by Chris Mawbey
With the manhole cover back in place Mickey moved further away from the railway line. The embankment levelled off at the edge of a small park. Mickey cautiously approached the fence, wary of being spotted. The park was deserted and Mickey climbed over the fence and retraced his steps back towards the square. The back of the row of townhouses containing Mr. Jolly’s base was only a few yards from the boundary of the park. A screen of trees and bushes running along the periphery of the park meant that Mickey was able to move past the back of the houses without being spotted by anyone who may happen to be looking out of one of the rear windows. He’d decided to go in through the end closest to Mr. Jolly’s place as it meant he would have less time to spend in the roof space. If he was going to make a noise he wanted to keep it to a minimum – just in case.
The uneven ground was jarring on Mickey’s injury and his limp grew more pronounced. He rested for a few minutes at the end of the park before making his next move. When he felt he’d got enough strength back Mickey made a dash across the ground between the park and the rear door of the house next to Mr. Jolly’s.
He slammed into the wall gasping for breath. He had to prop himself up against the wall while his heartbeat eased and the trembling in his legs settled. He hadn’t realised how much his exertions had weakened him until this final push and taken him past his limit.
Once Mickey had rested for as long as he dared he turned to the back door only to find that it was locked. Mickey hadn’t considered this and wasn’t sure what to do for a moment. Then he remembered the small window in the storeroom wall back in Koporno. Mickey slipped round the corner to the shuttered ground floor window on the side of the building. The shutter wasn’t locked and swung open with barely a squeak only to present Mickey with another problem. The window at Elena’s home had been formed from a thick fabric screen. This one was glazed. Mickey had anticipated being able to quickly cut his way inside. Instead he had to use the tip of the knife to dig out the putty and lever the glass pane out.
The window was at chin height and Mickey had to scramble up the wall to give him enough height to lever himself over the lip of the window frame. There wasn’t enough room to turn around so Mickey lowered himself as best he could, face first to the floor. The pain from slapping his face on the cold stone floor did little to distract his brain from the agony that flared as he scraped his thigh against the window frame.
Trying to make as little sound as possible Mickey made his way upstairs. He held the kitchen knife out in front of him, hand trembling. He quickly checked that the first floor appeared to be clear then started up the second flight of stairs. He was feeling sick from the pain in his leg by the time he reached the second floor landing. Time was getting away from him though, so he had to keep going. He was relieved to see that the bathroom had a stool for him to stand on.
Without Pester’s help it was a struggle to haul himself through the trap door and once he got there Mickey was dismayed to find a partition wall separating the two properties. Everything was going against him.
Covered in sweat, Mickey eased his way over to the partition. He dug the tip of the knife into the rough plaster and was pleased to find little resistance. He was dreading the feel of blockwork or stone. The wall seemed flimsiest at the point where it met the eaves and this was where Mickey got to work. He quickly cleared the plaster board to expose a thin wooden framework. The gaps in the frame weren’t quite big enough to crawl through so Mickey had to cut a couple of these away. The knife wasn’t designed for this job and he had to keep freeing the knife when it jammed; all of this eating further into the time that he didn’t really have.
A small flush of success washed over Mickey as he crawled through into the roof space above Mr. Jolly’s base. He made his way over to the hatch in the ceiling. The panel sat snugly in the frame and offered no purchase to lift it up. Mickey used the tip of his blade to dig into the wood at the edge of the hatch and ease it upwards. Once the hatch was above the lip of the frame he was able to get a grip and lift it clear.
Tucking the knife into the waist band of his jeans Mickey took a deep breath and slid his legs through the hatchway. He lowered himself down so that he was supporting his weight on his elbows then eased himself off the wooden frame and dropped so that his arms were at full stretch. The jolt wrenched his shoulders and almost broke his grip but it left him with only a few inches to drop to the floor. Making sure that his left leg would take most of his weight Mickey let go. His landing was as quiet as he had hoped for but Mickey still paused and listened for any sign that he had been heard.
All remained quiet so Mickey drew his knife and moved out on to the landing. Two of the bedroom doors were open but the third was shut, with a key in the lock.
To be sure of things, Mickey checked the two other rooms, taking slow deliberate steps to keep the noise down to a minimum. Seeing that the rooms were empty, Mickey moved equally slowly to the third room. He gently turned the key, wincing when the lock screeched then clicked open. Despite growing concern at the amount of noise he was making Mickey slowly turned the door handle and pushed. Elena was standing across the room with her back to the window.
She took a few seconds to realise who it was standing at the open doorway, knife in hand. Then her eyes lit up and she made as if to run to Mickey. He instantly raised a hand to stop her and placed a finger to his lips, assuming that the gesture meant the same in Croatia as it did in England. Elena nodded and slowly walked over to where Mickey was waiting. He backed out of the doorway, checking that the other rooms and stairs were still empty then pointed to the bathroom. Again Elena simply nodded and closed the bedroom door then walked into the bathroom. Mickey followed.
“Where is Pester?” Elena whispered.
“Hopefully keeping Mr. Jolly busy,” Mickey replied. “We need to hurry though. I don’t know how much time we’ve got left.” He tucked the knife away and, this time, lifted the stool and placed it under the open hatchway.
“You first. I’ll help you up,” he said.
Elena went to climb onto the stool then stopped. She wrapped her arms around Mickey’s neck and hugged him. Mickey blushed but Elena didn’t see, she’d already got onto the stool and was reaching for the hatch. She was too short though and couldn’t quite reach.
“Sit on my shoulders,” said Mickey. He gasped when he took Elena’s weight on his injured leg. Fighting a feeling of nausea and faintness, Mickey held himself steady while Elena reached upwards. He felt her weight ease as she pulled herself through the hatch. Mickey helped her by putting his hands under one of her feet and pushing upwards. A few seconds later her face appeared in the hatchway and she reached down to him.
“I’ll be fine thanks,” he said with a smile, and he nearly was.
It was on the final push to ease his body through the hatch that Mickey’s strength failed him. As he dropped back Mickey desperately threw an arm over the hatch frame but his other one lost grip. Elena threw herself forward and grabbed Mickey under his armpits.
Mickey could feel himself slipping and worried that he would pull Elena with him. He flailed his free hand, eventually finding purchase on the hatchway frame. He pulled himself up a little which let Elena wrap her arms around him in a bear hug. Mickey couldn’t lift himself and Elena’s weight though. Elena tried to help by bracing her knees on the roof beams and lifting as well.
Slowly, Mickey half climbed and was half dragged into the loft.
“We need to keep moving,” he said, replacing the trap door. It may have been a pointless gesture, the position of the bathroom stool would have given them away, but it might buy a few precious seconds before Mr. Jolly realised how Elena had escaped.
Mickey retraced his steps, this time with Elena in tow. A few minutes later they had disappeared into the undergrowth of the railway cutting.
Chapter 22
“Why did you come after me?” Elena asked.
They had retrieved Elena’s belongings from the inspection shaft behind the platfor
m and were on their way to meet Pester. The question caught Mickey by complete surprise; or rather Elena’s need to ask it did.
“I’d offered to help you complete your journey,” Mickey replied. “Losing you to Mr. Jolly didn’t seem particularly helpful.” He tried to make the last sentence sound light hearted. He wasn’t sure that he succeeded.
“So it was just a sense of duty.” Elena made this sound half statement and half question.
Mickey thought he also detected a hint of disbelief in there as well. He felt as if he was being dug into a hole. He didn’t understand was what going on. Was she fishing for something from him? He couldn’t really say that he’d offered to help because he didn’t like the way the village had treated her and how she would be treated by Marek if she’d become his wife. It drew too many parallels with his own parents’ relationship. Then again, he couldn’t say that he’d offered to help because he fancied her and was jealous of the fact that Marek, the dickhead of the village, only wanted her for what she had between her legs.
“I offered to help you because I like you,” Mickey answered finally. “And I came for you for the same reason.” He felt his cheeks glowing but wasn’t sure it was because he had declared his feelings, albeit innocent ones, for Elena or whether he was angry at her for challenging him. If it was anger, then it was shame as well – this was just the way his father would have reacted to being questioned.
Mickey hoped that his answer and the tone of voice he gave it in satisfied Elena’s curiosity. His experience with girls was very limited so he wasn’t sure how to read her expression. Was Elena’s small smile one of pleasure or amusement?
As planned, Pester was in the car park waiting for them when they arrived at the university.
“Hello Pester,” said Elena, looking straight at him.
Pester didn’t reply but walked around the girl. Her eyes followed him until he went behind her then picked him up again on the other side.
“So now you can see me again, as well,” he said and smiled. “Hello Lassie. How are you? Did Mr. Jolly treat you well?”
“I am well thank you,” Elena replied. “Your Mr. Jolly was not interested in me. He just locked me away and ignored me.”
Mickey looked puzzled until Pester explained.
“Elena is only of use to Mr. Jolly as bait for you. You’re his focus. He’ll be concentrating all of his efforts into swaying you to his side. Especially now.”
“Yeah, well he can wait,” said Mickey. “My leg is killing me. I need to sit down and rest it. The Student’s Union is just over there,” he pointed across a grassy area. “We can sit in the bar.”
It felt good to walk across the soft springy grass. Mickey didn’t care whether it was real or imaginary, it was just welcome. He was still savouring the sensation of walking across the lush green carpet when he opened the door to the Student’s Union. Mickey took a couple of steps then stopped dead.
“Oh, what...” Elena said before Pester clapped a hand over her mouth.
“Michael? Is that you?” a voice called out from the dining room of number 42 Ridsdale Street.
Though it was still a shock, Mickey and Pester had at least experienced this kind of thing before. Elena though, reacted with understandable alarm.
“Yes Mum. It’s only me,” Mickey replied.
“Is somebody with you?” Elaine’s voice sounded thick, slightly slurred and, Mickey thought, alarmed. Just before he regressed, he wondered what Mum had meant by the question then realised that she must have heard Elena’s voice as they walked through the door.
“No. I’m on my own,” he replied. “It was just a friend from uni outside.” Mickey closed the front door on the early evening outside, a little ashamed at how easily the lie had come to his lips.
“How old are you?” whispered Pester who still had his hand over Elena’s mouth. The question dragged the dead Mickey back to the fore of his former self’s mind.
“Twenty,” said Mickey. “I’m in my second year at Derby University, taking my BA in Politics and Law. I decided to study locally and live at home because I didn’t want to leave Mum alone with him.”
What little of Elena’s face that Mickey could see looked totally bewildered.
“Stay in here and stay quiet,” Mickey whispered to her. “Pester will explain everything.”
Mickey walked into the dining room and pulled the door closed behind him. His Mum was sitting at the dining table in the dark. The luminous hands on the clock showed that it was six o’clock. Given how dark it was outside this must be November or December. It was one thing to instantly jump from one situation to another but the shifts in time really screwed with Mickey’s head.
The deceased Mickey retreated to the back of the mind of the twenty year old who had just come home from university.
The living Mickey had a weird sense of déjà-vu. He turned the light on and Elaine winced, shielding her eyes from the glare of the unshaded bulb. Mickey had been about to ask when tea would be ready. One look at his Mum though told him that there would be no tea tonight.
Both of Elaine’s eyes were swollen, the left one almost completely shut. There was blood clotted around her nostrils and her lips were swollen and split. Her cheeks were glistening with tears and the table cloth in front of her was soaked with them. Trembling hands were tugging at a bloodied hankie.
Mickey knelt by his Mum’s side and took her hands in his.
“What was it this time?” he asked.
“H...he decided that he didn’t w...want what I c...cooked for his t...tea.”
Mickey looked through to the kitchen to see another broken plate and food splattered across the cupboards and floor. White hot anger flared inside him.
“Where is he now?” Mickey tried to keep his voice calm and sympathetic, it was a struggle though.”
“He went b...back to the p...pub,” Elaine whispered. “He’ll s...stay there all n...night now.”
Mickey used his thumb to gently wipe away the tears that were shining on his Mum’s cheeks. He kissed the corner of her mouth where the skin had split.
“I’ll run a bath for you,” he said. What he really wanted to do was ask, “Why to do keep putting up with this? Why haven’t you thrown him out or walked out yourself?”
He had tried these and other questions before. It always ended with him getting angry and Elaine shedding more tears. It hadn’t been until afterwards that Mickey had realised why Elaine did nothing. It was because she was afraid that no-one would believe her; that instead of getting rid of his father it would only make things worse. His father had her where he wanted her. Elaine was trapped with no obvious way out.
Mickey stood up and went to leave the room.
“Let me get you some tea first,” Elaine said.
“No,” Mickey snapped, turning back to face her. The word came out far harsher than Mickey had intended and he saw his Mum freeze as she was half way to the kitchen. As Elaine started to tremble Mickey wondered if he was so much like his father that his own Mum was afraid of him as well.
Then Mickey spotted the red stain on the back of Elaine’s skirt and a similar one on the cushion of the chair where she’d been sitting. He began trembling himself and the white hot anger that he been nursing before exploded into a blinding nuclear fury.
“No,” he said again; this time mustering every ounce of self control to keep his tone steady. “There’s no need. You just sit down while I run your bath.”
Mickey walked through to the lounge. Unseen, Pester and Elena followed him upstairs.
While the bath was filling Mickey who took a holdall from his wardrobe and went into his parent’s bedroom.
Once his Mum’s bath was ready he laid out a towel and went to fetch her.
“I’ve got to go out for a while. Will you be alright on your own?”
Elaine assured her son that she would be fine.
“Lock the bathroom door.” Again there was an edge to this instruction that Mickey didn’t really car
e for. He waited until he heard the lock on the door click over then, collecting his holdall Mickey and his two invisible companions, went out into the cold night.
Mickey’s father always frequented the same pub, The Bridge Inn. It stood just beyond the city centre on the riverbank, next to the bridge after which the pub was named. It was in a part of the city that still held onto remnants of the time when Derby was a walled and gated city. The route home would bring Terry over the bridge and past St. Mary’s chapel that sat half way across the bridge. Mickey waited in the shade of the chapel’s doorway. Pester and Elena stood across the road in the entrance to a riverside walk on the opposite bank from the pub. From there they would be able to watch the proceedings without being noticed.
It seemed that Terry Raymond had something other than drinking on his mind because he left the pub before closing time. Mickey watched Terry weave his way over the bridge.
As he emerged from the shadow of the doorway to confront his father, Mickey stumbled slightly. His right leg felt stiff as if he had hurt it. At the back of his mind he knew what the problem was but the reason remained shy and wouldn’t reveal itself.
“What the fuck do you want?” his father growled, slurring his words badly.
Nice to see you too, thought Mickey.
“I brought you this,” he said, dropping the bag at his father’s feet.
“What’s in it?” Terry asked.
“Your clothes. You’re moving out.”
“Like fuck I am,” laughed Terry. The action caused his body to sway alarmingly. Once he was steady again Terry went to walk past his son. Mickey put a hand on his father’s chest to stop him going any further.
“When I was little I told Mum that I’d stop you from hurting her. And I told you that one day you’d grow old and I would be waiting for you. Well that day’s arrived and here I am.”
