Beneath the Blood Moon

by Darren Wills

  They’re not expecting me. I’ve heard their conversations, seen their smug faces and how up their own arses they are. They don’t know that I’m even on their horizon, I’m hiding so deep in their shadows that neither has any sense at all of what is coming. This is going to go like clockwork. I’ve done some wonderful things in the past, but this will be my personal best and I’m going to find plenty of reward for my trouble.

  At school, teachers used to belittle me, say that I would never amount to anything, that I had a bad attitude. Well fuck them, and the horses they rode in on. They were all shit anyway, just nobodies who thought they knew more. In reality, they knew fuck all, even the one I fucked and killed.

  He’s a teacher too. As full of shit as they all were. He’s going to do some learning. I’m going to show him what belittle means.

  Laura? Dominic? What kind of names are they? Even their names are a dead giveaway. This is the coming of change. Here I am to do some changing.

  Where And How?

  This summer in Sheffield was a real one. There was too much heat and too much need to hide inside. Sunbeds abroad held no novelty for us this year.

  One stifling week after Whitby and we were given a much-needed break from the assault of the sunshine as the temperature dropped for what was predicted by Carol on BBC Breakfast as ‘a four-day lull’. At last we all had the summer weather we were used to, and in truth, we were relieved about that. Thankfully, we were nearing the end of the school year, when I was going to have six weeks without daily toil and early get-ups, with regular morning breakfasts in my local Wetherspoons.

  This particular Monday was an overcast one, with the all too usual gathering of frowning grey clouds that loomed ominously, when the roasted lawn looked like it needed more by the way of rain or the blessing of an only partly invigorating hose pipe, but perhaps I would be able to pay more attention to this with more time on my hands.

  Pulling into the staff car park to start my working week, I heard the familiar bleep of a text being received on my phone. ‘Can’t wait,’ it said. “I won’t be late.” Laura was texting me unnecessarily, I thought. She didn’t usually feel the need to reassure me of her presence. I still found myself smiling as I made my way into the school building. Good times.

  All that day, I found it difficult to concentrate at work. Thankfully, there was no meeting taking place after school so I had been able to make a quick getaway. I was meeting Laura for a walk. The ‘can’t wait’ text made me think she was wanting more of an outdoor physical experience than just two or three thousand footsteps, so like a lot of hot-blooded males, I became excited.. “Bring it on,” I replied to her.

  Punctual as ever, I turned up Long Lane. I arrived at Loxley Common and felt optimistic. Whatever happened here, it was going to be fun. We were nothing if not predictable.

  Well, almost predictable. Where was she? I had arrived to see Laura’s Audi parked in the place I expected it to be. So where was she?

  I sat in my car for a few minutes, assuming that she might just have gone for a comfort break somewhere. I was still excited. She would emerge from either the left side of the road or the right, with that welcoming smile that made everything seem brilliant.

  I checked my phone for texts from her. Nothing. I left my car again and walked towards hers. I peered inside. All I could see was a folded piece of paper on her passenger seat. It was face down, but was partly folded over and I could just make out the words PLEASE and MEET in capital letters.

  After five minutes or so, I decided to ring her. There was no joy, just an impersonal soulless voice telling me she was unable to answer the phone right now. Perhaps she was where we had been before, waiting for me. Maybe she was going to surprise me in some way that I would like.

  Venturing into the Common, as I went beyond the first line of trees, I tried her phone again, but got the same annoying emotionless voice. This was odd

  This time I decided to leave a message. “Hi, babe. Listen, I don’t know where you are right now, but will you ring me. It’s a bit hard to hook up with the Invisible Woman.” I didn’t know what to do so all I could think was to go deeper into the wood, to places we had been in the past when visiting here, just in case she had gone ahead after all. I was scanning all directions. I did three-sixty after three-sixty in the hope that I would suddenly see her and the uncertainty would be ended.

  At an old wooden bench where we had spent half an hour sitting and musing three weeks ago, I decided to sit down. I was trying the mobile every couple of minutes, each time with the same frustrating outcome. This wasn’t the fun I had anticipated. After sending a text that urged her to get in touch now, without kisses at the end this time, I decided to head back to the car.

  I walked past a field, considering the nonsensical notion that Laura was playing some kind of practical joke on me, which was totally not her at all. Another thought suddenly struck me. Perhaps she had taken a walk somewhere and would return to her car. I shouted out her name. No reply. I waited and listened intently. Still no reply.

  When I reached the road, Laura’s car was no longer there. There was a sinister gap where it had been. How could that be? How could she have driven away without even looking for me?

  Beginning to feel uncomfortable now, I was dumbfounded at how she would drive away from here without any communication with me.

  I stood there for ten minutes, but it soon became clear that she wasn’t coming back. If it was some uncharacteristic joke, the joke was on me. No doubt, in that case, she would be well on her way to our house by now. Perhaps she had, for some other reason, decided to go home anyway, like if she had had a bad stomach ache or unexpectedly bad period pains. I decided to head there too. I was perspiring. There was something altogether ominous about this.

  I began to consider best and worst-case scenarios. The best case was that Laura had gone somewhere, that she had been called away from here for some reason, before she could meet up with me. In this case she would join me later. That seemed highly unlikely, though. Laura wasn’t the kind of woman to be called away at the last minute when we had an arrangement. That wasn’t how we worked.

  There was a worse case. The worst case was that something had happened, something that would stop her returning to the house. What if somebody had taken her – some pervert or psycho, while I was sitting in the woods feeling sorry for myself? Imagine if somebody had knocked her unconscious and dragged her away to somewhere more secluded. I dismissed that idea. This was Sheffield 6 and stuff like that didn’t happen in this area. However, I needed to see Laura and know that she was ok.

  I had decided to drive back to the house. Perhaps, for whatever reason, that was where she was now. I put my foot to the floor as I ascended one of those steep Sheffield hills. A sixty-pound fine and three measly points would be worth it if travelling a few miles quicker than the rules allowed prevented the unspeakable happening.

  Driving off? What the fuck was that about? Why would she do that? It didn’t make sense, because Laura had never pulled a stunt like that ever. She was meant to meet me there, had even sent that text confirming it, so what the hell was happening? Then there was the piece of paper on her passenger seat. What was that about?

  Just as it began to rain, I arrived at the house. Laura’s car wasn’t outside and I felt that same dull feeling that I had felt at the Common. I checked the garage, but that was empty. I ran up to the door and tried the handle, but the door was locked. Fumbling, I managed to find the front door key and made my way inside. I shouted “Laura’ several times, but the lack of response to my first call should have been enough. The house was empty too.

  Had there been anything unusual about her that day? I tried to remember. If there was, why hadn’t I noticed it? But then again, why would I? I was always so busy with work.

  Well, I was certainly seeing reality now. I nursed a JD and Diet Pepsi in front of a silent television, all th
e time listening for a recognizable car engine or key in the lock. I turned the TV down a few times in the hope that her car was creeping in quietly. There was nothing.

  I decided there was only one thing for me to do. Go back to Loxley Common. What if she had gone away and come back, and was now waiting for me. On another level, what if she was hurt and in that area somewhere, needing somebody to rescue her or save her in some way? That wouldn’t explain the disappearance of her car, but perhaps the assailant had taken that away after attacking Laura. I had to be back there again. She would ring me if and when she was able. I was sure of that. Unless her phone charge had run out, wherever she was, as there was always that possibility. That might explain everything. It could also explain nothing. She did have a charger in her car. I was in the grip of a nightmare that could only be ended with Laura’s smile.

  I went. I pulled up in the same spot as before. Laura’s Audi was still gone. I was desperate to see her and know that she was ok. My heart, still relentlessly beating, betrayed the horrible fear that was now taking hold.

  Was this payback for last year? Was this a cold dish of revenge I was now being forced to consume? Was this an act of a woman leaving her husband? She had said, on numerous occasions, she would try to forgive but could never forget. Had it all become too much for her?

  Was it something even worse than that? Surely not? This part of Sheffield wasn’t known for bad stuff happening.

  “Laura! Laura!” My eyes were everywhere.

  Nothing.

  I carried on running in one direction then another, trees ahead, around and behind me and I knew what was becoming an inescapable truth. Laura wasn’t here.

  At one point on the public footpath, I halted. This was where we had stopped for a while to have a picnic last year. That was over eighteen months ago and the memory was so vivid, with the pleasure all too easily re-lived.

  So where was she?

  “Laura!”

  Why wasn’t she here?

  I began to think. Had she somehow never intended to be here tonight? Had she sent me a bogus message, knowing that it would have added to my excitement and anticipation? I was still pathetically and desperately considering the ridiculous idea that this was some kind of joke and if so, how far was she going to take it? If it was, her acting skills were incredible, since this morning and last night she had given the convincing impression of somebody wanting little more than a lovely walk with her husband. I knew she had done some play-acting in her university days but was she that good?

  I continued to wander around the area, in and out of the endless trees, to the edge of the golf course, surveying that area, looking perpetually for some slight detail that Laura was here somewhere, watching me and amused by the mayhem she was creating in my head.

  Still no sign.

  As I walked back to the car, the only other possibility was that she had for whatever reason gone home, even if she had been delayed for some reason. In this case, perhaps she would be home already, and the worrying could end. However, I had to make sure she wasn’t here first.

  In what was to be a final sweep of the area, in which I snaked through the area of trees, there was no sign anywhere I looked. I came across nothing. I didn’t expect to, since she had obviously driven her car away. She wasn’t here. I had no option but to go home.

  Up the road, I noticed a green wheelbarrow next to the hedgerow that looked like it had been dumped by some fly tipper. I hated fly tippers. I wasn’t sure, however, why anyone would dump a wheelbarrow.

  As I drove back home, I felt a darker mood coming on.

  By the time I reached the supposed comfort of Dewhurst Close, most of me was seething, ready to do some serious sulking. I wasn’t going to speak to her and would go straight upstairs and have a bath in protest at it all. She would know that she had gone too far. I would await a profuse apology. At the same time, I would have a sense of relief that she was back home, since I had been worried about her. I wouldn’t let her know that though, well not straight away.

  Frustratingly, the red Audi was still absent. Where had she gone? Slight possibilities remained. I supposed she might have gone to the supermarket, or maybe the dry cleaner’s, as I knew she had a suit in there she wanted to pick up and she could have had an urgent request from work that coincided with a battery failure on her mobile phone. What was needed now was for Laura to communicate.

  I hadn’t texted her for over an hour, and I hadn’t phoned her for more than that. I definitely needed to show less vulnerability.

  I just let myself into the house like it was a normal evening. I went straight upstairs and began running the bath water, keen to be in there soaking myself when she eventually and inevitably got back home. I put my suit on the hanger and closed the bathroom door behind me, like I didn’t want to be disturbed. That would show her.

  The heat of the water was soothing. But after half an hour, Laura still wasn’t home. I went downstairs and grabbed my phone.

  Laura’s mother answered. I was relieved that it was her and not George.

  “Hi Lillian, it’s Dom. Is Laura with you?”

  “No Dom. We haven’t seen her. Is she still at work?”

  “Not sure. I expected her to be here by now.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be home soon, love. She’s probably got sidetracked.”

  “Yes, I suppose so. Sorry to bother you.” Sidetracked by what? I hung up, totally frustrated. The only thing I could do now was switch on the television and distract myself from the nagging feeling of insecurity. Normally she would text me to tell me if she was going to be late, so why hadn’t she done that tonight? What would cause such a reversal in attitude? I decided to text her yet again, this time somewhat more amicably.

  Hi babe. Where are you? XX

  At this point, my indignation had all but evaporated and worry had taken its place as the dominant emotion. I was sure she would ring or, at the very least, text me back as soon as she saw my message.

  Groggily, I awaked uncomfortably and awkwardly. I had fallen asleep and had been that way for over an hour. I looked at my watch to see that it was now nine o’clock. Four hours had passed since Loxley Common. I shouted upstairs for Laura but there was no answer. I went up and looked around, in the vain hope that she was hiding, continuing the joke that wasn’t. I checked my phone. She hadn’t replied. There was still no Audi in sight. What exactly was going on? Was I the victim here, or was Laura?

  Had I upset her? I went through the past few days and tried to find something that might have offended her in some way, something that I might have said that was clumsy and insensitive. I could recall nothing of significance.

  Had she met someone else? Now there was a rub and a half. I hadn’t entertained the idea prior to now that she might find love elsewhere, but I was struggling for an explanation. Affairs were always tinged with strangeness. This couldn’t be. We still shared a wonderful loving life in and out of the bedroom. Could she really be having that kind of life with me if she was intending to do a bunk and be with someone else? That was nonsensical. Was our conversation this morning our one last moment together before her big goodbye, a goodbye that was inexplicable?

  Realistically, Laura could have found somebody else. She met plenty of men in her job, and how many of them would be sophisticated, charming and good-looking? This beast of an idea began to roar louder inside me, as I began to consider the likelihood and implications of such a development. Why else would she have not come home? She loved home.

  Something special would be needed for her to destroy what we had, probably something way better than the something not so special that had distracted me last year. Was that what it was all about? Was it that revenge thing that had gone through my head earlier? Had Laura not meant it when she said we had moved on and that I was forgiven? She always looked like she had. I dearly hoped this was the case. If she had that cold-heart
ed urge inside her, she had hidden it well for the whole of our time together.

  I spent a couple of hours and several glasses of Jack Daniels musing over it all, thinking about what Laura’s absence might mean. Every time I returned to the same conclusion. She wouldn’t do this. She was actually incapable of this. It was utterly beyond everything that was important to her.

  No, I emphatically reassured myself. If I knew anything about the woman I had married, this was not her. She would end the relationship first. She would always conduct herself in an honest and firm way. Laura wasn’t the kind to cheat and do things deviously. If she had gone off me, she would have stood in front of me and would have wanted to do it all civilized, adult and open, with a strong declaration, closely followed by a wave of sympathy. That is how she had dealt with Joe, the bloke she had dumped a few months before she had met me. Skulking around was not her style. If I knew anything about her, I knew that.

  I found the power to go to bed that night, although sleep was going to be elusive. I was thinking that everything might be sorted by the morning, that I would awake to something more positive and that Laura would have returned with some plausible and acceptable story. She would have something to tell me about some crisis that she had got herself involved in, that it had needed sorting, that her phone had run out of charge and that she was glad to be back and back to normality. At any rate, I switched everything off downstairs and went to bed.

  Time Won’t Wait

  The alarm sang as discordantly as always at six a.m., a series of horrendous high-pitched beeps that never failed to annoy. I looked around me desperately. Like an enthusiastic grasshopper, I jumped from the bed and onto the landing and into the bathroom. I looked out of the window, hoping to see that red car parked there, but my disappointment was ongoing. Now I felt that melancholy presence return again, so that my whole world was still covered in an ominous shadow and again I was gripped by vulnerability. In the shower, I silently and audibly cursed Laura for having not come home. Would she really have spent the night with somebody else like this? The affair idea had crystalized further overnight, as I could see no other reason for her absence.