by Emmy Ellis
“Bet you ask Gary to stay the night at your place,” Belinda said.
I sighed and turned to face her. “And if I do?”
Her life-face appeared, and her good eye looked heavenward while she contemplated her response. “Um, I think I’ll come back tomorrow.” She disappeared, though the stench of her rotting flesh lingered.
Thank fuck for that.
“Indeed.”
I pushed the pub door open and shoved my way through the drinkers to the corner. Two empty pint glasses sat on the table. Bob and Gary held fresh drinks. I glanced at Bob before sitting beside Gary.
“What happened to your face?” Gary asked.
“What’s up with it?” said Bob. “Turn this way, kid.”
Ignoring Bob, I said, “I fell in a bush on the way back from Mam’s, didn’t I? Scratched it on the branches.”
Bob guffawed. “Daft mare. Did you see your mam, then?”
I looked at him. Froth from his Guinness gave him a two-tone moustache. I squinted, and it looked like one of those fancy Belgian chocolates. You know, half white, half brown.
“No. I went in, but she was busy.”
“Ah.” Bob sipped his drink. “Still, there’s always tomorrow, eh?”
I nodded. “Well, there’s always another time.”
Another time, yes.
Gary placed his half-full glass on the table. “I’ve had enough for one night. Come on, I’ll walk you home.”
We stood, and awkwardness gripped me.
“Um, I’ll see you around, Bob.”
He belched and wiped his palm over his moustache, the Belgian chocolate obsolete. “Most probably.” He winked.
The insides of my ears tingled in disgust, and I quickly turned from him and snaked my hand through Gary’s crooked arm. Once outside, I said, “Would you mind sleeping at mine tonight?”
Surprise lifted his eyebrows. “I hope you’re not suggesting anything improper, young lady,” he said with the voice of an affluent gentleman. “One couldn’t condone such behaviour.”
I giggled. “Don’t worry, I won’t accost you. But a cuddle would be nice.”
He smiled and squeezed my arm against his side. “Ah, one can do cuddles. Cuddles aren’t dangerous.”
* * * *
Gary’s gentle snores lulled me into restfulness. The sound of an occasional passing car punctuated his breaths, and his steady heartbeat throbbed against my cheek. I was nestled in his arms, and contentment stole over me. A thought struck: I’d never shared a bed with anyone like this before—had never been hugged for such an extended period of time.
I opened my eyes. A streetlamp’s muted light struggled to permeate the curtains, and a square glow around the drapes fizzled into the darkness of the room. My arm, draped over his stomach, rose and fell with his breaths, and the hairs on his legs tickled the skin on mine. Flickering images from the TV played on Gary’s face, the change of lighting making him sinister one moment and sexy the next.
Sexy?
That’s what I was about to say. Sexy? Do you fancy Gary, Carmel?
I don’t know, Nelson. Do I?
Probably. How do you feel about that?
I’m not sure. Part of me thinks it’s filthy. You know, wanting to have sex, to try it, see what it’s all about.
You’ve got your mother to thank for that. Besides, it’s natural, isn’t it? For your age. Most girls would have done it by now, anyway.
I know.
Are you going to do it?
Nelson!
Well, I’m just asking, because if you are, I’d appreciate you turning me the other way, facing the wall.
Did I want to do it? Emotions raged through me, ones I’d experienced before but to a lesser degree. Everything inside me seemed to heat up, especially between my legs. Did Mam feel like that with those men?
I doubt it, Carmel. She probably switches off and thinks of England. After all, she only does it for the money and for Bob.
My cheeks grew hot—somehow feeling like this and having a conversation with Nelson didn’t feel right.
Shall I be quiet? Do you want me to switch off and think of England?
Ummm, yes. Let me just—
Sort through your feelings on your own?
Yes. Thank you.
Shame brought further fire to my cheeks, and my stomach clenched. Had I offended Nelson? And what would I do if I did want to do it? Just turning Nelson to face the wall wouldn’t be right. She would still be able to hear…
No, you haven’t offended me. And you could put me in the wardrobe.
“I was going to say: Don’t ask me to put her in the wardrobe.”
Belinda? What are you doing here? Get out. This is a private moment for Carmel.
“Look, Doll, I’m here to fuck up Carmel’s life, as you know. Like I’m going to let her do it with someone who I had a soft spot for. Not likely.”
Like Gary would have done it with you if you were still alive, anyway. Got ideas above your station, you have.
“You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you? Parading around in one of my doll’s dresses. I mean, come on. We all know clothes don’t maketh the man. Don’t we, Carmel?”
Desire, if that’s what it was, fled my body. I rolled away from Gary and huddled beneath the quilt on the other side of the sofa bed. The coldness struck a deal with my skin, goose bumps the payment. Belinda stood by the door, hands on hips, wearing her eye-socket head. My heart rate slowed, each painful thud loud, and I ousted thoughts of spite and revenge against Belinda from my mind. I’d never be able to get rid of her and lead a normal life. Not with Gary as my partner, anyway.
“Damn right you won’t. Like I said before, I’m here for the long haul.”
So how come there are times when you stay away then, Ugly Face?
Belinda’s shrill laugh rent the air, and I jumped, pulling the quilt over my head. Why couldn’t they just go away, leave me alone? Why…?
“You’re calling me Ugly Face? Have you looked in the mirror lately? Oh, silly me. I forgot. You can’t, can you? You need Carmel to do things for you. The only thing you can do for yourself is speak, and it’s debateable whether you can even do that properly. Got a voice like a slowing gramophone, you have.”
Oh, get lost, will you? You’re boring me.
“Shh!” I whispered, my breaths hot beneath the quilt. “Be quiet.”
“Aw, worried that Gary will hear us, are you?”
I nodded.
Belinda’s scream ricocheted off the walls and through my mind, its ear-splitting pitch painful. I quickly shoved the quilt from my head and leaned up on one elbow, turned around, and looked at Gary. He slept on, oblivious. The scream continued—surely she’d have to take a breath soon?—and I bunched my eyes closed. Rage boiled in my belly, and the urge to jump up and throttle Belinda, to choke the scream out of her, tingled in my hands.
“Shh! Just shh,” I said.
Silence arrested the room, the resonance of the scream drowning out any other sound. Slowly, as if filtering through, the thud of my heart, another passing car, and my uneasy breaths all grew in audibility, shunting the scream’s echo away.
“Shh?” asked Belinda. “Why? It didn’t bother him, did it?”
I opened my eyes, turning to face her. “No, but it could have. Maybe he’s a deep sleeper?”
Belinda laughed and moved towards me. She knelt and whispered, “You just don’t get it, do you?”
Frowning, I said, “Get what?”
“Forget it,” she said and stood. “Thick as pig’s shit, that’s what you are.”
Her words speared me—she’d used Mam’s voice—and I rolled onto my back to stare at the ceiling. Tears stung the backs of my eyes, and I willed them not to increase in size and spill. Concentrating on Gary’s low snores, I matched his breaths with my own, hoping to hypnotise myself into sleep. Belinda’s presence drifted away, and I made pictures out of the Artex on the ceiling. A scene appeared in the white plaster, one of Ma
m on the sofa, a needle sticking out of her…
My mind settled once more, I closed my eyes and smiled.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
I’ve got to be able to get a clear shot. I’ve told you this time and again. Your idea about doing it in a crowd was good, I’ll give you that much, all right? I know I don’t need any practice, that I’ve done it before, but what if that other shot was just a lucky one?
I’m going to pick them off, one by one. All of them—gone.
And there was me thinking I’d got the last one, that at last I’d have inner peace. Seeing…seeing inside that…fucking thing blasted my newfound equilibrium to Hell and back. And you know I’ve resided there my whole life. What about my little bit of Heaven, eh? Why couldn’t it have been finished back then—after I did him? Why did I have to go snooping inside and find…
Now look at me. I’m all flustered and out of sorts. Sweating—and you know how I hate being smelly. I’m going to have a shower now. Wash the memories of them off me.
DON’T follow me.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Tired of hanging clothes on the sales racks, I entertained thoughts of bettering myself. Aged nineteen and working in a clothes shop…hardly my idea of a good career. Still, I had things I needed to do before I could even think about going to college. My mind had to be clear of the debris of my past. Three left, that’s all, then I could shove everything behind me and start again. Maybe I’d move to a new town. No one would know me, and the stigma of my youth could stay in this stinking, shit hole of a place.
“It’ll follow you wherever you go, Carmel.”
Belinda slouched beside the clothes rack, yellow pus plopping from her eye-socket face onto the white-tiled floor. Funny that she’d stayed the same height as when she’d died—that she hadn’t grown with me over the years. Strange that such a small being could inspire terror inside me when I stood so much taller. I’d always thought that once grown, I wouldn’t be scared anymore, that the heebie-jeebies vanished upon adulthood’s arrival. What a load of crap that thought had been.
“What the hell do you want?” I whispered and placed another black top on the rack.
As usual, she ignored my question. “No matter where you run to, it will follow. Wanna know why?”
I sighed, nodded.
“Because it’s all inside you, thicko. You think that once they all cease to exist you’ll feel better? Think again, dipshit.”
I glanced around the store, relieved to see it mainly empty. “You don’t know me and what I feel inside—”
“Yes I do, I know every thought, every—”
“No, you don’t. And it will work, I know it.”
Belinda snorted. “And if it doesn’t? What will you do then? Kill yourself?”
I frowned. I hadn’t thought of that scenario lately. The urges to wreak revenge had surpassed any urges to relieve life’s burdens. Even though thoughts of the star-steps invaded my mind—and the longing to be there once again and experience that feeling of peace proved too much—I’d long ago realised why it hadn’t been my time to stand on the last step and move forward into bliss. I had things to do before I could walk through the portal between this world and the next.
“No, I won’t have to do that, because it will work. Anyway, don’t bother me while I’m here. You don’t show up for months, and when you do it’s here. Piss off before my boss sees me and thinks I’m talking to myself.”
“Who says she can’t see me?” Belinda twirled, her burial dress billowing around her. “Maybe she has the ability to—”
“Belinda.”
She pouted. “Don’t you want to know why I’m here?”
“No.” I shoved a hanger into the neck of the last black top and hung it up. “Sod off.”
“Think about it. I usually turn up when there’s something important to do, don’t I?” She sniffed. The sound of yellow goo slapping on the floor turned my stomach.
“Do you? So, slinging shit at me is important? Arguing with Nelson and driving me mad is important?” I clamped my teeth, stomped over to the cardboard box of tops, and pulled them over to the empty rack near the window.
“Of course that’s important, but I’m here for something else today. Something you’ll be pleased about, though why I want to please you is anyone’s guess.”
I lifted a cerise top and placed it on a hanger. “I was about to say the same thing. Had a personality transplant, have we?”
Belinda gusted towards me. The displaced air held a tinge of menace, and I hung the top on the rack and stared at her, my heart thudding, hands trembling. Her life-face glared back, nostrils flared, cheeks reddened.
“You’d better fucking stop being rude to me or I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” Bravado had finally arrived. “Stalk me? Scare me? What?”
“Well…” Belinda rested a forefinger on her chin and looked at the ceiling. “Remember the breath cowl? Hmm? How you couldn’t breathe? You know what I’m capable of doing, don’t you?” Her gaze met mine.
My stomach churned. Determined not to let her see my fright, I laughed. “Yes, I know, but I suspect you’re not actually allowed to kill me. Ironic, that, don’t you think? That I was able to kill you, but you’re not able to—”
“Shut the hell up and look out of the window. Quickly.”
Do as she says, Carmel.
I stared in the direction Belinda’s sausage finger pointed. Shoppers in various guises pottered on the street outside beneath a multitude of coloured umbrellas. Cars parked bumper-to-bumper against the curbs on both sides of the road, and smoke belched from under the canopy of a hotdog vendor on the pavement directly outside. I squinted through the rain-splattered window, seeing nothing out of the ordinary.
“What? What am I looking for?” I asked, turning back to Belinda.
“Look outside the men’s suit shop on the corner.” Belinda’s lips quirked into a smug smile, and she cocked her head. “Hurry up. Stop staring at me and look at him.”
I shifted my gaze outside again. An old, slim-built man leant forward to afford a closer study of the shop’s window display. His grey wool coat hung from bony shoulders, and the hems of his black trousers kissed the wet pavement, obliterating sight of his shoes. A black fedora rested on the back of his head, as if he’d pushed it away from his brow to see better. He brought his leather-gloved hands out of his pockets and turned, his left profile towards me. A straggly grey beard bushed inches below his jaw line, his moustache so thick that I wondered how he breathed through his nostrils.
“See him now?”
I frowned. “What, the old duffer with the beard?”
Belinda laughed, a sanctimonious jingle. “Yes, the old duffer with the beard. Ring any bells, does he?”
My frown deepened. “No. Should he?”
Look really hard, Carmel. Think.
I moved closer to the window. The old man now held a wallet. With head bent low, he pulled out some money and flicked through the notes. Counting his cash?
“Oh,” said Belinda. “Silly me. This man doesn’t ring any bells—it was the other one who did that.”
My heart slammed painfully. Air hitched in my throat, and I swallowed, though not fast enough. The acid taste of bile burned the back of my tongue, and I palmed my mouth.
See him, Carmel?
I nodded.
“Ah, it’s a wonderful thing to see you so fucked up by the sight of someone. Bet your emotions are all over the shop now, aren’t they? Pun intended.” Belinda prodded me on the arm. “Oi, I’m talking to you.”
I ignored her, and she sighed. My eyes widened as the years were stripped away.
Remember him, Carmel? Remember what he said? “And isn’t that a big girl you are now? And Nelson. What a lovely name for such a beautiful dolly… There’s upset I am then, Carmel. Mr Lawton’s money bought the sherbet and lolly, and my present was the sweets…”
Oh, Jesus. Oh, no…
“Don’t make out this isn’t
what you wanted, Carmel. You’re such a bloody drama queen.” Belinda giggled. “What are you going to do? Take an early lunch? That’s all well and good, but by the time you go and ask your boss, Mr Hemmings will be gone. Then what will you do? Who knows when the opportunity will arrive again for you to go over to him and—”
I didn’t hear the rest of what she said. The rain lashed down on my face, and the door of the shop had already closed behind me.
* * * *
The smell of new suits and rain-damp coats assaulted me. I blinked away moisture and searched the small outlet. A young brown-haired man stood behind the counter to my right, his head bent over a ledger, the end of a pen in his mouth. Racks of suit jackets lined the top half of the walls, their trouser companions on the rows beneath. To the rear of the shop, one shoe of each pair sat on transparent plastic shelves. Black or brown brogues, tan Hush Puppies, hiking boots.
He browsed a rack situated beside the shoes, his naked fingers caressing a burgundy silk tie spotted with yellow. Where had all his weight gone? And his height appeared diminished—or was that because I had grown since the last time I’d seen him? I stepped forward.
“Can I help you?”
I turned to the man behind the counter. He stood upright now, the ledger closed, the pen beside it on the counter.
“Ummm, no. No, thank you. I’m just browsing. I need to buy my dad a tie. I see them up there so I’ll…”
I walked to the back of the shop, my strides sure, my heart thumping. The speed of the pulse in my neck quickened, and I reckoned the vein bulged my skin. Swallowing to banish the dryness in my throat, I reached out and smoothed my fingers down a dark blue tie with gold diamonds. The smell of him burned my nostrils—his damp coat, fusty aftershave, and something else…cigar smoke?
