The Story Collection: Volume Two

by Matt Shaw

  Ben...

  No. Something other than ‘Ben’ too.

  Fish...

  Fish is good. I can work with fish. Waste my digging time with idle thoughts about what fish I want to put in the pond when it’s finished. Yeah, think about that. Think about how great everything will look when it’s all finished and full of water. Could even get a water feature put into the middle of the pond - something which shoots water upwards in a pretty spray. Could be nice to sit on the patio and listen to the gentle splashing sounds of the water on a hot Summer’s day. I love the sound of water. It relaxes me. This pond could be the best thing about this whole bloody mess.

  “Finally killed him then?”

  I span on the spot to see Kelly standing in her garden, hanging her washing out on the line, watching me. I always told Ben we needed higher fences.

  “To be honest, I’m surprised you managed to stop yourself from doing it ages ago...”

  “I’m digging a pond,” I said - my tone of voice was short.

  Kelly laughed, “I know, Liam told me - I was just teasing. So how are you?”

  “I’m digging a pond,” I repeated.

  Kelly frowned, “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. I’m digging...”

  “A pond?”

  “Yes.”

  What am I doing? Keep it calm. Keep it calm. She was just teasing. She said as much. No need to panic. She doesn’t know I have actually killed him.

  “Okay then....” said Kelly, clearly confused as to why I was being so weird.

  “How are you?” I asked. I tried my best to sound normal. Tried my best to get a conversation going on something other than my husband and the pond I was digging. Anything to try and make her think everything was okay and normal in my own fucked up life.

  “I’m good, thank you,” said Kelly. She carried on hanging her washing. “So who’s idea was it for the pond?”

  “I’ve always wanted a pond,” I said.

  “Done correctly, they can be nice,” she replied.

  ‘Done correctly?’ What was that supposed to mean? Was she insinuating I didn’t have the know-all or ability to dig out a pond properly? How hard can it be? Dig hole, put liner in, fill with water. Sounds pretty straightforward to me. Although I was closer to Kelly than the other ladies in the street, she always did have a bit of a superiority complex. Probably felt she deserved it because she had heard the many arguments between Ben and me. Probably thought she was better than me because she was, at least, able to keep her man happy. What does she know anyway.

  “Do you know what you’re doing?” she asked. Before I had a chance to answer she carried on, “I’m surprised you haven’t got Ben out here helping you.”

  “He’s at work.” I snapped. Don’t act suspicious. Keep it friendly, “Besides, I want it to be a surprise for him...”

  Kelly laughed, “He doesn’t even know you’re digging it? Well I hope, for our sake, he does like it! We don’t need to hear that fall out!”

  I wanted to tell her she could move house if she weren’t happy. Find somewhere quieter to live. Somewhere, perhaps, in the country where there’d be no neighbours to annoy, or disturb her, but I bit my tongue. I was used to her making little comments like this. I’m pretty sure she never meant them how they came across. Probably just thought she was being funny.

  “Well, I best get on with it,” I said in the hope she’d get the message and leave me alone.

  She took the hint, “Good luck!”

  And, with that, she disappeared back into her own home. I stabbed the fork into the earth and just stood there - watching their house. That’s twice now I’ve been caught out here, digging. What if they catch me dragging Ben into the hole? If they glance out of the window at the wrong time, they’d see everything. Higher fences, I told him so many times. I said it would be better for our privacy.

  I can’t do this.

  I won’t get away with it.

  Need to rethink

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The incense candles I lit, earlier, are doing little to help with the smell. If anything, in their own weird way, they’re making it worse. I thought they’d help disguise the smell Ben’s giving off - especially the sickly sweetness of the cinnamon scent - but I was wrong. They’ve just mixed with the grotesque lingering aroma of death to create a new unpleasant perfume. I remember how Ben used to smell, sometimes, when he’d get home from a hard day in the warehouse. I thought that was bad enough. I thought that was the worst it could ever be. How wrong was I? I refrain from lighting another one of the candles, funnily enough a present from Ben a few Christmases ago, for fear of making the smell worse than it already is.

  I wish I could turn back the clock. I’d go back to before I killed him. Undo this whole damned mess. I’m struggling to cope with the pressure. I’m worried about being found out, scared about going to prison...I don’t know what to do for the best and fear it’s only going to be a matter of time - not much time at that - before people learn about what I’ve done. I don’t want to be remembered for this. I don’t want people thinking badly of my parents - blaming them for raising me incorrectly. Yes, I wish I could turn back the clock.

  I looked at Ben. Barely recognise him now. Blue hands which looked bruised, hanging by his side. He looks like, if I were to touch him, he’d be stiff as a board now. I read about that somewhere. Rigor mortis.

  There’s definitely no turning back the clock now.

  “I’m sorry,” I said out loud - once again hoping he could hear me where-ever he was. I just wasn’t sure whether I was sorry because I had killed him or sorry because I was starting to feel trapped in the situation. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t answer me.

  I’m not sure if it’s easier to look at him now I don’t really recognise him. Part of me wants him to look like someone else - to help ease my ever-growing feelings of guilt. Another part of me wishes he’d stay the same - frozen in time. The latter part of me missing him dearly.

  I blame the dream I had, last night. The one of us on our wedding day stealing glances off one another. The dream set my day off on a bad footing. No wonder the good times we shared are starting to come to the forefront of my mind as opposed to the much needed bad memories. If I could just focus my memories back to the negative ones, I’d probably be able to cope easier than how I’m coping right now. Easier said than done. Positive thoughts about him and negative thoughts about everything else. Sod’s law.

  I breathed in deep ready for what was supposed to be a long, suffering sigh and gagged on his stench. Jesus Christ, forgot about that. It has to be said - there’s certainly no dignity to be found in death! If I’m not going to bury him, I need to do something about the smell.

  I stood up and walked over to the cabinet, on the far wall. A wedding gift from the in-laws. They said it was somewhere where we could display our nice china. Unfortunately, no one ever bought us any nice china sets and it was never high on our list of priorities to run out and get for ourselves. Hardly worth it considering we rarely had people over for dinner parties. With that in mind, the posh-looking oak cabinet simply became an unspoken dumping ground for various odds and sods. Paperwork was dumped inside, instead of filed away properly, various ornaments he had bought me over the year - never from the same ‘set’ - and a carrier bag which I thought was full of incense candles. Turns out the carrier bag wasn’t as full as I thought it was. I’m going to need to pop to the shops. There’s no way I can leave him festering here with nothing to help mask the stink.

  I closed the cabinet up and turned to look, once more, at the mess that was Ben, “Can I get you anything from the shops?” I asked, for no other reason than to allow the sound of my own voice to break the deathly silence. I was even starting to wish he’d answer me back.

  “I’m good, thanks,” it would be nice to hear him say.

  I’d reply with, “Well, as long as you’re sure. I won’t be long - only popping down the road. If you change your mind, I have my mobile phone on m
e.”

  I leant forward and gave him a kiss on his cheek - carried away in the moment.

  ‘Urgh!”

  Jesus Christ, what am I doing? I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. I really am starting to lose my mind. What the fuck was that about? Mind you, I was surprised at how warm his cheek felt on my lips. I half expected him to be colder. Seems to be warming up. Shit. Maybe that’s why he’s starting to smell so badly - and so quickly. Having said that - is it ‘quick’? How long does it take for a body to normally ‘go off’ after they’ve stopped living? Either way, I need to get something to help cool him down. Keep the smell away longer.

  I laughed.

  I know just the thing.

  * * * * *

  “That’s nice,” I whispered. Too tired and peaceful to bother speaking at a normal volume as I laid on the kind-sized bed we shared.

  Ben was lying next to me - tracing patterns on my bare back with the tips of his fingers. Light, delicate, soothing touches which occasionally sent a pleasant shiver through my body.

  We had both come to bed what seemed like hours ago but neither of us could sleep. The heat of the day keeping us awake. Even the use of the large stand-up fan, in the corner of the room, failed to cool us enough to make sleep easy.

  “Don’t stop,” I sighed as I felt the familiar feeling of a peaceful slumber taking over me. Ben didn’t speak. He just carried on stroking my back. The sensation of his fingers and the quite whirring noise of the fan making me feel totally at ease with everything despite the blistering heat. Relaxed. Peaceful. It’s funny - as a nation we moan when it’s cold and we moan when it’s hot. No pleasing us. Well, normally there’s no pleasing us. At the moment, it’s fair to say Ben was doing an excellent job of keeping me happy.

  “I love you,” I slurred.

  Here come the dreams...

  * * * * *

  Where the hell is it? I know we didn’t throw it out. We wouldn’t have. I stormed out of the bedroom and walked into the spare room. Nothing in here but piles and piles of ironing. Would it have hurt him to pick up an iron occasionally? I mean - seriously. Only one cupboard in here and the fan was too tall to fit in there. There’s only one other place the fan could be. I walked back onto the landing and looked up - never before has the loft hatch looked to be so out of reach as it did right now. I never went in the loft. Our ladder was only two steps tall - three if you wanted to risk standing on the upper one but I’m not sure how sensible that is. Whenever anything was needed from the loft - normally only Christmas decorations - Ben would go up there. He was tall enough to be able to reach the hatch using only the two steps. Strong enough, too, that he was then able to pull himself up through the hatch. I don’t very much fancy my chances of doing that.

  I need to go to the shops anyway to get some more smelly stuff to help eliminate the smell of death. Hopefully they’ll still have some fans left too. I know they were running out when we bought ours a couple of months ago, due to the heatwave but...They’ve had loads of time to replenish the stocks since then and it hasn’t been as hot. Even if they have sold out - I’ll have to find one from somewhere, maybe even a couple. Anything to help keep him from rotting as fast.

  Shame I can’t fit him in the freezer.

  Wait a minute.

  That’s it.

  The freezer. Of course. I ran down the stairs, down the hallway, through the kitchen and back into the garage. There, hanging next to where I had collected the shovel and fork, was a large axe just begging to be used. It was so clean...So sharp looking...I’m not sure if we’d used it before today. My hands shaking, I plucked it from the wall and gave it a couple of practice swings. Should have thought about this ages ago. I’m surprised I didn’t, to be honest. A few cuts here and there and he’ll fit perfectly in the freezer. Well, he will once I’ve discarded one or two ready meals. I’m not sure whether he’ll stop rotting completely or whether it would even stop him from stinking but it has to be a better option than leaving him in the dining room.

  I took the axe through to the dining room and stood there, staring at Ben. Okay, I can do this. I raised the axe high in the air and froze. His eyes, although cloudy and pale in colour, pierced straight through to my soul. Was I really seeing a puppy-dog look or just imaging one? I have to be imagining it. It’s all in my mind. Come on, don’t think about it. This is the only option I have. I know it is. If I leave him much longer, someone will find him. Okay. Here we go. I lowered the axe. I can’t do it.

  “Please stop looking at me,” I begged him.

  He ignored me. Quick as a flash I lifted the axe back over my head, screamed and brought it crashing down into the dining room table. I dropped to my knees and started to weep uncontrollably.

  Please. Someone. Anyone. Take me away from all of this.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Three fans in the supermarket’s shopping trolley. That should be enough. It has to be enough. I’m sure they’ve put the prices up on them. They weren’t this much money when we bought one. Definitely not. Had they been this pricey, Ben would have never agreed to it.

  I was standing in the cosmetics aisle browsing the various products on offer. I figured, if he’s going to be in the dining room for a while longer, I may as well get him something to try and make him resemble the man I once loved again. Has to be better than looking at him as he is now. I have no idea what I’m looking for. It’s hard enough to find a foundation colour that matches your own skin perfectly, let alone finding one to bring a little more life into a corpse. And what if I find one which causes an allergic reaction on him? Could end up making him look worse. Could he look any worse? Maybe I should just try him with some of the stuff I already have at home. I might have something suitable there. Save some money.

  Jesus. Money. I never even gave it any consideration. He’s the one who was bringing the money in. He might be owed one more month’s worth of money, in part at least, but after that - I hadn’t even thought about what I was going to do. Great. Something else to worry about. Definitely try him with some of the make-up I have at home. Save the pennies. Can’t skimp on the fans, though. I need these.

  I pushed the trolley forward, towards the aisle where I’d find the plug-in air fresheners. Hopefully these are stronger than the candles I had been buying. Especially if I choose the brand which is aimed at pet owners. Nothing worse than the smell of wet dog hair. Well, other than dead husband.

  My heart sank a little when I finally found the relevant aisle. I’d never bought these plug-in air fresheners before as I never felt the need. Even so, I didn’t expect them to be so expensive. I’d feel more confident if I had seen one working before now. For all I know, at the moment, I’m going to spend a load of cash, which I don’t have, on something which isn’t going to be suitable. I grabbed a couple of ‘vanilla’ ones from the middle racking and dropped them into the trolley.

  A couple will have to do. If they don’t help disguise the smell, nothing will.

  Apart from Febreze, that is.

  I spotted a can, staring at me, from the end of the aisle and went and grabbed one. Could just douse him with Febreze. The can boasts it eliminates any odors so surely it has to be worth a try. I’ll just need to keep him away from any open fires...

  That’ll do for now. Something here has to work. I spun the trolley around and pushed it towards the self-service check-outs. I’ve already murdered someone, I wonder if I can sneak through the check-outs without scanning all of my items through? If I’m caught, I could always say it was an accident...No. Don’t even try. You don’t need to bring any unwanted attention to yourself. Especially if it could end up involving the police.

  By the time I got home from the supermarket, I was fit to drop. It’s not especially late but the day feels as though it’s been longer than usual. I set the fans up in the dining room - pointing directly at him - and wished Ben a ‘good night’ before turning in, myself, wondering whether it would have killed him to wish me a good evening too.

/>   As I laid in what used to be our bed, my mind flitted backwards and forwards panicking over my current predicament. No matter what resolution I tried to think of - none of them seem to involve a happy ending. It’s not helping that I’m starting to miss him either. What’s that about?

  * * * * *

  Morning came after very little sleep. Nothing more irritating than being so tired you can hardly keep your eyes open yet you’re still not able to sleep. Shame Ben wasn’t here - he could have gently stroked my back for me again. Loved it when he used to do that even if he did do it less and less frequently.

  Before I did anything, I looked in on Ben. Every time I went to check on him, since he started changing in appearance, I dreaded opening the door - nervous about what state I was going to find him in. Never seen someone rotting before now. I never want to see it again either. Last night, it appears the fans helped keep him a little fresher than had they not been here. Again, there’s been some change in his appearance but not much. Not compared to how quickly he was changing anyway.