by Jim Bennett
‘You know what I mean'.
‘No, explain it to me Julie. Does the urge to rob a corner shop come over every teenager in England when they put on their first pair of trainers?'
‘Stop being ridiculous’. She walked away from him and into the kitchen. He followed her. At the sink, she attempted to wash the pigment from her hands. When that didn’t work, she started to scrub at the stain on her trousers with a scouring pad.
‘I’m not the one condemning an entire generation because they wear sporty clothes. It was all such a joke to him, she could hear it in her voice. He thought everything she said was ridiculous. More than that, he thought she was ridiculous.
‘What did he give to you then?' Julie spun around to face him, angry now.
He didn’t look quite so cocky for a moment.
‘What?'
‘What did he hand you, just before he left? Are you telling me that was legal? Little packet of sugar, was it?’
A nasty grin spread over his face.
‘Why are you getting so worked up Julie? Are you having a hot flush? Bit of a problem for you old girls, isn’t it?' He slowly looked her up and down.
All of Julie’s righteous indignation left her. Her face flushed and her legs felt weak.
‘Are you having another one now?' he said, adopting faux concern. ‘Do you need me to get you anything? Do you need to sit down, can I get you a chair?'
‘Why are you being like this?' she said in a voice as small as she felt.
‘I’m just trying to look after you, Julie’. He closed the gap between them and placed a hand on her arm. ‘I’m here for whatever you need’. All of a sudden she felt sick. She felt like if a man didn’t touch her again until the rapture, it will still be much too soon. She shrugged her shoulder hard and he moved his arm away from her.
‘I don’t want people like that in my house’.
‘Easy darling, he wasn’t in the…’, but Julie interrupted him before he could finish.
‘I don’t care Jack. I don’t care what clever line you’ve got prepared’, she said, much more loudly. ‘I don’t want people like that in my house’.
‘Bloody hell, calm down dear’. He went to the fridge and took a beer from it. She felt her fury anew, mostly because she had actually felt the need to buy beer especially for the little shit. ‘I only usually see you getting worked up like that in the bedroom. Or is that the problem? You’re feeling a bit frisky?'
‘Don’t talk to me like that’, Julie said in a raised voice.
‘Or what?' Jack slammed his beer down on the kitchen table unopened. ‘What are you going to do? Throw me out? Boo fucking hoo. Do you think I need anything from you? Do you not think there’s a hundred others like you that I could get into bed just like that?’
‘Why don’t you go then? Why don’t you take your little guitar and your bag of trendy clothes and fuck off?'
They both stood there in silence, eyes locked on one another. Julie couldn’t believe that she had sworn. Jack no doubt was deciding whether to call her bluff when he had no job or anywhere else to go. The stalemate was broken with a knock at the door. He followed her back into the hallway when she went to see who was there.
‘Julie, listen, listen’, he said following her. ‘I’m sorry, alright? I didn’t mean it'. He moved in front of her, blocking her way to the front of the house. ‘Why don’t I make us something nice for dinner and we can talk about it?'
Julie was having none of it. She felt like his mask had slipped, and instead of the charming young man who had made her feel wanted and appreciated, she could now see who he really was. He was the cock that the woman in the bar last night had been talking about. Someone who got what they wanted, and didn’t care what the consequences were for the people around them.
‘You can stay for as long as you like Jack’. Julie’s voice was still harsh and probably a bit too loud. ‘But last night was a mistake. I’m your friend’s mum and that’s it'.
In the way of a response, he scoffed in her face and stormed upstairs.
When she opened the front door, it was the last person in the world she expected standing on the other side.
‘I have been knocking for a while’, Mrs Sinclair said, ‘but no one answered. I was about to give up'. A tall and slender woman with beautifully silky long, black hair, she had made Julie feel incredibly frumpy once upon a time. Now though, the contoured lines of her face had a haunted quality about them, no doubt the result of having to surrender your life in the care of another. Mrs Sinclair continued to wear her hair down, but it was now frizzy and lined with a few telltale strands of grey.
‘Yes, sorry, I was at the back of the house’, Julie said.
Mrs Sinclair held out the hedge clippers she was holding. Julie stared at them vacantly for a few seconds and then looked back at Mrs Sinclair.
‘The gardener left them on the patio yesterday. I thought he might need them for one of his other jobs’.
‘Right', Julie said. As she took them, Julie could hear Jack banging down the stairs. When she turned to look at him, she saw he had paused at the bottom step, holding his guitar and looking at the two women in conversation.
‘Mrs Sinclair was bringing your hedge clippers back’, Julie said, holding them out to him.
‘They’re not mine', he said, pushing between them both. Julie had to move her head back to avoid being hit in his face with the guitar. Before Julie could question him any further, he was away from the house and out of sight.
Julie turned her attention back to Mrs Sinclair who was now making her way down the garden path.
‘Excuse me’, Julie called, ‘these aren’t ours’. Mrs Sinclair took no notice, and continued to walk away from her.
Julie spent the evening alone lying on the sofa. For her dinner, she had found something in the freezer and had microwaved it without much thought. Lying there with the television blaring unwatched in the background, she had felt defeated, both physically and mentally. This particular Sunday had taken everything she had to endure with nothing to show for it.
She had been craving her bed all day. As soon as she had showered and climbed into its soft embrace, she knew that it was going to be one of those days that despite being desperately tired, her sleep would be fitul and offering no real restbite. She knew from past experience that you could be on the verge of collapse but it didn’t matter if whatever was happening in your life was keeping you wired. In those situations, like the one she now found herself in, there was no chance of real sleep.
Lying awake, Julie couldn’t help replaying the events of the last few days. The argument with Jack had felt cathartic. There didn’t seem to be any ambiguity between them any longer. Julie found it hard to recover the shame and regret that had suffered from so acutely earlier in the day. As is often the case when you are able to analyse the events of an evening of drinking with some hindsight, it all now just felt a bit awkward. She didn’t dread seeing Jack, but she didn’t really want to. She knew that she had told him he could stay for as long as he wanted. Now though she thought that she would have to ask him to leave. There was no real point in him staying in Brumpton anyway, now that he had balls up his job prospects entirely. This small point of decision gave her a temporary sense of peace, and she was able to drift off.
She was woken up by what she thought was the sound of the back door opening. The clock on the bedside table told her it was 1.15am. Part of her wanted to go downstairs and see if it had been Jack returning home. She thought about going to tell Jack now that she would like him to leave today. Wearing her middle aged lady pajamas in her duvet cocoon, she suddenly felt very vulnerable. The primitive part of her brain that craved the warm and comfortable was telling her that of course it would be a mistake to leave the safety of this room. What on earth had a hundred thousand generations of humanity toiled for if she was just going to put herself in danger for the sake of ejecting her unwanted guest half a day early?
On the edge of indecision, Julie the
n heard a noise that she thought was the front door opening. She lay there trying not to breathe so she could better hear the noises downstairs. Silence, she was sure of it. Turning onto her side, she attempted to put the whole silly situation out of her head and went back to sleep.
Julie was woken again by the unmistakable sound of the front door slamming closed. Irritated, she realised that it must have been Jack coming home from whatever he had been doing all night. She surprised herself by falling back to sleep fairly quickly. However, after what she sure was only a short time, Julie realised that she was awake and facing the far bedroom wall. Nothing drastic had woken her this time. She hadn’t been startled or thought that she was in any danger, but she was sure there was something not quite right. She turned over to look at the clock and saw that it was a little after three o'clock. Her eyes drifted to the other side of the room. It took her a few moments to process what she was seeing. Jack was standing in the doorway. He was backlit by the landing light, and she struggled to focus on him, her eyes still sleepy. The mess of his hair was still easily identifiable. She could also just about make out his bohemian uniform; the baggy grey vest handing off his shoulders and the cargo shorts hanging off his hips.
‘What do you want Jack?' Julie asked groggily, shielding her eyes from the light.
Jack made some non-committal noises, hovering on the threshold.
‘Are you drunk?’
He made a sort of deep grunting sound in the back of his throat which Julie thought was a yes. When she went to sit up, he took half a step backwards out into the hallway. She thought he might be trying to get her to come with him back to his room. For a repeat of last night’s antics perhaps.
Thinking of the best way to let him down gently, Julie said ‘it’s really late. I need to go back to sleep’.
Jack didn’t answer her.
‘We’ll talk in the morning, okay?' Accepting defeat, Jack left and closed the door behind him. The room was once again plunged into darkness. Julie felt a bit uneasy. She told herself that there wasn’t anything to be afraid of. Jack wasn’t dangerous, just a bit drunk. In a moment of panic, Julie jumped out of bed, took the dining room chair that was positioned in front of her dressing table and attempted to jam it under the door handle. She knew it wasn’t logical. In fact, she appreciated that it was ridiculous behaviour. The only practical use would probably be to warn her when someone opened the door and it sent the chair clattering forward, but it made her feel better. She didn’t think she would get any meaningful rest now, but still closed her eyes, happy to accept any small disconnect with consciousness that was possible.
A few minutes later, before she fell asleep for the last time, Julie heard something that sounded larger than a car driving into the street. A few seconds later, its engine was shut off and the driver’s obnoxiously loud music died. Intrigued, Julie scrambled onto her knees and saw that the van belonged to a 24 hour plumber who was walking up Mrs Sinclair’s drive.
‘Alright love? Got a problem with your plumbing?' She could easily hear his gaunty cockney tones travelling over the dead of the night, although Mrs Sinclair’s response wasn’t audible. Satisfied that she wasn’t missing out on anything interesting, Julie lay back down.
At eight o'clock, her alarm started blaring much too soon for Julie's taste. It took her longer than usual to find her phone and silence it. She heard an unusual hum of activity outside the window for this early in the morning. Looking outside, she saw two paramedics returning their supplies to the back of an ambulance before getting inside themselves and driving away. The vehicle had been parked in front on the other side of the street. Mr Sinclair must have had a funny turn in the night, Julie thought.
She didn’t feel rested, just groggy. She could have happily gone back to sleep for another few hours. It felt like nothing in the world was worth achieving today, especially not selling great quantities of sand to unassuming pensioners. Why not tell Mr Peg she wasn’t coming in? Better yet, why not tell Mr Peg that she wouldn’t ever be coming back. She tried to remind herself that it was much easier to have a sense of perspective when you haven’t spent all evening lounging around the house feeling sorry for yourself.
Dragging herself from bed, she moved the chair from in front of the bedroom door and walked towards the bathroom. The door to Jack’s room stood ajar. Julie was about to avert her eyes, not wanting to catch Jack in flagrante delicto when she noticed something odd. She saw that Jack was lying on his back with his left arm hanging over the bed, hand facing up. Julie thought that lying in such a way couldn’t be comfortable.He must really be out of it.
‘Jack’, Julie said, pushing the door open. ‘Are you okay?'
The smell of vomit hit her as soon as she entered the room. Her first reaction was not revulsion, but irritation that she would probably be the one who would need to clean it up. However, when she noticed that Jack’s eyes were half closed and the source of the offending smell was still pooled in his mouth and crusted down his cheeks, that emotion soon turned to dread and then nausea. There was a red pinprick on his arm, and what she expected was the offending needle lying on the floor a few feet from the bed.
Julie ran to the bathroom and for the second day in a row, she started her morning by retching into the toilet. In between the violent heaves of her stomach, she made the decision that she definitely wasn’t going to work today.
Chapter Nine
Julie sat with her elbows resting on her knees. She had only drank a small amount of the coffee that had been given to her. Instead, she had clutched to the mug with both hands wrapped around it as soon as it had been cool enough to hold. It didn’t provide much of a comfort, but at least it stopped her moving her arms around every ten seconds.
‘It’s alright to be shocked’, the police woman said. She was sitting opposite Julie at the kitchen table. ‘At least we know you didn’t kill him’. She chuckled to herself and dipped her head in an attempt to catch Julie’s eye, who continued to stare at the surface before her. When she realised that her attempt at jollity hadn’t quite hit the mark, she suddenly became panicked.
‘Oh God, I shouldn’t have said that, sorry’. There was an awkward pause when she searched for something to remedy the situation. ‘This must be a very difficult time for you, and I’m here to help you with anything that you need’. This last line sounded as if it had been quoted verbatim from whatever official guidelines that she was working from.
‘Thank you', Julie said, purely because she didn’t want this ridiculous person to keep yammering on. Julie had answered the front door in a haze. She told them where the body was and had then gone to the kitchen to wait for further instruction. Half an hour later, DS Winnington had arrived, insisting that Julie must call her Dawn. The silence between them had been punctuated by Dawn’s occasional interjections of ‘how are you feeling?' and ‘this must be really hard for you?'
‘I’ll put the kettle on again, shall I?' Dawn asked without really asking. Julie said nothing. She hadn’t encountered a Family Liaison Officer before, but the making of hot beverages, either wanted or not, appeared to be a very key part of their role. ‘Coffee is it?' Dawn stood over Julie who gave her no answer. She held out her hand for the cup. Julie didn’t move. Of all the situations where you shouldn’t be forced to socialise with irritating strangers, finding a dead body in your son’s bedroom should really have been at the top of the list. For a moment, Julie thought that Dawn, standing next to her with her arm outstretched, might be considering wrenching the mug from her hands. She eventually thought better of it, and went back to the kettle.
Julie could hear a constant bustle of activity from the hallway. People coming and going. A continued stream of invaders tramping up their stairs. She could tell by how heavy their footfall was that they hadn’t taken their shoes off. What a mess they would be making. She reminded herself that she hadn’t hoovered the stairs in months before she had someone staying in the house, and she would no doubt return to that mindset now that
she was once again alone.
‘Where do you keep your cups?' Dawn asked, already opening cupboard doors. ‘Ooh, you’ve got that nice pasta sauce. Bit weird him looking round people’s houses like that, wasn’t it? You’ll have to tell me what it’s like, I’ve never had it before'. Even when she found the correct cabinet, she continued to rummage through the kitchen.
‘Are you allowed to do that?' Julie suddenly thought to ask, looking at Dawn for the first time. ‘Don’t you need a warrant?'
Dawn spinned around, terror plastered across her face. ‘I was only looking for some sugar. I don’t take it in tea, but I like a bit in my coffee’. Even faced with a possible abuse of police powers, Dawn managed to include some benign chatter with every sentence that left her mouth. ‘My mum got me into it, you see. Horrible habit, isn’t it?'
Julie wasn’t really bothered. She just wanted the insufferable woman to be quiet. She turned back to the table and continued to sit quietly.
A few minutes later she placed the hot drink in front of Julie. ‘Were you worried that I might find the murder weapon?' she chuckled to herself again.
‘He died of an overdose’, Julie said, without looking at her.
‘Yes, of course, I’m so sorry'. There was a further pause in conversation that Dawn felt obliged to fill. ‘I used to be a hairdresser, you see. People expect a bit of chatter there. Otherwise it all feels a bit awkward, doesn’t it? Sitting there, staring at each other in the mirror’. She did a little laugh. ‘Set me up for this job though, didn’t it? Listening to people’s problems, giving them advice’.
Julie wondered how often Dawn had needed to support a customer who had found a dead body in her previous life. There were some fairly rough areas around here, so it was a distinct possibility.
Dawn made several more attempts to engage Julie in conversation. Not just about how she was handling Jack’s death. She also asked where Julie had bought the kitchen blinds from, who ‘that nice blonde boy was', whilst pointing at Harry’s picture on the fridge and finally whether she could recommend a good Chinese takeaway in the area because her usual one had recently been shut down by the Food Standards Agency. When none of that managed to draw Julie into a conversation, Dawn took her phone out of her pocket.
