Sticky Fingers: Box Set Collection 2: 36 More Deliciously Twisted Short Stories (Sticky Fingers: The Complete Box Set Collection)

by JT Lawrence

  “Tell me what I can do to help you,” says Gaelyn. “It’s my job to take care of you.”

  He finds himself gradually defrosting. “I’ve been … battling to eat.”

  “I can see that!” Gaelyn says. “Your cuff is reporting very low blood sugar. Don’t worry, I know just the thing.” She makes a note on her Tile. “We’ll have you sorted out in no time. I don’t want you to worry about anything. Are we all okay?”

  She searches his face for agreement. Zack wants to agree; he wants to stay on her good side.

  “What happened to Lewis?” he asks.

  Gaelyn’s eyes flicker for a moment, then return to their friendly shine. Her smile is wide. “Oh, we’re so thrilled to have him upstairs with us!”

  Zack frowns at her.

  “If anyone deserved a promotion, it was Lewis! Always such a pleasure to have around. And the way he embraced our philosophy, well, we couldn’t be happier to have him with us. We hope that, after this hiccup, you’ll work hard to join us too.”

  “But he’s not up there,” says Zack, and Bernard’s eyes flare.

  Shut up, she’s saying. Shut the hell up, Prisoner.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Lewis isn’t upstairs. He’s in a body bag.”

  Gaelyn looks shocked. “What?”

  “Lewis wasn’t elevated. He’s dead. You can deny it as much as you want, but I saw his dead body in that room.”

  “No wonder you’re not yourself! If you think you saw Lewis’s body you must have had quite a shock.”

  “I know what I saw.”

  She frowns again, and feigned worry pouts her lips. “Hmm. This is unfortunate. Maybe the others were right.”

  “What do you mean, the others?”

  "The Residents' Care Team. Your history during the trial. They predicted you'd need some pharmaceutical assistance."

  “I don’t.”

  Gaelyn makes another note on her Tile.

  "Just for a while, until you adjust. Moving here can be a traumatic experience! We need you to be able to cope with your new environment. We can't have people making waves, upsetting the others."

  “Maybe the others need upsetting,” whispers Zack.

  “Excuse me?” says Gaelyn.

  Bernard stomps on his foot. Shut up!

  Zack raises his voice. “I said maybe the other residents need upsetting.”

  "If I were you," says Gaelyn, "I'd be cautious of what you say next."

  Zack wants to shout at her, yell in their faces. He holds himself back. Getting thrown in solitary isn’t going to help his cause.

  “I’m going to let you off with a friendly warning. You can even keep your first Stage. I think you’ll find that life is a lot easier down here if you co-operate. The medical team will be here shortly to administer your pharmaceutical treatment.”

  Maybe I am going mad, Zack thinks. I’ve been under a lot of strain. Those dreams. The torn fingernail. Maybe I imagined the cold butter bodies and the man-eating mushrooms.

  Gaelyn tucks her Tile into her utility harness and turns to leave.

  “What’s the first thing he did?” says Zack to her retreating back.

  She turns around. “Excuse me?”

  “What’s the first thing Lewis did when he got up there?”

  Gaelyn turns on her most winning smile. “He stripped off the new clothes we gave him and jumped in the pool!”

  7

  Stay the Night

  This story was first written as a play and flighted by South Africa’s national broadcaster, the SABC.

  They pulled up to the old, derelict house.

  “Well,” said Andrew. “I see she hasn’t done any maintenance since we were last here.”

  “She’s a ninety-four-year-old widow,” replied Linda. “What did you expect?”

  “You’re right. I feel bad, now.”

  Linda stretched her back. It was aching with the extra weight of her growing belly. Sometimes she wished she could just take it off for an hour and hang it on the back of a door, to give her back a break and to feel light again. "You feel bad? Why?”

  Andrew pushed his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose and shrugged. “I could have come over, every now and then. Fixed a few things.”

  Linda shrugged. “It’s not like she lives up the road. It’s a two-hour drive. Besides, what you know about DIY is scary.”

  She wouldn't mention the nursery at home, and how far behind they were in getting the furniture in and painting the place. They didn't even have a crib yet. It made her nervous just thinking about it.

  “I could have boarded up those broken windows, for one. Could have hired someone to get rid of that mound of rusty rubbish. Pulled up some blackjacks. A two-hour drive isn’t the end of the world.”

  “There’s the drive back home, invariably in the dark. Not safe.”

  “She has plenty of space. We could have just stayed over.”

  Linda shook her head. “No. Not allowed. Against the rules.”

  “What do you mean?” Andrew took off his glasses and frowned at her. “Hodgey was always begging us to stay the night. I’ve never understood—”

  Linda drummed her fingers on her knees.“It’s just a thing, okay? An agreement.”

  Andrew’s furrows deepened. “Between you and Hodge?”

  “Between Peter and I. We sibling-swore.”

  “‘Sibling-swore’? What are you two? Twelve?”

  Linda stopped drumming. “We were sixteen, if you must know.”

  Andrew laughed. “Why? Is the house haunted?”

  “In a way.”

  He stopped laughing, perhaps remembering that Linda had lost her parents when she was sixteen. “In a way?”

  “Bad things happen. If you stay over.”

  Linda opened her door and levered her aching body out of the vehicle. She walked over to the dead potted plant on the front verandah and retrieved the key from underneath the dusty saucer. After unlocking the stubborn door, she pushed it open, and they both took a quick step backwards.

  “God,” gasped Andrew, covering his nose. “What is that smell?”

  Linda had only recently recovered from her "morning" sickness that had lasted all day for six months. The reek made her spin to face the splintering balcony and retch into the field of weeds below. Andrew tried to help her, but she held her hand out to stop him. After so many months of holding her hair back while she vomited she was sure he'd never want to kiss her again. Best he keeps his distance and pass her the bottle of water from the car, both of which he did, without her asking. She wiped her lips with a tissue from her pocket and swirled some water in her mouth.

  “Rotting food, probably. It’s not like she had time to tidy the fridge before the ambulance picked her up.”

  "You're telling me," said Andrew. "Look at this pile of old newspapers. Looks like she hasn't had time to tidy the house since 1979." He seemed amused, and in good spirits despite the awful stink. He leaned over to study some of the old headlines. "Who keeps decades-old newspapers?"

  “Journalists. Hoarders. And ninety-four-year-old widows who want to hang onto memories.”

  They took a few tentative steps inside, and Linda opened the curtains and the windows. Dust glittered in the air, and she sneezed. It was far worse than they had expected. You couldn’t see the walls for the piles of junk that hid them.

  “I’ll call someone,” said Andrew. “I mean, someone we can hire a skip from. And some extra hands.”

  "A rubbish skip? We can't just throw her things away, she'll go postal! And we can't have strangers in here. She's very protective of her things."

  "We don't have a choice," said Andrew. "This place will take months to sort out, and we've got a weekend. You can't expose yourself to the mould in here, and I've got a bad back."

  Linda nodded but felt sad for Granny Hodge. She'd be heartbroken. She was very attached to the ramshackle house.

  “Honestly,” said Andrew, looking around with a sligh
tly wrinkled up nose. “I’d prefer to burn the whole thing to the ground.”

  “It would be quicker,” said Linda.

  “Cheaper,” added Andrew.

  “And it would probably smell better, too.”

  “I’ve got a couple of things for her,” said Linda, walking down the creaking stairs with a small tote bag over her arm and holding something stick-like in her hand. She shows it to Andrew. “It’s her hundred-year-old toothbrush.”

  “It looks like it’s been used to scrub an entire prison block’s toilets.”

  “Do you think it’s worth taking? Or shall I just buy a new one at the hospital? Knowing her, she might want this particular one. Some shampoo, some lotion. Underwear. Do you think two nightgowns is enough? I don’t know what old people need.”

  “Well, don’t ask me! Shall we go?”

  “Let’s have a cup of tea, first.”

  “We can have a cup of tea at the hospital, with Hodgey.”

  Linda looked a little pale. “I’d like one now.”

  “Why are you stalling?”

  “I’m not. I’d just really like a cup of tea.”

  Andrew pursed his lips. He wasn’t used to his wife insisting on satisfying any cravings, despite the difficult pregnancy. “Okay. Why don’t you put your feet up, and I’ll put the kettle on.”

  “No. I brought the thermos. It’s in the car.”

  “What? It’ll be cold, by now. You hate cold tea.”

  “It’s just … it’s another rule. About visiting here. We’re not to eat or drink anything. Ever.”

  “What has gotten into you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re not yourself. Look, it’s understandable. You’re emotional about your—”

  “It’s not that.”

  “What is it?” He stepped closer to her and took her arm.

  “Have you never noticed it before?” she said, her eyes wide and suddenly child-like. “When we visited here before? When my brother and his family visit?”

  “Notice what?”

  “We always bring our own food. And our own drinks.”

  “But that’s not unusual. We take our own food to my parents’ house, too. Of course we do. With so many mouths to feed … and mom’s always been a terrible cook.”

  “The two rules when visiting Hodgey are 1. Bring Your Own Food, and 2. Never Stay the Night.

  Andrew walked in, thermos in hand. Linda was rummaging through some brown boxes. “Here’s your plastic cup of cold tea.”

  Linda looked up and smiled. “Thank you.”

  “I’ve called the movers and refuse removal company. They’ll be here in the morning.”

  “Already? It seems so soon.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Linda was distracted by the contents of a box and didn’t reply. She held a black and white ribbon in her hand.

  “I found a few pieces of furniture worth keeping,” he continued. “An oak rocking chair. A cherrywood secretary desk. We can put them in storage for now, till she moves into the new place. Hopefully they’ll make her feel a bit more at home.”

  She put the ribbon to the side. "That's great. Thank you."

  “You okay?”

  Linda looked up, forcing a smile. “Yep.”

  "Making much progress there? Searching for the family silver?"

  “Family silver would come in very handy right now. Peter’s found a few assisted living facilities. All way out of my budget, of course. He’s been earning pounds for so long that he can’t convert to rands anymore. I asked him to keep looking. Her hospital bills alone will put me into debt for a year.”

  “I can’t believe she’s not on any kind of medical aid.”

  “Granny Hodge never paid for anything that wasn’t absolutely necessary.”

  “I noticed that none of the toilets had been flushed in a while.”

  “She sprinkles baby powder in them, instead. Ostensibly to save water.”

  “She buys non-perishables in bulk. I counted 22 tins of baked beans in the larder.”

  “She dyes her hair with prune juice.”

  “What were you looking for, when I came in, just now?”

  Linda blew her fringe out of her eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “You seemed … distracted.”

  “Did I? It’s probably just pregnancy-brain.”

  “You sure?”

  She tested a nearby chair for sturdiness, then sat down in it. "I don't know. I do feel a bit weighed down."

  “By Hodgey’s situation?”

  "By the history in here. I mean, this place is brimming with … well, it's full of dead peoples' things."

  Andrew sat down next to her. “Have you found some of your parents’ things?”

  "Some, yes. But also things from uncle Sid."

  “I didn’t know you had an uncle.”

  "He died when we were small. And also things from Hodgey's late husbands."

  “Late husbands, plural?”

  "Yes. She lost two. We never met the first one. Apparently, he wasn't very nice, anyway. I guess everyone loses people."

  “I’d say your grandmother lost more loved ones than the average person. And to lose your children … that must be the worst thing.” He swallowed hard. “The worst.”

  "People used to say that that Hodgey was trailed by grief. It actually became a thing with her. Like, an obsession."

  “What do you mean?”

  “She began to … enjoy funerals. Like, she’d scan the local obituary pages and go to strangers’ funerals.”

  “That’s bizarre.”

  “I suppose we’re all odd, in our own way.”

  "Odd?" said Andrew. "Most old people are pretty eccentric, left to their own devices. But I'd say that Hodge sounds bat-shit crazy."

  Linda gave Andrew a skew-lipped smile.

  He put his hand on her knee. “You ready to go yet? Or are you still stalling?”

  "Still stalling," said Linda. "Let me finish sorting through this box, and then we'll go."

  When the doorbell rings, it's 7 pm.

  “What?” exclaims Linda. “How did it get so late? And who could be at the door?”

  “Pizza,” said Andrew.

  “Hey?”

  "I ordered pizza. You're pregnant, and you haven't eaten for hours."

  "You're a saint. I love you."

  “Go on,” said Andrew. “I’ll try to dig out the dining room table.”

  Linda opens the front door. “That’s a strange-looking pizza.”

  “I beg your pardon?” said the old woman with the dramatic eyeliner and purple rinse.

  Edna was the eccentric neighbour and Hodgey's best friend. The one who had faded plastic flamingoes in her front garden and black barbed wire wrapped around her orange-brick house. She'd always been grumpy and used to chase her and Peter around with a broom when they were kids. The neighbourhood witch.

  “Edna!” said Linda. “How are you?”

  “Battling on,” she groaned. “Battling on.” She slammed her cane down as she walked.

  “Come, sit down. I’d offer you a cup of tea, but—”

  Linda felt Andrew approach from behind her, so she stepped aside.

  "No, no, no, thank you," said the old woman. "Not for me. If I drink tea now, I'll be up all night."

  “The caffeine?” asked Andrew.

  “The bladder! The old bladder! You know, they don’t make them like they used to.”

  There was an awkward silence.

  “Thank you for calling me,” said Linda. “About Hodgey.”

  “I should have called you earlier,” Edna said.

  “But you called me as soon as the ambulance left. I heard the sirens.”

  “What I mean is, I should have called you months ago. When she started acting strangely.”

  “Always been an odd duck, our Hodgey—” said Andrew.

  “—but I think something happened. Something changed.”

  “What do y
ou mean?” asked Linda.

  "I don't know. Alzheimer's. Dementia. Although if Larry heard me say that he'd say it's like the sieve saying the colander leaks!"

  Edna’s husband, Larry, had been dead for years, so Linda took her point.

  “She fired Samuel for no discernible reason. You know, the gardener. Been working for us for years, that man. Then, out of the blue, she chases him off the property and throws a rotten apple at him. I saw the whole thing happen.”

  “It does explain the state of the house,” said Linda. “If she fired all her help.”

  “She was never the best housekeeper,” said Edna.

  “But this is terrible,” Linda said, gesturing around. “Even for her.”

  Andrew sighed and ruffled his hair. Both women looked at him expectantly.

  “What?” asked Linda.

  "I didn't want to tell you, but I found some … bodies. Outside, in the back yard. In black plastic bags."

  Linda jolted. “Bodies? What kind of bodies? How could you not tell me?”

  “I didn’t want to upset you.”

  “What kind of bodies, for God’s sake?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t want to investigate. Small bodies. Squirrels, or cats. Or especially well-proportioned rats.”

  Edna nodded, and her nostrils flared. "She was always complaining about the feral cats. They'd get into the house — through the broken windows, no doubt — and chew through packets of food in her larder. They'd spray. You know, mark their territory. It's difficult to get rid of that smell, you know. It's especially stubborn, wild cat piss."

  A motorbike growled up the driveway; the box on the back was branded with a cheerful illustration of a pizza. Linda’s stomach growled. “Will you stay for dinner, Edna?”

  "Oh, we've eaten already, thanks, love. I made Larry's favourite: haddock and egg pie. I'll be going, then. Just wanted to check in."

  "We'll go visit Hodge tomorrow morning if you'd like to come along. Plenty of space in the car."

  “Oh, no, thank you. No, I won’t be doing that.”

  Linda didn’t try to hide her surprise.

  "Linda, dear, you don't know. Hodgey and I haven't spoken for years."

  The next morning, Linda and Andrew had yet to visit Linda’s grandmother in the hospital. They had to get the house ready for the refuse removal team, they agreed. They had to put aside the valuable things—there weren’t many—and they kept finding more boxes to open. Before they knew it, the men had arrived in their uniforms and heavy-duty gloves and had shifted most of the household contents into the skips they had brought along.