On tiptoes, Alex trod carefully on the carpet. Only a few steps to her bedroom, glad for once at how small their house was. Hand on the doorknob; she stopped, stilled by a sound, one that immediately brought back a rush of memories.
Alex is seven once again and standing outside her mummy’s bedroom, listening to her cry. The sound is muffled, and Alex opens the door a little to find her mother sobbing heart wrenchingly into the white pillowcase, the one with the pretty pink and yellow flowers embroidered along the side. Her bedroom is in an unusual mess. Drawers are pulled open, gaping and empty. Mummy doesn’t know she’s in the room yet, and burrows even deeper into the pillow, pulling her legs up as if in pain.
“Mummy what’s wrong?” Alex is crying now as well. She doesn’t understand. After a moment’s thought, Alex climbs into the bed and snuggles into her mummy’s cuddle. The pillow is damp from tears.
Alex snaps out of the past. Unable to remember why her mother was crying then, and wrapped up in the melancholy of the years gone by, Alex slipped into her own room, not forgetting to lock the door securely.
“You still here?” Alex didn’t wait for an answer. Quickly she brushed her wet hair and tied it into a ponytail. She grabbed her coat and backpack and left the room. She padded carefully down the stairs, took her set of keys from the peg and stepped out into a bracing autumn wind.
“Where’re you going?” Clive asked, catching up to her.
Alex turned and cast a disapproving eye over him. Despite the cold, he still wore his minimalist red cat suit.
“Come on, don’t shoot the messenger,” he said, seized her by the arm and twirled her around to face him.
“Messenger, hah!” she snorted and wrestled her arm from his grasp. She set off once more, long strides propelling her swiftly to the park. She searched for a quiet spot, away from blue smoke, away from thoughts of murder. Jeremy stayed fresh in her mind. She figured he’d be there for a good while yet. Marching on autopilot, Alex eventually arrived under the old oak tree once more.
“I can’t live like this, Clive. You’re going to have to find some other lap dog to take up the slack.” Alex couldn’t settle instead walking restlessly, circling the tree trunk in wide rings.
“Alex, you are the chosen one, there is no other choice.”
“Bullshit.” The words came out as a grumble.
As she swore, a fat wood pigeon crashed out of the tree and landed by Alex’s feet. Her lips pulled back into a sneer as blue smoke curled out of its black eyes. The most disturbing thing about the smoke the Podis excreted was the lifelike manner with which the blue tendrils propelled through the air towards her. Every single time.
In a flash, she withdrew her right foot and kicked the bird with all the force she could muster. The surprised bird bounced off the trunk of the oak tree in a cloud of feathers and rolled back towards her, dazed and motionless.
“Look what you made me do,” she yelled at Clive and turned her attention to the bird. Black marble eyes blinked at her, but the bird was still too dazed to get on its feet and fly away. Or too broken. “You’re making me do this too,” she shrieked and brought her heel down on the hapless bird. She heard a loud crunching sound. Alex stepped away and lifted her shoe to find grey feathers sticking to her heel with a gluey mixture of blood and brains. Using a nearby patch of grass, she tried to wipe off the mess.
Clive sidled up to Alex and clapped her on the back. “Well done, I knew you’d warm to doing it.” He laughed, despite the icy glare she shot him. “Killing them gets easier. You know, as you rack up notches.”
“Is that all Jeremy and Mr. Duggan are, notches? You’re sicker that I thought,” she said and left the shelter of the oak tree. The panoramic view of the park stunned her into stopping. The oak grew on one the highest parts of the park, and Alex could see most everything that wasn’t obscured by patches of trees. The time was still before lunch, and as it was Sunday, the park had only a few joggers and dog walkers using the trails. The play park had a handful of children, and a swing creaked back and forth endlessly.
“Don’t forget, the person you knew is already dead. The Podis murdered them the minute they took over the body. Would you pull the plug on your mother if she was hooked up to machines and brain dead? It’s no different,” Clive said softly.
Alex glanced at him, her brow furrowed. Everything was so confusing.
“A letter’s coming in the post tomorrow. One you need to get to first.”
“What, something addressed to me?”
“No, it’ll be to your mother, but I can’t stress the importance of you intercepting the letter, babydoll.”
Alex dragged her eyes away from the blue smoke signals erupting from around the park and turned her attention to Clive. “Why do I care?”
“The letter is to do with you. They’re going to try and put you away—have you committed. The part your mother needs to sign is arriving tomorrow, and you have no choice but to get the post before her.”
“Of course I do.” Her tone was intentionally cold, but a worried frown grew on her face and she linked hands with Clive, not yet ready to climb down the hill and definitely not ready to return home.
Chapter Sixteen
BEEP
BEEEEP
BEEEEEEP
The sound of Alex’s alarm rang in a crescendoing cry, echoing around the room. The increasing volume hurt her head. Migraine still here, she thought, fantastic. Swinging an arm out from under the covers she slammed her hand down on the sleep button, and prepared to play the: I’m not ready to get out of bed yet game.
Then she remembered, she wasn’t due at work. She didn’t even have a job any longer. The alarm had been set so she could intercept the post. Clive had warned her—she was going to be put away.
“God dammit!” Her legs tangled in the duvet, and instead of jumping out running, she fell in an ungracious heap on the floor. After a struggle, she shrugged off the covers and dashed out of her room.
The stairs seemed to go on forever, and finally she landed in the hallway. She ran to check the letterbox—a metal cage, bolted onto the door to collect the post. A thick peach and white swirled curtain hid the door from view. Alex stumbled up to the door, still mostly asleep, and pulled at the curtain.
Nothing was there, the post cage already empty.
“Mum?” Alex called, careful not to raise her voice too much, hoping the postman hadn’t been yet. Fingers crossed he was caught up down the street, fighting off the dog at number twenty-nine. Or maybe their regular postman had taken the day off sick or as a holiday, leaving a replacement to slowly make his way around unfamiliar rounds. She muttered a quick prayer.
Alex walked into the living room, noticing the air still smelled of lemon cleaner, but following the sound of tearing paper. Her mother stood beside the dresser, the silver letter opener that had been her grandmother’s on the side. She’d already opened a few letters and the rubbish and post lay scattered in front of Lily.
“Alexandra, what are you doing out of bed?” Lily hid a letter behind her.
“Um, I needed a drink,” Alex said and walked past her mother and towards the kitchen door. “Did any post come for me?” she asked in an innocent, hopefully indifferent manner.
“No, sweetie. Only bills for me.” She reached out for one of the letters mixed in with the junk mail. “Do you know what? They’ve made a mistake on the electric bill? You’ll never believe it, but they’ve put a deposit in for us!”
Alex ignored her mother and the drifting blue smog, and focused on the folded piece of paper Lily slipped carefully under the telephone book.
“Fancy that? Are you going to call them about the payment?”
“Are you crazy? Like they don’t make enough money from people like us. No, I’ll count it as a freebie.” Lily shoved the paper in the drawer as she realized Alex was staring at the red shades of all the bills.
“Cup of tea?” Alex asked trying hard to sound casual.
“Sure, that wou
ld be nice Alexandra.”
“The name is Alex,” she muttered, entering the kitchen and going straight to the kettle. After all the things Clive had said about the Podis, she half expected her mother to come at her with a knife or something, so Alex kept her body at an angle and the door in sight. She heard papers being shuffled, and listened with a frown as her mother left the living room, and went upstairs. Lily returned a few seconds later, coming into the kitchen for her brew.
“So what are you up to today, Alexandra?” Blue swirls cascaded out of her mother’s eyes, forming pools on the table, the shade a deeper and darker color than the day before.
“Nothing,” Alex took a loud sip out of her mug. “What’re you doing up?”
“I was going to do some shopping … groceries. The cupboards are a little bare,” she said. Lily rarely bothered to do shopping, and Alex wondered if another dinner was still planned.
“When’re you heading out?” Alex wanted to search for the letter and rip it up before Lily had the chance to send it back. The thought of her mother leaving the house for an extended period of time was an attractive one.
“Soon, I need to shower first, you know, wash all this sleep out of me,” Lily said, dragging her hands through her hair in an attempt to calm the frizz. The smoke from her eyes fell like tears now, a stream of liquid smoke pooling on the table.
“I might go and visit Becky,” Alex lied, remembering her mother’s note, how she’d been neglecting Becky.
“How are you doing, darling?” Lily leaned forward to touch Alex’s arm.
“Fine, I guess.” Alex let her mother caress her skin for a moment before sitting back and out of reach. “As good as can be expected.”
Lily nodded. “That’s what we can all hope for.” She played with the rim of her mug, tracing circles, dancing her finger in and out of the steam. Then in a quick movement, drank the last of her tea, followed by a quick exit from the kitchen.
Alex sipped hers in the quiet room, glad awkward conversation was no longer required, and watched the blue fog on the kitchen table dissipate.
The shower ran in the background as Alex tidied her room. She had dragged the vacuum upstairs, and now the engine purred in harmony with the power shower. She always found this chore the most soothing and therapeutic, liking the lines left in the carpet afterwards.
While downstairs, Alex had searched the dresser for the letter, looking under the phone book, through all the bills, under and inside wherever she thought Lily might have stashed something secret. By now, Alex was quite certain Lily had hidden the letter in her room. The risk was too much while her mother was at home, but since she was heading out Alex simply needed to be patient. So she planned her search tactics as the vacuum hummed over the carpet. What if her mother planned to take the letter out with her and post the authorization form while out? Alex shook her head. Lily procrastinated with everything. She’d need time to think about things first.
The shower stopped, the two motors switching off almost in sync as Alex finished hoovering her room. Alex arranged and rearranged the sparse items on her dressing table as her mother finished in the bathroom. Eventually, she sat down on the edge of her bed and waited for Lily to leave.
Fifteen minutes later, and Alex still perched on the bed twiddling her thumbs. Bored with that, she stuck the tip of one finger in her mouth and she chewed gently. The front door had closed moments ago. She needed to just get up and go, force herself into motion. The time was now.
Slowly, as if in a dream, Alex crossed her room. Wiping her palms on her trousers first, she grabbed the doorknob and turned.
In the hallway Alex paused, looking towards the bathroom, the air smelling wet with steam and scented with the soaps and shampoos her mother had used. Alex glanced down the stairs. Her mother had left on her grocery mission and shouldn’t be back anytime soon, but that knowledge didn’t calm Alex’s frayed nerves. With a quickening of her heart, Alex stepped across the small landing with a stride, gripped the handle of the door opposite her own, and went in.
At first, Alex stood stuck in the doorway, mouth ajar as she stared at the mess in her mother’s room. A clothes hamper, long overfull, disgorged its contents in a sloppy pile around the base. Drawers had been left open, slips and lacy underwear spilling out and falling to the floor so Alex didn’t know what might be clean or not. Perfumes, creams and lotions filled the entirety of Lily’s dressing table. A thick layer of dust covered everything.
“Ugh,” Alex muttered, and turned around, wondering where to start.
The bedside cabinet was nearest. The surface was stacked with silly women’s magazines that shouted out: You look too old, too fat and you need this man. She flicked through the first few, hoping the letter would fall out. No such luck.
Alex hadn’t the faintest idea where to look and pulled half-heartedly at the drawer at the bottom of the bedside cabinet. With a grimace, Alex got an eyeful of a selection of sex toys along with bottles of lubricant. Alex slammed the drawer closed with a thump and turned to the wardrobe.
One door stood partially open as leopard spotted leggings and dolly tops lay half inside. Her mother’s scent clung at her nostrils, not helping her aching head. Alex poked around the inside of the wardrobe amongst the stiletto heels and tight leather boots. She found a whip tucked in the left corner. Alex touched the rubber handle briefly before realizing what it was. Unconsciously she wiped her hand on her trousers.
“Where the hell has she put it?” Alex groaned. All she wanted to do was find that damn letter, and then she could be out of this chaos and back in her own ordered environment. Lily had literally just received it, and the only other room she’d gone in was this one. Alex felt sure of that.
Frustrated, Alex leaned on the wardrobe. A faint chinking noise from near her feet caught her attention. Getting down on her hands and knees, Alex sucked in a deep breath and stuck a hand in the void under the furniture. Seconds later she grasped an object and pulled it out to see.
“Bloody hell, Mum. Quit drinking have we?” Alex held up an empty bottle of vodka. It might have been an old one, she thought and took a sniff, just to be sure, but the scent was still thick and intoxicating. “Well, if you’re under the wardrobe, maybe Mum hid the letter next to you,” Alex said to the bottle as she placed it by her side.
“Let’s see shall we?” she said, and stuck her hand under the wardrobe once more, only to retrieve another bottle. This one was rum. “I found a friend for you, vodka, but I suppose you’ve already met.” Again her hand delved into darkness, as far as she dared and then a little further. A crinkle of paper bought a smile to her lips. Alex pinched her fingertips around the corner and pulled it out.
Slam.
Alex jumped up off the floor, the color draining from her face as she pressed up against the wardrobe. She listened for the tell-tale creaking of the third stair. Instead she heard the kitchen door open. With a quick intake of breath, Alex kneeled down and pushed the bottles back into their hidey-hole. Listening again, she heard water—probably the kettle being filled. Alex retreated from the room, softly closing the door with one hand, the letter clutched in the other.
A step across the landing and then her own bedroom door was closed. Letting out a sigh Alex threw the little bolt and finally feeling secure, she lay down on her bed and put the letter on her pillow.
Alex stared. The letter no doubt condemned her. Yet she was the sane one in the family. The authorities should come into the house; they’d soon learn who’s actually in control.
Slowly, carefully, she finally opened the letter, folding out one leaf, then the other.
Her heart jumped, startled. This wasn’t what she’d expected to read.
For a moment she didn’t know what to do. Handwritten words jumped off the page at her. The first few said:
To my dearest Alexandra,
Alex skipped across the body of the letter, her eyes drawn to the last line.
Your loving father, Harry.
Tears sprung to Alex’s eyes and angrily she blinked and took long deep breaths. She grabbed a tissue from her bedside cabinet and dabbed, wanting to read more but unable to focus through tears.
Her surprising gush of emotion began to ebb and as she patted away the last tears, she finally read the words. A small, neat script gave her only a few lines.
To my dearest Alexandra,
I am so sorry to be leaving today. I have run out of choices and I can only hope that one day you will find it in your heart to forgive me.
We will meet up again, and I will make things right. I have asked your mother to give this to you on your eighteenth birthday, and explain the circumstances of my hurried departure. She will tell the story far better than I am able to right now.
Goodbye my sweet girl,
Your loving Father, Harry.
Alex stared at the letter, rereading until the words had burned themselves upon her retinas, and she only needed to close her eyes to read what he wrote. Harry. Her father. She curled up into a fetal ball, and wrapped one arm around her knees. His letter didn’t tell her much of anything. Just that he was sorry.
Why did Harry leave? Alex thought, the name sounding strange even in her mind. Had her mother done something to make him go? Alex hadn’t been particularly distressed with her father’s departure. Plenty of kids at school had single parent families, and since Lily hadn’t banged on about Harry being gone, Alex had resigned him to the past, so much so she couldn’t even remember his face. For a long time, this hadn’t bothered her, hadn’t even occurred to her that she should be bothered. She’d cried him out of her system years ago, until one day she’d realized he’d not just abandoned her.
“What choices did you run out of, Harry?” she asked, holding the letter up and examining the paper, as if the secret words she needed were written in ghost script, only to be seen by the light of a bulb. “What did you do that was so awful you needed to leave, needed my forgiveness?” Alex cuddled the letter to her chest, tracing the paper with her fingertips, fancying she could read by the indents her father’s pen left all those years before.
My Demon Page 17
