by Gwyn G B
The man stopped and turned, ’Not until you stop misbehaving.’ He thought for a moment, ‘Of course, you could do something for me that could help your case.’
Todd brightened at the chance to be able to redeem himself.
‘Yes sir, anything.’
‘Right, well, chuck that down the bog and swill it out first.’
Once Todd had thrown away his pee, the man took him into one of the other bedrooms. It was very sparsely furnished, an adult would instantly be able to tell this wasn’t a home to anyone, but Todd was a child and oblivious to the nature of his surroundings. The policeman told him to sit on the bed and then began to undress, although it was odd, he only took off his trousers and underpants. Todd presumed he must be feeling too cold to completely undress. Then the man sat down next to him and pointed at his genitals.
‘I’m sore. I need you to rub me, it will make me feel better, make me like you more.’
Todd looked at the large penis which was beginning to inflate, and the huge saggy balls resting their weight on the bed. His father sometimes asked his mother for a massage when he’d had a stressful day at work, he presumed that this must be it.
The rubbing seemed to hurt the man because he groaned several times, but eventually he told Todd to stop.
‘That was good. You did well,’ said the policeman, smiling almost.
Todd glowed with pleasure, surely that meant they were friends now and the man was no longer cross with him.
‘Can I see my mummy and daddy now?’ he asked cheerfully.
‘No, you think you can make up for all the bad things you’ve done in one quick go?’
Todd’s little spirit deflated.
‘Come on, I’ll get you something to eat and then it’s back to your room.’
Todd worked hard at trying to win the policemen’s friendship. He rubbed them when they were sore and he didn’t complain when he had to be examined by them, even though it was painful. As the days went by he lost track of time and his craving for company meant that when the two men did appear, he was always desperate to please.
He only left the cottage once and that was because they were taking him to some other prison. He’d got excited, thought he was going home, and when he found out he wasn’t he’d sulked for two days. It was shortly after this that ‘they’ came for him.
His new jail had no toys or other distractions and he’d become very moody and frustrated. When the two figures dressed in cloaks of animal skins arrived, he knew it was because he hadn’t been behaving himself and he panicked.
‘No, no, no. I’ll be good I promise. I’ll be good, please, please, I want my mummy. I’ll be good.’
But the two figures ignored his cries and one of them put a cloth over his face that smelt odd and Todd’s terror faded into black.
The next time he awoke, the Devil was before him. He knew who it was because he’d read about him at school and seen him in pictures they’d looked at during Religious education. He also knew he was very bad.
Todd’s heartbeat quickened and his little throat grew tight.
He and the Devil weren’t alone, there were others around them, white dancing shapes that whispered and moaned.
‘Eko, Eko, Azarak,
Eko, Eko, Zomelek,
Eko, Eko, Aradia,
Eko, Eko, Cernunnos.’
He could tell they were outside and surrounded by trees. All this his peripheral vision told him because he didn’t once take his eyes away from those of the Devil as they smouldered before him.
‘Bezabi, Lacha, Bachababa,
Lamach, Cahi, Achababa,
Karrelos, Cahi, Achababa,
Lamach Lamach Bacharous.’
His limbs weren’t capable of much, but even when he attempted to move he could tell there were rough ropes around his ankles and wrists. Todd knelt naked on the grass, inches from the Devil, too frightened to even scream.
‘Carbahaji, Sabalyos, Barglos,’
Lazos, Athame, Calyolas,
Samahac Et Famyolas
Harrahya’
Suddenly, the dancing figures fell silent, the little boy’s instincts told him this was it.
Hands grabbed him from behind, and slowly, terrified and in pain, Todd Warner’s little soul departed his abused body for heaven.
For little Todd, there would be no funeral service, no headstone, and no end to the waiting and hoping for his parents.
Satan was triumphant.
24
The morning came and went for Alison, much like most of her weekday mornings. Up, get Sophie out of bed and ready, breakfast, feed the dog and the damned cat, take Sophie to the bus stop, back to the house to tidy up the kitchen, do some washing and then finally sit down and try to get inspired by some work. The only difference this morning was that there was no Dumbo to feed.
‘Dumbo, Dumbo, din dins,’ she called, clanging his bowl, an exercise which was usually more than sufficient to bring him running for his food. But there was no sign of him. She presumed he’d wandered off into the woods on the trail of rabbits or just to be nosy, although she did at one point entertain the idea that maybe Charlie had come back and taken him in the night. Perhaps that’s what the noise had been.
After taking Sophie to the bus and with still no sign of the little yellow fellow, she decided to go looking for him. He must have got lost, or worse still, stumbled across some poacher’s trap.
Armed with his favourite biscuits she set off into the forest calling for him and rattling the packet.
‘Dumbo, Dumbo, biccies.’ She followed the path which seemed to lead into the centre, afraid to wander far off course in case she too lost her way. It was amazingly quiet underneath the canopy of trees, the odd rustle in the bushes giving away the presence of a bird or a squirrel, but there wasn’t the happy choir of singing birds that she’d expected, just the odd squawked alarm call as she walked by.
‘Dumbo, Dumbo, biccies…’
The further she walked the cooler it seemed to get and the creepier. She felt very alone and increasingly uncomfortable. The leaves rustled and whispered as she passed, a thousand conspirators telling of her presence. She was just about to turn back for home when up ahead she saw a patch of bright sunlight where the trees made way for the sky. She called out more confidently now, ‘Dumbo, here boy, biccies.’
Anxious to ease her claustrophobic feelings she marched into the clearing and stood there for a few seconds just basking in its warm brightness. As soon as she looked around though, the hairs on the back of her neck began to prickle. There was something not quite natural about the clearing. Empty except for a flat white rock, the grass had been trampled and worn as though a group of people had been there. Near to the stone was a small patch of scorched earth. It looked neither a natural occurrence, nor one by human hand. The intensity of the small fire had obviously been ferocious and Alison felt herself backing away from it with some inexplicable instinct of fear.
As she turned to walk away, a large spider’s web glinted in the sunlight and caught her eye. Trapped in its sticky grasp were hundreds of white animal hairs. When she looked closer she could see balls of puppy fluff caught in bushes, or rolling across the clearing like American tumble weed.
‘Dumbo,’ she cried out. Something had obviously happened to him, but was he dead or alive? She looked around. That’s when she spotted the large drops of blood on some leaves near the rock. That was enough to convince her he was dead and Alison turned and ran.
Why she ran, she wasn’t quite sure but her chest had grown tight and her breathing shallow. Upset by what must have been a violent death for their pet, Alison ran straight into Martha without seeing her and nearly knocked her flying.
‘Alison what’s wrong?’
Alison looked over her shoulder almost as though she’d been expecting something to follow her, and then burst into tears.
‘What’s the matter my dear? Is it the puppy? I saw you go into the woods and heard you calling.’
; ‘He’s dead, he’s been killed by something back there in the clearing. There’s fur and blood everywhere, it’s horrible.’
‘Oh my dear, you’re so upset. It’s happened to my kittens before now. A hungry fox or large owl takes a fancy to them. They’re too young to understand the danger before it’s too late. I’m sorry. Come on now, calm down.’
‘But it didn’t look like an animal attack, there’s no… no body.’
‘Well what else would it be my dear? I’m afraid that he’s probably been carried off by either the original attacker or other carrion. Look you’re getting all over wrought, and in your condition. We’d better get you home.’
‘My condition?’ questioned Alison, suddenly realising what Martha had said.
‘Yes, I’m sorry, little Sophie was too excited to keep the news to herself, don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone else. But I do think we need to start looking after you, don’t we?’
Alison didn’t answer, she just let herself be led out of the forest by the old woman, back to her bed where Martha left her to rest. The emotional trauma of the last couple of weeks had certainly taken its toll and Alison slept for an hour before Martha woke her with a bowl of home-made soup which she said would make her feel better. Funnily enough, it did.
25
Charlie just didn’t know what to do with himself, he had nobody to talk to and at one point he even contemplated ringing the Samaritans. He stayed off work sick for most of the week, his heart jumping every time the phone rang, just in case it was Alison replying to his letter. It never was and he just got more and more depressed. He didn’t know what to do. He felt like a victim and the guilty partner and he started to think the only course of action would be to go and confront the woman who had caused this, make her tell Alison the truth.
By the time Tim phoned him midweek, his flat had turned into a festering pit of TV dinner carcasses and spent beer cans; and the only time he stepped out the front door was to replenish these supplies.
‘Chaz, how you doin’ mate?’ said the voice on the phone.
‘Tim!’
‘Yeah, how you been? We haven’t seen you for days.’
‘Yeah, well…’
‘What’s up mate?’
‘Everything.’
‘Shit you sound pissed off.’
‘Yeah,’ was all Charlie could muster. He couldn’t bring himself to tell his best friend the truth.
‘Look I’ve got nothing on tonight, do you wanna go and down a few beers?’
‘I don’t feel much like going out.’
‘’Well then why don’t I bring over a few cans and you can get us a pizza?’
‘I don’t know mate.’
‘Go on, I’ll see you at seven.’
Even Tim, not usually the most sensitive of souls, couldn’t fail to notice the severe depression in his friend’s voice. He guessed it might have something to do with Alison as Charlie had been stressing about the relationship the other weekend, but he’d never heard him this bad before.
The first six pack disappeared before the pizza had even arrived and it was towards the end of the second that Tim finally coaxed the sad details of the last few weeks from Charlie. When it got to the bit with the blow job, even his friend had to admit it was an incredible story.
‘Have you been back?’ Tim asked him.
‘No, I was worried Alison might see me there again, anyway, what good would it do. What’s she going to say?’
‘Well you might find out why she did it, find out the truth and get her to tell Alison.’
‘Yeah right. Why should she? I should have gone to the police that day, had a blood test or something to prove I’d been drugged. I felt like such a shit, I couldn’t. I’ve got no evidence now, it will just be my word against hers.’
‘What about your baby?’ asked Tim, cracking open another can
‘Alison is really upset with me right now and I don’t blame her. I can’t put her under any more pressure. I’ve written to her,’ he replied, absent mindedly picking the sweetcorn off the last piece of cold pizza.
‘Well you could always get a lawyer involved. You must have rights?’
‘No. I don’t want it to come to that, I’ll just leave it a while, think of something. I can’t give up.’
‘So, when are you going to pull yourself together?’
Charlie put his head in his hands, ‘I dunno. I might go away for a bit, quit my job.’
‘Just don’t do anything drastic.’ Tim had been watching Charlie pick over the pizza remains and it had made him feel peckish again. He ripped the pepperoni slice from its cheesy skin.
‘Drastic! The drastic thing has happened. I’ve lost the woman I want more than I’ve ever wanted anybody and the woman who’s carrying my child. Things can’t get any worse.’
Tim stayed until two in the morning desperately trying to cheer up his old buddy. Once the beers were finished they moved onto the whisky and with each sip Charlie had got more and more morose. Tim left with the distinct impression that he wasn’t going to shake off his blues overnight.
‘You know where I am if you need me mate,’ he slurred as he headed out the door and to his taxi, ‘and have a bloody shave.’
Charlie returned to his pit, it had been good talking to somebody, although Tim wasn’t necessarily the most sympathetic of therapists. It was Friday tomorrow, he’d return to work and see how he felt. The way things stood at the moment he reckoned he’d be handing in his notice.
Despite his hangover, he managed to get up quite early Friday morning and got to work before everybody except his boss. Dick Wainwright saw him sneaking into his office and followed him in.
‘Simpson, you’ve been off sick I hear, is everything alright?’
Charlie’s sunken eyes and pale complexion looked round at his boss.
‘Yes everything is fine thanks Dick. I’m feeling much better.’ He took a large swig of the black coffee he’d already poured for himself and tried to muster a smile.
‘Well you don’t look it,’ Wainwright walked in and sat down on the chair at the opposite side of Charlie’s desk. ‘Look I can’t but have noticed your heart and mind haven’t exactly been on the job lately. Is there anything we can do?’
‘No, sorry. I’ll resign. I know I haven’t been concentrating.’
‘No, no, I don’t want to lose you, you’ve been a valuable member of the team. What I suggest is that you use up some of your holiday backlog. You must have accrued about two months. Why don’t you take a month or so off and sort yourself out?’
‘I don’t know,’ Charlie looked away from his boss’s gaze, his impulse was to quit.
‘Look this is more than a suggestion. Take yourself away, have a break it will do you good. I don’t want to have to lose you, but at the moment you’re no good to anyone, least of all yourself.’
Realising that he was at least wanted and needed somewhere, made him feel a bit better, and his desire to quit began to weaken.
‘Sorry.’
‘Stop apologising and just get out of here. I don’t expect to see your face for a month, and when it comes back it had better be with a suntan and a smile.’ Dick Wainwright got up and patted Charlie on the back.
‘Thanks Dick, I appreciate it.’
‘Send us a postcard.’
Charlie went straight round to the travel agents and picked up some brochures, Dick was right, he needed to get away. Away from where he was constantly tempted to ring or see Alison and away from the constant reminders that they weren’t together anymore. He decided on a trekking holiday in Nepal, that should clear his head a bit, but before he booked it he tried ringing Alison once more. She didn’t answer and so he sat down and wrote her one more letter. In it he told her that he was always there for her and the baby and that if she needed him and called within the next four days he’d cancel his trip - otherwise he was going.
Charlie packed, half hoping the phone would ring and he’d have to call the trip off, but it did
n’t. He left for Heathrow Airport a broken and tormented man.
26
In the week after finding little Dumbo’s remains, life for Alison finally began to settle down. Martha was being a great help and she thought bitterly about how Charlie had never trusted the old woman. Some cheek he had! Her upset at Charlie’s betrayal had turned into bitter anger. It was the only way she could cope with her emotions, the only way she could begin to heal, but it wasn’t as if she could totally forget him, she was still carrying his child.
Today was her first big doctor’s appointment since finding out she was pregnant and she had to travel to the local hospital for an outpatient’s visit with the midwife. The pregnancy was becoming a bit more real now, and it was sad that the baby would have to be born under such circumstances. Nevertheless, Alison was determined to make the best of it and not let her new child suffer because of the sins of its father.
At the reception she was handed a flat blue plastic triangle with a number and a hole in it. All the other patients in the waiting room sat clutching their various shapes as well. A toddler was happily sucking a corner of a yellow square with the number four etched on it, while a middle-aged woman in the corner was nervously twirling her yellow triangle on her finger.
The board above Alison’s head buzzed and the light for yellow squared patients going to see the nurse flashed. A young mother gathered up her brood and after placing her number three square on the collection pole, headed off down a corridor. Alison looked at her blue triangle pile, she was number six and it was only up to number three.
She picked up a copy of She magazine from the table and turned first of all to the horoscopes as she always did. Right now, she could do with some guidance or the prospect of good news; even if she didn’t really believe in the stars, any little glimmer of future happiness would be gratefully received.
‘Because Saturn in Capricorn was challenged by the rather volatile plant Mars earlier this month, you seem to have been shaken by events. While partners or certain individuals rant and rave, you are more inclined to clam up. But the pressure eases towards the end of the month and the planets will provide you with an escape route. This leaves the way open for a more satisfying and happy time, with loved ones coming up trumps.’
