The Mark

by Heather Burnside

  ‘Becky, are you going to come and eat your dinner or do I have to punish you?’

  When Rebecca still wouldn’t come downstairs after several minutes Maddy felt she’d have to take action. ‘Right, you’re grounded for a week and that means no netball club either.’

  She walked out of Rebecca’s room without waiting for a response, worried that she might weaken if she saw the disappointment on her daughter’s face.

  By the time Maddy returned to her own dinner it had gone cold and after a half-hearted attempt she left most of it. She was already feeling bad. Her daughter wasn’t having a good time of it; first she turned up late to pick her up again and then this. As the guilt ate away at her she couldn’t help but wonder if she was somehow responsible for her daughter’s behaviour.

  Maddy decided that maybe she was neglecting her a bit lately and promised herself, yet again, that she would try to see less of Aaron and spend more time with her daughter. She only hoped she could keep to that promise and avoid Aaron’s temptations.

  Later, when Rebecca was in bed, Maddy tried to get some more work done. But it was difficult to concentrate; she was bogged down with tiredness, strung out and had too much on her mind. She was also upset about Rebecca. Eventually, when her brain wouldn’t focus, she thought about the words Aaron had spoken as he had given her his gift. Next time you’re feeling a bit low, stressed out or just overtired, take some. It’ll make you feel better.

  At the time, she had accepted the gift to please him without any intentions of using it. But now, as she thought about the buzz she gained from something so seemingly innocuous as a bit of white powder, she was sorely tempted, knowing it would make her more alert and perhaps awake enough to do some more work. But she managed to resist, for now.

  34

  The following morning Maddy was glad that Rebecca seemed in a better mood as she got ready for school. Maddy was planning on dropping her at the school gate before driving into Manchester, where she was due to attend an editorial meeting with a major client. After the meeting she had arranged to meet Clare for lunch.

  For once Maddy was well ahead of schedule as she waited in the hallway for Rebecca to put her shoes on. Once Rebecca was ready Maddy opened the front door, smiling at her daughter as she did so, but when she swung the door open she was alarmed at what she saw and the smile soon slipped from her face.

  The word bitch was emblazoned across the front door in thick red marker pen. A whimper escaped Maddy’s lips as she took a sharp breath and her hand shot up to cover her mouth.

  ‘What is it, Mummy?’ asked Rebecca, approaching Maddy so she could take a look.

  Maddy quickly stood in front of the letters but they were so huge that her slim frame failed to conceal them all. The letter B and half of the letter H were still visible. Rebecca looked at them curiously, trying to figure out what they said.

  ‘It’s graffiti,’ Maddy said, becoming agitated. ‘Nothing for you to worry about; I can get rid of it. Go and wait at the car while I lock up. And don’t look at it. It’s a rude word.’

  Maddy stood in front of the graffiti, facing the door. Wanting desperately to hide it from her daughter, she pulled a tissue out of her handbag and dabbed it with her tongue till it was moist. Then she took the tissue to the door, rubbing at the letters frantically in the hope that she could at least get rid of part of it before they set off for school. But it soon became clear that it wasn’t going to shift easily. And she really needed to get to school. She couldn’t be late again.

  Maddy paused for a moment, undecided. Then her worry about being late won over her concerns about the graffiti. She’d have to take Rebecca to school and sort the graffiti out later, she thought while she locked the door, her hands trembling. She felt sullied and upset. But at the moment she was more concerned about her daughter’s reaction if she saw what was written.

  Maddy swung round, trying to obscure most of the word while checking that her daughter kept her gaze ahead of her.

  As she walked towards the car Maddy clicked her key fob to open the doors. ‘Get inside the car and ignore it,’ she said, regretting that, yet again, she was a bit sharp with Rebecca.

  She watched as Rebecca opened the car door and stepped inside, then Maddy walked round to the driver’s door and got in. As she started the engine she glanced across at her daughter, whose head was now turned towards the house.

  ‘I said don’t look at it!’ yelled Maddy and Rebecca automatically obeyed by turning her head face forward.

  But it was too late. She could tell by the shocked expression on her daughter’s face that she had seen it. Neither of them spoke. Maddy felt too ashamed and didn’t know what to say that would make it seem better. Rebecca, Maddy guessed, probably didn’t want to hear her acknowledge that she had seen it.

  A few minutes later Maddy dropped Rebecca at school, her mind preoccupied throughout the journey with worries about who would do such a thing. She wondered if it could have been her ex, Rob. Or even her ex-husband? No. It wasn’t really Rob’s style, and Andy would never do that even if they had had a few cross words recently.

  Then she thought that perhaps it was someone acting the fool on the way home from the pub. But even so, it was a terrible thing to do. And why her? Why bitch? Did they even know her? She wondered whether anybody could really dislike her so much that they would be watching her home, waiting for a chance to do something so nasty to get at her.

  When Maddy left Rebecca at the gate she stooped to give her a customary kiss. Then, in an attempt to reassure her, she said, ‘Try not to think about what you saw. It’ll be gone by the time you get home.’

  Rebecca shrugged, something she seemed to be doing a lot of lately, but she didn’t speak. Instead she rushed across the school yard, seeming anxious to break away from her tainted mother.

  Maddy decided to go back home and try to remove the graffiti before she went to her editorial meeting. If she was quick then she would still make the meeting on time. It was important to her to get rid of the graffiti as soon as possible. She thought of all her neighbours and passers-by seeing the word ‘bitch’ on her front door and the judgements they would make as a result of it. And she knew she wouldn’t feel at ease until it was gone.

  It was only when Maddy was on the way back from school that she realised there might be a link between the graffiti and the strange car she had seen parked across from her house. Then there was the other car parked further up the street, which also seemed to have a driver sitting inside, watching. The thought struck terror into her. What if she had upset someone? There could be someone out there now who had it in for her. Getting enemies wasn’t unheard of in her profession, after all.

  She stopped herself before she got too carried away. The parked cars were probably just a coincidence. She couldn’t brush aside the graffiti quite so easily, but she told herself that it might have been a one-off. It wasn’t necessarily personal, just some drunken layabout with nothing else better to do. Maddy decided that the best thing she could do would be to get rid of it as soon as possible and then just forget about it.

  As soon as she reached home Maddy parked up and went inside the house in search of something with which to clean the ink off her door. She tried washing-up liquid, kitchen cleaning spray and even disinfectant but nothing would clean it away. The perpetrator had obviously used a permanent marker pen.

  For a long while she stood outside the house rubbing frantically at the bold red letters, feeling humiliated and exposed. In her mind she pictured numerous eyes watching, boring right through her and seeing the rot within.

  The neighbours would be forming their opinions of her: a different person from the one they had come to know. The brazen divorcee, working her way through a series of younger lovers. And, through her debauched lifestyle, attracting the unwanted attention of someone venomous enough to scrawl such a hateful word on her door.

  She knew she shouldn’t care what people thought, but she did. So much of her lifestyle was abou
t giving the right impression. The consummate journalist turning up to editorial meetings in a smart suit and conducting herself professionally while she tried to sell her ideas to the influential staff of high-profile publications. And she was bloody good at it. She’d grown used to being well respected. Until now.

  Suddenly her rambling thoughts jolted her memory. The editorial meeting. Shit! She’d become so engrossed in trying to remove the ink that she’d let it slip her mind. And one look at the word on her door told her that her efforts had been futile. She glanced at her watch. There were only fifteen minutes till the meeting started. She had no chance now of getting there on time once she’d managed to drive to Manchester and park the car.

  Feeling despondent, she decided to ring the magazine and cry off the meeting on some pretext or other. The editor wasn’t impressed. Maddy’s excuse of an upset stomach was unconvincing, especially at this short notice, and the editor let her know it. He was brusque on the phone and kept on emphasising repeatedly how disappointed he was. For the second time in two days Maddy felt patronised and belittled.

  With the awkward call behind her, she sat down to have a moment’s reflection. Maddy was worried, knowing that she couldn’t afford to lose another major client. She was having a bad enough time of it as it was and was still struggling to get her bank account out of the red. And as she sat reflecting on the disastrous turn her life had taken lately, she found herself in tears.

  It took her by surprise at first. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been reduced to tears. Probably when she had discovered her husband’s infidelity. Even when her relationship with Rob had ended, she hadn’t cried about it. She had known she was better off without him.

  But as the crying continued she let the tears fall, giving her a release from all the anguish of the last few weeks. When she had cried herself out she felt silly and weak. Why had she let something as trivial as a bit of graffiti upset her like that? After all, she had so much to be grateful for: a lovely daughter, nice home, good job and now a wonderful boyfriend too.

  As she counted her blessings it made her feel much better about things and, in a moment of clarity, it occurred to her to look on the Internet for a solution to removing permanent marker pen. She quickly grabbed her iPad and was amazed to find that alcohol and toothpaste were recommended, both of which she had in stock.

  Still anxious to remove every trace of the ink, she dashed outside and set about the task and was relieved to find that the marks came away much more easily. When she had finished she looked at her nice clean door, and she felt calm again.

  She decided not to tell Aaron. What was the point? He wouldn’t be able to do anything about it, and she didn’t want him to think badly of her because of what someone else had written. Besides, she knew how caring Aaron was – he’d probably insist on coming round and staying and that wasn’t what she wanted.

  At the moment she knew she had to focus on her work and her daughter. So, she would put the incident behind her and hope that it was just a one-off.

  35

  Clare was in the Bank where she had arranged to meet Maddy for lunch. She arrived at 12.20 p.m., ten minutes before they were due to meet, so she got herself a drink while she waited. She sat down and scanned the menu, looking at her watch once she’d decided what she wanted to eat. It was still only a minute past half twelve so there was time yet for Maddy to get there.

  Clare glanced round the pub. It was full of business types, men in suits and officious-looking women, with the exception of a few tables where the clientele were more casually dressed. She guessed that the latter were friends meeting for lunch like her and Maddy. While her eyes scanned the room she noticed that she was the only person sitting on her own.

  As the minutes ticked away Clare began to feel self-conscious. She caught a few curious glances from the people on a neighbouring table. They probably thought she’d been stood up.

  Clare couldn’t resist checking the time on her watch again. Almost a quarter to one. She wanted to ring Maddy but knew she was in a meeting, and Clare didn’t want to disrupt it. Besides, Maddy would probably have her phone on vibrate so she wouldn’t be disturbed.

  When Clare’s glass became empty she returned to the bar and came back carrying a second glass of wine. She looked at her watch one more time. Turned five to one. Maddy was almost half an hour late now. Clare flicked through her texts to make sure she had got the meeting time right. Yes, Maddy should definitely have been there by 12.30.

  Clare fired off a text to Maddy; surely that wouldn’t disrupt the meeting. The most they’d hear would be a ping and maybe that would be enough to remind Maddy of where she should be.

  As Clare looked up from her phone she caught the gaze of a lady on the next table, who flashed a sympathetic smile. She managed a faint smile in return, but she didn’t feel like smiling. Clare was becoming angry. How dared Maddy stand her up like this, whatever her reasons?

  Finally, Clare decided that if Maddy hadn’t shown up or called her by the time she had drunk her wine she would give her a call and to hell with the consequences. She was getting a bit tired of Maddy messing her around. Since Maddy had met Aaron she hardly saw her any more and when she did she was usually late. Even when she rang her, it seemed as though Maddy couldn’t get off the phone quickly enough.

  Clare soon finished her second glass of wine. She fished in her bag for her phone, then made the call. After two glasses of wine and over three quarters of an hour sat stewing, Clare wasn’t in the best frame of mind when Maddy answered.

  *

  After a tense start to the day, Maddy decided to stop dwelling on the graffiti and the fraught call to the magazine editor, knowing she had other things to do. For the latter part of the morning she threw herself into her work, which helped to take her mind off things.

  Maddy worked solidly for over two hours until her rumbling stomach reminded her that it was lunch time. She checked the clock on her PC, noticing that it was well after 1 p.m., and finished what she was doing so she could take a break. Maddy was just checking out the contents of her fridge when the phone rang.

  The ringing phone, along with her rumbling stomach, suddenly jolted her memory. Damn! Clare. She had completely forgotten that she should have met her for lunch. She dashed over to her phone and answered it, then braced herself while she awaited Clare’s reaction.

  ‘Maddy! What the hell’s happened to you?’ Clare demanded, and Maddy could tell straight away that she wasn’t very happy.

  ‘Clare, I’m so sorry!’ said Maddy. ‘I completely forgot. You wouldn’t believe the morning—’

  But Clare butted in, her tone hostile. ‘Save it!’ she said. ‘I don’t want to hear your lame excuses. It’s bad enough that you never have time for me these days and that you’re always late when we do meet. But to stand me up altogether is beyond the pale. Just what the hell is going on with you, Maddy?’

  Maddy tried to cut in but Clare wasn’t finished yet. ‘You’re missing appointments, losing work, you’ve no time for your friends and you’re even short with Becky. It’s like I don’t even recognise you any more.’

  Maddy could feel herself becoming annoyed on hearing Clare’s words. How dare she pass judgement? She was meant to be her best friend. ‘Now, just a minute,’ she said. ‘Fair enough, I didn’t make lunch, and I’ve apologised for that. But there’s no need to bring Becky into it or my work life, for that matter.’

  ‘What do you expect, Maddy? I’ve been sat here like an idiot for the best part of an hour, and all because you can’t be bothered to show up!’

  ‘It isn’t because I can’t be bothered. I’ve had a lot on my mind this morning, if you must know. But you haven’t even given me a chance to explain.’

  ‘Go on, then, enlighten me,’ was Clare’s sarcastic retort. ‘I can’t wait to hear this.’

  Maddy made as if to speak but before she had chance to get the words out she felt tears cloud her eyes again. She would have liked to confide in
someone about her troubles. Someone close. But not like this. She wanted sympathy, not someone pouring scorn over her words.

  ‘Well?’ Clare prompted.

  Maddy knew she’d have to give Clare something to appease her. Hearing how angry she was, Maddy knew their friendship depended on it.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said again, her voice catching. ‘I didn’t go to the editorial meeting. I didn’t get as far as Manchester. I didn’t even get further than the front door.’ Then the catch in her voice developed into a tremor at thoughts of the front door. ‘I… something cropped up.’

  ‘Yes?’ said Clare, and Maddy could tell she was already mellowing. ‘What is it, Maddy?’

  Maddy took a moment to calm herself before she said, ‘Somebody had written the word “bitch” on my front door. In massive letters. And in bloody permanent marker. Bright red! I had to get rid of it. I couldn’t have Becky coming home and finding it still there. I think she already saw it this morning as it is. And the magazine editor wasn’t too pleased when I had to cancel the meeting. I’m worried I might lose that magazine too.’

  ‘OK, OK. Calm down,’ said Clare. ‘It’s probably just some idiot with nothing better to do.’

  ‘That’s what I thought at first,’ said Maddy. ‘But there’s something else.’

  ‘What?’ asked Clare, and Maddy could hear a lingering note of irritation in her tone.

  ‘There was a car. Well, more than one. But at least one that I know of. Somebody was sitting in it watching my house. I didn’t mention it before because you might have just thought I was being paranoid but now this has happened too—’

  Clare cut in. ‘How do you know they were watching the house?’

  ‘It was obvious. He was there for ages.’

  ‘He? So, it was a man?’ asked Clare.

  ‘I think so, but it was difficult to tell. He had a baseball cap on and his jacket pulled up round his face. He was parked across the road so it was a bit too far to see from the living-room window. The second time the car was parked further up the street. But it was a different car.’