Beneath the Boards

by David Haynes

  Scretch, scretch, scretch.

  Were they talking to him?

  10

  The bad words had seemed to come tumbling from her mouth and run across the floor. The words looked like the nest of woodlice she’d disturbed in the garden last summer. They were ugly and they made her feel sick.

  After the church it was as if nobody she knew could bear to look at her anymore, at least not in the daylight. Once or twice she’d seen words written across Mummy’s face but they were black and even more scary than the red letters. They looked like they might crawl off Mummy’s face and eat someone’s eyes out. Mummy must have seen the look on her face when she saw the letters too, because she started to turn her head away whenever she spoke to her now.

  Both of them still came in to kiss her night-night though, even if it was when they thought she was fast asleep. Daddy spoke to her then too. His face was always so close to hers that she could smell his breath; it smelled hot and spicy.

  “I love you, Melody.” He always started that way, in a soft whisper which made her want to giggle. Then he’d start telling her about what he’d done that day and how much he missed seeing her smile. But that wasn’t true because she was always smiling, it was just that they didn’t look at her to see it anymore. Then he would kiss her on the forehead and his whiskers would tickle her skin, not too much but just enough to make her remember how things were before the bad words kept pushing their way out. The worst bit was when she could hear his voice change slightly and a teardrop would land on her cheek. She wanted to wipe it away but if she did then he’d know she wasn’t asleep and things would go back to how they were during the daytime. Mostly she just wanted to throw her arms around him and let him pick her up and hold her against him. He never did that, not now. Neither of them did.

  She’d had a comfortable bed then.

  She wasn’t afraid of the rats or of the darkness now. She couldn’t remember when that had changed but she was glad it had. She chased them sometimes. It was like a game, like the games of chase she used to play at school with the other children. They weren’t like the children though, the rats couldn’t shout and laugh and they didn’t have any letters written across their heads, ever. The rats seemed to enjoy it anyway and they weren’t afraid of her either.

  Sometimes they would sit in her lap and bring her bits of their food. It wasn’t nice though, they liked to eat rotten things that smelled bad. They liked bones too. They chewed them with their sharp little teeth, passing them from side to side with their cold little fingers.

  She liked to do impressions of them and chomp her teeth together while they stared at her. Her mouth ached a lot and some of her teeth felt a bit soft when she ground them together. She couldn’t stop it though because the rats liked it and they were her friends.

  Scretch, scretch, scretch. That was the sound it made and more of her friends came to see her when she made her teeth make the sound. She was like the Pied Piper of Hamelin, only she wasn’t taking them away but bringing them closer.

  That man still came every day too. How long had she been down here? She should start counting each day when he came, that way she would know. He still gave her a bad feeling but she couldn’t see any words on his face, and that was okay because she was sure that was what had sent her down here in the first place. His voice was familiar though, she was sure she’d heard it before.

  “Melody, do you know what a paedophile is?”

  “No I don’t but it isn’t a good thing to be.”

  “And why do you say that?” His voice irritated her. He was trying to sound like a teacher but he wasn’t one. She could tell.

  “Because when I saw it on the doctor’s face, the letters were crawling about like they were spiders. I don’t like spiders so the rats eat them all.”

  The man had looked around, she saw his head move quickly from side to side. This made her smile.

  “And that’s it? That’s all?”

  “Yep, that’s it.”

  “And these words, you actually saw them? They weren’t words you’ve heard on television or at school?”

  “Of course I saw them. He’s a paedophile, isn’t he?”

  “No, Melody, he isn’t. He was trying to help you.”

  “Well he soon will be.” She laughed but was it funny? She didn’t really know.

  “What? What do you mean by that?”

  “Well, he might not be now but he will be soon. The words said so. Just like you, you’ll be an adulterer soon, just like Mummy.”

  “How... What on earth are you saying, Melody? I don’t understand you.” She could hear a tremble in his voice and it made her feel good.

  She shrugged. “The words don’t lie, Mr Vicar. They don’t ever lie.” She knew who he was now, his voice had given it away.

  “Melody, you’re not making any sense.”

  “I am. The words are always true. Sometimes there’s pictures too but only if they’ve already done what the words say. I don’t understand them most of the time but sometimes they make me feel bad.”

  “Bad? In what way?”

  “You make me feel bad.” She peered into the darkness to try and see him but it was too dark. “People who make me feel bad are nearly always thinking about doing something nasty. I can’t see any words then.”

  “Me? Why? I’m not doing anything except talking to you, Melody. I’m not thinking about doing anything bad.”

  She ignored his question, she didn’t know how to answer him. “What’s a faithless person?”

  He was quiet for a long time. “It’s someone who doesn’t believe in anything.”

  “Like God?”

  “Yes, like God.”

  “Are you faithless, Vicar?”

  She heard him shift his position in the dirt. He was feeling uncomfortable talking about it and that was good.

  “No, Melody. I’m a vicar and it’s important that I have faith. What about you? What do you think about God?”

  She ignored him again. “I think that’s the bad thing you’ve been thinking about.”

  He laughed but it wasn’t a funny laugh, it was a nervous laugh. “You’re not very well, Melody. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Being faithless would be a very bad thing, especially for you. I think it might hurt quite a lot.”

  “Be quiet!” his voice boomed. “When I look at you, do you know what I see? Do you know what words I see painted across your head?”

  She didn’t answer. He was giving her a really bad feeling now, like he wanted to do something really bad, probably worse than being faithless.

  “Well do you?” he shouted again.

  “You can’t see anything,” she whispered.

  “I see the words, sick, ill, mean, spiteful and alone!”

  They were both quiet for a while. The Vicar was so quiet that she started to think he’d gone away again. But then she heard a sniff. “I’m sorry, Melody. I shouldn’t have said those things. I don’t see anything other than a little girl, a frightened little girl.”

  “I’m not frightened. Not anymore.”

  “You frighten other people though, you know that too, don’t you?”

  “I don’t care about them, I only care about Mummy and Daddy. Do I frighten them?” She knew the answer to that but she wanted someone else to say it to her.

  “Sometimes, yes you do.”

  She didn’t want to think about that. If she thought about Mummy and Daddy then she would cry.

  “Is that why I’m here? Is it because everyone’s afraid of me?”

  The Vicar didn’t answer.

  “Will I see Mummy and Daddy again?”

  He didn’t answer and started sliding away from her. She knew the answer to that question too.

  “Why do I only see bad words?”

  “I don’t know, Melody.” His voice was faint but she could tell he was crying.

  Why did she only see bad words? Why couldn’t she see the nice things that were written across people’s
faces? Surely not everyone had nasty things inside them. Perhaps the bad things were stronger than the good things and the good words couldn’t get out.

  She pulled her legs up to her chest and pulled at her hair. Mummy used to brush her hair all the time and she always said how beautiful it was. She pulled a clump out and twisted it along her finger. She really ought to have somewhere to put it all, somewhere like a keepsake box. Yes, that would be perfect.

  Why did she only see the bad words?

  She knew the words written across her own face were worse than the ones the Vicar had said. He was just making that lot up because there was only one word written across her face and it was in bright red. It said DEAD.

  *

  Everybody dies. That’s what the kids in the playground had told her. Everybody dies sometime, nobody lives forever. But she couldn’t see it, at least not then. She was just a little girl and if everybody died, like they said, then it wasn’t until they were really old; much older than Mummy and Daddy. Perhaps then, people died, if they had to.

  She’d asked Daddy about it, before things went bad, and he’d looked up from his paper and smiled at her. “It’s just how life works, sweetheart. It happens all the time.” He’d seen how worried she looked at his answer so he’d scooped her up and held her to his chest. She’d heard his heart beating, dum dum, dum dum.

  “Not you though, Daddy. You’re never going to die, are you?”

  She’d heard him laugh then and it had been a happy sound. It was the sound he used to make.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to picture his face. It was hard but gradually his face appeared in the darkness.

  “Am I dead, Daddy? Am I actually dead?” she whispered to herself.

  But she knew she wasn’t, not really. The words on her head said she was but they weren’t true. She wasn’t dead yet but she might as well have been.

  Scretch, scretch, scretch. It felt good to rub her teeth together and even better when one of them dropped into her lap. If she licked the blood off the bottom, it was like a little jewel. If she’d been able to find a piece of string she might have made a necklace like one of Mummy’s. She hadn’t been able to find any but she had found an old shoe box. Inside it there was treasure, real treasure. She’d put spun gold and milky pearls as big as... well, as little girl’s teeth. She needed to keep it all because Mummy would want to see it. Mummy would want to keep it for her own keepsake.

  She rubbed her hand over her head. There wasn’t much left now, it felt like there were just a few loose strands here and there. Never mind, when she got out, the sunshine would help her grow some more. Did the sunshine help to grow teeth as well?

  She hated that man, the Vicar. She thought she might be close to hating Mummy and Daddy too. Why didn’t they just come and get her? Why did they let this man keep her here? He was a nasty man which meant they were pretty nasty too.

  Some of the rats had given birth to babies. She knew that because they made squeaking noises all the time. Not the loud noises the big ones made but little whimpering cries that were both sweet and annoying at the same time. She knew where they all lived but it was way over in the corner and the smell was bad, so bad that it made her cough and her eyes water.

  Those babies had mummies and daddies. She didn’t, not anymore.

  She listened to the sound of the baby rats and the occasional duck outside.

  “Shut up!” She pressed her hands to her ears but she could still hear them.

  “Shut up, shut up, shut up!” She scampered across the dirt toward the rats’ nest. Why should they have nice mummies and daddies who looked after them? Why should they when she didn’t have anyone?

  She pushed her hand into the bundle of twigs and grass and grabbed something small and warm between her fingers. It wriggled a bit as she pulled her hand free but it didn’t struggle as much as she’d thought it might. The baby rat didn’t have any hair at all and it felt a bit funny.

  She held it up to her face and looked into its eyes. They were like little black jewels. Not nearly as pretty as her own little pearls but they were nice all the same.

  Animals never had any words written across their foreheads but why would they? They didn’t know anything, they probably didn’t even know what dying was. She pushed her finger into the rat’s eye. It started to struggle and make a really horrible squealing noise but she didn’t stop. She wanted the lovely looking gems for her own box, they would look beautiful beside her own collection. Mummy would be so pleased.

  *

  There were footsteps on the boards directly above her head. She listened carefully to the tip tap sound. It was strange to hear more than one set of steps but there were definitely two people up there. There might even be three. Nobody ever came to visit the Vicar. She doubted whether he had any friends at all but why would someone like that know anyone who loved him? Who would want to come to his house for a cup of tea? No, it was strange all right.

  Her heart leapt. Was it Mummy and Daddy come to collect her at last? Perhaps she was better now? Yes that was it, she was all better and they were going to take her back home. As soon as she got in she was going to jump on her bed and bounce up and down with happiness. That was right after she’d wrapped her arms around them both and said sorry for whatever it was she’d said or done.

  She scrambled across the floor and grabbed the shoe box. The rat’s eyes didn’t last long but there were plenty of babies and when one lot were gone another lot came around just like that. She opened the box and looked inside.

  “Twenty.” She could count all the way to... what was the big number? She couldn’t quite remember but twenty was easy and that was how many pearls there were in the box. She closed it quickly in case the spun gold escaped.

  “Mummy?” she called gently in case it wasn’t Mummy and it was another nasty man.

  She waited and listened for the footsteps again.

  “Daddy?”

  The hatch opened on the far side of the room and allowed a solid beam of light to push through the darkness. This usually signalled that the Vicar was coming down to talk to her. Today she wasn’t in her usual place though, she wasn’t sitting hunched up on the mattress. Today she was out of view, in the damp and dark recess of the cave she knew better than anyone.

  “Melody?” She heard his voice but he was still out of sight. “Melody? Are you there?”

  She opened her mouth to speak but didn’t make a sound.

  “Melody, can you come to the hatch so I can see you.”

  He came down to see her less and less now. Was he bored with her or just frightened?

  “I’ve got Mummy and Daddy here, would you like to see them?”

  She dropped the box and leapt toward the light. At last! She knew they wouldn’t forget her.

  “Mummy!” she called and stumbled into the spotlight.

  A scream nearly made her jump back into the darkness.

  “Mummy?” She’d heard Mummy scream before and she recognised her voice.

  She tried to look up into the light but it was like staring straight into the sun. She could see nothing.

  “What is it? Can I come out now, I’ve been good and I’m all better.”

  There was a loud sob followed by a wail.

  “I can’t see you. Daddy, are you there too?”

  The sound of the hatch falling into place cast her into darkness again. She looked up at the knots of wood on the hatch and pressed her fingers against them. Perhaps the Vicar was playing a trick on her and it wasn’t really Mummy and Daddy. Well, if that was how he wanted to play then she might have a trick or two up her own sleeve.

  She could hear raised voices in the room upstairs. Why had they screamed when they saw her? She was pretty, at least that’s what Daddy always said. Perhaps they had seen a rat? But that was just silly because the rats were fine once you got used to them. She crawled back to the box and opened the lid. The little black gems looked more like specks of dirt now. It was a shame they didn�
��t last very long.

  The light had hurt her eyes so much, it felt like they were being burned. Did she really want to go back out there? It was a place where she heard and saw things which weren’t nice and those things usually got her into trouble. Down here she couldn’t see any words, none at all and that suited her just fine. She didn’t frighten anyone anymore, at least nobody except the Vicar and he was just a silly fool. She didn’t have to pretend to be asleep so Daddy wouldn’t look at her like he didn’t understand her anymore. If she had to listen to Mummy crying every day again then she might rip her own ears off. No, down here there was none of that. Down here was safe.