Kingdom

by Andy Tilley

  Aunt May is there to meet me on the steps.

  ‘Hi Rose! Oh what a relief. We were beginning to worry that you’d had an accident.’

  This is middle class code for where the hell have you been. I apologise and explain that I was already running late and also that I stopped to say goodbye to David and June.

  ‘Yes, it’s a shame that June took so bad, and so quickly too. Still, it’s good that you had chance to say good bye. I know they were disappointed not to have seen you. Anyway, let’s take that coat off. We’re in the drawing room having aperitifs.’

  The first thing I notice when I walk into the room is that Cristian isn’t in it. Sam immediately solves the mystery with a breezy hello and an explanation that Cristian is in the kitchen. Apparently he’s cooking tonight but as I turn to go and see what he’s up to Aunt May intercepts me at the door.

  ‘Oh no Rose. Strict instructions that nobody goes in the kitchen tonight.’

  ‘Yes, and that includes you too May!’

  I shout my hello back at Cristian and then sit to start sipping the gin and tonic that Uncle John has made ready for me. It tastes good and it isn’t long at all before I’m completely relaxed into the same, warm comfort zone that I had enjoyed last night. Then Sam ruins it all.

  ‘You know what Richard?’

  ‘What love?’

  ‘You are quite frankly the biggest, most annoying self absorbed prick I‘ve ever met.’

  Oh my god! A jet of frothy G&T spews out of my mouth and all over the chesterfield. What did she just say? Have I walked into some kind of parlor game and they forgot to fill me in? Is it my turn to close my eyes, point and then call Aunt May an overly protective slut? But Sam’s outburst isn’t a game and everyone in the room, especially Richard, is gob smacked. What’s more, she isn’t finished yet either.

  ‘And how the hell I’ve put up with you over the past two days, never mind the past four fuckin’ years is a mystery to me! Jesus, I deserve a fuckin’ medal having to sleep with a limp dicked, limp wristed bore of a pathetic excuse for a man like you!’

  Sam is standing as she finishes her tirade of abuse. Freeze frame. Richard; wide mouthed and simply too confused to move, poor thing. Aunt May; strangely distant and oblivious to Uncle John; staring at his wife to see if her face holds any clue as to what is happening. I’m sat stock still, dribbles of drink down my chin, not daring to wipe them in case sudden movement should turn Sam’s attention my way. It’s left to Cristian to hit the play button as he enters the room to check out if what he thinks he had heard in the kitchen was actually said in his drawing room.

  ‘Samantha? What’s going on? Richard, has something….’

  ‘Richard and I are leaving. I’m sorry that it’s happened like this but….anyway, it had to be said so thanks again for your wonderful hospitality Cristian, and Rose it was lovely to meet you. I’m just so sorry that you had to see this but I…I….well I just couldn’t hold back any longer I guess.’

  There’s a light in Sam’s eyes, one that’s unnaturally fiery and completely weird. It should make her look angry but it doesn’t and in a strange way her expression is almost over controlled. I can’t help but wonder what emotion smolders inside because I can’t see hate or drink or anger there. Her final words are to order Richard to get the car as she goes upstairs to pack and bring bags. Thirty silent seconds later Richard slowly rises, shakes his head and then Cristian’s hand before leaving to get the car. Only when the front door has closed behind them and the car crunched away do I breathe out loud. I know it’s not my place but someone has to say something.

  ‘My god! Did anyone see that coming?’

  A muffled laugh, the type that people hide behind hands when nerves have been jangled and events of gossip proportions witnessed, fills the room. John’s wit is the first to return to normal operations.

  ‘You like you need another drink Rose, or should I just tip it straight on to the carpet to save you the trouble?’

  Now the laughter is open and complete and for the first time tonight I really notice Cristian. He looks delicious stood at the drawing room door wearing his kitchen pinny, a dab of flour on his forehead. I want to be with him and I am not going to take no for an answer.

  ‘Need some help in the kitchen love?’

  ‘That and a bloody large gin I think Rose. You two will be okay here on your own won’t you? I can trust you not to throw anything at each other I hope? But if you must, start with the vase. It’s a fake!’

  I don’t wait for Aunt May and Uncle John to stop laughing so that they can answer. I want my hug, the first of the evening and when I finally do get it, it is long and strong and topped with a tender kiss. That and floury hand prints across my back which luckily Cristian notices and pats away as he releases me to get ice from the fridge. I prepare the drinks, ease myself up to sit on the work top nearby, chat and watch him as he cuts and chops, seasons and tastes. This man has everything I have ever wanted and it’s all I can do to drag myself away from him when he asks me to go and check how Uncle John likes his steak cooked. I would have shouted through but it didn’t feel right for the lady of the house to behave like this so I drop down, kiss Cristian’s cheek and go to find out. I’m nearly there too when Uncle John’s earnest whispering stops me dead in my tracks.

  ‘She doesn’t deserve this May. You have to do something. Please, before it’s too late. If Cristian insists on having her then find another way.’

  Hang on a minute! Deserve what? Cristian having me? Is Uncle John implying that I don’t deserve Cristian’s love? Are these two foster parents really so protective of their man that they can’t let him be happy with someone whose daddy doesn’t drive a Bentley? Aunt May is quiet now and I’m on the verge of launching into their discussion, putting my case and defending our love, when Uncle John speaks again.

  ‘Look May, I know that you’ve tried to warn her off, and I thank you for that, really I do. But surely there must be something that can be done to keep her and Cristian apart for long enough. Jesus, this is Rose we’re talking about here! Are silkies so bloody stubborn that it always has to happen like this?’

  Silkies! Did the man just say silkies? No, he couldn’t have done. Could he? I mean, why the hell would Uncle John do such a thing; drag my nightmare from off the dark pages of some Celtic fairy tale and into the real world like that. And to accuse Cristian too! My Cristian, who I’ve only just proven to be innocent by popping a dead squirrel’s eye in between my fingers. An eye that may indeed have been filled by black soot, perhaps clumped together by the damp of freeze thaw November nights? Now stop it Rose! Don’t doubt him anymore and for Christ’s sake stop running! Face it up girl! This has to be some kind of sick joke. I bet Sam and Richard and June and David, probably Dr Hill and Tom too, are all in on the gag. Yeah, I bet they’re waiting for a signal right now, ready to dash back into the house, shout surprise and start the real party. Not this party, the one where everyone either fell ill or went crazy and left me alone in this house with hell knows what.

  ‘I’m sorry John, but there is no other way. I am not going to risk losing another one, waste another twenty five years. No, it’s decided.’

  ‘And you think Cristian is going to be okay with this? You think he’s going stand by and watch, simply shrug his shoulders as the love of his life has her very essence devoured by……’

  ‘Enough! Cristian is my concern and he will make the right decision!’

  Oh my god who the hell was that? At its core the voice still held Aunt May’s soft tone but there are other dimensions there now too, gruff and dark.

  ‘And you’d do well to remember who I have with me inside this bag of bones that you call your wife so you can deal with your guilt as you see fit but I warn you, do not interfere! Rose dies tonight.’

  I can hardly breathe. Tears are sliding down my cheeks and I slide down the wall with them until my knees are tucked tightly into my folded arms. Even this doesn’t feel safe but it’s the best th
at I can do to try and hold myself together whilst at the same time keep my head above the torrent of fear that’s just exploded over me. It’s no good. I’m drowning and quickly too and I need to get myself together, clamber up to the high ground. But how? I can see the front door well enough and it is so tempting but that would mean me dashing in plain view through the hallway. No thanks! Should I run to the kitchen maybe? Take a chance on Cristian? I mean, as far as I can tell he knows nothing of this plot to kill me. Damn it! That’s exactly what this is isn’t it? A plot to kill me! I don’t understand why they want me dead but my ignorance doesn’t stop reality merging with the horrifying fantasy that has just been discussed in the next room. Together they kick me hard in the head until the idea of Cristian being my savior crumbles leaving only the back door of Hartford Manor as a possible escape route. Yes that’s it! I can easily slip out into the dark there, find somewhere unseen to hide and think about what to do next. That’s what I need now, time to think all this through and finally having a plan galvanizes me into action. I wipe my eyes, remove my heels and then set off across the hallway as quietly as possible; head down, shoes in hand and feet almost sliding so that I won’t be heard. My decision to move was perfectly timed for no sooner have I slipped behind a partially open door at the rear of the staircase (gently pulling it to behind me) than Cristian appears from the kitchen. He’s calling my name. I hear Aunt May and Uncle John explaining that they haven’t seen me and thankfully soon, their discussion about where I could have got to becomes muffled by distance as I continue to make my way down this dark corridor. It should, if my memory serves me correctly, lead to the tradesman’s entrance at the rear of the manor. Ah yes, here it is. I’m amazed at how steady my hand is as I turn the handle. There is a ridiculously loud click though, one that kicks in a reflex; slowing my door pulling arm and crunching my face up as though doing this will stop these damn creaking hinges. When the noise of the door finally dissipates I‘m relieved to still be able to hear that muffled discussion back in the drawing room. The back door is finally open enough for me to squeeze through it and out into the night. I step through into the cold air but immediately I realise that this isn’t outside at all. This isn’t freedom. This is the cold room! Damn it! I need to go back and find the proper door, the one that leads to the garden but before I can the corridor lights up. Someone is coming.

  ‘Damn it damn it damn it!’

  Having only one option does tend to make taking a decision a hell of a lot easier, for had there been time to run again then I might have considered it, become frozen and found, but there wasn’t so I quickly shut myself back in to the cold room and spin around, frantic to find somewhere to hide. My eyes are squinting and slowly adjusting to the gloom, a gloom that is already partially lit by a brilliant moon watching me through a high window. Too high unfortunately; I’d never make it. So where then? Behind the coats racked on the wall? I curse the childishness of my idea and remind myself that this isn’t a game. This isn’t hide and seek like I used to play with Cristian. Fear rises again as I remember how good he had been at finding and how rubbish I had been at hiding.

  ‘Think Rose, think!’

  Ah, now that looks promising! And although I have to crawl, I feel a lot better once I’ve managed to squeeze myself under a heavy steel work bench and draw a flimsy cotton curtain across to complete my disappearing act. The cloth is sticky and stiff in parts and a lumpy smudge of whatever it is that clings to it smears my bare shoulder. On my pale flesh the gunk looks slimy and congealed, like black pudding and suddenly I realize where I am; tucked away under that place where those that are yet to be hunted will be butchered. Animals will and have been hacked and boned here, just like the young buck that Cristian shot that day and with whose antlers I now find myself having to share my hiding place with. But I am so remarkably together now, so focused and pumped with survival instinct that even being surprised by this deer’s severed head doesn’t concern me.

  ‘Well, hunted I may be but I’ll be damned if I’m going to end up like him.’

  Then a thought hits me. My absolutely last lifeline, one that never the less just might be strong enough to tether me to the place I want to be whilst I ride this out. Quickly I pull out my nail file and start digging. In no time at all, the eye is in my hand. One sharp stab is all it takes to slay my floundering love for Cristian and as I watch it disappear in a puff of powdered carbon I begin to weep again. Before I can finish grieving and return to my escape plan another head appears in my hiding place. This one does shock me, forces my arms forward to scratch and punch but the hands that grab mine are too strong. Still, I struggle.

  ‘Rose! Rose stop it! It’s John, Uncle John Rose. Please, you have to calm down and be quiet. Trust me, I’m on your side.’

  Trust me? How dare he ask for my trust! I allow him to think that I do though, stop fighting for a moment but as soon as his hands relax I rip mine free and scratch him again, this time drawing blood. He punches me on the chin and I understand immediately that this is a fight I can’t win. But I’m not coming out from under the bench. No way.

  ‘I’m sorry for hitting you Rose but really, you must calm down. You don’t have much time. Now be quiet and listen. The next door down is a tradesman’s entrance. That leads out onto the lawns at the back. Once you get across them and into the woods, if you turn left then it’s only a short distance to the road. Do you hear me Rose?’

  Suddenly I do trust this man. I don’t know why. Perhaps it’s the tears in his eyes, perhaps it’s his hand that’s trembling as he helps me rise from my hiding place.

  ‘But above all else Rose, you need these.’

  From his pocket Uncle John pulls a small tube. He struggles to open it and I help him flip the top.

  ‘Here, put these in.’

  He’s offering me two small discs of glass. He can tell I have questions.

  ‘They’re contacts Rose, but special ones. Made of diamond see, pure carbon. Look.’

  Uncle John raises his free hand and expertly flips a third similar disc from his eye to show it to me. It’s obvious from his quivering urgency that being without this for even a second is almost too much for him and I hardly have chance to see it fully before he rubs the lens back in to position.

  ‘I wear them all the time Rose, that’s how I get by. Now please, you must use them too, put them in and go. It’s time to run Rose. Run Rose, run!’

  And I am running, as fast as I ever have. Out of the door and…and where? Where to? Who the hell knows, but it’s away from the manor house and that’s all that matters. The night is clear and the moon would be so beautiful if it didn’t insist on following me with its silver search light. It isn’t as if the light is helping me navigate either, because the diamond discs in my eyes are stinging and blurring my vision. It’s important that they stay there though, Uncle John said so. Whatever happens Rose he said, don’t take these out. I won’t. I’m sure that I can trust Uncle John and so I have trusted him; with my life. I’m still running, feel like I could run forever through the crisp white grass and I’m nearly at the woods when the first shout rings out. It’s Cristian, stood outside the conservatory calling my name, pleading with me to go back to him.

  ‘Never! Never you fuckin’ freak!’

  To my right, from the fringe of dark trees beyond the glistening frost covered lawn, comes a noise loud enough to bring my mouth and legs to a dead stop. Turning towards the sound I not only hear it again but see it too; a crack as branches break followed by a steamy snort that catches moon beams and smokes. I’m backing away from it but I can’t turn and run. If I have learnt anything about myself over the past twenty minutes it’s that I need to take control, keep aware and face my fears and so as the beast announces his arrival with a guttural bellow, less than ten feet away I make my stand. My god he is magnificent! But the stag is in such a hoof stomping frenzy that, what would normally be a panicked glare is more of a focused and threatening stare. There’s fire in his eyes, just lik
e Sam had and for me the staring contest is over before it begins. I turn to run but the route to the woods behind me is blocked by yet another, slightly smaller buck leaving me with two escape routes; the river or the manor.