The Debt & the Doormat (27 page)

Crackle! 

Close thunder breaks through the sky and I jump so hard I almost swallow my tongue.  Toffee barks so loudly my eardrums wince in disbelief.  She bolts.  I try to hold onto the lead but she's so strong that I feel the fabric whip my skin with a friction burn.  I look down in disbelief at my empty hands.  Toffee is running through the open field as fast as a whippet.

‘Toffee!  Come back,’ I yell running after her. 

But it's no use.  She’s so fast and it seems she’s been well and truly spooked.  I stop running for a second, watching her run to a distant field and crawl under a fence into what looks like someone’s garden. 

The sky around me has become crowded with dirty black clouds, thick persistent rain drops falling from them.  The mix of the darkness and rain means it's a struggle for me to see in front of me, let alone into the next field.

I run as fast as my legs can take me towards the field, the grass gets muddier each time I make contact with it.  I slip over a few times, but the panic tightening my throat is spurring me on.  I cannot lose this dog.  They’ll all say I did it deliberately because I don't like dogs.  They’ll probably start a hate campaign against me in the local paper and people will spit on me in the street.

When I make it to the wooden fence I realise just how high it is.  I can't find the hole she went through but I’m sure it was this garden.  I can hear her whimpering on the other side. 

I glance up at the tree next to me.  I haven’t climbed a tree since I was a teenager and Sean King convinced me there was a butterfly nest worth seeing.  What a gullible idiot; the only thing he showed me up there was something far less pretty and definitely not worth seeing.

I wrap my arms around it and straddle it with my legs, but I struggle, feeling splinters digging into my fingers.  I hoist myself up as far as I can, with my legs wrapped tightly around the bark, and then I see her over the fence.  The poor thing looks at me, confused and scared, drenched from the rain.

‘Don't worry Toffee.  I’m going to get you,’ I shout, desperately trying to find a way though to her. 

I can see the tiny hole that she went through now, but there’s no way I’d get through that.  Getting stuck trying won't help anything.  I climb carefully back down and walk over to the tiny gap, sticking my head through, trying to coax her.

‘Come on Toffee.  I’ve got a treat for you.’  I fumble in my pocket for something, anything, but of course it's empty.

The rain is coming down so thick and loud that I’m not sure if she can even hear me.  I look around for someone to help me, but the place is deserted.  Where are all the joggers that were here a few minutes ago?  And where the
hell
is Izzy?

‘Izzy!  Izzy!  I shout, but the pathetic sound that escapes my throat sounds more like a sob.  I’m just so tired.  Tired of things like this happening to me. 

I get my phone out of my pocket, but of course the battery is dead.  My throat starts contracting, the lump in it getting bigger by the second.  Try not to cry. 

Why did this have to happen!?  What am I going to do?  I can't leave her here to get help; what if when we get back she’s gone?  I give in to the tears, letting them fall down my face as I think about how I’d break it to Ryan that I’d lost his Grandma’s dog.  In fact, I don't think I’ll ever be able to go back.  I’ll have to run away too.

No – think calmly!  There must be
something
I can do.  I look around, desperate to come up with a solution.  The only thing that seems to be offering any kind of solution is the tree.  I suppose I could try and lower myself into the garden from it.  Maybe hold onto the washing line or something.

I suck at my bleeding friction burn on my hand and then grip the tree, hauling myself up it.  I straddle it with my legs and try to ignore every pain I’m feeling in my hands.  They’re just superficial pains.  The pain I’ll feel if I lose this dog will be far worse.

I climb until I’m by a branch over hanging the garden and I can see a washing line filled with old bras and knickers.  They mustn’t be in; if they were, surely they would have run out to save their washing.  I shimmy along the thick branch and try not to look directly down or think about how it wobbles every time I move.  All the while I try to keep my eyes locked on Toffee, whose tail is wagging as if she’s amused by this show I’m putting on for her. 

I accidentally glance down and feel dizzy from how high I am.  I try to focus myself and breathe deeply.  My hands are shaking as I grip onto the branch and try to lower myself down, using every muscle in my body.  Why couldn’t I be stronger?  Note to self: book in a body pump class.

‘Poppy!’

My head automatically swivels round to see Izzy running towards me.  My hand slips and I lose my grip, feeling myself falling.  The helpless feeling of not having some part of me on the ground is enough for me to close my eyes, knowing that this is going to hurt.  

When I open my eyes I can hear Izzy frantically shouting my name.  I must try to regain my senses.  I’m wet, cold and lying in mud.  Was I knocked unconscious?  I sit up and sudden sharp pain shoots through my ankle, making my head spin.  Toffee jumps on my lap and for once I’m glad to see her.  I grab hold of her in my arms, trying not to think about how sharp her claws are. 

‘Poppy!  Are you OK?’ Izzy shouts from over the fence, her voice seeming to break from stress.

‘Yeah, I’m fine.’  I close my eyes and try to hear through the ringing in my ears.  ‘I just need to figure out a way out of here,’ I shout over the thudding rain.

‘Pass me Toffee through the hole,’ she orders.

I try to get up again but the pain shoots through my ankle as if I’m being stabbed by a thousand knives.  What the hell have I done to myself?  I crawl over to the hole, careful not to put any pressure on my ankle and pass Toffee out to her. 

‘How the hell am I going to get out?’ I shout, wincing from the pain of my own voice.

‘You’re going to have to climb back over,’ she says, looking doubtful. 

‘I can’t!  My ankle’s agony.’

‘I’ll have to call someone to help us.’  She gets her phone out of her pocket.

But I can't wait.  I’m too wet and cold to be waiting for someone to save me.  Before I can think what I’m doing, I punch the fence with my bare hands, ripping at it with all of my force.  The weak rickety wood rocks unsteadily and I manage to get enough shards off it so that I might just get through.  I lie on my stomach and begin to crawl through, trying to block out the idea of the mud and possible insects deciding to move into my pants.  I’m almost half way out when I seem to run out of floor.

‘Help, I’m stuck,’ I shout, not quite believing how ridiculous my life is.

‘You’re joking?’ she asks, a smile threatening to break on her face.

‘I swear to God.  If you laugh I’ll kill you,’ but the giggles rise in me too.

Izzy drops to her knees in hysterics. 

‘Come on Toffee, let’s dig her out,’ she says, hoping that this will be the day she learns how to speak human.  ‘Come on; stop being so well trained for once.’

‘Izzy, she’s not holding back.  She just doesn’t know what the fuck you’re on about.’

‘Well I’m sorry for trying to help,’ she snaps.

‘HEY YOU!’ an angry voice shouts from behind us.  ‘Get out of my fucking garden!’

‘Oh my God,’ I whisper, too scared to move.

Izzy jumps up and down trying to see across the fence.

‘Shit.  It's a woman and she seems really pissed off.  Quickly, get out of there!’

‘I can't!’

‘I’m calling the police!  Do you hear me?  THE POLICE!’

I’ve only one option.  I’m going to have to dig myself out.  I brace myself for the mess, take a deep breath and plunge my hands into the wet slippery mud, dragging it from side to side.

‘You could help you know,’ I shout at her.

‘I would,’ she says, holding up her French tips.  ‘But I’ve just had a manicure.’

A warm hand on my face wakes me up.

‘Poppy, wake up.’

I open my eyes to see Ryan hovering over me, confusion and amusement all over his face.

‘Hi,’ I croak, shivering from the cold.

‘So....do you wanna explain or...do I have to guess?’  A smile is threatening to show on the corner of his mouth.

I sit up and look around.  Toffee is curled up on my stomach, her cream and brown coat still covered in mud.  The carpet is covered in muddy foot prints from both me and Toffee.  I’m still in my wet clothes, my hair stuck together with clumps of dried mud.

‘Ah.  It’s a bit of a long story,’ I say, my voice a squeak.

‘Well, at least you don't seem scared of Toffee anymore.’  He strokes her head affectionately.

‘It turns out I’m the biggest danger to myself.’  I stand up and immediately wince from the pain in my ankle.  ‘Fuck.’  I hold if off the floor to take the pressure off the pain. 

‘What's wrong with your foot?’ he asks, his forehead creasing in concern.

‘Part of the long story,’ I say, barely having the energy to roll my eyes.  ‘I’m fine though.’

I try to walk again, but when I put it back on the floor the pain is unbearable, freezing me to the spot and bringing water to my eyes.

‘Sit down,’ he orders, pushing me roughly back onto the coach.  He takes hold of my ankle and pulls off my muddy trainer.

‘Ouch!’ I say ungratefully, almost kicking him in the face.

He pulls off my sock and I nearly pass out from the size of it.  It's swollen to nearly twice the size and is a deep purple colour.

‘Fuck,’ I blurt out, surprised.

‘Yeah, fuck indeed.  Maybe you should see a doctor.’

‘Nah, I’m fine.  I’ll just have a shower and put some ice on it.’ 

I take my foot away from him and stand up, trying unsuccessfully to hobble out of the room.  One step is all it takes for me to realise that this is impossible, the pain almost blinding me.  I stand there, silent but too embarrassed to look back and ask for help.  Maybe I could discreetly crawl out of the room and he wouldn’t notice. 

‘You really are stubborn.’  He exhales sharply and walks round to the front of me.  ‘Come on.’

He bends down and throws me over his shoulder into a fire man’s lift, dangling me upside down. 

‘Put me down!  I hate being upside down – please!  I’m gonna be sick!’ I yell desperately.

‘Be sick then,’ he says, chuckling to himself. 

He walks up the stairs and ignores my squirming and weak punches.  I eventually give up and let him carry me the last few steps to the bathroom in silence as all of the blood rushes to my head. 

‘There you go,’ he says, plonking me down on the toilet seat.    

‘Thanks,’ I say through gritted teeth.

‘You need help getting undressed?’ he asks, his eyes wickedly amused.

‘No, I think I’ll manage thanks.’  I cross my arms and roll my eyes.

He laughs and turns the shower on, flicking some water into my face.

‘All yours princess.  Oh and one last thing,’ he says, his expression turning serious.

‘What?’

He leans over me, resting his hands either side of me.  His face is so close that I can feel his cool breath against my chin.  I can't remember how to breathe.  A chill that has nothing to do with my wet clothes makes me shiver.   

‘Try not to drown.’

When I get out of the shower I feel one hundred times better.  I didn’t realise how much mud I had on me until I tried to wash it away.  It really was everywhere.  I wonder how much mud has wrecked downstairs.  How am I going to fix that?  Plus where the hell did Izzy go?  The last thing I remember was her helping me in and saying she was getting in the shower.  I must have closed my eyes for a second and instead passed out.

I hobble down the stairs, struggling to take my weight on my swollen ankle, holding my towel around me.  My ankle is a bit better from the heat of the shower, but it still throbs like hell.  I pop my head round the kitchen door to survey the damage.  Oh dear.  Ryan’s on the floor scrubbing at one of the many footprints and Toffee’s lying down on the floor next to him, soaking wet.

‘God, sorry about the mess,’ I grimace.

‘That's OK.  It's my own fault for leaving you with her,’ he shoots back, his face tense.

I flinch from the resentment in his voice.

‘Well, I’m sorry I’m so incapable,’ I say hurt by his sudden change of mood.

He ignores me and carries on scrubbing.  Not even an insult, this must be bad.

‘How did you wash Toffee if I was in the shower?’ I enquire, attempting more conversation.

‘I got her with the hose.’  He looks at her fondly as she lets out a yawn.

‘The hose!  Poor thing, she must have been frozen.’

‘Oh, look who suddenly cares.  This morning you just wanted her the hell out of here and this afternoon you’re best friends,’ he growls back.

What the hell is his problem?  We scowl at each other in silence for what seems like an eternity.  I decide to speak first, trying to keep myself focused.  I’m in danger of being distracted by his livid, glorious face.  The way his forehead wrinkles and his jawline tightens.  Even when he’s pissed off he’s hot.  Maybe hotter.   

‘It's strange actually, they normally say dogs are like their owners, but she doesn’t seem to have erratic mood swings,’ I say icily.

He just glares in response and continues to scrub the floor.

I go back into my room and get changed into baggy jeans and a vest top, too knackered to even attempt to wear anything pretty.  I place my slippers carefully on my feet, mindful not to aggravate my ankle.  I’m halfway through towelling my hair when I hear the front door slam.  Did he just leave?  Then I hear Grace start to shriek.

‘Oh my God!  What the fuck happened here!’

‘Oh calm down Grace,’ Ryan snaps at her.

Oh God – Grace is going to
literally
kill me. 

‘I will not calm down!  What the fuck has that dog done!  And what are these foot prints?  Was this Izzy?’

‘No...It was....Look, it doesn’t matter who it was.’

‘I know who the fuck it was!’  She bursts my door open and barges in.  Thank God I’m dressed.

‘Poppy, what the fuck do you think you’re doing bringing all this mud into the house?’ she screams, her face red and blotchy from anger, her eyes scrunching up in frustration.  This is the first time I’ve seen her truly ugly. 

I stare at her dumbfounded, frozen in fear.

‘Well?  What's your answer?  What's your excuse for wrecking my house?’

‘I....I....’

I start to feel tears pricking at my eyes.  Do NOT cry Poppy.  Don’t be a baby.

‘Leave her alone Grace!’ Ryan jumps in front of me.

‘No, why the fuck should I?  She swans in here like she owns the place, accuses me of pushing her over and then wrecks the house.  I know it was never the best house, but it was ours and you’ve just wrecked it like you don't give a shit.’

God, she’s right.  If someone did that to me I’d probably be just as mad.  I mean, look how upset I get when a pillow gets ruined. 

‘I’m sorry.  I’m really so sorry,’ I say, trying to look at her over Ryan’s protective shoulder.

‘No, don't apologise to her Poppy’, Ryan interrupts.  ‘She’s well out of order, storming into your room like this.’  Ryan to my rescue.  Swoon.

‘ME OUT OF ORDER!?’ she screams, her eyes bulging out.

‘Yes, you!  Look, Toffee is my dog and if you want to take it out on anyone take it out on me.’

‘But it's HER fault!’ she shrieks.  A vein in her neck is bulging now.  Wow, she really hates me.

‘I don't care,’ he says coolly, still standing protectively in front of me. 

‘I’ll pay for it to get fixed,’ I say impishly over his shoulder.

‘Pay for it to get fixed!  You think you can just throw your money at it do you!?’ she screams, her eyes mad and bulging with anger. 

It’s like she's possessed.  Maybe at first I could sympathise with her, but now she’s just acting un-hinged, her face getting redder by the second.  God, she’s ugly when she’s mad. 

‘Come on Poppy,’ Ryan says, putting his arm around me and guiding me past her.  ‘We’re going out.’

‘But...I don't have...’

It’s too late.  He practically drags me out of the house and into his car before I realise what's happening.  He leans over me to strap my seat belt on, giving me the opportunity to smell his hair.  It annoys me that he treats me like I’m incapable of doing it myself, but having him so close to me still makes my heart splutter hyperactively.

He disappears into the house, only to appear a second later with Toffee in his arms.  He opens my door and places her on my lap.  The smell of wet dog is so powerful, but I just pull myself together, scared of making more of a fuss.  You’ve wrecked his house.  Don't moan.  He gets in the car and takes a big deep breath.

‘The fucking cheek of her,’ he huffs, starting the engine.

‘Yeah, but I did kind of wreck the house.  I’d have probably gone mad too.’

‘That's not the point,’ he says, a new blast of anger broad siding him as he pulls out of the space and onto the road.  ‘She just thinks she owns the place and to hell with everyone else.’

‘I suppose,’ I say, stroking Toffee’s head. 

They say the closest thing to hate is love.  Him getting this angry just makes me realise that Grace is right.  There really must be something between them.

‘Anyway, it was nice for you to pull me out of there, but there’s really no need for you to just drive around aimlessly.  We can go back now.  I’m big enough to fight my own battles.’

I just want to go home and have a little cry.

‘Hmm, yeah looks like it.  How’s the ankle?’ he snickers.

‘Its fine,’ I lie through my teeth.  ‘Seriously, we can go back now.’

‘We’re not going back,’ he says, a smile breaking across his face as he stares ahead at the road.

‘Then…where the hell are we going?’ I ask, suddenly panicked.

‘We’re going to drop Toffee back.’

‘Oh.’  Then it hits me where Toffee lives.  ‘We’re going to your Grandma’s house?’

‘Yep,’ he says, a soft enchanting laugh escaping.

Oh my God.  I’m going to visit his Grandma dressed like a tramp, with wet hair and no makeup.

‘I can't!  I haven’t got any make up on!  And my hairs wet.  And I’m in SLIPPERS!  Please, can you at least go back and get my make up?  Or a jacket?  I haven’t even got a bra on!’

‘Oh I know, I noticed,’ he says, eyeing my boobs and smiling playfully.

I immediately cross my arms over them and start to panic.  Ok, calm down.  I pull down the mirror and look at myself.  My hair doesn’t look that bad.  It's drying into its usual un-tamed waves, but it's not horrendous.  At least there’s no more mud in it.  My skin is clear, but without make up I look so pale I could pass as a vampire, small purple bags under my eyes.

I pinch my cheeks and start looking around his car.  He must have something here that an old girlfriend left behind.  I go through the glove box and throw out the contents.

‘Hey, are you trying to wreck everywhere today?’ he asks with a flash of irritation.

‘Ha ha,’ I shoot back, still rifling through.

I feel some kind of fabric and pull it out, hoping it might be a small jacket, but all that comes out is a tiny pink diamante thong.

‘Get many visitors in your car, do you?’ I ask holding it up with one finger.

‘Shit, how did that get in there?’ he laughs, but not before I see a flush of embarrassment.   

I throw it on the floor and carry on looking through, but I can't find anything!  Why couldn’t there be a mascara in here!? 

‘What's wrong?’ he asks, amusement still clearly in his eyes.

‘I can't find any make up!  I seriously cannot meet your Grandma like this.  I’ll have to wait in the car.’

‘You look fine.  And anyway, I didn’t think you were one to be bothered about make up.’

‘That's when I had the chance to wear it!  Your Grandma’s gonna think I’m a gremlin.’

‘She’ll love you.  Plus, anyone that saves her dog is going to be top in her book.’

‘Save her dog?  Who told you that?’ I look at him bewildered.  I never told him.

‘I called Izzy when you were in the shower and she filled me in.  Said she didn’t have the heart to wake you up once she was out of the shower.’

‘How embarrassing.’  I drop my eyes to the floor as I feel my cheeks get hot.

‘Well anyway,’ he says, suddenly grabbing my hand.  It stings as if an electric current has passed through us.  I turn to look at him.  ‘Thank you.’  He squeezes my hand.

I might actually pass out from excitement. 

‘Are you OK?’ he enquires, his eyes narrowing.  ‘Did I hurt your hand?’

Oh God, I must look pained.  Not exactly the look I was going for.