You've been getting texts from that fucker ex of yours. Are you shagging him still?"
She groaned. Again, the accusations. Ever since Matt had gotten back in touch, Adrian had gotten this silly notion that they were dating again. It hadn't helped that she'd booked a week off work and gone to see him, claiming that she'd spent the time sleeping alone in guest houses. Then she thought about the kiss they'd shared, and realised that Adrian's fears were not entirely without basis.
Then she got angry that he was snooping through her phone. She tried to snatch it away, but he lifted it out of reach.
"Look at you! What are you scared I'll find out? You cheating bitch."
"Give me that phone, Adrian. There's nothing been going on, and nothing will. I went to help him, that's all."
"Well, let's see what reply this gets, shall we?"
She tried to grab the phone, but Adrian scampered out of bed and held it over his head. She let him have it and quickly got dressed in the clothing she'd dumped on the floor the night before. While she did this, Adrian typed on her phone, and had a big grin on his face as he did so. Then, from the other side of the bed, he waved the phone at her.
She leaned over the bed to see the screen, because he was trying to show her what he'd done. It was a text message, from the SENT folder, and it said:
DID YOU ENJOY SEX THE OTHER NIGH
T? COME SEE ME TODAY.
And then Adrian had written their house number and postcode.
"You're an imbecile," she snapped at him. "And what are you going to say when he replies and asks what the hell I'm on about, Adrian? Might that finally be proof enough for you?"
"He'll just know it was me. You probably arranged this. Told him you'd never mention shagging him in a text, so he'll know I sent it."
"So you're convinced no matter what. Idiot. Give me the phone."
"Later. I want to see what else you've been up to."
She left the room.
Later they had breakfast, but not together. She ate beans on toast in the kitchen, with her phone, which he had returned to her after half an hour of snooping. Adrian had a fried breakfast in the living room while watching combat sports with the volume high, which he knew she hated.
She scrolled through her message folders to see what else he'd been up to. As far as she could see, nothing. He'd read all her messages but deleted none and sent only the one. The message Matt sent had arrived at just after three in the morning, so he had probably composed it while drunk again. Matt was no lush, but like anyone he occasionally had a night of getting wasted, usually when he'd had a day that hadn't gone well. A few times over the years she'd had messages from him out of the blue, always early in the morning when alcohol had boosted his confidence. Thankfully he hadn't sent one of those we had good times together messages this time. It had been a repeat of the one he'd sent last time, seeking her help. Back then, a photo of a piece of a camera. This time, a photo of a sheet of paper with a drawing on it.
She composed a message, sent it to a social network, then thought about calling Matt to explain the stupid message Adrian had sent him. But she didn't, and the reason why intrigued her. She wanted to see what Matt did about it. It would cause all sorts of hassle if he turned up on her doorstep, but if he did it meant - what? At the least, that he wanted to see her again. At most, that he was willing to race halfway across the country to sleep with her. Both prospects made her feel wanted, an emotion Adrian hadn't fired in her belly in a long time.
But he wouldn't come, she knew. He might return her text and say sexy things, even sober, and he might invite her back down to London. But he certainly wasn't about to turn up on her doorstep.
Later that afternoon he turned up on her doorstep.
She was in the bedroom packing old clothes to take to a charity shop when she heard a car pull up outside. She glanced out the window and saw Matt's Mondeo at the kerb. Her breath caught. Adrian was downstairs, off work today because he'd worked the weekend. She got a terrible feeling in her gut that proved itself to be fortuitous a few minutes later.
Matt might have driven all the way up here to see her based on an offer of sex, but he still retained some of his shyness, because he didn't immediately get out of the car and stomp to her door. From this elevated angle, she could see Matt's legs through the car window, could see his hand rubbing his thigh nervously. She knew he would be thinking about her boyfriend. She half expected him to just drive off. And she didn't know whether or not to wait and see what he did or go down. But in the end Adrian took away any chance of a choice.
When she heard the front door open, apprehension hit her like a wave. She went down the stairs so fast she tripped near the bottom and had to jump the last four steps to avoid landing on her face. She got to the front door just in time to see Adrian exit the garden gate.
He put a foot on the bonnet of the car, passenger side, and stared through the windscreen.
"You just gonna sit there, then?" he shouted.
"Adrian, come away," Lisa called after him. She ran down the path.
Behind the wheel, Matt just sat there, staring between Adrian and Lisa as she rushed to the gate. He looked concerned, but not scared.
"You gotta get out the car if you want to fuck my girlfriend, mate," Adrian shouted next. Now Lisa could see that he held a rolling pin in his hand. She stormed through the gate just as Adrian smacked the rolling pin hard onto the bonnet of the Mondeo with a clang.
Lisa grabbed Adrian’s arm, the one with the rolling pin, but he yanked it free and turned to her and pushed. She staggered backwards into the low fence and went over, into a border of flowers around their lawn. Even as she landed with a thud, she heard the sound of a car door opening.
"How's this for a different kind of fucking?" she heard Adrian shout as she rolled over and started to get to her feet.
She saw Matt on the pavement. He had adopted a boxer's stance, but his hands were down by his side. In a boxer it might have been considered the taunting pose of a counter-striker. But she knew Matt didn't want to strike the man. Matt didn't like confrontations with people he knew he could wipe the floor with. He was displaying a lack of defence because sometimes that was enough to calm an angry adversary. Not Adrian, though.
He swung the rolling pin, and Matt's hands came up, but his eyes flicked to the side and caught Lisa staring, and instead of a counterstrike or even a disarming move, he simply blocked the blow with the meat of his forearm and moved back. Adrian followed and swung again, cursing. Matt took another shot, same place, and she saw him slightly wince. The next blow he dodged, having decided two thick whacks against his flesh were enough.
And Lisa had decided enough was enough, too. She yanked open the garden gate and slammed it behind her. The noise made Adrian jerk his head in her direction, as intended. She was across the pavement before he could say a word, do anything. She pushed her palm up under his chin, hard, throwing his head back, disorienting his balance, and at the same time kicked at the side of his knee. He dropped onto his ass. She snatched the rolling pin from him and threw it into the garden.
"In the car," she said to Matt. They quickly climbed in and slammed the doors and watched Adrian rise to his feet, sneer at them, and then stomp back to the house.
"Is he going for a shotgun?" Matt said, his tone joking.
"Worse. He's probably going to erase everything on the Sky Planner," Lisa said. "That's what he did last time we argued."
"What if he does worse?"
"He's threatened my coin collection once. I'll cut off his balls." She turned away from the window and took Matt's left arm in her hands. She rolled up the sleeve and examined the spot where he'd taken the rolling pin twice.
"It's fine," Matt said. "He got hold of your phone, I'm guessing."
"She grinned at him. "How do you know I didn't send that message?"
He looked a bit sheepish. "That's not why I came. I got a clue."
"Shit." She glared back at the house. "My phone's back in there. He might bust it."
That was when they saw Adrian at the bedroom window, holding something that looked like a black briefcase made of wood. He held it out of the window and dropped it, and it bust open on the garden path, spraying bits of silver and wood everywhere. Coins, Matt realised.
"That little shit," Lisa barked, and crashed open the door. She got out and turned back to Matt. "Drive up there a bit and wait. I'm coming with you. After I sort this little prick out."
She slammed the door. Matt started the car and moved it towards the end of the street, then parked and watched his rear-view mirror. He waited eight minutes before he saw Lisa emerge from the garden and walk towards him. She had a coat and a bag, and carried that little case of coins.
She threw all the items in the back seat, got in the front.
"I'm not coming back until your problem is sorted. So I'm going to be with you a while. Tell me about your clue and then phone your mother and tell her we're coming to dinner. It's about time I finally got to meet your family properly."
He pulled up outside his parents' house.
They went inside. His father was in the bath, but his mother was on her sofa, doing embroidery things. She looked pleased to see Lisa. Both women hugged, then Mum rushed off to make tea. Still her main priority for a new guest. Matt thought he could have dragged in a road accident victim spraying blood and she
would put the kettle on before dialling 999.
Over tea and biscuits they chatted about Lisa. Mum was genuinely interested in the woman who had made a mark on her Matt and fired questions like an army interrogator, but good-naturedly. Matt was happy to sit and listen. He learned a few things that Lisa had been up to since she left the army. He joined in the conversation only when one of the women targeted a question in his direction. Nobody mentioned Karen.
When his father came down after his bath, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, both men played video games.
Mum asked if either of them was still hungry. Ten minutes later Matt was wolfing down egg on toast, while Lisa took her time to be polite and said so.
"Who looks like they're enjoying it more," Matt said around a mouthful of food, winking at his mother. Lisa stuck her tongue out at him. She felt her phone vibrate in her pocket and took it out for a moment, just long enough to check the screen.
Soon after that, Mum saw them to the door, along with Dad, who still wore only a towel and was far less embarrassed about it than Lisa was.
Matt hugged his mother and shook Dad's hand. Mum also hugged Lisa and then gave Matt a look that he understood, because Lisa understood it, too.
"I'm not running off, Mum," he said. "Not again. I'll be back in a couple of days." He had told her that he and Lisa were popping up to Manchester to meet her parents.
Mum didn't look entirely convinced by this, but did a good job of giving him a happy smile. But she did glance at the bag in his hand. All his stuff. Lisa agreed that he looked like a man who was planning on being away a while.
"You should go see your brother first," Mum said. "He said you had an argument."
"I'm not leaving, Mum," Matt said with a laugh. "Honest. I'm back to stay now."
A few minutes later, they were in the car. The moment both doors were closed, Lisa said, "This came in earlier, but I waited because I knew you'd jump to your feet if I showed you immediately."