The Villagers

by Gwyn G B

  ‘Oh sweetheart,’ said Charlie, recovering his composure ‘don’t be sorry, that’s amazing news. OK so it’s a bit sudden but I love you and I want to marry you.’

  ‘Thank you Charlie, but you don’t have to do the honourable thing. I’m big enough now to make my own decisions and to cope with the consequences.’

  ‘You don’t mean… You’re not thinking about…’

  ‘No. Of course I’m going to keep the baby. I’m just trying to say that people shouldn’t get married just because they’re having a baby. Single parent families are quite normal nowadays you know. I do love you Charlie.’ She felt relief for finally having stated her feelings. ‘But we’ve just got to take Sophie into account and go slowly. I’m sure she’ll come round, as long as we don’t rush her.’

  ‘Sure… whatever you want I’ll go along with’ and he meant it. She’d said those three words he’d been waiting to hear and all that mattered to him in the world right now was this woman and his baby she was carrying.

  ‘I’ll go to the doctors first thing on Monday to have a proper test,’ continued Alison strengthened by the confident sound of her voice, if not a little surprised at herself.

  ‘Ok great. I’ll stay if that’s OK, phone in sick or something.’ She nodded.’

  ‘Yes, that would be nice.’

  ‘Oh Alison, this is the best thing that could have possibly happened, a fresh start for us both.’

  Alison received his joyous hug with relief. Once again she needed Charlie and once again he’d come up trumps. Both of them failed to see Sophie as she snuck off from where she’d been listening to their conversation outside the half open patio doors.

  Martha nodded in sympathy as Sophie told her what she had heard.

  ‘It was what I’d predicted wasn’t it little one,’ she said, patting Sophie on the head.

  ‘First they take away your father, God and Charlie, so that Charlie can replace him. Next they try to swap Beelzebub for a puppy, and now it’s your turn. They will have the baby and put it in your place.’

  Sophie was scared, she began to cry.

  ‘Don’t fret,’ continued Martha, ‘I will think of a plan, I won’t let him send you away.’

  ‘But what about mummy?’ asked the little girl.

  ‘She is under his spell, we must show her what he is really like. I’ll protect you, you must be brave. I’ll get rid of Charlie don’t you worry.’

  19

  The doctor confirmed Alison’s test and Charlie returned to London on Tuesday with the excited expectancy only ever found in a new parent to be. He’d proposed to her and suggested that he quit his job to move down to Dorset. She’d not exactly jumped at the idea and they’d agreed to think about the situation during the next few days and discuss it at the weekend. Charlie didn’t have to be Einstein to realise that most of Alison’s hesitation was as a result of Sophie’s behaviour. Half of him sympathised, the other half resented her. He was trying so hard to be generous in his heart, after all she was part of Alison, the woman he loved and respected. He was sure that when Alison decided that the time was right to tell Sophie about the baby, she’d be excited at the prospect of a new brother or sister. As Charlie sat at his desk playing with his pencil and dreaming about the happy times to come, he could have no idea of the odds that were stacking up against him - or the evilness of their origins.

  Wednesday it rained. Cool refreshing droplets eased the dry thirst of the garden and Martha knew that her amphibian friends would enjoy its touch. As the sun began to lose its heat she went into the house and brought out a box of Cane toads from the tank where she kept them. She placed them into a make-shift run in the garden, then settled herself into a chair outside her back door and watched them.

  Later she brought the croaking creatures back into their tank and went to bed. Tomorrow she would summon Michaela for another lesson and also take the first step in her plan to rid them of Charlie. He had served his purpose, there was no further need of his services.

  Alison couldn’t sleep. All night she tossed and turned, worrying about Sophie, about Charlie, about the new baby. Sophie seemed to be drifting away from her, she spent all her spare time playing with Michaela or visiting Martha, and she just couldn’t seem to get through to her anymore. She’d rung up the school as her mother had suggested and an appointment was booked, but she felt that really it was up to her to sort things out, not some stranger. She mulled over countless ideas and courses of action, but in the end she knew that she and Sophie needed concentrated time on their own with no Michaela or Martha and sadly, no Charlie to widen the rift. She finally came to the difficult decision that for the long term good of everybody she was going to have to ask Charlie not to come down this weekend. She knew it would hit him hard after her baby news, not to mention the fact she was missing him like crazy; but her instincts told her it was the only option for Sophie. First thing on Thursday morning she called him.

  ‘Charles Simpson,’ said a flat and obviously otherwise occupied voice.

  ‘Charlie, it’s me.’ The change was remarkable, instantly his voice came alive.

  ‘Alison, how are you today, not being sick again are you? I was going to call you later, see if you wanted me to bring you anything special tomorrow.’

  ‘I’m fine, thanks,’ she hesitated, and then decided to get straight to the point. ‘Charlie I’m really sorry but I wondered if you wouldn’t mind if Sophie and I spent the weekend alone. I want to take her to the seaside or something, try and get through to her, sort out what’s bothering her. I don’t mean to dump on you, but I think if I can sort things out now it will be best for later.’

  Silence.

  ‘It’s not because I don’t want to see you darling, it’s just I can’t see any other option with Sophie.’

  ‘I know Alison. I do understand about Sophie. She’s your daughter and only you can really help her.’ He did well to mask the full disappointment in his voice, but Alison knew what she’d done. In her mind she saw him deflate and crumple like a punctured hot air balloon, while she stood over him with a giant, gleaming pin.

  ‘I’m so sorry Charlie, it’s not you, but…’

  ‘No Alison, it’s fine. I really do understand. Besides I’ve been neglecting everyone up here. You girls have a good time together and let’s hope you can knock some sense into her.’

  ‘Thanks. I’ll call you Saturday evening if you’re in.’

  Charlie’s heart had sunk to his toes by the time he put down the phone. All he wanted was to be with Alison, to put his arms around her, protect her and his child from all this emotional pain. But there was absolutely nothing he could do about the situation, he could only sit by and hope it all resolved itself. It would be a miserable weekend. He certainly didn’t feel much like going out with the boys, he would, if not just to show Alison that he did have another life and to remind her that it was always there for him should he choose to return to it.

  After their talk Alison sat there staring at the phone, itching to just pick it up again, apologise to him and take back her words to ease the pain she knew she’d inflicted. She wished he was here so that she could just hold him and tell him she loved him. But he wasn’t and she didn’t change her mind. Sophie is her daughter and the most important person in her life, she’d been through a terrible trauma with losing her father and Alison had to try and sort things out with her. She did worry if she’d done the right thing. Perhaps by letting Sophie think she could get away with banning Charlie from their lives for this week, she’d try to do it again and again. Maybe she should have stood firm, she just didn’t know. There was no guide books for situations like these, she just had to go with those instincts of hers and hope they were right.

  Sophie was overjoyed to hear that Charlie wasn’t coming down at the weekend, and didn’t even attempt to hide the fact. She was also excited at the prospect of a picnic on the beach and only slightly disappointed that she couldn’t take Michaela along too. She put her arms around her m
other for the first time in days and Alison felt the bitter-sweet joy of having improved their relationship, but at the expense of another.

  That evening Sophie stayed in and asked her mother for some help with an assignment she’d been given at School. Alison was overjoyed that at least today she had been chosen above Michaela. She couldn’t know that Sophie had been told to stay in and occupy her mother while Martha and her friend worked on a way to rid them of Charlie for good.

  Michaela had been told to report to Martha’s straight after preparing her father’s dinner. She was tired and sore. Last night her father had woken her for the second time that week, pouring his beery breath into her face. He’d been at her for nearly an hour before eventually drunk and tired he’d collapsed asleep. Michaela had taken herself off to the bathroom to bathe in cold water, trying hard to cool the burning. Then, eventually as the birds had started their first chorus of the day, she too had slipped off into a troubled sleep, creeping into her father’s empty bed and leaving him to snore off the booze in her own. She dreamt it was the devil who had entered her between her legs and she felt him inside of her burning hot and throbbing. When morning woke her the discomfort was still there, but there was nobody to tell. Her father would need his breakfast fixing and she had to be in time for the school bus. All day at school she had tried so hard not to fidget. It stung and it itched, she excused herself from the gym class and went instead to the woods which bordered the playing fields. There she found a quiet, dark clearing and cried silently for an hour - about what and to whom she wasn’t quite sure.

  By the time she arrived at Martha’s, there was more itch than sting. Her tiredness was the most debilitating at this point, but she knew she had to concentrate. The consequences of showing any kind of disrespect to Martha were unthinkable, even her father cowered in her presence. She commanded great power, holding counsel with Lord Satan himself. Michaela would have to keep alert and that was that.

  They went to the back of Martha’s kitchen to the spell making area where a wicker basket sat. Michaela had no clue as to its contents, she was expecting herbs, but when Martha opened the top flap and reached in, the toads gave themselves away by croaking their discontent at being locked up. The old woman took one out, its legs kicking at the air as it tried to find a launching pad to escape its footless prison. Martha calmed it, coo-ing and stroking. She ignored the little girl for a few minutes and instead concentrated on soothing the toad in her hand.

  ‘You see how they like me,’ she said at last, turning to Michaela, ‘but they hold secrets, secrets most ordinary people have no idea of.’

  Michaela listened avidly.

  ‘Do you know what Bufotenine is?’

  Michaela shook her head and Martha who hadn’t been expecting an affirmative answer anyhow, continued.

  ‘It’s a drug little one. A drug that can induce the most fantastic orgasmic experiences. You know of LSD?’

  Michaela nodded.

  ‘This drug is a natural version, witches and devil worshippers have been using it for centuries.’

  Michaela was staring at the toad which now sat quite happily on its wrinkled lily leaf. She was wondering just how it fitted into this conversation. Suddenly Martha put the toad down onto the table and grabbed its neck with a pincer like contraption. The toad’s eyes bulged and it began to scrabble for its life with all four legs.

  ‘You see, our friends can help us.’

  Michaela looked on as Martha’s face hardened into spite and she tightened her grip on the toad’s neck. It struggled, breaking occasionally for breath, when it did so Martha prodded it with a knife. Slowly from glands in its body, drops of milky white poison began to seep. Martha collected them, tormenting the toad and strangling it until it had exuded its last drop and nearly croaked its last breath.

  ‘That little one…’ she then said matter of factly, ‘…is how you milk a toad,’ and Martha picked up the exhausted body with her pincers and threw it back into the basket.

  The pair of them subjected the rest of Martha’s ‘friends’ to the same treatment, being careful not to let any of the poison onto their own skin or into their eyes. Eventually, when the basket was quiet, they had a small vial of the toad’s milk.

  ‘Now’ said Martha, ‘we are ready to rid ourselves of Charlie.’ She smiled, but Michaela got no warmth from that smile, only an overwhelming sense of fear.

  Lucy Davidson’s crying had stopped after her father had beaten her for the third time. Over the weeks, the physical scars from that night in the woods had gradually healed over. There had been infections, but with the help of another sect member they’d been able to get the antibiotics without anyone knowing. Every night Lucy awoke sweating. They were holding her down on the table again and Satan was leering over her. Now even if she wanted to the tears wouldn’t come. Her body seemed to dry up and shrivel along with her courage and her spirit. Every night to protect her from further Satanic incursions her mother would whisper a prayer. Neither woman dared to think of escape or seeking help, there was nowhere to go and ‘He’ would always see wherever they ran.

  Martha relayed through Richard her desire to see Sally. He stayed in with Lucy as was his usual way of ensuring her obedience and return, and she set off for the cottage. The fear with which she walked down that lane was immeasurable. She was walking into the seat of evil, to a feared and hated woman who commanded the sect members with ruthless authority. On earth she was the living embodiment of Satan. He spoke through her and it was via her and the sect members that his power would grow and spread until everyone lived in fear like Sally and Lucy. Sally knew it was happening, she read of his work in the papers. All over the country his influence was spreading - rapes, murders, child abuse - and God seemed to have abandoned the good to fend for themselves. Of course he would send help someday, she had to believe in that, surely he wouldn’t stand by and let the Devil continue with his plans.

  Sally held her breath as she knocked on the cottage door. She felt her heart pound at the sound of light footsteps walking up behind the wooden gateway in front of her. She stepped back as Martha opened it and her shadow covered face came into view.

  ‘Sally Davidson, good you’re on time. Come in.’

  Sally hesitated.

  ‘Come in woman,’ barked Martha.

  So she stepped over the threshold of evil and the entryway slammed shut behind her.

  20

  Sophie and Alison packed a large lunch, themselves and Dumbo into the car early Saturday morning and headed for Lulworth Cove. There had been a brief sulk from Sophie about why they couldn’t take Beelzebub with them, ‘if the stupid dog can come.’ After Alison had explained that cats don’t particularly mix well with hot beaches and salty water, and would much rather curl up in the shade after a special chicken lunch, her daughter had finally concurred and they set off in good spirits.

  Dumbo was though a little too good spirited for Sophie’s taste and kept jumping around the back seat on top of her. Once again showing that she wasn’t about to become a dog lover, she lost her temper and slapped his nose causing him to yelp.

  ‘Sophie what did you do to him?’ Alison asked trying to concentrate on the road ahead while also looking to see what was going on in the back seat.

  ‘He’s a pain. Keeps jumping on me and scratching my legs,’ she’d pouted back.

  ‘He’s only a puppy Sophie, be fair,’ but Sophie had simply glowered at the little dog which was now trying to wriggle into the front with Alison. He was stuck in the gap between the passenger seat and door, his little back legs kicking frantically in an effort to squeeze through. Sophie thought momentarily about giving his fat little bottom a helping hand with the sole of her shoe, but looked at her mother and decided against it. He eventually made his own into the front and tired of all the exertion, curled up and went to sleep.

  It was a beautiful day, with perfect English summer weather. That of course did have its downside as it meant most of the rest of Dorset and the
surrounding counties also appeared to be heading for the coast. They found themselves caught in a tailback round Corfe Castle, but amused themselves playing eye-spy and singing silly songs. Alison began to relax and she was sure Sophie was doing so too.

  At Lulworth they parked and wandered down to the beach, heading for the furthest point from the masses. Alison bought them both ice creams from an enterprising vendor with a couple of cool boxes and then they undressed ready for a dip in the sea.

  ‘Beat you in,’ shouted Alison, making as if to run fast.

  ‘No…’ squealed Sophie back, and careered past her at full pelt the little pink frill on her costume standing horizontal at the back. Dumbo chased them both into the water yapping excitedly, but stopped in his tracks after his first face full of sea. Sophie laughed at him.

  ‘Silly dog, can’t follow us,’ she taunted.

  Dumbo shook the salty water from his eyes and ears and tried again. Alison sighed.

  ‘Poor little Dumbo, he’s too small for the big waves,’ but she wasn’t about to encourage any sympathy for the dog from her daughter.

  Once frozen solid by the cold sea they returned to the hot beach for a warm up.

  ‘Sun cream before you do anything else,’ said Alison and Sophie proffered herself to her mother, eyes closed, nose forward and arms outstretched. Then, complete with straw hat she began to dig under the pebbles in search of sand to make a sandcastle. As Alison sat watching her she had a few moments of melancholy. They’d bought that hat last summer when the three of them had gone to Malta for a couple of weeks. Sophie had even been wearing the same costume and she’d played with the kids of a family from Newcastle, the Turners she seemed to remember them being called. While Sophie had played she and Phil had rubbed sun cream into each other’s backs and smooched in the sea. What a difference a year makes. Now there was no Phil, no Turners, just her and Sophie and Dumbo who had decided that his task for the day was to flatten all sand mounds in his way. Alison watched as he flounced on top of yet another sand castle turret. She almost giggled but stopped herself as Sophie spun round.