The Darker Half Chapter 9

The Darker Half Chapter 9

By Janet Baldey

CHAPTER NINE

The unnatural silence had woken her and as soon as she opened her eyes, she realised that something was different.  Her bedroom had an eerie glow and the air was bone chilling, the room felt like a refrigerator with its door open and the moment she sat up she started to shiver. Then she remembered what day it was and, despite the cold, she slipped out of bed.  It took a great effort of will, but she took only a quick glance towards the bottom of the bed before she pushed her feet into her slippers and shuffled towards the window.      

Lifting the curtain, she was met with a blank white wall, etched with spirographs of frost. Scraping a small hole clear, she peered outside. The snow gleamed dully, covering everything, even clinging to vertical surfaces. She wondered how deep it was and marvelled at the transformation that had silently taken place while she was sleeping.   Searching for signs of life and seeing none, her spirits lifted.  Surely none of their aged relatives would venture out in weather like this. She crossed her fingers tightly. Ever since she could remember, her Christmas had been turned into a sort of penance.   Despite ignoring them all year, her mother always held open house for her family at Christmas lunch and from mid-morning onwards, the front doorbell shrilled regularly as a steady stream of elderly aunts, uncles and cousins tottered, limped or waddled into their front room. Chairs were borrowed from all parts of the house, even from her father’s workshop, and withered, chubby and frankly fat, bottoms were jammed into mismatched seats side to side, forming a circle around the room. Anna often wondered why they came. It couldn’t have been for the food.  Her mother was no cook and all morning the bilious smell of brussel sprouts being boiled to a mush seeped into the lounge. 

Despite this, the oldies loved it and the noise levels increased with every glass of alcohol imbibed until they put parrots at the zoo to shame. Even more surprising, rising high above hoots of cackling laughter, Alec’s shrill voice could clearly be heard.  Every Christmas he never failed to amaze, as she witnessed a side to her brother she’d never dreamed of.  He was like a different child.  His usual surly, discontented pout was replaced by a sunny smile and while her father stood by the sideboard measuring out cherry brandy, port and tots of whisky into tiny glasses, Alec stumbled around offering round plates of nuts, crisps and cheese speared on cocktail sticks. The aunts cooed over him, calling him ‘their little pet’ and inviting him to kiss their wrinkled cheeks. The uncles would be gruffer but no less charmed, digging deep into their pockets for pennies to buy sweets. Anna had watched her brother perform before and despite everything always felt a secret twinge of admiration. She couldn’t believe that Alec could change so completely. Instinctively, he knew how to play each of them. With some he was quiet and sweet; with others, he giggled and acted the fool. To Anna’s amazement it worked, they thought he was adorable. It was all show of course. When they’d gone, and behind his mother’s back, he’d sneer at them mercilessly but to their faces he was angelic. Anna decided he must be a born actor and as she slaved away in the steamy kitchen, dishing stringy turkey and overdone vegetables onto cold plates, she wished she could be the same.  Instead she knew very well that when she made her entrance she’d stand, scarlet faced and sweating, feeling tongue-tied, and huge in comparison with her smaller brother.

But perhaps this year, it would be different. Perhaps this year she wouldn’t have to go through all that. She gazed up at the sky. “Snow”, she whispered. “Come on, snow as hard as you like.”  As if in answer, a few flakes drifted down from the charcoal coloured sky.

Comforted, she turned towards the misshapen snake lying at the end of her bed.  Long ago she’d trained herself not to be disappointed by Santa.  He wasn’t to know.   Maybe her being a twin confused him; in any event, he always got it wrong.  Christmas after Christmas, her stocking was stuffed by toys meant for boys – train sets, Matchbox cars, the Eagle Annual. How she longed for something fluffy and cuddly. It wasn’t until she was older that she realised it was all down to her mother. Bitter experience must have taught her that Alec wanted whatever Anna had and she’d lighted upon a solution.  Give them both the same but whatever the cost, Alec had to be kept happy.  

Anna recognised the shapes of the usual apple, orange and nuts together with the diary she always got, but there were also the sharp angles of a square box. Tugging it out from the thick lisle stocking, she gently removed its wrapping paper. This would find its way into her box of treasures - she had Christmas wrapping paper going back years and this time it was robins perched amongst pale green mistletoe leaves.  Inside the wrapping was a bright red box with MECCANO stamped on the lid.  She grinned. For once her present wasn’t a disappointment.  She loved Meccano, although she did wonder at her mother’s choice. Alec would find it difficult.  He’d struggle, and before long, he’d start whining, then grizzling and it would end by him throwing the pieces all over the carpet in a fit of rage.  She had seen it all before. Relishing the peace of the moment, she’d drawn her dressing gown closer and jumped back onto her bed sitting cross-legged on the counterpane.  Opening the box and tipping out the red and green metal pieces, she read the printed instructions and slowly and carefully, began to construct a crane.

        She was so engrossed, at first she didn’t notice the commotion coming from the landing outside her bedroom door. Slowly, she became aware that someone was screaming. Listening, her heart started to beat faster. That was her mother’s voice. Forgetting all about her crane, she jumped off the bed and raced out of her room towards the shrieks that were rapidly increasing in pitch.

      “Oh my Gawd.  What is it?  What is it?  Len come quickly. There’s something in the lav and it’s ‘orrible!”

         When she first got there Anna couldn’t see anything except her father’s broad back. He was standing in the doorway of the bathroom, then he bent and just before her mother started to screech again, she heard the steady drip of water. 

         “Joyce, please.  It’s nothing for you to fuss about.  I’ll deal with it”.  

Her father’s voice was thin as if all his breath had been squeezed out of his lungs and suddenly the hairs on her arms rose as something told her that they had both lost something precious and that life would never be the same again.

         “Dad, what is it? What’s happened?”

         He hesitated, then slowly turned to face her. Wordlessly, he held out his hand and she glimpsed a spiky mass of sodden grey fur lying limply in the centre of her father’s palm.

         Her stomach lurched and she felt sick as she realised what it was. She didn’t want to see but she couldn’t look way.

“Oh no,” she whispered.

         “Must have been thirsty, went to get a drink, fell in and then couldn’t get out.”  He sighed deeply. “Anna, I thought I told you to always make sure you locked the workshop door behind you?”

         Stricken, Anna looked at her father.  “But, I did Daddy.  I swear I did. I always do….”

“Then how…..” Her father stopped and shook his head, “I thought I could trust you Anna. Go back to your room.”

         She couldn’t drag her eyes away from his face. She’d never seen him look at her like that before. His eyes were cold and although hers implored him to believe her, his expression didn’t change. Then her tears overflowed as she struggled to comprehend.  It couldn’t be true, it just couldn’t be. If it was, it would mean that she’d never hold Misty in her arms again and feel the warmth and contented thrumming of its body drifting towards sleep, its tummy full of warm milk. When she entered the workshop there would be no soft mew to greet her, no furry fireball with tiny claws that sometimes drew blood when the game got too wild. Never again would she sit by the fire a book in her hand and Misty on her lap.  All that would be gone. And, her father blamed her!  Her heart broke. She just couldn’t bear it. Unable to move, she watched as her father turned away from her towards the stairs.

Something flickered at the corner of her vision. There was a tiny click and the light dimmed. Somewhere, somebody had closed a door. She looked around. Where was Alec?  The commotion must have woken him and he liked nothing better than a good scene. Why wasn’t he present, squirming with delight at the sight of her misery and shame?  A sudden certainty made her gasp. Alec had done this. Her stomach squeezed and a bitter taste almost choked her as she thought about it. She re-played yesterday evening in her head. She’d played with Misty, teasing her with a scrap of wool until the kitten had yawned and lost interest.  The kitten had curled up in its bed and she’d picked the box up and put in under the stove to keep warm. Then, she’d switched off the light and left, locking the door behind her. She remembered that distinctly, she always took great care not to forget. She thought back and also remembered all the times she’d heard a noise behind her as she’d locked up. Each time she had looked round, seen nothing and assumed she’d just been spooked by the dark.  But she must have been wrong.  Alec must have known about the kitten for weeks and had chosen Christmas Eve to act.

She started to shake. She’d always known that Alec liked nothing better than to make her life a misery and she knew that he was spiteful, but this went way beyond that.  This was pure evil. The thought that her own brother hated her so much he’d drown a defenceless scrap like Misty just to hurt her was unbelievable, but she knew it was true.   She saw her father disappearing down the stairs and opened her mouth to scream at him.

“It wasn’t me. It was Alec. Alec did this!”

She wanted to send the words flying, like arrows, towards him. She wanted them to pierce his rigid back.  She wanted him to stop, turn round and listen. Her shoulders slumped and with a soundless sigh her mouth closed. It was no good.  Her parents wouldn’t believe her. Alec would deny it and her mother would take his side. She’d say Anna was blaming Alec to save her own skin, after all there was no proof, it would be just her word against Alec’s. Any anyway, it didn’t matter. Misty was dead and nothing would bring her back.

         Listlessly, she’d walked towards her room. She wanted to be alone. She got into bed and drew the covers around her. Whatever happened, however much her mother screamed and raged, she wouldn’t get up again today. Let Alec do the work. He had caused this and she would never, ever forgive him. Lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling, she vowed that she would never enjoy another Christmas, and she would never speak to her brother again. 

Copyright Janet Baldey