Rottenhouse (5 page)

So Simon screamed for her.

7

In the valley another tree to fell the
lumberjacks axe and it hit the forest floor heavily.

Simon awoke and sat bolt upright. ‘They
Leak!’

His chest moved in and out rapidly. His
clothes were wet with sweat and tight around his body. It was as if
they were trying to strangle him. He looked over to see if Lucy was
there but she was gone; the bed sheets slightly ruffled, the pillow
crooked. Looking around the room lit by a fading twilight sun, he
saw that the bedroom door was open and the hallway light was on.
There were voices coming from downstairs.

He eased himself back onto the soft
duvet and sighed heavily running his hands through his hair.
‘Fucking hell.’ It had been a long time since Simon had had a dream
– a nightmare – like that. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last
time he had had one. His breathing was becoming normal and he
licked his lips. Simon was struggling to remember the gist of the
dream, it was disappearing quickly – which he was thankful for –
but he knew that he had been at the garage and that the red gore
had been there.

Someone was saying something. Somebody
was there

From his pocket there came a soft
vibration and it startled him. Reaching down and fumbling he
removed his iPhone and opened his eyes so that he could see what
the alert was for. The background image was of Lucy – a princess in
her red dress – but her face was obscured by the green box and the
text that was inside. The message was from Kyle and it read:

Give me a call. Know on holiday and
isn’t urgent but need to talk.

He let go of the phone and let it fall
onto the duvet next to him. Right now, speaking to Kyle was the
last thing he wanted to do. What he really wanted was a beer, a few
of them to be precise. He took a quick shower, dried, and put on a
fresh pair of jeans and a clean shirt. Ready for the long haul he
took in a deep breath and headed back downstairs.

The Peroni
Incident

1

Simon gathered himself together, left
the bedroom and headed downstairs. The upstairs hallway was
decorated in that same lost in time 70’ss style that matched
downstairs. It wasn’t awful and in the same situation that Mr
Rowling was in – alone and without a wife – Simon believed that
most men would do and be the same. What was the point in changing
anything when the only one seeing it, living in it, was you?

He walked past the family bathroom –
had a little chuckle to himself – when the avocado green bath suite
shone bright in the fluorescent glow of the bathroom light. There
was even a matching bathmat to boot, as well as a fluffy toilet
seat cover.

The stairs creaked as he walked down
them, though he tried to take care as his ears struggled to catch
whatever it was that Lucy and Mr Rowling were talking about. There
were paintings and pictures on the walls but Simon paid these no
attention as he reached the bottom of the stairs and, noticing that
all other doors were closed off to him, headed into the brightly
lit kitchen. Mr Rowling was stood at the sink, where Lucy had been
a few hours ago and Lucy had taken up a seat at the table and was
pouring through a box of old photos.

He stood in the doorway; the silence
from within the kitchen was a brick wall he knew his body couldn’t
tear down. It was Mr Rowling that acknowledged his presence, ‘See
ya drifted off there for a while, Simon.’

Simon smiled, though he knew it looked
fake but carried on none the less. ‘Yep. Journey really took it out
of me. Did you have a nap…Barbara?’ That was harder to do than he
had anticipated.

‘
A little, I think.
You were out for the count.’ She went back to her
photos.

‘
Another five minutes,
Simon, and we shall head off over to the club if that right wayou?
Times gettin on now, nigh on seven already, if yaknow what I
mean.’

‘
Yeah, cool with me Mr
Rowling. I could do with a beer or two.’

The old man nodded.
‘I’ll just get macoat. Best you wrap up warm, you aint used
to
air
up here.
Gets nippy, especially after a few I can tell ya.’ He brushed past
Simon on his way into the hallway, a subtle whiff of Old Spice in
the air, ‘I saved ya a couple of corned dog sarnies.’

Images of the gore pouring out of the
garage flashed before Simon and his stomach churned.

Mr Rowling was just about to put on his
overcoat when Simon asked, ‘What’s corned dog?’

Now, Simon wasn’t
sure, he could have been mistaking what he heard as a button
clicking together, or the old clock that hung on the wall ticking
louder than usual, or it could have been the natural creaking and
groaning of the house that caused it, but Simon was sure he heard
Mr Rowling tsk and then shake his head. Zipping up his coat, ‘you
explain would ya, Barbara? I gotta make sure the garage is locked
before we
go
.’ He
opened the door, the light of the bulbous moon pouring in, and
headed outside, closing the door harder than what was needed. Simon
turned, wondering how on earth he was going to get through a night
if he didn’t know what a corned dog was, and looked at Lucy; his
eyes asking the question his mouth couldn’t bring itself to
say.

She was smirking and it pleased Simon.
He hadn’t seen that little smirk all day, thought for a few minutes
during the earlier episode that he wouldn’t see it for the rest of
his days.

‘
Corned beef you twat.
Now grab em out of the fridge, second shelf I think, and be quick
about it, you have about two minutes before dad comes back in here
and gives ya what for, best you not keep him waiting.’

‘
How the hell am I
going to survive tonight without you there translating for me?’ The
sandwiches were on the shelf; unwrapped and ready to go. He took
them out and held them out to Lucy like they were some ancient
artefact he had come across during a dig.

‘
Christ, look at the
size of these bad boys! It’s like two loaves of bread with a wedge
of cow smashed in the middle. And look at all that brown
sauce.’

‘
You like brown
sauce.’

‘
Yeah, but come, there
must be half a bottle in there.’

‘
Well if ya don’t want
them then put them back. But don’t come crying to me when you have
had a skin full and are puking yer guts up all over the shop making
a dick of yourself in front of your future father in law. Be
prepared to drink a lot tonight bucko; the men up here will make
sure you do and won’t forget it if ya don’t.’

The last thing he had eaten was an
overpriced Panini from a service station at around lunchtime. The
smell of the sandwich was starting to make his stomach rumble and
his mouth salivate. He closed the fridge door and took a bite out
of the wedge. It was delicious, though the brown sauce made it hard
to breathe for a moment, and he took one more bite as he headed
over to Lucy and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

‘
Wish me
luck?’

She glanced up, physically pulling
herself away from the black and white images that she was looking
through. She also made an effort to cover up some of them with her
arms.

‘
Be careful what you
say, Simon. It’s a different world up here. It’s not like The Rose
back home, they don’t know you so that means some of them won’t
like you, and they will make that pretty obvious too.’

Her eyes were a fire of concern and
Simon believed that given half a chance they would crawl out of her
sockets and try and bore their way into his own eyes. His throat
had become dry all of a sudden, he could sense her seriousness even
though he had never seen her like this and whatever warning she was
giving she meant it – really meant it – like when a parent tells
you not to walk on railway lines or play with traffic.

‘
Okay, okay, I’ll be
careful, Lucy, promise. Scouts honour and all that.’

Lucy took hold of his hand. ‘Don’t call
me that. Not here, not even if we are alone, don’t call me it. And
another thing, I know what you are like, don’t flash the cash,
don’t buy a round just because you think that that will get yer
some leeway with these guys. It don’t work like that, not here.
Doing that is just a sure fire way to find yerself in the alleyway
having the shite kicked out of ya.’

She let go of his hand
as from outside the engine of the Cortina roared into life and the
headlights blinked off and on a few times –
hurry up southerner
, they
yelled,
hurry up and come and see how real
men drink
!

Lucy looked out of the window. ‘You’d
best be off and I shall see you later.’ And Simon could only kiss
her on the forehead as she had once again become consumed by the
photos.

2

By the time Simon reached the car he
had finished eating the giant sandwich. The moon was high and big
and round, a type of moon he had heard be called a Hunters Moon
from time to time, and the forest, the valley and the courtyard,
were glowing with its milky blue light. Even the old Cortina looked
luminous under the moons ethereal glow. In the distance he could
hear the rushing water of the stream.

Simon walked around to the passenger
side and opened the door. He expected a creek, maybe a groan from
the old door as he pulled hard on the handle; but there was nothing
and the motion was as smooth as his own.

He went to get in but stopped as Mr
Rowling said, ‘in the back, son.’

At first Simon thought he was joking. I
mean, come on, what was he a kid, an ambassador, Lady Muck? He was
about to chuckle and wave it off and carry on getting in the front
but stopped; Mr Rowling’s face; his narrow eyes, his pursed lips,
his furrowed brow; he was serious! As serious as he had been when
he had asked Simon to watch his language and to not call Barbara,
Lucy.

‘
You mean…’

‘
In back. Front seat
was Mrs Rowling’s and’s now Barbara’s.’

He closed the door and opened the rear
door and sat behind what was once Mrs Rowling’s seat. The beige
velour was soft, the car smelt clean, really clean, like it had
been through a washing machine and hung out to dry. Surely no car
this old should smell this good, Christ, even his own motor which
was barely four months old didn’t smell this good.

‘
Seatbelt, Simon. They
save lives if yaknow what I mean.’

Like a good boy Simon did as he was
told because he knew what Mr Rowling meant.

3

Mr Rowling put the car into gear,
released the handbrake and eased the car off of the slippery
cobbles and onto the road heading back the way Simon had come. The
road ahead was hidden in darkness, lit only by the low beams of the
Cortina. Mr Rowling wasn’t exactly putting his foot down but was
doing a fair lick of speed, the car didn’t lumber but floated along
the tarmac bouncing lightly from bump to bump, crest to crest,
corner to corner. He clearly knew these roads like the back of his
hand and as he reached the junction to the main road he flicked off
his headlights, turned them on again and turned right without
slowing or stopping as the road signs suggested.

‘
You see what I did
there, son? I dipped the lights, saw
no
other car coming and so knew it
was okay to carry on without even stopping. Ya see, if I hadn’t
done that I would have had tastop and fart about. But cars like
this, Simon, home built cars that is, can do stuff like that.
Akourse, they do need a
man
behind the wheel, if ya know what I mean.’ He
flicked his eyes to the rear view mirror; a sly grin lit by the
dials of the dashboard.

He’s gauging me. He’s
gauging what sort of a guy I am. Will I bite, won’t I? Will I try
and speak up for what I am, for what I drive, or won’t I. Am I a
man or aren’t I
?

Go with the flow.

If Lucy’s mantra;
was
a voiced concern is a concern
gone
then Simons was;
go with the flow
and he had lived his
life by it, much to the annoyance of his friends, his family and
Lucy for that matter. Going with the flow usually meant that poor
service was put up with, shoddy work was never challenged, and
bills not paid met with a lack lustre approach and in general, as
Lucy put it;
shit just doesn’t get
done
! But none the less, Simon carried on
like that and wouldn’t change and would always just go with the
flow. Go with the flow, don’t cause ripples and Simon smiled and
returned his gaze to the village that went whizzing by.

They had been on the road for less than
ten minutes when Mr Rowling slowed, pulled the car into a narrow
driveway between two stone buildings, and parked his car in the
empty car park. The engine turned over a couple of times before
coming to an end. The car fell silent and became dark as the keys
were removed and the small lights over the doors went out. Simon
removed the rather tight seat belt and took hold the polished door
handle.

‘
So, Simon, I take it
Barbara warned ya; bout this place?’

‘
Well, wouldn’t say
warn, but she did give me some advice.’

The old boy kept his
eyes fixed to the road and his hands were clasped to the steering
wheel. ‘This is a Working Man’s Club, Simon. Working
Man’s
Club, yaknow what I
mean?’