by Darcy Coates
She waited for the almost inevitable repeat of I want to return these clothes, but Mrs Danvers only stared at her for a moment, looking her up and down, sizing her up to see if she was worth it. Then she reached her fat hands forward and snatched the bag from Jodie. “I’ll come back when the manager’s in,” she said, clutching the bag to her chest, then turned abruptly to the store’s exit.
Jodie sagged, feeling exhausted. Allie gave her shoulder a brief squeeze as she hurried past to throw a stack of unbought clothes onto the pile of items waiting to be returned to their hooks.
“Fourteen minutes,” she said on the way back, her smile bright and fake. “Could have been worse.”
“Hmm.” Jodie straightened her back, remembering that the store was full. She wanted to slip out the back and take her ten-minute break to mentally argue with the stain on the ceiling. However, Miho and Earl hadn’t returned from picking up the final four crates, and Allie couldn’t cope with the rush on her own.
“Can I help you?” she asked the next customer in line, forcing the retail-fake smile onto her face.
Her expression wary, a teenager approached, arms full of skirts that wouldn’t flatter her short figure. She’d heard Jodie raise her voice at Mrs Danvers and clearly didn’t want to create a similar scene. Feeling guilty, Jodie widened her smile and put some effort into making it more sincere. “Find everything you were looking for?”
“Thanks so much, guys,” Jodie said, pushing through the door to the storeroom. “You were terrific out there, helping Allie and me.”
Miho jerked upright, turning red from embarrassment, but Earl remained lounging against one of the few empty patches of wall. He raised his eyebrows. “Crazy lady gone yet?”
“Yes.” Jodie sighed and ruffled a hand through her hair. “And the store’s quieter now. Allie and Miho are only on shift for another forty minutes, though, so we’d better unpack these suckers quickly before we lose half our manpower.”
Miho, looking guilty for hiding in the storage room, hurried to fetch the crowbar Earl had brought into the store that morning. Jodie took the cold steel in her hands and approached the first coffin.
No, not coffin. Crate. Get your head together, girl.
There was no room to lay them on the ground; they would have to be opened while they were upright. It was dangerous, but Miho stood to one side, bracing the crate and ready to catch the contents if they fell out. After pressing the narrow wedge of the crowbar into the gap between the lid and the sides of the crate, Jodie began pulling and pushing, slowly working the nails free. The wood groaned, and one by one, the nails popped free. The gap widened, and Jodie passed the crowbar to Miho so she could use her hands instead. The lid came free after a hard tug, and Jodie pushed it against the wall so she could get at the crate’s contents.
The crinkled white tissue paper stuffed inside looked, she thought, like fake flowers purchased at a premium from the funeral home and poured across the coffin’s corpse. Then the papers shifted, puffing outwards and tumbling towards her as the crate’s contents moved. For a second, Jodie thought there might actually be a body inside, buried before it was truly dead, waking up and stretching out of its prison. She smothered a shriek.
As the tissue paper fell away, she caught a glimpse of a mannequin’s face, immaculately white, beautifully smooth, and shaped to give the barest impression of human features. The figure, packaged with such care, had overbalanced and fallen forward. She reached out to stop its fall, but it slipped through her hands, landing against her chest instead. The motion swung its arms forward, and they snapped around her, catching her in a lover’s embrace. Corpse-cold and chillingly unforgiving, the dummy’s hard cheek resting against the nape of her neck.
Jodie staggered backwards, shocked by its weight, repulsed by its intimate presence, but terrified of dropping it. She thought the statue tightened its grip on her a fraction, then Miho pulled it off her, babbling apologies while Earl laughed.
“It’s fine. It’s fine,” Jodie said, stepping away from the mannequin. Shaking, she raised her hands to brush over where the statue had pressed against her. Nothing to be frightened of. You caught it. It’s not broken.
And yet, as she looked at the figure Miho had propped upright, she half wished it had broken. There was something unnatural about its face. It was bald, and its features had been shaped to represent a woman; the smooth brow sloped gently until it met the indents where the eyes belonged. The nose was straight and long, a wedge set above stern lips and a smooth jawline. Its head was pointed away, facing the opposite wall, but Jodie felt as though she were being watched. The unusually dark shadows hanging around the indents of its eyes seemed to hide a sidelong glance. She shuddered, even though the storage room was nearly as warm as the main parts of the store.
“Ugly things, aren’t they?” Earl sucked on a cigarette with a smug grin, fully aware that the room was supposed to be smoke-free. “Dad’s such an incredible cheapskate. Apparently, he got them from a store that was closing down in the seedy part of town. He said they were practically giving them away.”
“They seem awfully clean if they’re second-hand,” Miho said. There was something strange about her voice, and Jodie glanced at her. The younger girl had backed away from the mannequin almost as soon as she’d set it upright. Hands crossed over her chest, she chewed on the ends of her hair.
She only does that when she’s anxious. Does she feel it, too?
Jodie sucked in her breath. She wanted to take a break, go outside, and sit for a while where it was quiet and less claustrophobic, but they had another seven cartons to open before the end of Miho’s and Allie’s shifts. “Let’s get a move on. Earl, take that box out to the bins. Miho, where’d you put the crowbar?”
Jodie opened the rest of the boxes quickly, almost recklessly; her desire to escape the storage room outweighed her anxiety about breaking one of the ceramic statues. The team unceremoniously shoved the mannequins into the corner one by one, and Earl carried each box out after it had been emptied, gradually freeing up room. By the time she was done, Jodie was panting, and her torso was covered in sweat. She threw the crowbar onto an open box of clothes and faced the store’s newest acquisitions.
The eight mannequins—two male, six female—faced her with identical, inscrutable expressions. Their long white arms were outstretched, their stiff fingers angled into strange gestures. The light shone off their perfectly smooth skin, and Jodie thought back to what Miho had said about them being unusually clean for second-hand. They were more than clean; they were flawless. Jodie would have expected them to have sustained at least some damage at their old store, but she couldn’t see a single scratch, chip, or crack. She didn’t like the way it made her feel.
She checked her watch; Allie and Miho would be off-shift in five minutes. “Better get them into the store and throw some clothes on them before you go.”
Jodie approached the nearest one, a woman, and hooked her arms around the mannequin’s chest. It was much heavier than she would have expected, and she strained to lift it and carry it towards the door. She eased her way into the front of the store then dragged the mannequin to a corner of the room to stand it next to one of their old dummies.
The replacement mannequins were long overdue. The old figures, which had been third-hand when Mr Heinlein bought them, dated back to the ’60s and showed their age. They were scratched, chipped, and grimy around their joints. Two of them had limbs stuck on with duct tape. Jodie had, after months of gentle nagging, convinced the boss to invest in new ones.
She glanced between the two figures. One was horribly dirty, missing two fingers and nearly a third of the white paint on its face. Its torso was a little too large to hold the clothes well. The other looked brand-new, immaculate, and perfectly formed. Still, Jodie suddenly wished they could keep the old ones.
She stripped the clothes off the old mannequin and pulled them onto the new figure. She hated the feel of its ceramic skin, and moved as quickly as she
could. When she was done, she dragged the old dummy into the storage room, where there Miho and Earl had already finished two.
Jodie picked up another of the new mannequins and pulled it back into the storefront, aiming for the display windows. A middle-aged woman with short hair—one of their regulars—was riffling through a rack of discounted clothes. She smiled at Jodie as she passed. “Finally got some new models, eh?”
“Yeah,” Jodie panted, trying to smile despite the crawling feeling covering her arms and back. “About time, huh?”
“They’ll certainly brighten the store a bit.” The woman moved away from rack of clothes to watch Jodie set up the mannequin, and the expression on her face changed as she got a good look at the statue. Jodie was halfway through pulling the old mannequin’s sweater off when she glanced at the woman. Her face had changed from bright warmth to confusion, and as Jodie watched, it morphed into concern.
“Everything okay?” Jodie asked, pulling the sweater free. The woman had turned her head to the side to watch the mannequin out of the corners of her eyes and, at Jodie’s voice, started.
“Oh, yes, thanks. I just… I’m supposed to meet my husband in the food court. I’d better go. Don’t want to be late.”
“Sure.” Jodie, nonplussed, watched the woman leave the store with long, fast strides, disappearing amongst the milling shoppers in seconds. She turned to look at the mannequin, again feeling the unnerving sensation of being watched. She frowned and threw the sweater over the flawless white head.
“Seriously?”
Earl jolted and moved to hide the bottle, but Jodie stalked around the desk to where he was crouched and snatched it from him.
“Tubbi Wine, huh? What? Doesn’t this job pay enough for a decent brand?”
“Give that back,” Earl snarled, getting to his feet, his face twisted in frustration. “It’s nearly the end of shift anyway—”
“So you thought you’d get a head start on tonight’s plaster session?” Furious, Jodie shoved the bottle back into his hand. “Nuh-uh. Not on my watch. I’m not working with a drunk.”
She was aware her voice had that hyper-critical edge again, but she couldn’t stop. The afternoon shift, despite being unusually quiet, had exhausted her more than the weekends did. It was the mannequins; she kept turning, sure that someone was in the store, watching her, only to find herself facing one of the statues. You’re just not used to them, she kept telling herself. In a week, they’ll be so familiar that they won’t bother you anymore.
“Have you even swept the floor?”
“Sure I did.” Earl had adopted the sulking, saggy expression she’d come to loathe. He raised the bottle to his lips and took a drink, glaring at her with his small, dark eyes.
Jodie breathed deeply through her nose, trying to quash the anger that threatened to spill out. “You could’ve fooled me. The floor’s filthy.”
Earl shrugged and screwed the bottle’s cap back on.
It was just past their five-thirty closing time. Jodie glanced about the store, taking a quick assessment of what still needed to be done. The floor needed sweeping; that was Earl’s job. The bin behind the desk was overflowing with unwanted customer receipts and price tags, also Earl’s job. Stock needed to come out of the back room to fill up the empty slots on the racks, two laybys needed filing in the back room, and the security system had to be set on the way out. Earl, Earl, Earl. The only completed tasks were hers.
Jodie, aware that she was seconds away from slapping her co-worker, pulled her gloves on with harsh tugs. “Okay, I’m going home. You can close up on your own tonight. Ass.”
Earl called her a very unflattering name in response, but Jodie pretended not to hear him as she stalked to the shutter on the front entrance and raised it just enough to slip underneath. A dozen stragglers were still meandering through the centre, either on their way to their cars or waiting for a movie. She could hear shutters closing a little way off as another employee locked the doors to a nearby store. Turning left, towards the nearest exit, Jodie walked as quickly as she could, glad to be out of the store for the day. And not just because of Earl.
Miho was waiting for Jodie outside the shop the following day, yawning and huddled in her jacket. Jodie’s morning had been filled with disaster, from lost car keys to catching every red light between her house and the shops, and her shift should have started ten minutes before. “Sorry I’m late,” she said, hurrying to find the store’s key in her overfull keyring.
“’s fine,” Miho mumbled, shifting from foot to foot, either to keep warm or stay awake. “I forgot my keys at home.”
Jodie pushed the key into the shutters’ lock and frowned. The lock didn’t turn like it normally did. She pulled on the shutters and swore as they rose without resistance.
“What’s wrong?”
“Earl didn’t lock the doors last night.” Jodie pushed them up, locked them into the slot in the roof, then swore again when she saw the inside of the store.
Earl’s now-empty bottle still sat on the counter. The broom was propped against the jewellery stand, though the floor hadn’t been swept, and bundles of clothes had been draped across the store’s racks. Worse, the mannequins had been stripped of their clothes, which lay in clumps on the floor.
“Unbelievable,” Jodie hissed, stalking into the store. “He’s going to get an earful this afternoon.”
She started snatching the clothes off the dirty floor and pulling them back onto the mannequins. Miho picked up the empty bottle and frowned at the label, chewing the ends of her hair again. “Do you think he has a problem?”
“Oh, he’s got a problem, all right. And its name is Jodie.”
Miho laughed, and Jodie felt herself relax. She liked working with Miho; the girl was quiet and unpresumptuous, and she worked hard. Unlike some people I know.
“Quick, throw that bottle away so the customers don’t see.”
Jodie began re-dressing the mannequins Earl had stripped while Miho tossed the bottle into the storage room and gave the dirtiest parts of the floor a quick sweep. The shopping centre was filling up as the stores opened, and their first customer came in just as Jodie shoved a cap onto one of the male mannequin’s heads in a failed effort to make it look less sinister. The woman flicked through a rack near the door for a few seconds before drifting out without buying anything. Three more customers quickly replaced her then left again in under a minute. As Jodie hurried through her morning tasks, she noticed more and more customers were entering the store then leaving almost immediately. Casual browsers weren’t uncommon, but at least a few would always stay for a while and try on some of the clothes.
It was so unusual that Jodie found herself counting how many seconds each of the shoppers lingered. A regular customer stopped at one of the discount racks. The woman flipped through the shirts then started as though something had alarmed her. She swung to face the mannequin behind her and stared at it for a moment before hurriedly pushing the shirt she’d been holding back onto the rack. Her aim was off, and the hanger and shirt clattered to the floor, but she didn’t stop to pick it up as she pulled her jacket about herself and strode out the door.
“Did you see that?” Jodie asked, but Miho, who had been arranging the shoes on the shelf beside the desk, only looked at her questioningly.
Feeling uneasy, Jodie approached the discount rack. She faced the mannequin and searched its blank, soulless face, trying to find what had disturbed the customer. The statue only gazed back, expressionless, inscrutable. Jodie turned and picked the dropped shirt off the floor. Of course, it’s in the one place Miho didn’t sweep. She grimaced, trying to brush the dust and bits of fluff off the fabric, then froze.
The strangest sensation came over her—the same one she’d felt in the truck, when she’d hesitated over the coffins—the crates. It also came over her very late at night or in the early hours of the morning, when she was walking home and couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being followed through the empty streets
; she would put her hands in her pockets and quicken her step. Jodie was never brave enough to glance into the dark alleys that ran between the buildings like empty veins, though she would swear she heard a second step masked by the echo of her own hurrying feet.
She turned slowly, not wanting to see what was behind her, but too frightened to do otherwise. The mannequin stood where she’d left it, its face wearing the same empty expression, its hands still raised in odd gestures. It seemed different, somehow. More aware. Awake.
Stop it. Stop it, stop it, stop it.
“Jodie?” Miho called from behind the desk. “Something wrong?”
The customers felt it, too, Jodie realised, staring at the mannequin and feeling, with overwhelming certainty, that it was staring back.
Then laugher, raucous and mocking, shocked her, and she was finally able to break the gaze. A gaggle of teenagers had gathered in the male-wear corner of the store, where they were yelling and pushing each other.
“No, really, dude,” a scrawny and pale one said, his loud voice easily carrying across the store. He was shifting in agitation, hopping from foot to foot and shaking his arms to make his duster flap. “It blinked.”
“Dude,” his companion said, stretching out the syllable and leaning on the nearest rack for support as he struggled to stop laughing. “It doesn’t even have eyes. Just how high are you?”
Jodie approached them without being aware that her feet were moving. Her mouth was dry and had an odd taste, and tension spread across her shoulders. “Can I help you?”
The teenagers looked at her and laughed. “Naw,” the tallest one said, slapping his pale companion on the back. “We’re going.”
Jodie felt frozen to the ground as she watched the teens leave with the peculiar loping gait that their social circle always seemed to favour. The pale one started laughing along with his companions as they mocked him. Slowly, Jodie turned to look at the mannequin they’d been standing beside. It was the one she’d thrown a cap on. The cap had only succeeded in darkening the shadows under its eyes, once again giving her the sensation that it was watching her through the shrouded depths.
