The First Betrayal (4 page)

Chapter Eighteen

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It was late when they woke. They looked across at each other from their patio recliners, sleep still etched on their faces, more tired than before they slipped into a drunken coma. Stephen muttered something about coffee and half fell, half staggered into his kitchen. He somehow managed to fill the percolator, go to the bathroom, pour two mugs with life saving liquid and make it back to Mike without any serious injury.  

‘What time did we finish up?’

‘Somewhere between sundown and sunrise. Last thing I remember, you were doing your impression of the Pope.’

‘Is that why I have your Halloween costume on? A confused Pope asked,

Please tell me I didn’t make you kiss my ring.’

‘No Your Holiness, but you did try to canonise me. After that awful day, it was so good to be with a friend and have a laugh. Even if it was at the expense of the church.’

‘Oh don’t worry, the church can take it,’ a laughing defrocked Pope sputtered. They sipped their coffee as they struggled to return to the human form that they inhabited earlier. The day was well on its way, unsettled and a little frenzied. The air was heavy with heat, boiling the rain that was gathering in the clouds. They rolled dark and threatening, fighting for dominance over the friendly clusters of cotton.

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Chequers suddenly appeared on the deck. Having to walk himself, he hadn’t felt the need to return on any time limit. He had been gone all morning and it was great. No leash and no one pulling him back from unexplored delights.  He was able to chase the rabbits over the dunes, and when a pheasant flew up from the rushes and scared the be-Jesus out of him, Stephen wasn’t there to laugh.  Every tree got a sprinkle and every smell got a double extra long sniff. When he arrived back Stephen and Mike were looking like they had spent too much time in the toilet bowl and eaten too much of that meaty stuff Stephen called pate , that always made him icky, and Stephen always shooed him away from, saying it would sicken him.'

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‘Well where have you been, you dirty little stop out. I’m sorry we were out of sorts my little man but I wondered why you weren’t sitting on Mike and licking him into saliva induced vomit. Are you hungry?’

‘Now that you mention it, I could go for a few sausages.’

‘Actually I was talking to Chequers, but that’s exactly what he would ask for. Only he would say snausages. Are you two in cahoots?’

Mike, lifted by the light hearted banter, extracted himself from his papal robes and hangover misery. He gazed at the sky and watched as it sped by. This day was heaven sent and he didn’t want to waste any more of its tumultuous beauty. Together they mustered up a feast of snausages, eggs and crispy hickory bacon.

‘Here you go wee man; sorry you had to take care of yourself today. All my fault, 

A hungry Chequers stayed close and helped dispose of any contrite morsels, willingly given up by guilty hands.

Sometimes it paid off having your humans on a guilty leash.

Chapter Nineteen

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Vera left the hairdressers full of anticipation and smugness. She looked good and felt even better. Adam wont know what hit him, she thought to herself. She definitely felt the deck was stacked in her favour. Adam might be beautiful, but she was determined and more importantly, she was horny, and that was a winning combination in her book. She strode on towards the home, sniffing the air like a feral animal trying to detect a vulnerable prey. The afternoon smelled of delicious flavours only the sexually deprived would notice. The hot sun was heating the atmosphere to a sweaty and salty sweetness. It had been some time since she had tasted the savoury delights of a man’s body and she could not wait to jump into Adams particular pool of flavours.

Living with her mum had a detrimental effect on her love life for sure, and it wasn’t even that her mum minded her bringing guys home, she was all for 'her Vera' landing a man, but unfortunately, the guys did mind.  When her mum passed away, she thought that side of things would automatically right itself, but the well had run dry and so had she. Now new blood had presented itself and she wasn’t about to let a new fresh spring turn arid and bake in the sultry sun.

Chapter Twenty 

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Returning home, Lucy felt as if a something physical and emotional had shifted from her earthly body. A serene feeling overwhelmed her and rendered her free from the nonsense of everyday life. She moved through her chores of laundry and boring tedious housework with a carefree and disembodied drift. She pulled together a dinner of sausages and canned alpha betty spaghetti, her girls favourite. They liked to make silly words that always made them laugh. Always.

While the sausages were cooking, Lucy went upstairs to check on them. She didn’t have to go to their rooms, their laughing innocent voices told her where they were and what they were doing. She went along to her bedroom and picked up the pill bottle that she dropped yesterday. She shook her head at how stupid she had nearly been, put them in her pocket and went back downstairs. The sausages were almost ready, sizzling and spitting fat on the stove. She removed the pills from the bottle and crushed them with the bottom of a glass, and then she shared the powdery mixture between two glasses and filled them with ice-cold milk from the fridge.

‘Girls, dinners ready, wash your hands and come down.’

The food had barely made it to the plate before two hungry and happy mouths descended the stairs at break neck speed and landed at the kitchen table.  They chattered about their day and how they were going to brag at school the next day, how while the rest of them were stuck in a horrible class room, that they were out in the park and having a blast, skipping school with their cool mom.  They ate every bit, and even managed to wipe up spaghetti sauce with bread and butter. Washing down their delicious dinner with the cold milk, they asked if it was ok to watch telly before bedtime. Getting what they wanted, the girls shouted yippee before skipping down the hall to the sitting room. Lucy poured herself a glass of wine and sat at the table. She checked her watch, 6.45pm, plenty of time she thought to herself, relax and enjoy.

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Clara was on cloud nine, they had a day off school, a yummy dinner, (her favourite) allowed to watch telly before bed and best of all, Mum was her old self. What a great day. She couldn’t wait to put it in her journal. She looked over at Laurie who was lost in the colours and sounds of the cartoon. Scooby and Shaggy were up to their old tricks, fighting ghosts when they weren’t hiding from them She was too old for cartoons but Laurie liked them, and she was just happy to sit and let her watch what she wanted. Laurie was just a kid after all and didn’t understand what was happening with their mum. She didn’t really know either, but she knew that mum was very unhappy but was now better, especially since that new friend turned up, and that was all that mattered. Clara looked over again at Laurie and saw that her head was bobbing up and down, trying to stay awake.

‘Mum, Laurie is falling asleep.’

‘Ok love, Ill be right in.’ as she turned off the TV, she heard Laurie mumble, ‘I was watching that.’ Laughing at her little sister, Clara pulled off her shoes and socks, trying to help her mum.

‘Oh thanks Clara, that’s a big help, Ill run her upstairs and put her straight to bed. She’s out for the count, bless her. Aren’t you going to stay up a little longer?’

‘No, I want to write in my journal, if that’s alright?’

‘Off course it is pet, Ill come in later on and tuck you in, ok?’

‘Sure thing mom, I’m just going to get a drink of water.’ As her mum carried Laurie upstairs, Clara went to the kitchen for her drink. She saw that the dishes were still on the table and decided to wash them as a surprise. She gathered all the dishes and ran hot water with a big splash of cleaning liquid. As the bubbles gathered and rose in the water, Clara picked up the milk glasses first. She was just about to plunge them into the sink when she noticed the powdery grains in the bottom of the glass, so she picked up the other one and saw the same powder in that one too. Her mum’s milk glass was still on the table but there were no grains in that one. An uneasy feeling pushed up from her tummy, but she finished off the dishes before heading up to ask her mother what the stuff was, and why it was only in their glasses. When she got to her sisters door, the soft voice of her mother singing a lullaby eased her funny tummy, and pushed the door in quietly so as not to waken Laurie. What she saw not only made her stomach jump up in her throat but also made her little heart stop in her chest. Her mother was kneeling on the bed over Laurie pushing a pillow down on her sister’s face. She turned and ran to her room; she went to her safe place, under the bed. She kept her old dollies and teddies there, the ones she pretended she was too old to play with. On nights when she thought she heard noises outside her window, she would creep under and cuddle them for comfort, all the time telling herself that she was comforting them.

Her mother’s footsteps were coming towards her room, and she pulled herself up into a ball. She had never been afraid of her mom before, but now she was more terrified than she ever was, even on those scary windy nights. Her door pushed open and she held her breath. Normally her mother whispered her name at this time of night because her sister was always asleep first, but not tonight, tonight she called out loud and clear.

‘Clara, where are you pet?’ then lowering her voice and mumbling, she said to herself, ‘she’s probably in the bathroom brushing her teeth.’  Her mother left and Clara dragged herself from under the bed and ran downstairs. First the sitting room, nowhere to hide, then the kitchen, nowhere their either. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as she thought. Mum might have been just fixing the pillow. ‘Yeah right, she was smothering her sister. Her sister who is now dead and she was next. Think Clara, think.’

The utility room was the only place left, and when she ran in the washing machines door was open with dirty towels thrown on the floor. She looked around and before her heart stopped completely, she climbed into the drum and pulled a towel in with her to cover herself. She pulled the door closed as much as she could and waited like a scared little animal hiding from the big bad hunter. Inside the machine, everything was muffled, except her heartbeat, which was so loud Harry Potters pet owl would hear it. For the first time on that horrible night, the tears started and her small body shook with fear for herself, and for her little sister who would never wake up again. Would never know the magical wonders of Hogwarts. Over the heaving tears and deafening pounding of her heart, she thought she heard her mother in the room, but she was too afraid to move or look. CLICK. She couldn’t believe it; her mum had pushed the door closed. Overhead she heard the gushing of water hitting the drawer and then the cold fingers of it hitting her. She manoeuvred herself into a better position and started banging on the door.

‘Mum, I’m here, please turn it off, please mum, I wont tell anyone about Laurie. MUM, MUM, I’m your little girl, please don’t kill me. PLEASE MUM PLEASE.’

Lucy bends down in front of the washing machine and looks in at her daughter getting wetter and wetter.

‘Don’t worry my love; you will be happy with God. He’s waiting for you and your sister. I have to move on with my life, and you and Laurie are no longer a part of that life. Now be a good girl and be quiet.’

Lucy walked out of her house and her old life for the last time.

Chapter Twenty One

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The day had been languid and soothing. A much-needed respite that all three of them needed. Chequers was replete after his extended walk and a very generous brunch. Mike was full of savoury pleasures that a salty breakfast treat had satisfied. Stephen was just happy to have company that didn’t want his belly rubbed at every opportunity. They spent the rest of the day slumming around the house, listening to Stephen’s collection of vinyl records and watching old movies. In between walks of course. The time ran away on them and soon it was feeding time again. As Mike needed to get back to his sermon, they decided on dinner in the hotel first. Chequers was a regular and a very welcome visitor at the End, so three hungry hounds headed for dinner. Seated at their favourite table, Stephen and Mike browsed the menu, even though they knew and had tried every item on there. They both decided on the steak and onion rings and Chequers, after much thought opted for the pork chops and mash potatoes.

‘Everything all right guys?’ the waitress enquired.

‘Delicious as always, Joanne. No Gladys tonight?’

‘She never showed for her shift today. I was called in early to cover. Dessert for anyone?’ Vigorous headshakes spoke volumes.

‘Time I was off, thanks for the therapy. Chat to you tomorrow Stephen, and Chequers, as always a pleasure.’    

‘Alright Mike. I think Ill check on Gladys. It’s not like her not to turn up. Good luck with the sermon.’

‘Come on pooch, let’s go.’ Outside, as the sky had predicted earlier, rain thundered down soaking anything that stood still too long. Jumping into the jeep, they travelled the short distance to Gladys’s house. There were dim lights within, but no signs of life. He waited, unsure what to do. Should he knock and if he did, what if Jim came to the door, what would he say? If he said he was worried about Gladys, would Jim take it the wrong way? He didn’t even know the guy. It might get her into trouble having a guy come round asking where she was. What the hell, he’d play it by ear.

‘Come on boy, I’m sure I can use you in some way, I can pretend that I nearly hit you and thought you might be theirs. Yea, that might fly. Well are you coming or not.’ Chequers didn’t need asking again, who knew what delights might be waiting behind the door. Stephen approached uncertainly, aware of how it might look to both of them, but hell he was here now. He rang the bell, waited and rang again. No answer. He could hear the bell inside so knew it was working. He tried knocking, hard, but still nothing. Hesitating, a little uneasily, he tried the doorknob and turned it. The door pushed open into a dim hallway, a small light beckoned from beyond. ‘Hello, anyone home? Hi there, it’s Stephen Powers. HELLO’.  Silence, apart from their own anxious breathing. They moved down the hall, and Chequers started whining softly, ears pulled back and tail down. Stephen’s skin begins to pucker and crawl as he neared the light. The door was slightly ajar, he eased it open and saw the TV was on, and in front of that, a high backed chair. ’Jesus fucking Christ.’  The words fell out of his mouth without him realising, and Chequers continued to whine cos he knew something wasn’t right. He moved around in front of the chair, stunned and horrified at the sight of Jim. Two knitting needles protruding from his neck, like a hideous X. His eyes still open and gazing at the TV screen, the pool of black blood gathered around the chair legs. The metallic smell was nauseating and he wondered how he hadn’t noticed it when he first entered the house. Chequers had.

Dreading what he might find, he forced his legs up the stairs. Chequers ran ahead of him and into the bathroom. He barked only once but loud and sharp, alerting Stephen to that room. Gladys was in the bath, her pale body a stark difference to the dark bloody water she was lying in. A razor lay on the floor, blood on its edge. Poor Gladys, what the hell made her do something so awful, so deliberate, and so final. She was always so upbeat and frisky. Yea, frisky was the best way to describe her character. Why? Damn it. He backed out the door and retraced his steps to the front door. Dr Bells number was in his phones memory, and after a few rings, he answered. He was on a call at the other end of the island, at the gas explosion. Stephen explained that there was nothing he could do, and they arranged to meet in the morning. The Doc tutted, muttering about being under-paid for all this extra work, and hung up. For the second time in two days, he rang the mainland.