Nemesis

by Shaun Hutson

  Hacket felt a familiar warmth beginning to spread around his groin.

  Sue arched her back as he slid down the bed, his tongue flicking across her nipples while his probing fingers gently outlined the edges of her vaginal lips, parting them, spreading the tumescent flesh like the petals of a musky flower.

  ‘Love me,’ she murmured, her eyes closed.

  Hacket felt her hands on his back. Felt her nails raking his skin.

  ‘Jesus,’ he hissed as she pulled her nails hard across his shoulder.

  She raised the hand before her and saw the tiny pieces of his flesh hanging from her nails. She smiled down at him and Hacket looked into her eyes.

  He could feel the grazes on his shoulder.

  The tiny dribble of blood from the four places she had scraped him.

  He slid back up the bed, kissing her breasts again, this time returning to her mouth. They kissed feverishly, his tongue plunging deep into her mouth.

  She took his bottom lip between her teeth, sucking gently, then chewing.

  She bit hard.

  ‘Sue, for Christ’s sake,’ he hissed, drawing back. He put a finger to his lip and found that there was blood dribbling from it.

  ‘Please, John, just love me,’ she gasped, a note of pleading in her voice, ‘Like you were doing before.’

  Hacket hesitated a moment then slid down her body once more, blood from his cut lip staining her breasts and belly as his tongue flicked over the warm flesh. He probed inside her navel with his tongue, slowing his pace as he drew nearer to the spot he sought. The tightly curled hair between her legs through which his fingers were already gliding. He withdrew one from her vagina, drawing a glistening trail across her belly with her own moisture. She gasped and pushed him further down towards her burning desire.

  Hacket licked her belly again, tasting her wetness which he had smeared there.

  The skin of her stomach rose a fraction beneath his tongue.

  At first he thought it was a muscular contraction but, when it happened a second time he sat up, looking down at her belly.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ she said, quietly. ‘Don’t stop now.’

  Hacket rubbed the palm of his hand gently over her stomach.

  He felt the movement beneath his palm.

  Like…

  Like what?

  Like the first movements of a growing child?

  ‘It’s impossible,’ said Hacket, as if in answer to his own thoughts.

  ‘John, what’s wrong?’ she wanted to know, watching as he moved away slightly, his eyes still on her stomach.

  Was this another dream?

  ‘I felt something,’ he said. ‘Like…’ He was struggling for the words, aware of how ridiculous it sounded. ‘Like a baby moving.’

  ‘Isn’t it wonderful?’ she beamed.

  ‘Sue, it’s not possible,’ he snapped. ‘Curtis treated you two days ago.’

  ‘Accelerated growth.’

  Hacket shook his head. No, this wasn’t real. The foetus couldn’t possibly have developed at such incredible speed. He had imagined it. Yes, that was the answer. He had imagined it.

  Her stomach moved slightly again.

  Sue pressed her fingers to the spot and smiled.

  ‘Aren’t you happy, John?’ she said, smiling broadly. ‘I am.’

  ‘This isn’t normal, Sue. I don’t know what Curtis has done to you but it’s not right…’

  She cut him short.

  ‘I’ll tell you what he’s done,’ she snapped. ‘He’s given me what you never could give me. He’s given me hope.’

  ‘At least let another doctor examine you,’ Hacket pleaded. ‘There could be complications. Something could have gone wrong.’

  ‘That’s what you want isn’t it?’ she snarled. ‘You want something to go wrong. You want me to lose this child don’t you?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Sue. I’m worried about your health.’

  ‘No you’re not. You just don’t want me to have another child. Well I’ll make sure I don’t lose this one. It was your fault Lisa died,’ she hissed, hatred in her eyes. ‘You killed her.’

  ‘Sue,’ he said, his own anger building.

  ‘If it hadn’t been for you she’d still be here now.’

  ‘Drop it,’ he told her.

  ‘If not for you and your whore.’

  ‘I mean it,’ he said, angrily. ‘Shut up.’

  ‘You killed our first child, I won’t let you kill this one.’

  ‘SHUT UP.’

  He acted instinctively, not even realising what he was doing.

  Hacket struck his wife a stinging back-hand blow across the face.

  She fell back on the bed, glaring up at him.

  Despite his anger he felt the remorse immediately.

  ‘Oh God, I’m sorry,’ he whispered, moving towards her.

  ‘Get away,’ she roared. ‘Leave me alone. Leave me and my baby alone.’

  Hacket looked at her. The blazing eyes, her hair coiled around her face and shoulders like damp reptilian tails. She looked like some modern-day Gorgon.

  ‘What’s happening to you, Sue?’ he asked, quietly, his voice cracking. ‘I’m losing you again and I don’t want that.’

  ‘Then stay out of my fucking way,’ she snarled, getting to her feet. She tugged a sheet from the bed and wrapped it around her.

  Hacket could only watch as she padded towards the door.

  He heard her cross the landing then heard the door of the spare room slam shut.

  Alone, he knelt on the bed, head bowed.

  As if in prayer.

  Seventy-six

  It was almost noon when she heard the knock on the front door.

  Sue frowned and got to her feet, lowering the volume on the stereo as she passed.

  It was too early for Hacket to be back for lunch. For one thing he hardly ever left the school during the lunch hour and, also, he had his key. He’d have no need to knock. She wasn’t expecting Julie until later that afternoon.

  She reached the front door and opened it.

  The man who stood there looked vaguely familiar to her.

  ‘Mrs Hacket?’ he asked.

  She nodded, somewhat tentatively.

  ‘Yours I believe,’ said the man and held out his hand.

  Sue smiled as she saw her purse cradled in the palm of the visitor.

  ‘You dropped it the other day when we bumped into each other,’ said Ronald Mills, smiling. ‘I’m afraid I looked through it in the hope of finding your address. I wanted to return it to you.’

  ‘You’re very kind,’ said Sue, beaming. ‘I thought I’d lost it.’

  Mills shrugged, smiled even more broadly and handed her the purse.

  As he did, Sue noticed the tattoo on his hand. The rough design, the discoloured flesh and the raw skin beneath where the scab had been picked away. He turned to leave but she stopped him.

  ‘Look, I really am grateful. I don’t know how to thank you,’ she said. ‘Would a cup of tea be enough? It doesn’t seem like much of a reward, but…’

  ‘That would be ample reward, Mrs Hacket,’ said Mills, holding up a hand. ‘Thank you.’

  He followed her inside, his smile fading briefly as she turned her back on him.

  The knife felt heavy jammed into his belt.

  They exchanged pleasantries about the weather. He told her his name was Neville, that he was visiting relatives in Hinkston.

  As he sipped his tea he glanced around the sitting room.

  A photo of a little girl on the sideboard.

  A little girl he recognised.

  He felt the beginnings of an erection at the recollection of how close he had been to that girl. How close. How he’d held her.

  He remembered using the knife on her.

  The same knife which was now stuck in his belt.

  ‘Your husband is out at work then?’ he said, gazing at Sue.

  ‘He’s a teacher,’ she said. ‘He works in the school here,’ s
he hooked a thumb in the direction of the building which backed onto their garden. ‘That’s why we moved here.’

  ‘Your children must like it here,’ he said, smiling, picking at the scab on his hand with his nail.

  Sue smiled thinly.

  ‘Your little girl, what’s her name?’ he asked.

  ‘Lisa,’ Sue said, quickly, then, trying to change the subject. ‘Where abouts in Hinkston do your relatives live?’

  ‘Lisa,’ said Mills, ignoring her attempts to steer the conversation along different lines. ‘How pretty. She’s pretty too.’ He got to his feet, crossed to the picture and picked it up. ‘You don’t mind do you?’ he said, almost apologetically, regarding the photo carefully. ‘Such a lovely child.’

  With his back to Sue his smile faded once again.

  So lovely.

  ‘I can’t thank you enough for bringing my purse back, Mr Neville,’ Sue said, clearing her throat. ‘I thought it had been stolen.’

  ‘There are so many dishonest people in the world today, Mrs Hacket. You’re lucky that it was me who found it. It could have been a criminal who picked it up.’ He chuckled.

  Sue found that his eyes were upon her once more, his stare unblinking.

  ‘More tea?’ she asked, anxious for the chance of a respite from those piercing eyes.

  ‘Very kind,’ he said, handing her the cup.

  She took it and headed for the kitchen, aware of Mills behind her.

  ‘You have a lovely house,’ he said, stepping into the kitchen, watching as she poured him another cup of tea.

  She thanked him.

  ‘Lovely house. Lovely child.’ He ran appraising eyes over her slim body. The tight jeans, the blouse which she always wore for housework, paint stained and threadbare in places. Her hair had been washed that morning and hung past her shoulders in soft waves. ‘And you’re lovely too if you don’t mind me saying.’

  She handed him his tea, beginning to feel a little uncomfortable. She sat down at the kitchen table.

  Mills sat down opposite her, his eyes fixed upon her.

  As he reached into his jacket pocket for his cigarettes his hand brushed the handle of the knife.

  ‘You don’t mind if I smoke do you?’ he asked, lighting up. He offered her one and she declined, explaining about the baby. ‘You are lucky. I love little children myself,’ he said, grinning.

  Sue shuffled uncomfortably in her seat, watching him as he sucked slowly on the cigarette. It seemed to take him an eternity to smoke it. Then, finally, he got to his feet and said he would have to go. Sue breathed an almost audible sigh of relief.

  He followed her to the front door, standing behind her as she opened it.

  She thanked him again and watched as he walked up the path, stopping half-way to smile courteously.

  ‘Perhaps we’ll see each other again,’ he said. ‘When we’re shopping.’ He chuckled.

  Sue nodded, waved and shut the door.

  She let out a deep breath, standing with her back to the door for a moment, listening for footsteps, almost as if she expected him to return.

  He didn’t.

  She rebuked herself for feeling so uncomfortable in the man’s presence, for being so jumpy.

  Never mind, she told herself, he was gone now, and she had her purse back.

  ‘Perhaps we’ll see each other again,’ she said, remembering his words. ‘No chance,’ she thought aloud.

  It was then that the phone rang.

  Seventy-seven

  Doctor Edward Curtis glanced at the list of names written on the pad before him. He sighed as he ran his finger down the neatly written names. Finally, he sat back in his chair, hands pressed together before him as if in some meditative gesture.

  He was still sitting like that when the door opened and his receptionist popped her head round.

  ‘Your next patient is here, Doctor,’ she said.

  Curtis nodded and sat forward, some kind of acknowledgement of the receptionist’s presence. She retreated back to her own outer office and Curtis pushed the notepad bearing the names out of sight under a pile of papers.

  He ran a hand through his hair and waited for the knock on his door.

  It came a moment later and Sue Hacket walked in.

  They exchanged greetings and she felt a peculiar pleasure from the fact that Curtis seemed genuinely pleased to see her.

  He asked how she was feeling.

  She mentioned the pains.

  Always pain.

  ‘I’d better check you over,’ said the doctor, smiling. ‘We can’t be too cautious at this stage.’ He motioned her towards the couch in the corner of his room and Sue paused beside it.

  ‘Do you want me to undress?’ she asked, her eyes never leaving his.

  ‘Yes please,’ he said, quietly.

  She began unbuttoning her blouse.

  Curtis, for his own part, turned to a tray of instruments covered by a sterile gauze sheet. As he lifted it up Sue saw two or three hypodermic needles lying there.

  She pulled the blouse off and began unfastening her jeans, simultaneously kicking off her shoes.

  ‘Did you tell your husband about the pains you were getting?’ Curtis asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘He seems worried enough already, I didn’t see the point in making things worse.’ She pulled her jeans off and stood before him in just her bra and panties.

  Curtis smiled at her and asked her to climb up onto the couch, which she duly did.

  ‘Just relax,’ he told her, his hands settling on her stomach. He began to knead the flesh gently, pressing occasionally, his fingers moving lower until he was brushing against the top of her knickers, stirring the silky strands of pubic hair which were in view.

  ‘Show me where the pain was,’ he said.

  Sue took his hand and guided it between her legs, allowing him to rest against the warmth of her crotch. He pressed and stroked gently along her inner thighs and across her mound. She breathed deeply, her eyes closing. Keeping one hand on her warm vagina he took his stethoscope and pressed it to her belly.

  Then moved it across. And down.

  ‘Are you still getting pain,’ he wanted to know.

  ‘Only occasionally,’ she breathed.

  ‘The baby is fine, as far as I can tell. There’s nothing to worry about,’ he said, softly.

  ‘When is it due?’ she said. ‘I know it’s probably ages yet.’

  ‘It needn’t be,’ Curtis said. ‘If you want to accelerate the growth there is a way. If you’re willing. It involves another injection though.’

  ‘Do it,’ she said, flatly. ‘Now.’

  Curtis smiled.

  Sue hooked her thumbs into the sides of her panties and began to ease them over her hips, exposing her silky hairs and her vagina.

  Curtis reached for the hypodermic, drew some fluid off from a bottle on the tray then eased the steel point past her outer lips.

  She felt the steel penetrate her and it made her gasp. But there was little pain and, as he withdrew, she was smiling.

  She dressed again slowly, almost reluctantly, then sat down opposite him at the desk.

  ‘If you have any more trouble let me know,’ Curtis said. ‘Come and see me anytime.’

  She thanked him and got to her feet, ready to leave.

  ‘You don’t know how much this means to me, doctor,’ she said, pausing at the door. ‘I don’t know how I can ever thank you.’

  Curtis smiled benignly.

  Sue closed the door behind her and he heard her footsteps echoing away up the corridor.

  His smile faded rapidly and he reached for the pad once more, his eyes skimming over the names he’d looked at a dozen times already that morning. The calls had all come in during a ninety-minute spell earlier that morning.

  Calls from Elaine Craven. From Julie Clayton.

  Stuart Lewis had rung. So too had Patricia Stokes.

  All had been frightened.

&
nbsp; Even the call from The Bull had sounded more urgent than usual. Could he come and see Paula, Mrs Kirkham had asked. It was very important.

  Curtis knew it was important.

  And he knew why.

  He sighed as he re-read the list once more.

  Had the time come again so soon?

  Seventy-eight

  Hacket prodded his dinner with his knife then looked across the table at Sue.

  She was eating heartily, unaware of his stare.

  ‘What else did Curtis say?’

  Hacket finally broke the silence, dropping his cutlery on to the plate.

  ‘He said the baby was fine,’ Sue informed him. ‘He said there was nothing to worry about.’

  ‘And you believe him?’

  She sighed.

  ‘I have no reason to disbelieve him. John, I feel fine. I’m fine and the baby’s fine. The only one who seems to have any problems is you.’ She regarded him coldly for a second. ‘He did say that the baby would be born earlier than we’d first thought.’

  ‘How can that be possible?’ he demanded.

  Sue finished chewing the mouthful of food she had then put down her knife and fork.

  ‘He gave me another injection,’ she said, quietly.

  ‘Jesus Christ. What of? More of his miracle fucking treatment? We don’t know what’s happening, Sue. Haven’t you stopped to think about this? To think about what’s happening to you as well as the baby?’

  She didn’t answer.

  ‘You’re changing, Sue,’ he told her. ‘Your attitude. Your temperament. Even your character, and it’s all down to this fucking treatment.’ He hissed the last few words through clenched teeth. ‘You’re blind to what it’s doing to you. The only thing you can think about is that damned baby – you don’t seem to care that Curtis could be doing you harm.’

  ‘And all. you seem to care about is yourself,’ she countered. ‘I thought you’d be pleased to think that we could have another child. You were the one who said you wanted to start afresh, a new beginning. And when that chance comes along all you do is criticise and complain.’

  ‘I’m worried about you, can’t you see that?’

  ‘I can see your jealousy, John.’