by James Rhodes
“Why didn’t you visit me?” Alison asked
“You took the car, remember?”
“You could have got the train.”
Gary raised his eyebrows.
“Of course, I could have grown the tickets on my train tree.”
“Don’t be a dick, I would have sent you the money if you’d asked.”
Gary took a bite of his sandwich and chewed it.
“I am pathetic Alison, and as you have probably gleaned from looking through my notebooks: I am still in love with you...”
Alison widened her eyes in innocence and made a mental note to look for a second notebook.
“But, I’m not so pathetic that I’d go all the way to Leeds just to watch you humping Neville.”
“I wasn’t humping Neville, the whole time. Maybe if you’d visited I wouldn’t have started humping him.”
“I’ve told you, I can’t leave the village.”
“Why not?”
Gary knew from experience that Alison was not going to accept magical interference as his reason for not visiting her. However, he didn’t have anything else and he was sick of covering up for her scepticism.
“I am bound to the village by some sort of curse.”
Alison rolled her eyes.
“You know, I was starting to think I’d made a mistake in leaving you Gary. You’re a sweet guy and, as much as it pains me to say it, you were a good boyfriend – most of the time.”
Gary nodded his head as Alison had just acknowledged that he was better at sex than Neville.
“But,” Alison continued, “this magic stuff, it’s bullshit and it’s stupid and I don’t want to hear it.”
“OK, I’ll prove it. Drive me to Bridgeford.”
Alison raised a cynical eyebrow.
“What’s in Bridgeford?”
“You’ll see when we get there.”
“OK.”
Alison took another bite of her sandwich and put the plate on the sideboard. Then she walked to the kitchen table where she had left her handbag and took out the car keys.
7.
The forest at the edge of Hettford was surprisingly dense, it covered a 150 acre area and met with farm land on every side except one which, pressed against the winding road that lead to Bridgeford. Dan counted his flasks. He was leaning against a tree in a casual effort to disguise how tired he felt in comparison to Milton.
“We only have five flasks left, thanks to your test group.”
Dan’s voice was filled with accusation.
“Well, it's better than six completely useless efforts.”
Dan thinned his lips and the badger of his beard wriggled aggressively on his face to express the frustration that Dan felt at Milton being right.
“We’d better split up to cover more ground,” Dan said.
“No, it’s fine. It’ll be boring on our own.”
“We should have bought something to drink, I’m thirsty.”
“Drink some milk,” said Milton.
“You don’t think it will make it go sour quicker?”
“I think you’ll be OK.”
Dan unscrewed one of the flasks and took a sip. He scrunched up his face in disgust.
“Well the system works.”
“How do you mean?” Milton asked.
“The milk has that nutty taste that means it’s no longer fit for tea.”
“Really?”
“Yes, so now we know my idea works. Milk triangulation, it’s the future. Let’s go put the other flasks out and see if we can get a fix on where the witch is.”
“Pass me the flasks.”
“Why?”
“Well, because if your system does work, then they should all be off.”
Dan’s face fell. He crossed his fingers behind his back and passed the bag of flasks to Milton. Milton took the first one out and sniffed it, then poured away its contents. He repeated the process a second time.
“Did you use fresh milk?” Milton inquired.
“Of course, I did. I’m not an idiot.”
“Well, it’s all sour.”
“You haven’t checked it all,” Dan protested.
Milton sniffed the remaining flasks, pulling a face of disgust at each until he got to the last one when. After sniffing the final Milton gave Dan a look of gleeful surprise.
“This one’s fine, you might as well drink it.” Milton told him.
Milton passed the flask to Dan and Dan took a long swig of the contents. Within a second he dropped the flask and began spitting on to the floor of the woods.
“You complete…”
Dan didn’t finish the thought because he noticed that Milton was already laughing.
“That is disgusting,” said Dan.
“It smelt fine.”
“You, you did this on purpose.”
“Hey, at least you know the system works.”
“Great, now not only do I have to walk back but I have to walk back with my mouth tasting of what I imagine baby’s sick to taste like.”
“Why would you ever imagine the taste of baby’s sick?”
Dan’s face went bright red.
“Because you gave me a flask of milk that tastes exactly like it.”
Milton fell to his knees laughing. Dan’s beard had caught the brunt of the spitting and was covered in lumpy milk. Dan’s face suddenly turned serious.
“Shut up,” he whispered.
Milton took a few deep breaths and brought his guffaws down to sporadic bursts of chuckle.
“What,” Milton paused to bite back a laugh, “what is it?”
“That milk was much more sour than the first one I tried. If the system does work then the witch must be close.”
Milton and Dan looked at each other and began walking back towards the roadside, somewhere in the forest the sound of a snapping twig caused a group of ravens to rise up to the sky. The two friends burst into a run, not stopping until their feet were back on concrete.
8.
The engine of the Rover refused to turn but Alison was not going to take that as proof of anything.
“It’s an old car,” she told Gary.
“I know that, it’s my car.”
“Well, I noticed all my DVDs have gone. Did you sell them or something?”
Gary nodded his head, there was a hint of pleasure in his affirmation.
“Sold them, the DVD player and most of the books. I put a table out on the road and sold them like it was a jumble sale. I did alright off it, I pretended that I didn’t think it was right to take welfare benefits whilst I had possessions I could sell on. People went for it big time.”
“I suppose you had to live off something.”
Gary smiled.
“It’s why I have electricity.”
“You should have got a council tax statement in April.”
“I did.”
“So how are you paying it?”
“I wrote to them telling them you'd left the house and sent them a list of my income and expenditure. They'll probably want it eventually.”
“What about the water bill?”
“They can’t cut it off, so I’m not paying it.”
Alison turned the engine again. It gave an asthmatic squeal as she turned the key.
“I’ll pay it if you transfer registration of this heap to me.”
“Deal.”
Gary sat drumming his hands on his knees, waiting for Alison to admit that the car wouldn’t start.
“Would you like a cup of tea?”
“Didn’t you once say something about the car being sentient?”
“Have you been complimenting it again?”
“Maybe, but it’s been great until I got back here. Are you doing this somehow?”
“”What? With the advanced knowledge of mechanical engineering that I picked up studying literature?”
Alison looked at Gary from the side of her eyes; she didn’t think he appreciated how much more the w
ater bill cost than the car was worth. She was right, Gary knew that he was getting the better end of the deal but he suspected she was only doing it so that her cousin could move in and she could get rid of him. Alison clucked her tongue.
“I’m making some tea.”
Gary stepped out of the car and walked to the front door. Alison turned the keys again and the old Engine of the Rover rattled into animation. Alison revved the car a few times but Gary didn’t turn around to look at her. She wound down her window.
“It’s started, get in.”
Gary shrugged, maybe she was right; it was just possible that everything he thought was wrong with his life was the product of a serious mental disorder. If I get in the car and she can drive me out of the village then I will have her take me to a doctor, mused Gary. He opened the car door and sat back down. Alison put the car into reverse and gently lifted her foot off the clutch. The instant that the car began to move, the engine stalled out of action. Alison turned the key again and the starter motor whined in protest.
“Now, watch what happens when I go make a cup of tea,” said Gary.
9.
Discount News was empty; Tajel was reading a book. Paul put a cup of coffee down next to her and had a quick glance over her shoulder to see what it was she was reading. As Paul leaned forward to read the print at the top of the page, Tajel closed the book so that the pages were obscured. Then, as Paul stepped back to catch a look at the cover, she opened it again.
“What are you reading?” Paul asked.
“A book,” said Tajel.
“I know that,” said Paul, “what type of book?”
Tajel held aloft the cover and Paul scrutinised it.
“Wow, can you read Chinese?”
“It’s Sanskrit.”
“What’s that?”
“Sanskrit, it’s an old Indian language. Kind of like Latin is to English.”
“And you can read it?”
“Yes,” said Tajel.
“Can you read Latin too?”
“Yes, I just can’t translate it.”
“That’s amazing,” said Paul.
Tajel lips twitched at the corners, but not so that Paul noticed. Paul took a swig of his own coffee and then wiped his lips. Tajel opened her book again.
“Is that why you like Gary? Because he’s so smart?”
Tajel lifted her eyes from the page but she did not close the book.
“Who told you he was smart?”
“I can just tell from the way he says his words.”
“Well, articulate and smart are two different things, and I don’t like him: at least not like you think I do.”
“But you’re always flirting with him.”
“Stop being weird Paul,” said Tajel.
Tajel smiled at Paul with a patronising affection.
“You weirdo,” she added.
“You do though,” said Gary, “he always says nice things about you and you flirt back.”
“Well duh, I like people saying nice things about me.”
“But you’re not like that with me.”
“No, you’re too good of a friend and when you say something nice, it’s because you sincerely mean it.”
Tajel began to read her book again as if the matter were finalised. Paul tried to let the matter drop but a nagging feeling in his chest wouldn’t let him.
“It’s because I’m not smart isn’t it? Saul always thought I was thick too,” Paul said.
“No, it’s because you’re a weirdo. Happy?”
Paul shuffled his feet.
“Well, not really.”
10.
Alison sat on the couch, the sunlight of late May was only catching in the centre of the room but it was catching brightly against the dull carpet; the curtains casting a contrast of shadow throughout the rest of the room. Gary sat in the armchair stretching his legs out. The tips of his toes dipped into the bright carpet light and he wiggled his bare toes.
“Your feet are dirty at the bottom,” Alison noted.
Alison’s ear was pressed against her mobile phone. She had called for a taxi to prove to Gary that he could leave Hettford if he wanted to.
“They won’t come, no matter how little you think of me you can’t think that I’d deliberately refuse to go to the job centre when I’m starving.”
“You’re not starving, are you though?”
Gary shrugged.
“Not today,” he told her.
Alison wagged a finger to signal Gary to be quiet. He swung his dirty feet in the air so that the backs of his knees rested on one of the arms of the chair and his back rested on the other. He put his hands behind his back. It wasn’t that he was happy to be right; it was more that he was looking forward to Alison admitting she was wrong.
“Hello yes, I was wondering if I could order a taxi to Bridgeford from Hettford.”
Gary raised his eyebrows; he knew what was coming.
“The address,” continued Alison, “is 35 Arnett Street.”
Alison listened quietly for a moment.
“Well, we can wait outside if you like.”
She listened again.
“How about if we stand next door?”
Alison shot Gary a look that suggested she would like to see him barbecued in the deepest pit of hell.
“But why not?” Alison demanded.
“Fine,” she said to the phone.
Alison ended the call by pressing the hang up button so hard that the plastic o her phone warped.
“How’d it go?” Asked Gary.
“They told me they won’t pick up from this address and then when I suggested they pick up from next door they said they wouldn’t pick up any men from this address.”
“Oh, did you ask them why?”
“They said all the taxi’s they have ever sent here have either broken down or crashed on the way to pick you up. They believe that you are cursed.”
“See,” said Gary, “taxi companies get it.”
“What happens when you try to walk out?”
“I walk and walk and end up back where I started.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Yeah, it’s like magic, innit?”
Gary’s voice was laden with sarcasm that Alison did not appreciate.
“Well, it’s a shame because I was going to take you out to dinner.”
“You could always get take away,” Gary suggested, “we could eat in.”
He winked suggestively.
“Dream on,” Alison warned him.
11.
Milton bit into a scotch egg then looked at it dismissively. The two of them were stood outside of Ron’s All Night Garage.
“Do you want this?” He asked Dan.
“Don’t you?” Dan asked, “You did make us stop for it.”
“I’m still a bit iffy about eating eggs.”
“At least they've stopped showing up in our garden.”
“That is small consolation. Why were you in there so long?”
“Julie was asking about Gary. Wanted to know if he was back with Alison?”
“What did you tell her?”
“Not as far as I know.”
Dan's face lit up with enthusiasm.
“If he were, we could get the car back.”
“You’d have to let him off suspension.”
Dan stroked his beard.
“It is probably about time but we’ll have to keep an eye on him.”
Milton nudged Dan and waved his head at the other side of the street. Gary and Alison were walking down the other side of the road. Alison looked angry and Gary was staring fixedly ahead. Milton suspected it was to show Alison that he wasn’t glancing over at the garage where Julie, still the subject of his greatest indiscretion, worked. Milton waved at them but neither one of them shifted their gaze from the street ahead.
“Shit,” said Dan, “how lucky are we?”
12.
Gary and Alison had followed the road from Hettford towards Bridgeford and found themselves at the other end of the village on the road that lead out to Shackleford.
“Well, that’s twice now. Do you believe me?”
Alison frowned.
“I still think you might be pulling some conjurers trick.”
“The faith you have in me is amazing. I get that you don’t believe in witchcraft and that you don’t believe in me but can you at least believe your own eyes?”
“No.”
Gary sighed heavily.
“It must have driven you crazy to walk past the garage twice without looking up at your girlfriend,” said Alison.
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
“So you haven’t slept with her since I’ve been away?”
“No.”
“You’ve just been weeping into your diary?”
“It’s a notebook, and apparently you know full well that I have.”
“Well,” said Alison, “well...”
“I’m going back to the house to make up a little nest in the study.”
Alison grabbed Gary by the arm.
“Come on, don’t be like that,” she told him.
Gary put his arms around Alison and leaned forward to kiss her. She turned her head to the side.
“I’m with Neville now,” she told him.
“Then I might as well shag Julie.”
“I guess you might as well.”
Gary made use of his long legs and the fact that he had done little else except walk up and down the road for the last five months to outdistance Alison. She was keeping pace a few feet behind him. Gary heard her mutter, “immature” but he didn’t slow down. He wasn’t going to slow down until the blinking stemmed the tears.
13.
Milton and Dan stood in the small garden behind their house. Dan was hanging his sweat soaked t-shirt on the washing line. His belly hung over his shorts but he was otherwise hairy enough to be mistake for a man wearing a jumper. Milton was sniffing at a flask.
“What do you think?” Dan asked.
“Well, it’s not sour but I wouldn’t want it on my cornflakes.”
Dan finished securing his shirt with one of the wooden pegs that sat permanently on the coated rope he had erected for laundry about twenty years before. It often surprised him that the pegs had lasted that long.
“Would you have it in a cup of tea?” Dan asked.
Milton took a swig from the flask and swilled the milk in his mouth.
“Only if I didn’t know how warm it is.”
