by D Attrill
“Are you alright there?” A second voice from nearby seemed to, though.
Becky risked turning her head to the right. Just through the gap between the hedge and the wall, she saw the face of a man in his mid-seventies, smiling at her. He appeared dressed in a dark green tank top and had a thin brown moustache.
“Come on, dear you look terribly upset.” the neighbour asked. He was sounding very well mannered “Has something happened?”
Becky lifted her head slightly round again, trying not to turn.
“No...” she tried breathing under her breath.
“What about your friend?” he continued to ask “The other young lady? I could not help but...”
Becky tried signalling him, either to lay low or lower his volume. That hand could land on her shoulder again at any second.
“Listen, it’s perfectly alright. I'm Mr Roundtree. I'm Fiona’s neighbour. I know, why don’t you tell me your name?”
Becky was about to mouth it, but then she heard the kitchen door being opened.
She became frozen.
No sign of Fiona just yet, though.
She turned back round, just enough to face Mr Roundtree again.
Unfortunately, the neighbour seemed to have understood. A distant door was heard being closed.
“Come back...please.” Becky realised she’d turned her only saviour away. “No... come back, please... help...”
Footsteps came very close.
She looked round just enough to see her nemesis back, standing there.
Fiona no longer appeared to have her hammer. Her face looked less redder and vengeful than before.
“I think you’d better come in.” She was still getting physical as she said it. “Don’t assume this is a favour, cos it isnae such thing.”
She let Becky stand unaided whilst she opened the French window, then frogmarched her back into the kitchen. Having shut it furtively behind, she pointed at her again, hardened.
“Don’t try moving nowhere. Sit down a' the table. Start moving from there, I'm gonnae kill ya.”
(iii)
Becky didn’t know what to make of her employer’s sudden, albeit slight change in treatment. Although she’d sat curled up on Fiona’s sofa for several hours, she shook with uncertainty. Umpteen soaps and drama repeats came and went but she could hardly enjoy them the way she usually did. The sight of endangered victims-to-be had her yearn for the cop’s real life counterparts to answer her cries.
The only crying audible here at 6.45 pm was Izzy.
Becky gulped with stifling sorrow - she was hit with the reality that she’d no longer be allowed to see that adorable little cherub, as long as his mother had her way.
Her tears were disrupted by the door creaking open. She turned to realise that the wall behind her was actually a wooden folding partition, between the lounge and kitchen.
Fiona leant through, after having folded it back the full way.
“You hungry at all?” she asked. “I’ll put you a wee cheese-on-toast on.”
Becky waited distrustfully to hear what followed. As it began to look like rage again, she risked answering.
“O...OK, thanks.”
“Should come through this side. I'm only gonna take five minutes.”
Becky took Fiona’s turn of temperament very cautiously. She lifted herself from the settee.
As she ambled her way into the kitchen, she found the table guarded by a large, though seemingly docile Doberman.
“Oh sorry.” said Fiona “You’ll have to excuse wee Calton. My fella’s left him here the night. That’s why Izzy’s already up to bed." she patted the mutt, then motioned him aside, joking “Don’t want you eating my bairn for dinner, eh?”
As soon as Becky sat down, he stood up on his hind legs. He leant against the table with his left paw.
“What does he want?” Becky asked, almost ready to laugh again.
“Food, by the looks of it.” Fiona said “Bad as my boy, isn’t he?”
Becky laughed freely as Calton leapt to lick her. Regaining her sense of innocence, she enjoyed the moment - it could soon end the way it often did. Instead, it ended with him trying it out on Fiona.
Watching the animal almost weigh her to the ground, words failed Becky.
“I can see what you mean by hungry.” she had to comment, finally.
“Why don’t you hae a go?” asked Fiona.
“A go at what?” Becky suspected a joke.
“Begging, like Calts does. Saw him, didn’t you?”
“Oh come on.". Becky knew the joke had run its course. “Seriously, you don’t exp...”
“DO YOU WANT THIS BLOODY FOOD OR NOT?”
Fiona suddenly screamed. As she leered down on her with a large, bullish glare, Becky took hint that this was genuine.
She knelt on the floor. Her wobbly knee was not enjoying the lino.
“Tongue.” commanded Fiona "Come on, your cheese-on-toast’s gonna get affy cold.”
Fiona had not changed back to normal at all - this was normal now. Her laid-back demeanour was merely a cheap way to lure Becky into a false sense of security.
Becky opened her shivering mouth. She slowly let her tongue drop out.
“Go on….” nagged Fiona, “Food’s gonnae go cold…”
Becky slowly copied Calton’s actions, to their fullest extent.
“Can I… please have some…”
“Have some… what?”
“Food….”
“Sure, just stay like that, three more minutes.”
“Three minutes? You didn’t say I had to do it for as long as that.”
“Look, do you want that cheese on toast or shall I give it tae Calton?”
A sudden wailing began upstairs.
“Oh look what you’ve done.” she erupted, “You woken my bairn!”
“S-s-s-sorry,” Becky glugged through her desperate sobs.
“You can forget your supper now. It’s goin’ tae the dog. End of.”
She snatched the plate from the table and passed it down to the Doberman. Calton leapt up gleefully to receive it.
“Please…” Becky begged, almost indecipherably. “Let me have something….I’m … so…so..so..rry… please… plea… “
Her sobs ate away her final syllable completely, her pain worsened still, by the discomfort of the hard lino against her kneecaps.
“Please…”
It finally came again, just slightly clearer. Fiona looked round at last.
“Did you say ‘please’ again just then?” she asked.
“Please.. Yes… please…”
“Please Fiona…” she started “Go on, say it.”
“Please, Fiona…” Becky followed her recital.
“Can I have something to eat?”
“Can I ha… have….some..th…”
“Go on… you can do it. It’s a simple enough six words, isn’t it? Come on. Hey, I know - shall we give it a wee try again from the start? Two or three words a time. I’ll recite them.”
She let Becky nod then proceeded.
“Please, Fiona….”
“Please, Fiona….”
“Can I have…”
“Can I have…”
“No, wait, I’ve got a better one. Here we go. Please, Fiona….”
“Please, Fiona….”
“My best friend in the world….”My best friend in the worl….. worl…wor… no…I can’t….”
“Yes you can. Say it girl, or say goodbye to supper!”
“My… best...”
Becky stuttered under Fiona’s brutal persuasion but composed herself again before she had chance to intervene
“…best friend in the world…”
“Great. Who it has been my utmost privilege to work for…. go on.”
“Who it has been my ut-…uh… most privilege to work …to work f…. to work….f…. go to hell.”
“You what?” shrieked Fiona “You just say what I think you did?”
She rammed her face right into Becky’s.”
Izzy’s wail began upstairs once more.
“You cow, what did I tell ye about upsetting him?”
She slapped Becky very violently, making her fall to the floor.
Obviously realising that something had to be done fast, Fiona grabbed her. She lifted Becky back to her knees.
“Right, and quickly… ”Who it has been my utmost privilege to work for…. go on.. NOW!”
“Who it has been my….”
“Keep going.”
“…u-utmost privilege to work for.”
“…and who I will do anything in the world to please…”
“And who I will do anything in….”
Becky pushed for a last deep breath then blew out the rest of it.
“… in the whole world to…. to please.”
“Now the last bit - quickly does it, my wee boy needs me. Don’t mess me about, lovey. You remember... it starts the same last word you left off with.”
Becky pulled herself together at last and went for it.
“Please can I have something to eat?” Fiona once again dictated.
“Please can I have something to e…”
“Come on, last syllable.”
“E-eat…”
“Well done. Whoopee!" Fiona was patronising her “You must be hungry after going through that.”
She smiled at Becky as she opened the fridge. She was looking up at the ceiling, noticing the crying had stopped again.
“My friend, your food a-waits.”
Becky tried to force a smile. It was wiped off her face once she saw that it was not a plate of cheese on toast that Fiona had presented. In one hand she was holding a small plastic spoon, in the other a small jar with the words ‘Harricott’s Infant Feed' on the front.
“Something wrong,” asked Fiona coldly, “Is Harricott’s no’ your favourite?”
“You promised me that cheese on toast. Hand on heart.”
“Trying to tell me you cannae read the label. That’s ok. It’s cool.”
She pointed out the detail.
“It’s a new one, just for a limited period. ‘Cheese on Toast’. Well just cheese, probably - you know how they like to try making things up. Posh, though isnae it, aye?”
As Becky put her hand out reluctantly to accept, Fiona unscrewed the lid and plunged the spoon in herself.
“Open wide now.”
She drew out a spoonful, heaped an inch high and dribbling all over the floor.
“I’ll use a plate, if that’s ok.”
“Waste one of my best plates on you, ye ungrateful little tart?” she fumed “You come get it from this spoon I got, or I’ll come o'er there an' ram it down your throat.”
“Please… “
“GET HERE. NOW.”
Becky shuffled forward on her knees, very reluctantly.
“Hands.” Fiona commanded. “Crawl over. All fours, you hear?”
Becky tried to back away. Fiona was so frosty, it would be a bad idea to do anything other than obey.
“Come on, that’s right.”
Fiona was goading her, waving the spoon right in front of her eyes.
She eventually appeared to notice that it was nearly empty.
“Oops, silly me, I’ve spilt her. Haud oan, a wee sec.”
She dipped it back into the jar, slightly more dextrously.
Becky crawled another step forward.
Fiona smiled, showing all teeth, and then thrust the spoon straight beneath Becky’s nose.
“Go on…all yours.” she went.
Becky stopped there, shaking her head.
“Come on, lovey. You cannae say no after all this. Say you try a little bit, I’ll let you have the rest of it with a fork.”
Becky had had enough. She shut her eyes for a matter of seconds, nodded in mocked acceptance, then spat straight on the spoon..
“THAT’s IT.” Fiona erupted with an evil, savage screech. “You no’ like any the food I offer ye -aye that’s ok; you jist dinnae make me throw it away as if it grows on tree…”
Fiona had held off, a moment - there came an audible commotion from somewhere near, and this time it wasn’t upstairs.
“What have I done?” Becky begged at her, “What’s wrong Fiona?”
“It’s that old bastard Roundtree, next door.” She looked down at Becky “You stay sat right there. You hear? Ye no’ think about shuffling, even. I'm gone, three minutes, maximum.”
Becky batted her eyes in reaction.
“I’ll know easy enough, if you try tae.”
Fiona warned back , as she opened the patio door just enough to squeeze through “I can hear this door moving , twice much easier than I can either Calton or the bairn.”
With that, Fiona stepped out, quickly, sliding it shut behind. She prodded a last witch-like finger at Becky and then walked away.
Becky realised, amidst her traumatisation, that there was still one option - try Joanne Leyton again.
How grateful she was - although grossly befuddled - that Fiona had never taken her mobile: this was normally supposed to be the top of a kidnapper’s priorities.
She had to act snappy whilst alone : her captor could always consider that an option.
Becky pushed the buttons hurriedly, hoping she’d get it right first time. The voice on the other end, ultimately assured her so.
“Hello?” came a hugely tired-sounding Leyton.
“JO….”
“What part of ‘I’m not interested’ don’t you understand?” Leyton did not sound too welcoming.
“But it’s me…Becky…”
“I know it’s you, Becky. Why do you think I nearly threw the bloody phone across the room?”
“You’ve got to help. Fiona’s flipped!”
“Right now I’m not sure which of you two is the worst.” Layton spoke with an alarming coldness. “I’ve been thrown off a case, because of you. I’ve almost fallen out with my two colleagues. I’ve even had to go to bed early because I couldn’t cope.”
“Please! She’s become a total control freak. She’s not going to change back again this time. I know it.”
“And if you don’t, I’m going to change... from being your old friend Jo, to an officer cautioning you for wasting police time.”
“Jo, please…”
“Put the phone down.”
“Jo, wait….”
“Put the phone down!”
“No, please listen.” Becky pleaded in vain,” Jo-o-o-o”
“PUT THE PH…….”
Becky cut the call herself - she could no longer bear to hear her oldest friend talking to her as someone she no longer recognised.
She slumped against the table, sobbing uncontrollably for ages on end.
As she lifted her head again at last, it was to find the Harricotts Cheese-on-toast jar right in front.
Fiona was still expecting her to eat that.
Becky needed a way around touching the stuff herself, yet at the same time tricking her brute of an employer, into believing she actually had taken that plunge.
She looked around without trying to leave her seat...SHE could be watching from below the window even.
The first natural occurrence was the obvious one...the pedal bin. She picked up the jar, and praying Fiona wasn’t about to walk back in, nudged her way across to the worktop. On pressing the pedal, the lid opened to a near avalanche of old pizza remnants and rice pudding tubs. They were piled so high, an empty had been at least a month overdue. Was Fiona really the houseproud young mum she’d made herself out to be, she wondered - those weren’t lying there last night.
Becky worked it closed again and backed hastily over to the seat, watching the door all the way.
Underneath the table, Calton had been disrupted. He grunted, looking up but appeared less than bothered.
That was actually another way out. She could try hiding it on his food.
His bowl was visible, lying half buried
beneath his bulky brown chest.
Becky fished round for the spoon Fiona had used earlier.
She decanted most of the jar into the bowl, lifting Calton’s head gently aside.
By this time Calton had already awoke, having smelt it in his asleep. He shot up from his slumber, sniffed,at it then set in.
Becky realised this was of benefit; she needed to make it look like the food had landed there by accident.
Calton didn't help, however, in that he was a civilised eater - scarcely a morsel went elsewhere other than either his mouth or the bowl.
Becky soon spotted a swift solution though. Izzy’s high chair was still submerged in overthrown stew and carrot from his lunch.
Seeing Calton stop to draw breath, she carefully retracted the bowl, laying a lump of the food over the outside. Having tucked it back beneath Calton, and allowed him to continue, she hunted round for the other flavour Izzy had been fed on tonight.
Just then, the door lock rattled. Fiona had probably come back this way, hoping to catch her in the act of escaping.
Grabbing her seat just in time she set the Cheese-on-toast jar next to her, the door rolled ajar.
“Whit ha' you been doing?” asked Fiona. She was eyeing her, extremely hard.
“Just what you said.” Becky replied quietly.
“You did hae it then?” Fiona lifted the jar to see. She appeared on the verge of laughing. “Gonna be ready to take on this then.”
To Becky’s inconceivable relief, Fiona picked the real cheese-on-toast up and prepared to reheat it.
“Just when I thought you was gonnae let me down, eh? Heh, heh, heh.”
Fiona carried on, laughing insanely. She was dancing at the worktop, wiggling her hips, singing some favourite rock song of hers atrociously as she did.
“‘Don’ ye cray-ay-ayyy tonaigh... hey, give up, ye giddy wee pervie, ye.”
Becky panicked until noticing it was not her that Fiona had addressed. Calton had been woken up by Fiona’s so-called vocal talents; he was taking it out on her, with his tongue all over her back.
Becky enjoyed the sight of Fiona suffering for once.
She felt she’d better keep it to herself, even if her enemy appeared to be finding it hilarious.
