by steve higgs
I stood up and scratched my head. The smell persisted. I took to sniffing my way around the kitchen, a tactic that provided the answer soon enough.
I was smelling Kevin's farts. Lovely. The toad and his little tank were sat on the kitchen window sill where I figured he would get light during the day and was constantly in my eyeline to reduce the likelihood that I would forget to feed him. He was going back to Frank tomorrow.
Bull barked his request to be let back in just as I dropped two ice cubes into the dark liquid. I left it fizzing as I went through the house to let them in.
The ground outside was still wet, small puddles showing on my patio and across the path that wound around the garden. The rain had been persistent for several days, saturating my lawn which was now covered in worm casts. In turn, this meant the dogs came into the house with muddy feet every time they went out and my attempts to keep the mud off my carpet by placing towels down had not been as successful as I had hoped.
This time I caught them both as they attempted to run between my legs, pinned them down and dried their feet. They expected a biscuit, so once I let them up they each ran through to stare at the cupboard in the kitchen and wait for my arrival.
I selected two gravy bones, collected my glass from the side and began an intricate dance where my feet had to dodge small dogs that were bouncing around beneath me, constantly moving and trying to keep their eyes on the prize in my hand. In the end, and before I fell over, I gave up and threw the biscuits, one to my left and the other to my right.
I placed the drink on a coaster on the small table I kept by my sofa and went to sit down whereupon I realised the book I planned to read was on the window sill in the kitchen next to Kevin the toad and his small tank.
I didn’t bother to turn the light back on in the kitchen, there was enough light coming through from the lounge for me to see by. Kevin was over by the sink; the book was in front of it. As I picked it up though, the lightning flashed again and there, outside the window, was the witch.
My heart thudded in my chest.
The split second of light had thrown her into silhouette while simultaneously illuminating her face from the reflected light off the window pane. She had been looking right at me, but the darkness returned instantly, and she was gone.
I was running through my house though. Too fast to turn, I slammed into the wall in my lobby, rebounded off and ran for the back door. Ripping it open, I scanned around for her as the two dogs zipped by on either side of my feet. They vanished into the dark and for the umpteenth time, I wished I had gotten around to installing a light in the garden.
Lightning provided a fresh snapshot of the trees, bushes and six-foot-high fence that surrounds my garden but there was no sign of her. Forty feet away, at the other end of my house was a gate that led around to the front. I ran to it, but it was still bolted and padlocked so the only way in or out was through the house or over the fence.
How did a woman that age scale a six-foot fence, I asked myself? My brain returned the obvious answer: She couldn't.
Unless she had a ladder!
I ran across the garden toward an area that the moonlight didn't penetrate. Fronds from bushes snagged my clothing. Bull barked his excitement and danced in front of me, the moonlight catching his eyes more than anything else. I dodged around him, continuing my search for the old lady in my garden. Touching the wall, I could see all the way along it to the corner.
There was no ladder propped against it.
I checked a few other spots where I thought she might be able to climb over without being easily visible but there was nothing to find. I cursed myself and pulled out my phone. She must still be hiding in the garden. Under a bush or behind the shed, watching me and waiting for her chance to escape.
I turned on the phone’s torch function, flooding the ground in front of me with bright, white light. I glanced at the house. Had she slipped inside and gone out the front while I was running around the garden?
I was so dumb!
I sprinted back to check but there were no muddy or wet footprints in the house. I turned back to face the dark and called out. ‘There is no way out of the garden. Please show yourself. You will not be harmed. I am not armed.’ If I caught her I was going to call the police, but no reply came back and though I looked for it, no movement beyond the trees blowing in the breeze was there to be seen.
With the torch and the dogs, I continued to search around under bushes and in dark corners for a good ten minutes. I was certain there was nothing to find though. Had the lady been in my garden, the dogs would have found her in seconds.
Accepting that she was no longer there I returned to the house, but once back inside the warmth, a question occurred to me: What had she been doing in my garden?
I could continue to ponder how she had escaped but what she had been doing felt more pressing. I suspected I already knew.
Thirty seconds later I had confirmed what I had guessed. Right outside my kitchen window, a few inches up from the ground was a chalk-drawn witches knot. She had been inscribing runes on my house.
I was marked for death.
Angry Wife. Thursday, November 10th 0705hrs
My sleep had been plagued by dreams and for the first time since moving into the house, I had locked all the doors before I went to bed. I considered waking Hilary to alert him to the trespasser in my garden but left him to sleep instead as I was struggling to convince myself there was any actual danger even though I felt quite unnerved.
Despite the later bedtime than my usual, I was up at 0500hrs to continue my fitness regime. I was distracted though, going through the motions of lifting weights and hitting the treadmill rather than feeling fully engaged with it. I needed to talk to Hilary when I got home and would wake him if he was still asleep.
I came back through my front door at 0654hrs, the sweat from the gym making my clothes stick to my skin. It was cold out though, the air penetrating through the dampness of my sweatshirt to chill me even as I was sweating.
At the top of the stairs, two small, pointy, black and tan dog faces were staring down at me. I went most of the way up and scooped one under each arm. They ran for the back door, their little legs moving even before I plopped them on the carpet.
The toilet flushed upstairs immediately before Hilary himself swung into view.
‘Hi, Tempest. How did the date go?’ Hilary seemed much improved, his mood almost buoyant in comparison with recent days.
‘It was very pleasant.’ I replied as I flicked the kettle on to boil. I would eat and cool down properly before I went for a shower.
‘I didn't hear you come in.' He said with a grin. ‘Did you...' He made a motion reminiscent of humping a dead cat which was probably supposed to enquire whether Natasha and I engaged in coitus. I could never understand why people thought it better to substitute adult conversation words for actions instead as if they somehow made the topic more palatable.
‘I got in at 2300hrs and you appear to be confusing me with Big Ben.' The kettle clicked off. ‘Coffee?'
‘Yes, please.’
I took two mugs from the cupboard next to me. I took a tea bag for mine. ‘I need to tell you more about the witch. She was here last night.’
‘Here? In the house?' His voiced shot up an octave.
‘In the garden. Come on, I'll show you.' I took him into the garden where the first rune was chalked below the kitchen window then walked around the house while I told him about my search for her and confusion about how she could have escaped. As we went back in the front door, I asked him how he had gotten on yesterday.
‘Exactly as you expected – I struck out. I’m fine to keep with the task though, give it another go today. It was much more interesting than my usual job.’
‘You are returning to that next week though, right?' I couldn't have him quit his job if I could stop him from doing so. He had already been living in my house longer than I expected. I had once read that bachelors tend to develop odd lit
tle quirks from living alone. They develop very set ways of doing things and hate to have their routine messed with. I had been like that to start with thanks to my military upbringing and thankfully he hadn't created too much mess yet, but I was unhappy to be sharing my space with a person that did not come with a set of genitalia that complemented rather than matched mine and I was doing my best to keep a lid on it.
‘Yeah, I suppose I will have to. They seemed fine about me taking the week off without warning. I have been there for years and I like to think I am reliable.’
I considered broaching the subject of him going to live elsewhere, like maybe back with his wife but I had already had that conversation with him twice so when I next broached it, I would be much more forceful. The time did not feel right.
A loud and insistent knock at my door ended our conversation. The dogs, a moment ago asleep on the sofa, went whizzing in front of me as I turned and walked toward the door.
The shadow outside was indistinct as always but looked the right height and shape to be a lady. I opened the door and was almost bowled over by Hilary’s wife, Anthea pushing by me as she came uninvited into my home.
‘Good morning.' I called to her back as it disappeared into my kitchen. Over the top of her head, I could see Hilary frozen like a deer in headlights. His mouth hung open and his eyes were wide with what I assumed was fear.
I saw her arm come up and for a moment I thought she was going to hit him. Violence was not her intention though; the arm became a finger to poke him with and she started to screech. ‘How dare you not come home grovelling for forgiveness?’
‘Sorr…’
‘Shut up.' She screamed. She opened her mouth to yell at him again and saw his black eye. 'What happened to your face? No, nevermind. I don't care you worthless piece of meat. You pathetic man. What on earth have you been doing for the last four nights? Have you been shacked up here with your drinking buddy? Have you been out chasing women?'
‘Well, I…’
‘Shut up, HILARY.' She drew his nickname out mockingly, doing everything she could to make him feel less of a man. ‘How apt that you would be known by a girl's name.' I had often wondered if she called him Brian or used his nickname like everyone else. I wanted to intervene. Had she attempted to hit him I would have been able to step in between them. However, I saw no easy method of halting the barrage of verbal abuse.
‘I’m.’ he started but was cut off again.
‘You’re what? You’re sorry? You wish you had treated me with more respect? You wish you were more of a man?’
‘That’s enough.’ I interrupted her flow, my voice louder and more insistent than hers. She turned her face to me, her head snapping around to fire back a retort that died on her lips when she saw my face. ‘Brian sought refuge in my house. My house that I will eject you from if necessary, Anthea. I encourage you to calm down and have an open and honest conversation with your husband. I will give you the space to do so, but I have listened to quite enough shouting for one day.’
She opened her mouth and looked like she was about to launch into another round of abuse based on the theme that all men should be castrated. I silenced her by getting in first. I softened my tone, ‘Anthea this is my house. I ask only that you respect it.’
For a second, I thought the tactic had worked but her rage level was off the chart and reason was a spec in her rear-view mirror.
‘Bollocks to the pair of you.’ She announced as she spun on her heels and stomped in the direction of my front door. ‘If you want to come home I shall expect to find you on the doorstep on your knees begging.’
The door slammed hard behind her.
A moment of silence followed. ‘Breakfast?’ I asked. I was hungry, and I needed to distract Hilary or lose him in a terrible downward spiral as he spent the day trying to make sense of his life.
Thankfully he nodded, probably not trusting his voice to manage words.
Breakfast was conducted quietly. I left him to his thoughts when it became clear after numerous conversation starters that he did not wish to talk. I cleared the dishes away into the dishwasher and went upstairs for a shower.
When I came back downstairs, dressed and ready for work, Hilary was still sat in the place I had left him, on his breakfast bar stool staring into a cup of coffee that was now cold. It was 0805hrs and time for me to walk the dogs. It was not raining, and it looked like there were hints of sky peeking through the clouds outside even though it was still dark.
I rapped my knuckles on the counter to get his attention. The dogs started barking, believing the noise was someone at the front door again. I ignored them, I needed them off the sofa anyway. ‘Snap out of it, mate.' He looked up with nothing but misery and self-pity in his face. ‘Let's focus on something we can control. If you don't want to go to work, I have a task to distract you.'
He nodded. Reset his face and stood up, pushing back his stool with some force as my words found some resonance. ‘Yeah. Yes, you're right. I know it. I need to get a grip on my life.'
I put a comradely hand on his shoulder.
‘Same task as yesterday?’ he asked.
It was my turn to nod. We talked for a while about how yesterday had gone and what he had learned from it. Then I checked his equipment and wished him better luck today. He would call me if he had any success.
I left him in the house as I took the dogs out for a walk around the village. I put my things in the car, including a packed lunch as I was going to take the dogs to work with me. Hilary could lock the house when he left.
Kevin stayed on the windowsill in his tank.
Coffee, Crop Circles and Hopeless Adoration. Thursday, November 10th 0855hrs
Through muscle memory I parked behind my old office in the parking space I had been using for more than half a year and only realised my mistake when I got out of the car and my eye caught a piece of loose tarpaulin fluttering in the breeze above my head. The burnt-out structure was still surrounded with scaffolding and secured against the weather.
I slid back into my seat, almost squashing Bull in the process as he had already crossed into the driver's seat to follow me out of the car. With him now balanced on my lap, I reversed out of the space, took the car a further twenty metres and slipped it into the gap between James's Fiesta and Amanda's Mini Cooper.
I found them both in the main office at James’s desk, or rather the Dachshunds found them by zooming off ahead of me. By the time I arrived, Amanda and James were each scratching a dog belly while my idiot hounds rolled around on their backs with their paws in the air and their heads back in ecstasy.
‘Good morning.’ I hallooed as I came in.
James answered with his usual, ‘Hey, boss.’
From Amanda, I got a smile. ‘Good morning, Tempest.' She was radiant as always, but she seemed especially bright today like she had received great news or something. ‘Have you got a moment?'
‘Of course.' Was the only reply I could come up with. She left Dozer on the carpet and led me to her office. Dozer stayed where he was for a second, then realised the attention had stopped, opened his eyes and flipped back onto his feet.
In her office, I thought for a moment she was going to shut the door and wondered what the conversation might entail. I kept quiet, so she could speak.
‘Um.’ She started.
‘Alright. Out with it. What did I do?' My guess was I had done something she didn't like or been caught looking at her bum (not for the first time) and she was trying to form a sentence where she told her employer off.
‘Wow. Okay. Did you call Brett?’
Oh. I'd been rumbled already. ‘Not exactly.' I replied. I had sent Big Ben to speak with him. ‘Essentially though, yes. Please accept my apologies if I overstepped. I felt there was a wrong to make right.'
‘Yes.' Her answer came slowly, she was deep in thought. ‘I would not normally tolerate interference in my relationships, but this time I feel I need to thank you.' Whatever she was thinking about, it
was causing a smile to twitch at the corner of her mouth. Then I realised why she looked like a lottery winner this morning: She had gotten laid last night.
The exact details of her reunion with Brett would forever remain a secret I was sure. However, I allowed myself to be convinced that I was guessing right, and I had lost her. It was a revelation as if my true feelings for her had only just coalesced and shown themselves. I was such a fool. An hour ago, I had been thinking positive thoughts about Natasha. Now they were tossed aside again.
I reached out and took her right hand in both of mine. She met my eyes, a surprised look on her face but she did not pull away. I was going to tell her how I felt. How I wasn't sure I could live without her and that I would do whatever it took to win her love.
‘Anyone for coffee?’ James yelled from the front of the office.
‘Cor, yeah. I’m exhausted.’ Amanda called back, leaning around me to focus on James then looking at me again with a cheeky grin. ‘I didn’t get much sleep last night.’
Any words I had in my head died before they reached my foolish lips.
‘Was there something you wanted to say?’ she asked.
I was still holding her hand. I gave it a squeeze. ‘Just that I am happy for you. I am glad it worked out.’
‘Me too.’ She said and gave a hopeful shrug that I translated to “Who Knows”. She looked down at her captive hand. I followed her gaze, saw that I was still holding her hand and let it go wondering if I would ever get to touch her again.
I shook myself mentally. I had to change the subject. ‘How did the crop circle case go?
Now that her hand was no longer trapped in mine she had moved behind her desk and was powering up her desktop. ‘I have a case, that's for sure. Three farmers have joined together to hire us before they go out of business. They signed the contract and paid an advance yesterday, so I will be getting stuck in today.
James stuck his head through the office door next to me. He had his coat on ready to go outside. ‘What's it to be?' We gave him our order for the coffee shop and I handed over a twenty pounds note.
