ANOTHER YEAR ON

By Janet Baldey

“Thank God it’s Friday.”

Jodie leaned forward and clicked off her computer before cramming a bright green beret over her blonde curls.

“Bye, all. Off home for a long, sudsy soak. Hot date tonight.”  She winked and whirled out of the office.

Darren was the next to go. Unfurling his long limbs from his workstation he stood up and stretched his lanky frame until his joints clicked. Then, with a lazy wave of his hand, he ambled towards the door.

Gradually the accounts department emptied, its staff clattering out of the office and along the corridor towards the outside world where their voices faded into silence.  Eventually, the ‘phones stopped ringing. Only Sonia remained. Sonia was always the last to leave. Gazing into her glowing screen, she tried to lose herself in its depths. Her hands moved over the keyboard with mechanical precision, her eyes fixed on endless columns of figures. Invariably, she spun out her work for as long as she could, postponing the time when exhaustion forced her towards the place she used to call home.

A sound broke into her concentration and she looked up to see a wedge of light widening as a door at the far end opened.  Don, the office manager, appeared.  He glanced towards Sonia and weaved his way around the desks towards her.

         “Working late again Sonia?  You should go now.  You’re looking tired.”

         Sonia knew very well how she looked. Every morning her mirror reflected the same image. Empty eyes, underscored by indigo, stared out of a pallid face, its skin stretched too tightly over bones. She had grown used to it now. After all, that’s what you got when you existed on toast, tea and two hours sleep a night.

          An imitation of a smile moved her mouth.  

         “Just finishing off, I’ll be away soon.”

         “Make sure you are.” He hesitated and lifted his arm slightly as if to touch her.   She flinched; he saw the small movement and dropped his hand.

         “You know if you ever want to talk….”

         Her face froze. He sighed and walked back to his room.

         Only Don knew her story and that was the edited version. Maybe that was the reason why, for all his kindness, she couldn’t look him in the eyes.

         Sonia worked on until she heard the metallic clanking that heralded the arrival of Edie the cleaner, armed with her mop and bucket.  She shut down her machine and rose to her feet. She always tried to time her departure ahead of Edie’s arrival; too many times she had been on the receiving end of one of her lectures.

‘You shouldn’t let them work you so hard, dearie. You look fair peaky. And a good square meal wouldn’t do you any harm either.’ Edie had sounded concerned but Sonia had caught the speculative glint in her eye.

Outside, the night had closed in and icy stars studded the sky. Automatically, she glanced towards the car park half expecting to see her car waiting for her, its roof a frosty rectangle glittering under the floodlights, but the car park was deserted and she turned up the collar of her coat preparing for the long walk home.

         As she walked, head down, hands thrust deep into her pockets, she passed a pub.  It was a blaze of light and shadowy heads bobbed across its windows. Even from outside, she could hear the cheerful hum of voices. Her footsteps faltered, she turned and like an automaton, she pushed open the door.  Her feet took her up to the bar, her voice ordered its usual and her body carried it to a table. She sat for a moment, looking at the crowd thronging the saloon. She noticed one girl in particular. Sitting, perched on a barstool, her voice was just a little too shrill, her laughter a little too loud, her eyes a little too bright. Throwing back her head, she arched her slim white throat and swallowed a mouthful of alcohol. Sonia stared as if mesmerized. She recognised her. Once, she had been that girl.

She dragged her gaze away and looked down at her glass of red wine. Suddenly, a man sitting at the next table got up and caught her table with his hip. The table lurched, she shot out her hand to save her glass but was too late and its contents spilt onto the polished wood. The wine lay glowing like some fantastic jewel or….a pool of blood. Suddenly she was gasping for breath and made a frantic dash for the door. Outside, she leaned against the rough brick, gulping draughts of frigid air. At last, her breathing slowed, her limbs stopped trembling and her pulse steadied. She started walking.

         The sound of her key grating in the lock seemed very loud. Inside, her house was dark and still. Although she could hear the soft chuntering of the central heating system,

she could feel no heat and shivered as darkness seeped into her bones. Without bothering to switch on the lights or take off her coat, she made her way to the sitting room, guided by moonlight streaming through the windows. She sank onto a couch and stared vacantly in front of her.

         Time passed and Sonia’s tired brain drifted. She never slept fully but occasionally her consciousness leached away. She came to with a start as she heard a soft chuckle. She sat up, feeling a surge of joy. They didn’t always come but she lived for the times they did.  Adjacent to where she was sitting, a winged chair swivelled towards her and she saw her daughter curled up on its seat. Thin arms clasped her knees as she sat staring fixedly at the television screen watching images invisible to Sonia. Her face was animated and as she watched, she chewed the end of one of her plaits.  She was all arms and legs, just reaching the gawky stage before the onset of puberty and showing only a trace of the beauty to come.

         “Marcie,” Sonia cried but the child ignored her. Just then Sonia’s husband entered the room with a plate of sandwiches and a jelly.  He put them on the table and said something to the child who turned to him and grinned.  Sonia could feel the love flowing between them. He left the room and Marcie uncoiled from the chair and approached the table. Her mouth opened and she clapped her hands with delight as her father reappeared wearing a chef’s hat at a jaunty angle and carrying a pink iced cake decorated with silver hearts.

         Sonia caught her breath; of course, it was Marcie’s birthday.   How could she have forgotten? She tried to jump up but her limbs refused to budge. The last vestiges of sleep left her and she felt the familiar sense of desolation.

         “James, Marcie,” Sonia implored. “I love you. Please let me in. I miss you so much.”

         As always, neither showed the slightest indication that they heard her.

It was not always like this; sometimes it seemed to her that the barrier separating them thinned.  Its surface flexed and she had the feeling that if she pushed hard enough she could burst through. But tonight, it was sealed shut. Maybe it was because she’d been to the pub. Tears rose to her eyes. After all this time they still hadn’t forgiven her.

She didn’t remember much of the night that ruined her life. She remembered leaving work and going with her pals to the pub. “Just one,” she’d said. “We’re going away tonight.”  

         She remembered leaving and going home and seeing James’s face. It was the colour of spoiled milk.

         “Stinker of a migraine. You’ll have to drive.” He started to hand the car keys to her and then stopped. “You haven’t been drinking, have you?”

“No,” she’d said, her brittle voice betraying her. But James was in pain and didn’t notice.

         She remembered getting into the car. They’d planned to drive through the night and Marcie was already in the back, snuggled into a blanket. Excited, her eyes shone brightly in her small, delicate face. She reminded Sonia of a fledgeling cradled in a nest of down.

She remembered starting the car and driving off. After that, Sonia remembered nothing.  When she’d woken up, she was in the hospital. Her family were in the morgue.

         Ever since, she lay night after night, trying to remember. She was sure she hadn’t been drunk. She was sure she’d only had the one. Almost sure, anyway. Suddenly she screamed, the sound splintering the silence of the shattered house. Balling her hands, she pounded at the invisible screen until her fists were sore.

“IT WASN’T MY FAULT.   IT REALLY WASN’T MY FAULT.”

         Dropping to her knees, tears blurring her vision, she watched as their figures thinned, darkened and slid into the shadows.  Once more, she was left behind. 

Copyright Janet Baldey