by Luca Veste
The noise was still there.
A soft thump every few seconds or so.
Is this it? Is this the end?
I opened the door as soundlessly as I could, moving onto the landing and stepping carefully on the carpet. I stopped at the top of the stairs, listening again. The noise was a little louder now, and I realized it was coming from the back of the house. I slowly descended the stairs, my back to the wall, carefully stepping on each stair to minimize any creaks. My eyes were focused on the open door that led to my living room, looking for any light or movement.
I reached the bottom of the stairs and followed the path through. Kept my back toward the wall as I approached the living room. I could see better now, as I became more accustomed to the darkness.
The only noise other than the rhythmic banging was my own breathing. I concentrated on it and took comfort in the sound. I could see the outlines of the furniture in the room as I reached the doorway. The kitchen door was on my right, at the end of the hallway.
I swiveled into the room, holding the bat out to my side, ready to swing. Held my breath, as I waited for someone to emerge.
Nothing happened.
I looked around, waiting to see what I’d expected.
No candle.
The banging sound came again, from the direction of the kitchen. My breathing quickened, so I swallowed a few times and took a moment to calm myself again. I willed my heart rate to slow down, tried to soothe myself with comforting thoughts.
Struggled to think of any.
I moved off slowly, rounding the doorway into the hall toward the kitchen door. It was closed, so I placed my palm out and rested it on the door. I was standing off to the side as I pushed, in case someone was waiting on the other side.
I’d have a second, a bat in my hand, and that was about it in terms of defense.
No wonder I couldn’t think of anything comforting to think about.
I pushed again, and when nothing jumped out at me, I moved gradually toward the entrance, ready to move at speed.
The back door was open.
Cold air breezed through the kitchen, making me shiver as my chest was exposed to the winter wind and protested. A little light was illuminating the top end of the room, coming from the houses opposite my garden.
I moved quickly, purposefully, outside, careful to not expose my back to any possible hidden attack. Saw the back gate still closed and locked. Faced the backyard and watched silently for movement that never came.
I tried to remember locking the back door and couldn’t recall it. I was usually mindful of that, but I wasn’t sure I had when I’d arrived back home.
That was it, I thought. I’d left it open when I’d put something out and just forgotten. The wind had picked up overnight and opened it up fully, that was all. Banging against the bin and the kitchen counter. I was relieved suddenly, when I figured it all out.
That didn’t stop me thinking the worst.
Then, a scent in the air that reminded me of someone. A sense memory. An aroma.
Aftershave or shower gel. Something of that sort.
I saw Stuart in my mind. Clearly. Laughing at some joke, baring his teeth for the world to see. Bumping me with his shoulder as his body shook with unbridled laughter. The memory faded, but the smell in the air lingered.
I closed the back door, mindful to any noise coming from inside, and hearing nothing. I moved toward the light switch, flicking it on and feeling instantly safer for no apparent reason. I bathed myself in a forty-watt glow, looking for anything that had been moved. Everything looked stark now, edges to peripheral items that hadn’t existed in the dark. I calmed myself again, taking deep breaths, the coolness of the room lingering, not warming me up any.
I turned the tap on over the sink and filled a glass. Drank rapidly, soothing my dry and scratchy throat. I placed the glass on the drainer and realized I was still holding onto the bat at my side. I looked at it and wondered how useful it actually would have been if someone had jumped out of the shadows and gone after me. I smiled to myself as I hoped the fact I was half-naked and not exactly small in stature would have intimidated any potential burglar.
Only, I knew that wouldn’t have been who was in my house at this time.
I moved back through to the living room, adrenaline still coursing through my body. I wasn’t going to go back to sleep anytime soon. I switched on the floor lamp, picked up the remote control, and turned on the TV. Checked the time.
6:42 a.m.
A couple of hours sleep before a door woke me up.
Great.
I hadn’t checked the office.
You idiot.
I couldn’t live like this anymore.
I switched on lights as I left the living room and walked into the dining room/office. I was expecting the worst, but it was exactly as I’d left it the previous night.
Above me, I could hear music.
I’d left my phone upstairs.
Someone was calling me.
2002
My last exam was over, and that was three years of my life suddenly at an end. There was something unsettling about the process, as I sat at the bar of the cheap pub on campus, downing the dregs of a pint of Carlsberg.
It was two in the afternoon, and I planned on getting steaming drunk.
“Think of it this way—at least there’s a chance of retaking them.”
I rolled my eyes at Stuart, who was already three pints in by the time I’d joined him. Not that it showed. He was an annoying drunk, who never seemed to show any effect alcohol had on him. The only difference seemed to be an increase in the volume of his voice.
Chris was the other side of me and slapped a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
I grunted a nonresponse and got up to refresh my glass. Chris followed me, as Stuart kneeled on the seat in the booth and chatted to the group of women sitting on the one behind us.
“Isn’t he supposed to be seeing Michelle?” Chris said to me, waving the barman over and pointing at the Carlsberg pump. “Two and a Coke.”
“You not having another one?”
“No, I can’t. I’m not finished yet, remember? Got to keep myself on the straight and narrow. Don’t want to screw up like you might have.”
“Cheers for that,” I said, but smiled, sensing the attempt to lighten the mood. I wasn’t even sure I’d done all that badly in the exam, but it was enough to make me wonder if I’d just wasted three years of my life, only to fall at the last hurdle. It seemed wrong somehow, to make everything dependent on the last few weeks of a student’s career. Sadistic, if anything.
“Anyway, him and Michelle, what’s going on?”
I looked back at Stuart, who was telling the women some kind of story. They were all around twenty, twenty-one, which surprised me. He usually went after first and second years now, as the older students had all heard his tall tales by now. “I don’t know. I think they’ve been off and on again more times than Ross and Rachel. Did you see that by the way? Apparently Joey accidentally proposes to Rachel after she has the baby.”
“Matt, you know I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Right, right,” I said, chuckling to myself. “I forgot it’s all about the serious programs for you. Honestly, you were much more interesting when we used to watch Power Rangers and WWF. Anyway, as I said, I don’t know what’s going on with them two. It seems like they’re just back and forth all the time.”
“They’ll work it out,” Chris replied, handing over a note to the barman and lifting his glass of Coke up. “Cheers to you, by the way.”
I lifted my own pint and clinked it against his soft drink. “I can’t believe that’s it. All done. Got to start thinking about the real world now. Getting a proper job.”
“You’ll find something quicker than a
ny of us.”
I began to disagree when I noticed a couple of blokes entering and stopping in the doorway. They nudged each other and pointed toward Stuart. I rolled my eyes and poked Chris in the arm. “Look, here comes trouble.”
Chris tensed up and turned toward the two men walking straight to Stuart. I couldn’t hear what was being said, but from the pointed fingers and chests being puffed out, I didn’t think it was anything good.
We didn’t need to say anything, placing our drinks back on the bar and walking across toward them.
“…sniffing around something that doesn’t belong to you.”
“I don’t belong to you,” a woman from the group protested as we reached them finally.
“Listen, lads, there’s nothing going on,” Stuart said, his hands up in defense. “I was just talking.”
“What’s the problem?” I said, standing next to Stuart and sensing Chris moving to my side. “Everything okay here?”
“You his mate?”
“I am.”
“Same,” Chris said, but his voice was quiet and even I could hear the fear within it. I glanced at him, and he was already sweating. Still, two against two was still good odds, I thought.
“Well, you need to get your mate out of here before I knock his teeth in,” the smaller of the two grunted through gritted teeth. He was half a foot shorter than me, but his friend was about the same going the other way. I imagined they were called little and large by people behind their backs.
“No need for that,” Stuart said under his breath, but he seemed to want to avoid anything further.
“What did you say?”
“I said, you’re welcome to her, lad,” Stuart replied, a smile appearing on his face. It didn’t reach his eyes though. He reached down and picked up his jacket. “Got no interest in used goods. Come on, let’s go.”
I could have done without the jibe at the blameless woman, but I was just glad Stuart was backing down.
“What did you say?”
“You heard me,” Stuart said, walking past the bar, grabbing his drink and downing half of his pint in one go. “Got more important things to do than stand around here and have a pissing contest with you.”
“Yeah, run along, little boy. Before you get your face smashed in.”
My shoulders fell as I felt Stuart bristle as we came close to him. He stopped in his tracks and began to face them. I looked at the door and wondered which one I’d end up fighting, while Stuart took the other and Chris rang the police or something.
I opened my mouth to speak, but Stuart was already moving.
Only, it wasn’t toward the two men. It was toward the door, as Chris gripped him by both shoulders and marched him out of the bar.
“Come on,” Chris was saying, not breaking stride and pushing the door open. I followed them out, not looking back. “They’re not worth it.”
“We can’t back down from them—”
“I’m not joking, Stuart,” Chris said, not letting up on the pace as we walked away from the pub and onto the university square. “We’ve got more to lose than those idiots.”
“They can’t get away with that,” Stuart replied, his voice low and angry. He was red in the face, his body looking like it would explode at any moment. “No one talks to me like that.”
“I know, I know,” Chris said, trying to keep the peace, as I fell into step with them.
I patted Stuart on the back, but he didn’t seem to feel it.
“I’m serious, Chris. They’re not going to get away with it.”
“They won’t, I agree, but not now, okay? We need to think about our future right now.”
Stuart seemed to calm as we continued to walk. Chris placating him the whole way, telling him what he needed to hear, while also making sure he was far enough away that it wouldn’t reach the ears of the idiots we’d left behind us.
I didn’t see that side of Stuart often—none of us did. Chris was the only one who could calm him down. All of us had tried over the previous three years, but he was the only one who had any success.
We didn’t see the two lads again. University was over within a week or so after that night.
Stuart would talk about them though. Every day after that, still unhappy that he hadn’t taught them a lesson.
I spent that week wondering at one point if he would lead us into something we couldn’t handle.
Thirty
I ran upstairs, out of breath by the time I reached my phone. It stopped just as I reached it, the screen turning black. I checked the missed call.
A number that wasn’t stored in my phone. I checked the time and was about to dismiss it as a telemarketer, then rejected the idea. Even they tended to wait another hour or two before bothering me.
I took the phone downstairs, deciding to Google the number before calling it back. As I typed it in, the phone rang again. I answered instantly.
“Hello?”
A woman’s voice I didn’t recognize came on the line, sounding tired and as if she had been crying. “Matthew?”
“Yeah, who’s calling?”
“Sorry for ringing you so early,” she said, sniffing and seeming to compose herself. “It’s Val, Michelle’s mum.”
I was sitting down without realizing, as my legs gave out beneath me. There was silence, but it took a few seconds before I realized she was waiting for me to talk. I cleared my throat. “Okay, erm, is something wrong?”
“I’m not sure,” Val said, clearly trying to keep herself calm. “Michelle was supposed to come here yesterday. She was in a right state when she called me and said she’d be coming over to visit. Tried to hide it of course, like she always does, but I could tell. Anyway, I was a little worried because she’s been a bit off for a couple of weeks now—well, even longer than that, but that’s not important. When she didn’t turn up, I tried ringing her back, but I haven’t had a reply at all. I’ve messaged her, so has her sister. And her aunty. No one has heard anything. Her sister has just driven up to her house, and there’s no one there. I’m just a bit worried now. She called me the other day and said if anything happened to her to call you and gave me your number.”
I tried to remember Val’s face, but it wouldn’t come to mind. We had met a couple of times when we were younger, but I couldn’t see it now.
My mind was trying to drag me away from what was happening in that phone call.
“Right, I see,” I replied, scratching the back of my neck with my free hand and trying to keep my voice from cracking. “I spoke to her yesterday and she seemed okay. She mentioned going over to your house, as she’s been feeling a bit under the weather. Maybe she’s just sleeping it off?”
“Her sister said her car wasn’t outside and she knocked loud enough to wake the neighbors, with no answer.”
“Right…”
“Do you know where she might be?”
I tried to come up with an answer that might give her some comfort but struggled to think of something. Tried to come up with a thought that might give comfort to myself. Failed at that too. I went for platitude. “I’m sure she’s fine. Maybe she’s stopped off at a friend’s and just crashed out. It’s only early—she’ll call you soon enough, I’m sure. I’ll try to ring her myself and see if I can get hold of her.”
“I don’t really know any of her friends…”
“That’s okay. I know a few,” I said quickly, wanting the phone call to be over. Wanting so much to tell her everything. Knowing what was at stake. Michelle, alone, out there somewhere. In danger. If I said something now, it could be over. I could save her. Only, I knew it was too late. That this was it. I could stop it now, just by saying something, but I couldn’t. I hated myself for it, but I couldn’t do it. Instead, I swallowed and tried to sound normal. “I’ll get in touch if I hear anything. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.�
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“Okay, no problem. I’m sure you’re right. It’s just…you never stop worrying, you know. Even when your kids are older. I’m sure you know that.”
I murmured an agreement, then ended the call after saying goodbye. I stared at the phone for a few seconds, picturing Michelle as I’d left her.
I left her. Alone.
This was on me if something had happened to her. And there wasn’t much that was dissuading me from the thought that it had.
I navigated to WhatsApp on my phone and sent a few messages. Chris, Nicola, Alexandra. Time was, we had a group chat going on the app, but that had ended a year earlier. No one posted anything on there, but I checked Michelle’s name on there and looked for when she had last been online.
Not since the previous afternoon. I checked the time on it—only thirty minutes after I’d spoken to her.
She was in trouble. Or she had been and I was far too late.
I had to resist the urge to throw my phone across the room. I gripped it tighter in my hand and heard a guttural sound in my throat. I scrunched my eyes shut and shouted in frustration.
I think I would have stayed in that position for a long time if my phone hadn’t started ringing again. The display blinked into focus, and I saw Chris’s name on the screen.
“Hey,” he said after I answered. “What’s…what’s wrong?”
I swallowed down the emotion and attempted to talk. “It’s Michelle.” I tried to ignore the rapidly forming lump in the back of my throat and faltered through an explanation of the phone call I’d just had with Michelle’s mum. There was no holding it back any longer and I let go. “We waited too long,” I said when I was done. I was past sadness, past fear; now I was just angry. “If we had just gone to the police yesterday—”
“Hold up. We don’t even know if anything has happened to her yet,” Chris replied, his voice rising over the phone. “Maybe it’s how you said it. She could have gone somewhere else or just be sick or tired. Something like that.”
“You really think that? Even after all this? She doesn’t have anyone else, Chris. She had us and we’ve let her down.”