The Skin of the Gods

by Phil Armstrong

  “Matt, for god’s sake, I hope you haven’t done anything silly. He’s probably sleeping in bed oblivious to the time and the constant ringing of his phones.” Beth continued to talk herself into a calmer state. She paced the small living room in her cottage and devised a plan. “I’m going over there.” Beth recalled her experience one month ago. Matt had seemed nervous over dinner. He presented Beth with the keys to his flat. This was a symbolic gesture to indicate a strengthening of their relationship status. Now he disappears. Beth’s kitchen had old wooden cabinets. They looked in character with the cottage and she liked the worn look. Behind the door of a corner cabinet was a row of brass hooks. She had taken Matt’s flat keys and placed them on the middle hook.

  Beth reached for the keys and grabbed her black leather jacket and leather gloves. As she felt the leather she smiled to herself, “People are more opposed to fur than leather because it’s safer to harass rich women than motorcycle gangs.” She walked towards the door and exited to the back patio of her small cottage. Stored under a black tarp weighted to the ground with large stones was a powerful motorcycle. Beth removed the tarp revealing an old Triumph motorcycle. It was a beautifully restored bike and not the type you would normally expect a lady to be riding. Beth loved the look, the feel and the reaction she got when she rode it. Slipping into her gloves, she placed her black helmet on and straddled the bike, turning the key to the ignition. It was not long before she was darting through the early morning haze and the scenic Yorkshire countryside. Weaving a route through narrow roads, she cornered tightly keeping control of the powerful bike. She passed a stone bridge surrounded by old terrace homes sporting dark slate roofs. Centuries earlier these homes provided shelter for textile mill workers. Today they function as restored holiday cottages. The textile mill has been demolished after the once proud building stood empty for decades. Only old black and white photographs record the huge stone structure sporting tall chimneys piercing the sky. Beth was in a hurry and she took the next corner a little too fast. The bike’s back wheel slipped on the slick road surface and the bike came perilously close to the hard unforgiving edges of the dry stonewall. Winding her way across the valley, the noise of the exhaust echoed in a throaty growl as she sped through the narrow roads. The traffic was light; she had only encountered one car on her journey so far. She managed to broach the crest of the hill. The sun’s strong rays reflected on her helmet visor creating little specs of color. It reminded her of the beautiful rainbows she had seen during her visit to Niagara Falls, Canada.

  She weaved through the small village of Oakworth. It was not long before she arrived at the entrance to the short road leading to Matt’s flat. He lived in a flat above a hairdressing salon. The black and red sign pronounced, “Sharon’s Place.” She drove her bike down a narrow alley and parked on the cement porch located at the rear of the store. She had done this before obtaining Sharon’s permission to leave her bike here when she visited Matt. She kicked the stand into place and leaned the bike so it would rest near a small wall. Beth walked to the red wooden door placing Matt’s flat key into the brass lock. Turning the key she pushed the door open into a small landing area. It contained a square shaped rug and a few pairs of shoes. Beth entered and closed the door behind her. Kicking off her runners she grabbed her helmet and gloves placing them on the bottom step. She looked towards the top of the stairs but could see no sign of Matt.

  “Matt, it’s me Beth. Are you up there?” she yelled as she bounded up the stairs. Once upstairs she searched the flat and started to get concerned. Matt’s bed had been undisturbed and the place looked tidy. The only evidence of inhabitation seemed to be a half full glass of water. It was perched on a coaster on the living room coffee table. Everything else seemed to be in its place with the exception of Matt. He was nowhere to be seen. Beth called Matt’s mobile phone. She could hear it ring in her ear but it was not ringing in the flat. His answering machine showed four messages, all of which were from Beth.

  Beth found a scrap of paper and a pen. She sat at the breakfast table and composed a short note. “Matt, I’m worried sick about you! Please call me as soon as you get home. Love, Beth.”

  Beth grabbed the note and proceeded down the stairs. A quarter of the way down she stopped and turned. She propped the paper at an angle against one of the stair risers. When Matt returned this note would be at his eye level when he stood in the landing area looking up the stairs. “Where are you Matt? I just want to know you’re safe,” whispered Beth under her breath.

  Beth drove home in a mental fog. She was worried. Did Matt make it home last night? Where is he? Did he fall asleep at the wheel? Should she call the police or visit Airedale Hospital? Beth decided to do something that English women had done for years when they worried about loved ones – she put the kettle on. She brewed up a strong pot of tea and tried to keep busy with chores. Beth cleaned and watched some television. She ironed and listened to her IPOD trying to relax. Beth caught her reflection in the microwave door and started to talk to herself. “Perhaps he forgot about breakfast? He was in quite a state. We always have breakfast at Benny’s, every Saturday. How could he forget that? Stay calm, he’ll show up all sheepish.

  It was 3pm and Beth was worried. She called Matt’s parents and sounded more distraught than she had intended. Matt’s parents were concerned and said that they would phone around family and friends to locate Matt. They said they would call Beth the minute they located him and asked for the same courtesy. Beth decided to remain at home so she could be close to her home phone and her mobile. Later that afternoon Matt’s parents called to ask if Beth had heard anything. “No I haven’t heard anything, not a call or a text message. He hasn’t contacted me at all and I’m really worried.”

  “Did you two have an argument?” asked Val, Matt’s Mother.

  “No we didn’t. He had a nightmare. He decided to go home alone and sleep it off. He was staying over at my place.” Beth cringed at the thought of telling Matt’s Mum that they were sleeping together. “What the hell, he’s a big boy,” thought Beth.

  “What time did he leave Beth?”

  “Around 3.45am.”

  “Had he been drinking?” asked Val the concern straining her voice.

  “Not a drop. He was fine. He woke after a bad dream, a nightmare. He said he wasn’t sleeping well he’d had a few nightmares lately. He wanted to go home and sleep it off in his own bed. We were supposed to meet for breakfast at Benny’s at 9am. He was a no-show. He said he would call me first thing in the morning and he didn’t.” Beth was worried and she started to pick at the loose skin on her dry fingers.

  “Okay Beth I want you to stay put. Someone needs to be by a phone in case he calls. Tom and I will pop over to his flat and see if he’s back. We’ll call you if we hear anything okay honey?”

  “Thanks Val, I know he’s just absent minded but I do worry about him.”

  “I know love; we used to do the same when he was a teenager. I’m still going to clip his ear when we find him. Now he’s got two women worrying themselves sick.” Val sounded friendly towards Beth for the first time. They had met twice and to say it was awkward was probably an understatement. Beth had made an effort to dress conservatively and had managed to hide her fox tattoo under the sleeve of her cashmere sweater. It made no difference, she still felt inadequate. This was the first time that Val had acknowledged the fact that Beth cared deeply for Matt. It seemed to have brought them closer.

  It was 3.30pm and Beth was finding it difficult not knowing where Matt was. This was uncharacteristic behavior for Matt he lived on his mobile and would never go missing this long without talking with someone. Beth decided to call Eric Bates. Eric was a person Beth ran across when she was moving between foster homes and childcare facilities. Eric would often come into the homes to give advice to teens or sort out issues. He was the local police officer or as he referred to himself the village Bobbie. Beth also knew Eric on a personal level as he often spoke with her socially in t
he Black Bull pub. He was an engaging man and had a soft spot for Beth. He knew Beth had a rough start to life. He took enjoyment out of the fact that she had managed to make a life for herself by staying away from crime.

  A year ago some teenagers had thrown rocks at windows on Sun Street doing a fair bit of damage. Beth had been lucky as her cottage escaped the foolish prank. Eric had paid a quick visit to ask Beth if she had seen anything that night. She had not but he left his business card in case she remembered anything. Beth tacked it to the inside of a kitchen cabinet door along with the other emergency numbers. She opened the door and grabbed the card. Glancing to the bottom of the card her eyes fell to the police station phone number. She walked over to her armchair and sank into its welcoming embrace. She leaned over to lift the phone receiver. Right at that moment the phone rang startling her. She quickly picked up the receiver placing it to her ear.

  “Hello?”

  “Good afternoon Beth it’s PC Bates calling I was wondering if I could have a quick word?”

  Beth stared at the card in her hand. “I was going to call you, I needed to talk with you,” said Beth sounding confused.

  “Good. Is it convenient if I pop over Beth? Should only take me a few minutes?”

  “Sure. Sure, I’ll be expecting you,” said Beth in a fog.

  “Right then I’ll be over soon.”

  “Okay bye.” Beth hung up the receiver and her heart sank into her stomach. This was like a scene from a soap opera when the cop visits the loved ones to inform them of the terrible fatal accident. Beth was shaking and needed to pull herself together. Her thoughts were scattered. “That was a coincidence I had his card in my hand. There are no coincidences. I haven’t heard from Val. I wonder if she sent Eric over to talk to me.”

  It seemed like hours had passed but in reality ten minutes had elapsed. Ten minutes of running through every morbid scenario possible. By the time the doorbell rang Beth was an emotional mess. She raised herself from the comfy refuge of her deep armchair and walked towards her cottage door. Words escaped from her mouth. She had little control they just seemed to arrive, “I don’t want to do this but I must.”

  Beth opened the door slowly, her heart beating rapidly as it pushed the blood through her veins. Waiting expectantly on her front step was PC Eric Bates in full police uniform. He smiled awkwardly and asked if he could come in. Beth moved aside and motioned for him to enter. They stood in silence in the small living room. Beth noticed how tall Eric seemed. She was still shaking. “Sit down please,” said Beth motioning to the armchair unsure of the protocol.

  “Thanks,” said Eric descending into a deep armchair. Beth perched on the edge of the couch and braced herself for the worse. “I’d like to talk with you about Matt if you don’t mind?”

  “Sure,” was the only word Beth could muster?

  “We’ve been talking with Matt’s parents and it seems he’s gone missing. We understand you were the last person to see him as he was staying with you last night. Apparently he had some sort of bad dream? After that he left to go home and never arrived. Is that your recollection Beth?”

  “That’s right. Do you know where Matt is? Is he alright?”

  “Sorry Beth we don’t know where he is and we can’t start to formally investigate for 48 hours. A missing person is not a formal missing person until 48 hours have passed from the filing of the report. Matt’s parents have now filed the report so the clock is ticking. Beth it’s not uncommon for people to want to just escape and chill out for a few days. It happens all the time.”

  “Not with Matt, this is highly unusual.”

  “I know and that’s why I’m here. People do show up eventually with all kinds of reasons. They sometimes need time to think. They want to be alone. They wanted to do something impulsive. They were so busy having fun they never checked in with loved ones. We’ve heard it all Beth. Matt’s a good kid, I know him. I agree with you this is highly unusual. He has no reason to run and no reason to hide. Can you shed any light on this? Did you two fight or argue over something?”

  Beth flicked her eyes towards Eric without moving her head, “No.”

  “Why would he leave? What reason would he have to just escape for a few days?”

  “He wouldn’t have one.”

  “What bad dreams was he having? You mentioned bad dreams?”

  “Actually, I didn’t mentioned bad dreams, you did. I’m not sure what they were about, he didn’t want to talk about them but he mentioned something about a fight in his dreams.”

  “Who was he fighting?”

  “I don’t know, an imaginary figure I guess, no one that he knew.”

  “Was he on any kind of medication Beth?”

  “You mean did he do drugs? That’s what you mean isn’t it Eric?”

  “Did he?”

  “No, Matt didn’t do that stuff. He didn’t smoke or do drugs. He hardly ever drank and he had one coffee per day. He valued his health. You don’t know where he is. Do you?”

  An awkward silence followed as Eric weighed his response in a careful considerate way. When he finally resumed eye contact with Beth he had decided that honesty was the most effective of the possible options. “No, we don’t. I’m here as a friend trying to understand a few details ahead of the investigation Beth. We can’t start an investigation for a couple of days. I’d like Matt to come bouncing through that door with a hangover and a smile on his face. Like you, I know Matt. This is not something that he would do. I’m just as concerned as you. You know Beth, Matt’s an adult. If he wanted to take off it’s not against the law. We have to be careful that we’re not infringing upon his rights. We also recognize that if he has gone missing due to foul play these next 48 hours are critical.” Eric glanced at the business card lying next to the phone recognizing it as his own. “Look you have my card,” he said making a gesture with his head towards the card. “Call me if you have any questions or if you remember anything helpful. I’d like to help but I can’t formally just yet. Beth what time did Matt leave you?”

  Beth took a deep breath suspecting she was being asked questions where Eric already knew the answers. She calmed herself and tried to answer with a steady tone designed to mask her displeasure. “As I told Matt’s Mum, 3.45am, and no, he’d not been drinking, nor doing any drugs.”

  “Thanks Beth. I know this is hard for you. Not knowing what happened or why is the worse feeling of all. I’m sure that you’re making up all kinds of scenarios. Give him some time to work it out and I’m sure he’ll be back here soon, full of stories and apologies.” Eric was halfhearted in his delivery trying to hide his true feelings. “I’ll see myself out love.”

  Eric smiled and exerted considerable energy to rise from the armchair. He walked to the door and left Beth to ponder on what may have happened to Matt.

  * * * * *

  Chapter 4: Jackson’s Promise

  City of York, England, 1890.

  The sound of scratching, accompanied by the soft whimpering noise of a dog, penetrated his thoughts. Jackson heard more scratching louder this time. The fire had been reduced to small embers and the room had a slight chill to it. It was early morning and Jackson struggled to open his heavy eyelids. His body ached from the contorted position he selected to sleep in. He had struggled to get comfortable sleeping in the armchair next to his Master’s bed. Dusty was circling the room clearly distraught and scratching at the closed wooden door. Dusty needed to relieve himself and knew he would be disciplined if he did this inside the house. Noticing a movement from the armchair, he turned quickly and approached his Master, wagging his tail furiously.

  “Good morning boy, I know you have to go. Just wait and I’ll let you out.” To the rear of the house was a thicket with a large patch of grass. Jackson took a quick look at his Master’s body still sleeping in the bed and breathing heavily. The swelling on his face remained and the bruising was now purple in color. It still looked like he had been on the losing side of a fight. “Let’s get you looked
after first Dusty, then we’ll look after the Master. Although I think you’re going to be easier.”