The Dark Half Chapter 15

By Janet Baldey

In later years, whenever Anna thought about Romeo she made a point of remembering his kindness and after her father’s death, it was this kindness that gradually liberated her from the bleak depths of her misery. She would always be grateful for that.

         When she’d got back from the funeral, Lucy wasn’t home and Anna was glad. She didn’t want to see or speak to anyone. All she wanted to do was go to bed, fling the covers over her head and forget. But no matter how hard she tried, her brain couldn’t switch off the nasty, nagging little voice that haunted her with ‘if onlys.’ If only she had visited more often.  If only she’d known how ill he was.  If only she’d insisted he saw a doctor. Truly, she hadn’t realised that time was so short and the fact that her beloved dad had died just five days after her last visit stunned her. Tears of loss mixed with remorse soaked her pillow as she blamed herself over and over again. Why had she been so blind?  She thought about her childhood and how he’d protected her in times of trouble. Her chance to show him how much that had meant to her was gone forever now and a pain, feeling as solid and real as iron, pierced her heart as she buried herself in her bed.

         Eventually exhaustion took over and she drifted into something that was lighter than sleep but deeper than a doze; a merciful unconscious which gradually lightened as, at some unknown time later, she became aware that someone was hammering on the front door. She tried to ignore it, but the sound was insistent and slowly the thought came to her that it must be Lucy.  She had forgotten her key again, which wasn’t unusual. Anna dragged herself from her bed but when she eventually unlocked the door, it was suddenly wrenched away from her and she fell straight into the arms of Romeo.

         “Anna, my love, how are you? I’ve been trying to telephone but there was no reply.”

         “I took the ‘phone off the hook,” she mumbled, trying to hide her face from him. She’d never been able to cry prettily;  her eyes felt dry and swollen as if all their moisture had been wrung out and her hair was matted and clung to her head like a badly made wig. Then she remembered father and shame overwhelmed her.  How mindless to be worrying about her appearance at a time like this.

         “Where’s Lucy? Didn’t she go to the funeral with you?”

         “No. I don’t think she likes funerals.”

         “But didn’t she offer?”

         “No. Anyway, I would have refused. I don’t want my brother to know about her.”

         Romeo didn’t answer but hugged her closer and suddenly she was so glad to see him,

         “Come on,” he said. “You sit down and I’ll make a nice cup of tea.”

         Gratefully, she did as she was told and was comforted by the ordinary sounds of water being boiled and the chink of china. Dimly, hope took shape. Perhaps, with Romeo’s help, she might survive.

         As they sipped their tea, they talked. Gently, Romeo probed. How was her mother, he asked?

         Anna took her time before she answered; partly because she was ashamed. She’d been so immersed in her own misery, she had barely noticed her mother’s. The reception, or wake as her mother had termed it, had been a blur.  She had only been dimly aware of people materialising before her, offering their condolences. She wondered if she had responded appropriately because all she had really wanted was for them to leave. Perhaps then she might have been able to persuade herself that it had all been a horrible dream.

         As it was, she could only shake her head helplessly.

         “I think you ought to pop round and see how she is. As soon as you feel up to it, of course.

         She’d nodded and in the days following tried to telephone several times but there was never any reply and it was two weeks before she gathered enough courage to visit the house in which her father no longer lived.

         Of course, fate decreed it was Alec who answered her knock. But it was an Alec she barely recognised. He almost looked normal. She’d bit her lip, that was spiteful, that was an Alec sort of thought and she was better than that. But, against her will she had to admit that the young man lounging in the doorway could almost be described as handsome. At first, she could almost swear he was wearing make-up but a second glance told her she was wrong. It was just that his teenage acne had cleared and now his skin looked smooth and more tanned than sallow. His hair had been cleverly cut and had been oiled and swept back from his face, while his obviously bespoke trousers had been tailored to hide his calliper. She stood goggling at him taking in his polished outfit.. She felt dowdy by comparison. He’s been busy since Dad died, she thought and wondered why she was surprised that any grieving on his part had taken second place to shopping; shopping on a grand style as well, because his outfit was obviously costly.

         The one thing that hadn’t changed was the glitter of malice in his eyes as he stood looking her up and down as if she was a bag lady.

         “Why, it’s Anna.” He drawled, “nice of you to turn up. I’m just off out, as you can see. I’ll let Ma know you’re here.”

         With a fluid grace that she didn’t know he was capable of, he swung round and shouted down the hall way.

         “Ma, Anna’s arrived at last.”

         As she watched him walk away from the house, she noticed only a slight limp. Against her will, she realised he looked the type of man that would attract a certain type of woman, romantic idiots who liked the darkly brooding sort that only they could tame. Well, good luck to them, she thought, give me funny any day.

         She walked down the hallway trying not to remember all the times she had done exactly the same in the past, pushing away memories as they crowded around her.  There was a time for reminiscence but not now, she had to get through this. Pushing open a door, her eyes automatically veered towards her mother’s favourite seat.  She knew she would find her there. The kitchen/diner was her mother’s domain and the rocking chair under the window, her throne. Dazzled by the light spilling into the room at first she saw only a dim, slumped shape. Then it spoke.

         “So, it’s you at last. Well, you took your time my girl.”

         “I know. I’m sorry Mum. I haven’t been well.” The white lie was justified, she thought, she couldn’t tell her mother the real reason. “Anyway, I’m here now, How are you?”

         Her mother grunted. “Well enough, I suppose. Alec’s been looking after me. It’s a good job I’ve got him.”

         Anna’s eyes were adjusting to the light now and her mother swam into view. She felt a thrill of shock run through her. She looked terrible. Dull eyes stared out of a pasty face and her clothes looked as if she’d slept in them; crumpled and food-stained, it was obvious they hadn’t been changed in days. Anna looked around the room. That, too, was filthy.  There were piles of unwashed dishes on the table and draining board and slices of mildewed bread were scattered over the worktop. Anna walked over to the frig and opened its door. It was completely empty apart from half a bottle of sour milk and a lump of hard cheese.

         “What have you been eating, Mum?”

         “Not really ‘ungry. ‘Ave a slice of toast now and then and Alec gives me a little something in the evening.”

         “What sort of ‘little something’.”

         Her mother shifted her gaze and didn’t answer. At last she mumbled, “this and that.”

         Anna walked back to the door. “Well, there’s nothing in the ‘frig. I’ll just pop down to the little shop and get a few things. Then, I’ll give this place a good clean.”

                                                        ***

         Anna, looked at her pasta and picked up her fork;  she put it down again and lifted her glass instead.  She gave the wine a swirl and looked at Romeo. “You were right. I should have gone before. The place was a filthy mess and Mum looked as if she hadn’t had a square meal since the funeral. I don’t know what that little rat has been doing, apart from tarting himself up of course, but he certainly hasn’t been looking after Mum.”

         Over the course of their meal, she’d told Romeo about Alec’s changed appearance and the state of the house but what she hadn’t told him was her growing suspicions about her brother. After she’d mopped and cleaned the kitchen, she’d run the vacuum down the hall and squirted it with air freshener to get rid of its sour smell.  She’d do Mum’s bedroom, she thought, but she certainly wasn’t doing anything for her brother. He could wallow in his own mess.

         As she heaved the cleaner up the stairs, at first she averted her eyes from her old room but, at last, curiosity overwhelmed her. Her mother had told her that Alec had taken it over and although she dreaded seeing his incursion into her childhood haven, she just couldn’t help herself. Her hand found the handle and gently pushed open the door.  At first glance, it seemed that nothing had changed. Familiar curtains shrouded the window, her rose-patterned bedspread was the same, even her old books and pictures looked untouched.  She looked closer and saw that the place was thick with dust and there was an odd aroma that caught in her throat, making her want to retch. Almost against her will, she took a step forward then froze as there was a crunch underneath her foot. She looked down and saw the floor was covered with narrow white stubs; she looked at the bed and clearly saw the imprint of a body. So, Alec had taken up cigarettes and was using her room as a sort of smoking den, She sniffed and changed her mind. That wasn’t the smell of cigarettes, it was too sweet and cloying and the butts were slim and looked as if they had been hand-rolled. With a shock of surprise, she realised what they were. They were spliffs. Alec was smoking Cannabis. Again, she wondered where he got the money from. 

         She took a closer look around the room and a line appeared between her brows;  standing out in shining contrast to the dark oak wood of her wardrobe, was a large metal padlock fastening its doors. She walked over and gave it an experimental tug but it held firm. Her worry lines deepened. Why would Alec lock her wardrobe?  She wandered around the perimeter of her room, picking up knickknacks at random, each one bringing back a childhood memory.  There was her collection of seashells on her windowsill, periwinkles, whelks, mussels, cockles.  All seemingly intact, apart from a grey patina of dust that dulled their delicate colours.  An old menu from Planet Hollywood; a birthday treat from their parents. They never had a party that included other children because Alec always spoiled it, but that day had been special and she had never forgotten it.  For the first time in days, she felt her lips curving into a smile. She moved on to her school photographs; for some reason her mother hadn’t wanted them downstairs, so her Dad had suggested tacking them on a wall in her bedroom. They were still there, all of them, not one had been moved but as her eyes roved over them she noticed something odd. She looked closer and a chill flooded through her.  In every photograph, her face had been burned out, obviously with the live end of a cigarette or even spliff.  She shivered and her legs weakened as she sat down suddenly on the bed.  She hadn’t just been disfigured, she had been obliterated and suddenly the air seemed to thicken as she sensed the depth of Alec’s hatred. Wildly, she looked around the room, expecting other horrors but her wits had scattered and if there were any she didn’t see them.

         At last strength returned to her legs. She couldn’t wait to get out and the stairs barely managing enough breath to shout goodbye to her mother. Then she was out in the street, gulping down deep draughts of cool air, perspiration drying on her forehead.

***

         Now, as she sat staring at her untasted meal, she couldn’t bear to think about it, let alone form the words to tell Romeo. There was also the fear that as kind as he was, he might wonder what sort of person could incur such venom..     

 Copyright Janet Baldey