Queen Dolly

by Emmy Ellis

  “Come here. This medicine will help with your cuts and bruises,” she said. A small “hmph!” escaped her lips—perhaps the start of a laugh and she’d thought better of it?

  I took two steps, my arms hanging at my sides. Mam poured the medicine onto the spoon, and I leant forward to receive it. Spoon not quite in my mouth, I closed my lips. Medicine dribbled over Mam’s fingers and down my chin. She cursed and yanked the spoon out, the metal edge paining my lips, the tip clanking against my top teeth.

  “You’re meant to wait until the whole spoon is in your mouth, kid. Jeez, what a dumb fuck. Here.” She jerked the bottle at me. “Drink it from the bottle. About half should do it.”

  Of course, I obeyed, didn’t question her instruction. Why would I? I had no concept of what a dose of medicine was. Hell, I don’t think I’d ever had any medicine before that moment. A headache or sore tummy apparently didn’t warrant any.

  The medicine tasted…different to anything I’d had before. Bitter, but tasty at the same time. With each swig, I checked how much I’d swallowed. Mam watched and said, “More.”

  A burning sensation travelled from my throat down into my tummy. I knew exactly when the liquid ended its journey to my gut. Warmth spread there similar to what I imagined love would feel like—a pleasing glow—and I closed my eyes to savour it.

  “That’s enough for this time. Let’s see how you get along with that.”

  I’m not sure how long I stood in front of Mam after taking that medicine. I just know that a swaying motion took over me, as if my ears had been affected by a virus, my balance off-kilter. The loving warmth spread from my guts to my limbs, right down to the ends of my toes and back up to the tips of my fingers. I imagined the medicine floating, its mission to reach every single part of me and make me better. Fix me.

  My knees gave way, bent, and then snapped straight again. My torso jerked forward, and I nearly pitched into Mam. Had her eyes grown? Yes, they had. They bugged, big as tennis balls, the same yellow-green colour too. They looked as glassy as marbles, yet I had a feeling they wouldn’t be as hard. That I could reach out and grasp one of them—and my fingers wouldn’t stretch the whole way round it, of that I was sure—and squeeze it until it popped.

  A low hum began in my head, growing in volume, the sound of a fly drawing closer. Light laughter tittered far off, as if travelling out from the bottom of a well. Its eerie echo flitted round the room, an unseen moth, seeming to bounce from the walls at me.

  Mam wasn’t laughing. Her stretched lips remained closed, reminiscent of two hotdogs glued together and attached to her face. Her features blurred, and her head moved from side to side—or was that me swaying?

  The light laughter grew in strength, eventually reaching such a high octave that I placed my hands over my ears to deaden the sound. Piercing, so piercing—who was that?

  I turned to look around the room, to check if anyone had come into the house without my knowledge. Someone had appeared all right, but it wasn’t Bob or a male visitor that I’d expected. Belinda loomed in the living room doorway, her eye-socket head as large as Mam’s. A snake’s tongue protruded from it, licked the air, and tasted the scent of the fear that I felt growing inside me, multiplying at an alarming rate and coursing through my body, much like the medicine had done.

  I backed away from Belinda. The base of the sofa met my calves, and I flumped onto the cushion next to Mam, who stared at me. I gawped from her to Belinda. The laughter from the well erupted again and repeated itself over and over. Belinda clapped, slowly at first, quickening her hands’ movements until each clap merged into the next, creating a maddening accompaniment to the laughter.

  I stood, teetered, and stepped forward, skirting round the coffee table on unsteady legs, away from Mam, closer to Belinda. In my fuddled brain, an apparition of a cadaver seemed safer than my own mother. Mam’s breath zoomed from behind me, creating violent gusts of air that flung my wet hair in front of me and dried it. That air reached Belinda. Her eye-socket face lost its wetness, drying it into a big old prune. The snake tongue retracted and disappeared into one of the arid ravines on Belinda’s face.

  The well-laughter also dried up, an animalistic howl taking its place. My eardrums buzzed and hummed, vibrated to such an extent I momentarily wondered if they would pop.

  “Go up to bed,” yelled Mam.

  I turned to her, saw her hotdog lips open and close in slow motion, her voice matching their lethargic movement.

  “Go up to beeeed, yooou sillee coooooow.”

  I leapt towards the kitchen, the need to have Nelson with me uppermost in my mind. I could hug her in bed—hug her if the strangeness of this current situation followed me up the stairs and continued its assault. The carpet seemed covered in gunk, a sticky substance that clung on to the soles of my feet in an attempt to stop me walking. I willed myself forward, the muscles in my legs screaming in pain with the effort it took to take one step. Hours passed, it seemed, hours that left me drained and breathless by the time I reached the kitchen. I grabbed Nelson, now the same size as me, and she walked beside me through the living room, the gunky carpet back to its usual filthy, dry state.

  “Got yourself a new pal?” asked Mam, her voice far off.

  Perhaps she’d gone and fallen into that well?

  Belinda, still standing in the doorway, appeared as if she had no intention of letting us pass. Her prune head wobbled, and she gripped her chubby hips with fingers made of over-ripe bananas, the yellow skin fading in vibrancy, black bruising indicating that the flesh beneath would be mushy and inedible.

  “Get out of our way,” said Nelson. “Move, or I’ll kill you this time.”

  Belinda disappeared so quickly I had to blink to take in the information. In her place, a violet mist hovered and grew in density, filling the small hallway.

  “What did Nelson meeean jussst thhhen, kkkkid?” asked Mam.

  I didn’t answer. Nelson stepped forward and pulled at my hand, urging me through the violet mist and up the stairs. My legs leaden, the effort to climb each step brought tears of fatigue to my eyes and a lump to my throat. We rounded the top banister, and Nelson pushed me from behind, nudging me along the landing and into my room. My bed had never seemed so inviting. It no longer had the ratty sheet and the stained pillow, but a puffy quilt, its cover a pretty pink with tiny red roses.

  I fell forward onto it; its softness surrounded and embraced me in a cocoon, and the last thought I had before sleep claimed me was that I hoped, so dearly hoped, that the gunk from the carpet downstairs didn’t ruin my beautiful new bedding.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Sleep brought a strange dream.

  “See this?” Belinda said and walked towards me. She held out the medicine bottle. “Know what it is?”

  Bravado grew inside me, spread itself to my tongue, and I said, “Why? Don’t you?”

  “Oh, I know what it is, you freak. But you…don’t.”

  Indignation overrode bravado. “Yes I do. It’s medicine. I hurt myself at school today, and Mam gave it to me to make me feel better.”

  Belinda laughed, and her face morphed from the features I knew her to have in life to the ugly, singular eye socket. It oozed lime-green pus, which dripped from where her chin should be. Chunks of goo landed on the roll of queen-dress material at her waist. Mucous sprang to mind, and I stifled a heave.

  “Except it didn’t make you feel better. Did it?”

  “No,” I said and cursed myself for admitting that.

  “Made you feel like a sack of shit, didn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wanna know what kind of medicine it is?” Yellow translucent liquid leaked from the eye socket’s surface, creating a mini lake complete with waves, ripples. “It isn’t the kind of medicine that cures sore knees or apple-sized bruises on your hip.” Belinda’s laugh issued from the round socket, and the mini lake jostled further. Excess liquid sloshed into her ears, travelling down her neck.

  “What i
s it, then?” I asked.

  “Phenergan. Meant to be for travel sickness, but you don’t travel anywhere in a car. Meant to be for hay fever, but you haven’t got that either, have you? Meant to be for many things but for nothing you suffer with. High doses, well, they make your knees and legs heavy, make your mind go all funny. Make you tired.”

  “Tired? Why would Mam want to make me tired?” I blinked and swallowed the lump forming in my throat.

  The yellow liquid churned, and more laughter exploded from the socket. Droplets landed on my face as if Belinda had spat at me. “Why would Mam want to make you tired, indeed? So Bob… No. I’ve said too much. Think on, little bitch. You’re a clever girl. You’ll work it out.”

  Thick violet mist replaced Belinda’s form, loitering in the air like a fog outfit upon a coat hanger. After several blinks, I turned towards the sofa.

  “Want some more medicine, Carmel?” Mam said, Gary beside her.

  Her lips pulled back, showing her stubby teeth. She laughed, and her breath puffed out as a visible thing. It shunted towards me, a heavy, black rain cloud. The stench of blocked drains and stagnant water hit me. I clamped my palm over my mouth and nose, swiped at the tears as the reek swirled around me. I gagged, and spittle pooled under my tongue.

  “What’s the matter, divvo?” said Mam, another cloud floating out of her mouth.

  I turned to run into the kitchen, but my legs wouldn’t move. My feet seemed stuck to the carpet. The second cloud enveloped me, and my lungs shuddered with lack of air. Heat blossomed on my cheeks, my pulse thudded in the vein on my neck, and I had no choice but to wrench my hand away from my face and breathe in the foul odour.

  Gary jumped up. “Come on, Carmel, I’ve got to show you something.”

  He tottered towards me on his bare heels, syringe-toes tapping against one another, sounding like the empty plastic cotton reels we made necklaces with at school. As he drew closer, the syringe sound amplified, bringing empty Coke cans being shoved down the pavement by a vicious gust to mind. He reached for my hand, and I took it.

  “That’s it, you show her, Gary,” Mam said. “Then bring her back here and she can have some more nice medicine.”

  Eager to get away from Mam’s breath, I allowed Gary to pull me through to the hallway and out of the front door. The pitch black sky held a million or more stars; so many that they joined in places to form ridges of light. And those ridges appeared as a staircase. Amazed at the sight, I stared upwards to capture the scene, wanting to keep it in my memory forever.

  “Look at the sky, Gary,” I whispered.

  Gary tugged at my wrist. “I know. That’s where we’re going.”

  Stumbling behind him, still staring at the sky and trusting my best friend to lead me, I said, “We’re going up into the sky?”

  “Yes, but we’ve got to get to the forest first. Gotta show you something. My dad said Belinda should be leather by now. Wanna go and see? If we go to the forest and tunnel down by the old brick wall, we’ll come up the other side into the cemetery. Can’t get into the cemetery any other way, see.”

  Puzzled, I yanked my gaze from the star-steps and took in our surroundings. How had we travelled so far, so fast? A road lay ahead and behind us. Either side, hay swayed in a chilly breeze, rustled, whispered.

  Carmel? You asleep? Oi…

  Something sharp poked my side—reminiscent of Mam’s finger—and I glanced round to see if she’d followed us. No one there.

  She’s asleep. I gave her the dose you told me to…

  Can’t be too careful. Just checking…

  “The hay’s whispering, Gary.” I quickened my pace, brought myself abreast of him; I’d been lagging behind despite him holding my wrist.

  “Hay doesn’t talk. Come on, we’re nearly there.”

  Gary pressed on with more vigour. The road ahead led to a far-off tunnel on the other side of a forest. The hay had grown when I blinked and now stood higher than we did, their middles bending in a soft arc, their tops meeting over our heads. The swish and whoosh of their movement sounded like sheets snapping on a washing line, paper being scrunched into balls.

  Put that clean sheet on the floor…

  Hang on, I’m trying to open this bloody package.

  A shudder ripped through me. “Did you hear that, Gary?”

  “Hear what?”

  “The hay…”

  “Look ahead. Stay focused. We need to reach that clump of trees.” Gary lunged forward, determination on his face.

  I looked ahead. The forest was before us, seemed to be right there, yet we walked without getting any closer. Gary squeezed my hand and let out a frustrated sigh.

  “Come on, Carmel.”

  I pressed on. Trees with eyes stared back at me. Not carved from wood, but real eyes. I felt as though we walked on a moving panel, that if we jumped to the side we could step forward and into the forest. I shook my wrist to free it from Gary’s grasp. He tightened his fingers.

  “Nearly there. A few more steps.” Gary squeezed harder.

  “Ow! Let go of me,” I said through gritted teeth.

  All set?

  Yup. You sure she won’t wake up?

  Nah, she’s dead to the world…

  Sweat beaded my temples. My calves burned. An immense gust of wind rattled through the hay and shunted us forward onto the forest floor. Ground debris bit at my knees and palms. I stood, swiped at my knees, and rubbed my palms together. Gary did the same. He looked at me.

  “Ready to go into the forest and find the wall?”

  I glanced around and saw the wall and the cemetery beyond. “It’s over there,” I said. “There’s a gap in the wall, look, where you walk through to get into the cemetery.”

  “We’re not meant to use the entrance, Carmel. Aw, I don’t know about doing that.” Gary frowned, pursed his lips. “We’ve got to dig to reach her. We’re rats, after all.”

  We stepped two paces forward, and the wall zoomed to greet us. Gary hunkered beside the opening and burrowed at the ground.

  “Come on. Get down here and help.”

  “But the entrance is right here…” I stared at the stone wall, at the space we could walk through, the rows and rows of gravestones. “We don’t need to dig if we can just—”

  I found myself down on hands and knees inside a mud tunnel. I turned to see how far we’d dug. Nothing but blackness behind us.

  “Upwards,” Gary said and clawed at the earth above our heads. “I can smell her.” He twitched his nose like he did when we played at being rats on the playground.

  A muffled voice—was it coming from the depths of the mud? In my head?—said: A couple more and we’re done.

  “A couple more what, Gary?”

  “What? Keep digging.”

  I obeyed and wondered: Why doesn’t the mud cave in around us? How come it doesn’t fill my mouth, clog my throat, and choke me to death?

  We popped through the surface, surged into the air, dolphins at sea, and came to rest on top of a star-cloud that hovered near the ground.

  “We did it!” Gary flung his arms around me. His wispy hair tickled my cheek. He pulled back, looked at me. “Come on. Let’s climb the stairs.”

  Though his enthusiasm enticed me, I frowned.

  What is this all about, Carmel? What do you need to climb the stairs for?

  I didn’t want to see Belinda as a piece of leather, didn’t harbour the same urge to inspect her corpse like Gary did. After all, she appeared to me every day.

  Gary bounded up the star-steps, stopped on step five, and turned to look down at me. “Come on. We have to go. Time’s running out.”

  His urgency penetrated my confusion, and I followed him up the stairs. Infinite night sky surrounded us and, far from being scared when I stared down at Earth, exhilaration winged through me on angel’s wings. A feeling of safety stole over me, and I glanced up the stairway to see how many we had yet to climb. The staircase stretched on for what looked like miles. My feet gaine
d weightlessness, and I bounced upwards from step to step. My insides—had they been sucked out?—felt gone, a hollow in their place. Sweet liquid filled my mouth—I think I tasted freedom, then—and I reached the last step.

  “Gary?”

  Where had he gone?

  I turned to regard the stars, the sky, and Earth below. Such a vast place down there, a huge mass of land and sea. My sight zoomed down, latched onto Mam’s house, enabling me to see through the roof, the ceilings, and into the ‘posh’ back room. A small person was on the bed, a leather mask on their face.

  “What are you doing here? Mam give you too much medicine, did she?”

  I wrenched my gaze from Mam’s house, turned to look at the top step. Belinda stared at me—the Belinda with a face, though her skin resembled the person on the bed down there, leathery.

  “Gary brought me here.”

  “Gary? So where is he, then?”

  I shrugged. “Dunno.” I climbed two more steps. Elation surged from my toes to my fingertips, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

  “Stay right there. No way are you coming any farther.” Belinda held her hand out, palm towards me. Her skin changed from little girl hue to a beige-orange. Like the dried pigs’ ears in those baskets outside the butcher’s in town. “It’s not your time yet. That’s annoyed me, that has. I wanted to go back down these steps but my granny wouldn’t let me. Yet you—you get to go back down there. So not fair.”

  My body floated off the step. The urge to climb higher, to drift higher, assailed me, and I ground my teeth together and ducked my head ready to ram Belinda aside. I must get to that top step.

  “No!” she screeched and thrust her palm against my chest.

  “Let me pass,” I yelled. “I don’t wanna go back home. I don’t wanna be down there anymore.”

  The force of her palm zapped the air from my lungs and my feet from the steps. I sailed backwards, as if on a slide at the park—“Don’t think of that park, you spiteful little bitch.”—and the starry sky zipped past me with ferocious speed. My gut re-filled, slowly at first, but the closer I got to Earth the heavier it became. Phenergan replaced the taste of freedom on my tongue, and dread encompassed the liberty that had briefly allowed me airborne. I landed at the base of the steps on my back and looked at the stars. Tears pricked my eyes. I closed them.