Soul

by Dave Blackwell

  “A plant pot?” Jon asked.

  Martin nodded with a smile.

  “Bit basic isn’t it.” Jon said. “What about alarms?”

  “No. Miss Catherine hates them.”

  “Ok.” Jon took a deep breath, his eyes darting around the car. “I want you to walk around the back of the house and wait by the shed, ok?” Jon said.

  “Ok.” Martin responded.

  “I will join you in a few minutes.” Jon said, looking out the window at the house. The snow was falling thicker. “Understand?”

  Martin nodded.

  “After this I will take you for a drink.” Jon smiled and put his hand on Martins' shoulder.

  “That would be nice Jon.” Martin smiled. “I want a pint of tonic water.”

  “That is odd, but you can have anything you want.” Jon said and patted martin on the side of the arm.

  “I like it.” Martin said. “Nearly Christmas soon.”

  “I am not getting into a talk about Christmas now, so you can forget that.” Jon Groaned. “Ready?”

  Martin nodded.

  “Good. Right go now. See you in a few minutes.” Jon said. “Remember. No names and keep quiet.”

  “Ok.” Martin said and nodded. He sat back in the seat, looking at Jon and smiling.

  “Go.” Jon pointed to the door and nudged Martin towards it. “Get out.” He pushed.

  Martin opened the door and got out, slamming the door closed and causing Jon to flinch. Jon watched as his uncle shuffled in the show, walking down the drive and disappearing behind the house.

  The large bath was in the centre of the perfectly square room, polished white tiled floor, wall and ceiling. The room was dimly lit from the flickering candles at the foot of the antique ceramic bath mounted on cast iron feet. Wax had dripped and run down the side of the bath, forming a solid mound at the base. Stainless steel pipes came up from the floor, meeting the large silver white single spout tap. There was one door with a bathrobe hanging on the back leading to the bathroom, and there was no window or any other furniture.

  Steam rose from the pale milky water as it gently rippled, small bubbles broke the surface as Catherine slowly raised her head above the water, her body was completely immersed in the water. She breathed out deeply and took a long breath, her eyes closed as the water ran down her face.

  Her eyes shot open at the hollow thud, which she also felt against the bath. Slowly she sat up and brushed the hair over her ears, listening.

  “If that is you Jackson, I am going to kill you!” She whispered under her breath and slowly stood up and stepped out of the bath, walked to the door and took the bathrobe from the back of the door.

  “You better have a good reason.” She muttered. “Don’t like having my bath ruined.” She groaned.

  Turning the door handle, she slowly opened it and stepped out onto the landing which overlooked the hall, bending down she looked through the banister at the front door. The window above the door was too dirty and she couldn’t see out of it to make out if there was a car parked outside.

  “Damn.” She said quietly.

  Holding onto the banister, she slowly made her way downstairs, taking each step slowly and cautiously.

  “Jesus Martin!” Jon snapped. “Told you to be quiet!” Jon was angry, his hand on his head as he looked down at Martin laying on the floor.

  “Sorry Jon.” Martin apologised.

  Jon closed the door and turned the latch which clicked, he then checked the door had locked before closing the second door which was lined with thick rubber. Martin lay at the bottom of the steps, breathing deeply. Various vegetables, fruit and peelings around him.

  “Are you hurt?” Jon asked in concern and brushed the snow off his shoulders.

  “No.” Martin smiled.

  “Then get up you retard!” Jon snapped. “What is wrong with you?” Jon carefully descended the steps and held out his hand to Martin who took hold of it, pulling himself up. “Who leaves a bucket at the top of the steps?”

  “Mr Jackson does that.” Martin replied and looked around the room. The only light was above the door where they had come in. Martin picked up the bucket and started cleaning up the mess.

  “Why?” Jon asked. “Leave that alone!” He grabbed the bucket from Martin and put it back on the step. “That stinks.” He wiped his hand on his coat.

  “To remind himself to put it out.” Martin walked to the centre of the room and pulled at the light switch.

  Jon groaned and shielded his eyes as the double florescent lights burst into life, buzzing as the flooded the room with bright harsh light.

  “For what?” Jon asked bluntly.

  “Foxes.” Martin said. “Miss Catherine likes to feed the foxes.”

  “She an animal lover?” Jon mocked. “Bloody vermin they are.”

  “I like foxes.” Martin said.

  “You like everything Martin.” Jon shook his head. “You retards just love everything.”

  “Stop it.” Martin moaned in frustration.

  The basement was empty and had recently been cleaned out and washed down. The smell of bleach lingered heavily in the air. Near a staircase leading up to the house were a walk-in refrigerator, stainless steel and white plastic walls. A small puddle of water had formed at the base of the door.

  “Stinks in here.” Jon complained and covered his nose.

  “Bleach.” Martin breathed in deeply. “Love it.”

  Jon scoffed.

  “Do you like it?” Martin breathed in deeply, almost coughing. “Breathe deeply!” He said loudly.

  “Will you shut up!” Jon hissed. “What is wrong with you?!” Jon looked to the ceiling, listening for any signs of movement. “She probably can hear your big gob!” Jon growled.

  Martin started to giggle only for Jon to glare at him.

  “What?” He demanded.

  “The basement is soundproofed.” Martin explained. “Jackson had it soundproofed.”

  “Why?” Jon asked. “Does he kill people down here or something?” He added nervously.

  Martin giggled again.

  “Stop giggling you retard.” Jon demanded. “Answer the question like a normal person.”

  Martin stopped giggling, hurt at the degrading comments his nephew kept throwing at him.

  “I liked you better when you were little.” He said softly. “You are mean.”

  “Get over it.” Jon said bitterly. “So?”

  “He makes music.” Martin said and walked up to the refrigerator, looking through the small glass window on the door. “Empty.” He mumbled.

  “Oh right.” Jon looked around at the empty room. “So where is it?” He asked.

  “What?” Martin looked back at Jon, a vacant look on his face.

  “The music-making stuff?” He held his hands up to indicate the empty room. “This place is empty.”

  “When I was here the freezer broke down and flooded the room.” Martin tapped his foot in the small puddle. “So, everything was taken out.”

  “Right.” Jon huffed. “Lead the way.” He said abruptly.

  Martin walked towards the stairs, the excitement building in him.

  “Wait.” Jon said.

  Martin turned around and faced Jon.

  “What are you forgetting?” He said and removed a grey balaclava from his pocket and tipped his head forward, pulling it over and straightening it so he could see out of the eye slit.

  “Oh.” Martin giggled and reached for his pocket, pulling out a similar one in light blue. “Now?” He asked and held it up.

  “Well yes.” Jon muttered. “And remember. No names!” Jon warned him, pointing at him as if he were a naughty child.

  “I promise.” Martin said and pulled the balaclava over his head, struggling to find the eye slit. Jon groaned and walked up to him taking him by the shoulders.

  “Hold still.” He said and pulled the balaclava round, revealing Martin’s eyes. “There you go.”

  “Thanks J..”
Martin suddenly remembered. “Thanks to you know who.” He laughed.

  Jon laughed and shook his head.

  “Ok. Serious now.” Jon said. “I will deal with the woman and you go to the study and get the money. Understand?” He asked.

  Martin nodded.

  “Any questions before we go up?” Jon held onto Martins' shoulders. “I need you to keep quiet when we are in the house.”

  Martin thought and then nodded.

  “What?" Jon was expecting a stupid question.

  “Don’t hurt Miss Catherine.” Martin said, his words fearful and nervous. “She is a nice lady.”

  “No one is getting hurt today.” Jon said softly.

  “Promise.” Martin demanded. “Promise you won’t hurt her.”

  Jon took his arms off Martins' shoulder and sighed in anger.

  “I said I won’t.” He snapped. “Just do what I tell you to do and everything will be fine.”

  Martin nodded.

  “Are there any weapons in the house?” Jon asked.

  “You said you wouldn’t hurt her!” Martin moaned.

  “I am not!” Jon growled in frustration. “I just need to know in case she decides to use them on us.”

  Martin shook his head.

  “Miss Catherine hates weapons.” Martin said. “No guns or knives in the house.”

  “How do you know that?” Jon asked.

  “She told me.” Martin explained. “Told me that her father was killed with a gun.”

  “Ok no stories. No would have been fine.” Jon was getting impatient. “Right lead the way and keep quiet.” He pointed to the stairs.

  Martin gave Jon a thumbs up and made his way up the stairs slowly, the wood creaking softly under each step as he approached the door.

  Catherine stood at the bottom of the stairs, pulling the bathrobe around herself tightly and listening towards the kitchen.

  “Hello?” She whispered and stepped into the hall. “Jackson?” She said slightly louder.

  Resting her hand on the large vase, she looked down into the kitchen.

  “You are being silly.” She said to herself. “There is no one here.”

  Catherine was so sure she had heard someone speaking when she came down the stairs, quietly but it was there.

  “Probably someone outside.” She reassured herself. “Next door must have another party.”

  The house next door entertained on a regular basis and sometimes made so much noise that Jackson had gone over, asking them to tone it down. The family there got on well with Catherine, so they always apologised and kept quiet. There were times when the children, who were into their late teens would host university parties and so on. Catherine didn’t mind, they had always been respectful and tidy. As she kept reminding Jackson, they were young once. She teased Jackson all the time as he was always complaining about someone or something. A few days before he had complained about the mail being wet, and within moments was on the telephone to the mail office to complain. Catherine had calmly walked over to the telephone and disconnected it, telling him there was no harm done. She didn’t like to upset or harm anyone in any way and liked to end things on good terms. That had always been her way.

  Walking towards the door, she put her hand against it to steady herself and looked through the peephole. There was nothing on the drive other than the heavy snow that continued to fall. The tracks in the road from Jackson's car had already begun to fill with snow.

  A noise behind her of a stiff door opening caused her to turn in fright and look down the hall.

  “Is that you Jackson?” She called nervously. “If it is, then there is going to be hell to pay.” She forced a smile.

  The door creaked open and Martin walked into view, looking directly at Catherine. Jon followed behind, pushing him out of the way and then closing the door behind him, almost slamming it.

  “What do you want?” Catherine asked, pulling the bathrobe tightly around herself.

  Martin went to speak but Jon stopped him, putting his finger to his lip to action him to be quiet.

  “Just do as I say.” Jon said calmly. “And you won’t get hurt.”

  Catherine looked at Martin and then at Jon.

  “Ok.” She nodded. “I gather you are here for money?” She asked bluntly.

  “Don’t speak until I ask you to!” Jon snapped.

  “Ok.” Catherine held up her hands in defence. “I apologise.”

  Jon looked around nervously. He walked down the steps into the kitchen and looked around, then slowly walked to the front of the stairs looking up.

  “Are you alone?” He asked. “Is anyone here?”

  Martin blurted out.

  “Yes, the others left.” He said looking at Jon who glared at him.

  “Martin?” Catherine recognized the voice. “Is that you?” She slowly stepped forward.

  Martin realised at that point he had messed up and he looked at Jon, his angry eyes burning into him from the slit in the balaclava.

  “For fuck's sake!” Jon moaned. “One simple thing and you have to mess it up.”

  “I am sorry.” Martin apologised.

  “Why are you doing this?” Catherine asked.

  Jon reached into his pocket and pulled out a small blackened revolver with a tanned wooden handle. He hesitated and then raised it, aiming it at Catherine.

  “No!” Martin yelped. “You promised!”

  Catherine held her breath, her heart thumped in her chest and the blood rushed in her ears.

  “Shut up!” Jon Shouted. “From now on you say nothing and do what I tell you.” He aimed the revolver at Martin. “Understand me?” He growled.

  “Sorry.” Martin pulled his balaclava off, placing it in his pocket. He was holding back tears, glancing to Catherine with shame.

  “It is ok Martin.” Catherine nodded in understanding. “Calm down.”

  “Come here.” Jon aimed the gun and pointed to the vase next to the stairs. “Stand here and shut up.”

  His hand trembled. Catherine could see the gun shaking slightly as she slowly made her way towards the stairs.

  “I will co-operate.” Catherine said. “You don’t need to aim that gun at me.” She was afraid that his own nervousness would accidentally set the gun off. “I’ll give you what you need.” She stopped next to the vase.

  “Sorry Miss Catherine.” Martin moaned. “I didn’t mean for this.”

  “Seriously Martin. Shut. Up!” Jon emphasized. “When I say be quiet. I mean it.”

  Martin nodded, his body shaking.

  “It’s ok.” Catherine said to him reassuringly.

  “Go get the money.” Jon said to Martin.

  Martin looked at Catherine and then at Jon.

  “I just asked you to go and get the money!” Jon said in anger. “Do as you are told, and your friend won’t get hurt!” He cocked the revolver.

  “You promised you wouldn’t.” Martin groaned as tears started to well in his eyes. “Please.”

  “Get up there and get the money.” Jon ordered him and watched as he ran up the stairs, falling forward on a couple of occasions. “Don’t come down until you have it.!” He shouted.

  “You shouldn’t do this.” Catherine said.

  “Do what?” Jon asked still aiming the gun at her head.

  “He has learning difficulties. It isn’t right to take advantage of him.” Catherine said calmly.

  “Isn’t doing him any harm.” Jon argued.

  “You sure about that?” Catherine scoffed. “He looks on the verge of a breakdown.”

  Jon laughed.

  “What is so funny?” Cathine wanted to know.

  “You fired him.” Jon sighed. “He loved this place.”

  “We didn’t fire him.” Catherine shook her head in disbelief. “Martin was having a hard time focusing and had a couple of incidents, so we told him to take some time.” Catherine explained. “He had a job to come back to and he was going to spend time with Elizabeth.”

&nbs
p; “He said he got fired for crashing Jacks car and killing the cat.” Jon stuttered.

  “Jackson was annoyed about the car, but he was more concerned about Martin. As for the cat, we knew it was an accident. She was always getting into places she shouldn’t and in all fairness, she had used up all her lives.” Catherine sighed. “You can still change the way today goes. I can help you.”

  “What makes you think you can help me?” Jon snapped. “You don’t know me.”

  Martin leaned over the banister, breathing heavily.

  “It is empty.” He panted. “Nothing in it.”

  Jon looked at Catherine.

  “Where is the money?” He demanded. “Martin said you had a whole bunch of notes stashed away for emergencies. Where is it?”

  Martin looked down at Catherine in discomfort, like a child that had been caught lying.

  “I have a safe which is in the bottom of the cupboard.” Catherine looked up at Martin. “There is money in there.”

  Martin looked down at Jon.

  “What?” Jon asked. “Do you want permission or something?”

  “I don’t know the code.” Martin moaned.

  “Well I don’t either do I?!” Jon scoffed. “Jesus really?!”

  “It is my birthday Martin.” Catherine said with a smile. “You remember that don’t you.”

  Martin nodded and then proceeded to try and work it out.

  “Can you just tell him what it is otherwise we will be here all night while the retard runs out of fingers and toes.” Jon said, his words harsh and hurtful.

  “You are mean!” Martin complained. “Hate that word.”

  “Well I told you not to act stupid and you won’t get called stupid. Simple huh?” Jon snapped.

  “Martin.” Catherine got his attention. “It is nineteen thirty-eight.”

  Martin looked at Catherine in confusion and then back at Jon as if he was waiting for confirmation.

  “Why are you looking at me?” Jon snapped. “She just gave you the safe code. Go use it!” He growled.

  Martin looked back at Catherine, his bottom lip trembling as if he were about to burst into tears.

  “It is ok Martin.” Catherine smiled at him reassuringly. “Put the code in using the keypad and when you hear a click, turn the handle clockwise.” She nodded. “Take all the money in there.”