Repent at leisure

By Janet Baldey

Terri felt the breeze lift her hair and took a deep breath, standing quite still until her pulse steadied.  It was such a relief to escape from the havoc in the cottage and into the peace of her garden; although if she ignored the birdsong, she could still hear their voices as they squabbled yet again.  Whoever would have thought they were mother and daughter, sometimes they acted like sworn enemies. She looked past a blaze of red-hot dahlias towards the last of the summer’s roses; how lovely the garden looked despite needing a  tidy-up; she’d neglected her plants for too long, once they’d been her pride and joy, but she’d barely set foot outside since Nadia and her mother took over and the nightmare began.   Today, she’d had enough, she gripped her secateurs tightly, nothing was going to stop her, those roses were being pruned even if murder was committed in the cottage.

         As she worked, she found herself relaxing; once she’d found this boring, now it felt as if she was being given a make-over with every breath she took.  It was all her own fault of course.  Mother always said she was too impulsive and that would be her downfall and this time, it seemed she’d been right, although her motives had been good, and at the time everyone had applauded her.

         “How wonderful and how very kind of you.  If only there were more like you, the world would be a better place.”

This rather trite sentiment, and others in the same vein, were echoed over and over until her head became so swollen that she hadn’t thought to wonder why there weren’t more. Although, to be honest, it wasn’t pure altruism on her part.  After Mother died, life in the cottage had become very lonely.  Buster had done his best of course, she bent to ruffle his fur, but he couldn’t actually talk, not her language anyway.  Although, come to think of it, neither did Nadia’s mother. Nadia did, but she only opened her mouth to complain or demand things. 

In the beginning, Terri had hoped for some sort of companionship but it hadn’t worked out that way, although when they’d first been introduced at the Centre, Nadia had seemed charming and so kind to her own mother that she’d quite won over her heart.  It was only later, when they were alone in the cottage, that she’d caught the first glimpse of the real Nadia.  Her smile had faded the minute Pauline drove away.

         “Is small…..” she’d looked around, discontent settling on her face like a well-worn frock.  “And dark….”  Her full lips drew together as she pouted.

         After that, the only time Nadia opened her mouth was to whinge about something.  Her room was too cramped, she wanted a new bed, the stairs were too narrow.   Nadia’s complaints shocked Terri.  She’d done her utmost to make the cottage attractive.  She’d freshened up the paintwork, bought new cushions for the sofa and new mattresses for the beds which perfectly fine, and she really couldn’t afford new ones.  But Nadia wouldn’t be placated, she seemed to dislike everything, including the food, pushing it around her plate before declaring that it didn’t ‘taste nice’.  As for companionship, forget about it.  Pointedly and in small cruel ways, Nadia made it quite clear that one old lady was all she was prepared to tolerate, and that only barely, as she and her mother fought frequently, spitting out foreign words at the tops of their voices. 

It wasn’t working out and just at that moment, the splintering sound of breaking glass proved her point. What had they broken this time?  She just hoped it wasn’t more of Mother’s precious cut-glass.   After the last breakage, she’d packed most of it away, but maybe some had been missed.  She stood, fighting an urge to find out and gradually the urge receded.  It was too late now anyway.  What was done was done and couldn’t be undone and she refused to let it spoil her moment.  She continued to snip, pushing to the back of her mind images of what she might find when she went back in.

At least the kitchen would be clean.   Worn out by complaints about her food, she’d reluctantly handed over that task to Nadia’s mother, a decision she now deeply regretted.  ‘The Witch’ as she’d secretly named her, had a slap-dash attitude to cooking that involved every pan Terri had and she filled the kitchen with greasy clouds of smoke as she burned each of them so that soon the counter-tops were cluttered with blackened pots each with a residue of charred food superglued to them.  Terri could have borne that, albeit with gritted teeth, if the food was to her taste but it wasn’t.  Inevitably it was either chillies or curries, both so hot they numbed her mouth, or a sort of goulash that bore a suspicious resemblance to something Buster would eat.   To make things worse, ‘The Witch’ didn’t believe in washing up, maybe she thought casting a spell would be enough.  When that failed, the task fell to Terri as it was obvious Nadia wouldn’t dream of chipping her varnished inch long nails. So, night after night she toiled as the moon rose, until the kitchen was fit enough to withstand another onslaught and it was time to go to bed.

She finished with the roses, looked and found other jobs, plenty of them.  She worked on until Buster began to fuss and she realised it was time for his evening meal.   Reluctantly, she turned on the hose to sluice dirt off her tools.  Buster whined again, hurrying her up and Terri suddenly realised she really didn’t want to go back in.  The cottage didn’t seem hers anymore, somehow Nadia and ‘The Witch’ had made her feel like an intruder in her own home.  This was no way to live but she had no idea what to do about it.  It had only been three weeks and she had something like another twenty-three to go.  If it wasn’t for Pauline, she’d throw in the towel.  She’d take the next bus to the Centre and demand they take back Nadia and The Witch, she’d be as hard as stone and insist they be re-homed like unwanted animals.  But Pauline was so sweet, as plump and pink as a marshmallow she’d quivered with delight at the thought of the two pathetic refugees safely delivered into Terri’s capable hands.  Pauline was also new to the charity, and this was her first success, so how could she sully her philanthropic zeal?  Terri sighed, remembering that her mother had also said she was too soft. 

She tried to stop thinking about Pauline.  It would do no good, she was probably happily married and as Mother had pointed out, some women were born to be alone.   She looked down and her eyes met Buster’s.  They implored and she pulled herself together. Buster couldn’t starve, and she couldn’t freeze, the light was fading fast and now the soft breeze had an edge, it really was time to go in.  

The cottage seemed very dark after she’d closed the door, it was also very quiet.  She guessed Nadia had gone out.  Recently she’d taken to going out a lot. Terri didn’t ask where, Nadia wouldn’t tell her anyway, but she did notice that when Nadia returned, she smelled funny, a musky aroma that clung to her clothes and lasted for days. It didn’t smell like cigarettes and as she didn’t smoke inside the cottage, Terri figured it was none of her business although she couldn’t help wondering where she went.  Maybe there were other refugees in the area, and she made a mental note to ask Pauline.  Anyway, wherever it was, it never seemed to improve Nadia’s mood, she was just as bad tempered when she came back.   Terri groped for the light switch and clicked it on, looking around to check for damage but couldn’t see anything.  ‘The Witch’ was in her normal seat by the fire studiously ignoring her.  For as long as she’d been there, she’d been knitting some sort of shapeless garment that could have been a scarf, or even something else entirely.  It was difficult to tell because it never seemed to grow, even though the clicking of her needles never stopped, except when she was flinging pans around the kitchen.

“Where’s Nadia?”  she said, not expecting an answer, and indeed she never got one, except for a split second, ‘The Witch’s eyes flicked towards the door.  Terri stared hard at her crumpled, brown paper bag of a face.  So, she did understand English - the thought wearied her, what had she done to deserve being treated like the enemy?   She turned away, ostensibly to get Buster’s kibble but really to hide the sheen of threatening tears.  She knew she mustn’t let them get to her, but it was all such a disappointment.

The next day, she took Buster out for a long walk.  He was delighted but she felt selfish as she watched him gambolling through the long grass because she hadn’t taken him out for his sake; it was for her own because she couldn’t stand being in the cottage anymore; the place that had been her home for fifty years.  It was then she realised that, as much as she liked Pauline, she had to risk disappointing her.  Her lips stiffened as she fished out her mobile, there was no time like the present.  She dialled the number.

“Hi Terri, how nice to hear from you.  Is everything OK?”  She listened to the bubbles in Pauline’s voice, they lifted her spirits, she seemed genuinely pleased to hear from her, then she remembered why she was calling and was immediately cast down.

“I’m not sure Pauline.  I would really like to have a talk with you.”

“Of course, my dear.  I’m tied up today, I’m afraid.  Can it wait until tomorrow?”

They agreed that it could and as she packed away her ‘phone, colour flooded back into Terri’s life.  She noticed for the first time the stunning autumn foliage, from the bright red of the maples to the yellow of the rowans.  All around the woods and hedgerows flamed and her spirits soared.  She’d be seeing Pauline tomorrow and everything was going to be alright.

Still dazzled by nature’s beauty, she walked up the garden path where irregular leaves studded the ground like discarded jigsaw.  That, and the faint aroma of woodsmoke in the air comforted her, but her good mood rapidly drained away as soon as she opened the back door.  The very first thing she saw was a huge pair of worn-down boots sticking out from beneath the sofa.  She froze and her eyes tracked upwards, past an equally huge pair of knees to where an enormous man was sitting, clearly making himself at home.  Her mouth opened but before she could utter a word, Nadia swept in from the kitchen bearing a steaming mug of tea.  Two surprises in one go, she didn’t think Nadia knew where the kitchen was.  Nadia’s simper disappeared as soon as she saw her.

“This is my brother.”

“Your brother?  I didn’t know you had a brother?”

Nadia’s face conveyed the opinion that Terri didn’t know everything about her, which was true enough, she supposed.

“He stays here now.”

Seconds passed before she remembered to speak.  “Oh no, I’m sorry that isn’t possible.  There’s no room. Where would he sleep?”

The expression on Nadia’s face didn’t change.

“He sleep on sofa.”

“What?  That’s impossible.  I’m afraid he’ll have to go back from wherever he came from.”

“He come from War.  He wounded.”

For the first time she noticed the man was wearing a grubby sling around one arm.  She shook her head, “I’m sorry but the answer is still no.  If he needs medical treatment, he should go to a hospital.”

Nadia glared at her and she glared back; even for Nadia this was a step too far.  Then, slowly the man stood up, uncoiling until he almost reached the ceiling and her pulses started to dance.  Suddenly, there was a flurry of black fur and Buster darted forwards.  He snapped at the man’s ankles who let out an oath and drew back his leg.  There was a shrill yelp, and a small dark shape flew across the room where it lay in a corner, quivering.  White hot anger took the place of fear as Terri ran to Buster, scooped him up and turned to face the ogre.

“How dare you?  Get out of my house immediately.”

There was a burst of activity and seconds later a huge hand gripped her throat crushing her against the wall where she slumped, staring into a pair of cold eyes the colour of the North Sea.  Through her terror, she heard the rattle of a lock and heard Nadia scream something just before the man opened the cellar door and shoved her through.  Dropping Buster, she grasped at nothing as gravity took over and she sprawled down its stairs like a rag doll before landing in a heap at the bottom.  It was then that she discovered. you really do see stars when your head comes into violent contact with a hard object, and it was only when her vision steadied that she noticed other sources of pain. The whole of her left side stung as if grazed as did her right wrist and she guessed there’d be some spectacular bruising when she got out.  If she got out, she tried to quell the panic that thought generated and it was then she remembered Buster.  Her heart quickened, poor thing, he’d never even been shouted at before, he must be terrified after being both kicked and dropped.  She prayed that he wasn’t hurt.

“Buster” she called.  There was silence and she felt clammy with dread.  She was about to call again when a small cold nose nudged her hand.  “Buster!”  He whined and gently she ran her hands over him.  She heard the thud of his tail and tears flooded her eyes as she held him close.  This was all her fault; she’d brought danger into his small world, and felt so guilty.  

The thought of danger reminded her, what on earth was she going to do?  She couldn’t force her battered body back up the stairs, anyway she was sure they would have locked the door.  She tried to think back, had she heard the key turn?   It was all a blur although one thing she did remember was Nadia screeching something just before she was sent flying. “Not down there.” She’d yelled.  Was it possible that Nadia had a softer side and was trying to protect her?  As likely as the stars falling down, Terri decided. 

Her head began to ache and she lay still with the whole of her body on fire.  She could hear a strange noise, the air was stifling and smelled odd; gradually a dark veil crept across her eyes so she closed them and after a while must have slept.   When she woke, her headache had gone, and she felt a bit better.  As an experiment, she stretched her arms and legs and apart from being stiff, they seemed intact.  She looked around, what little light managing to struggle through the dirt-encrusted windows had disappeared, so it was obviously night-time.  Hauling herself upright, she started to search for a torch when she realised it wasn’t necessary.  There was a strange green glow coming from the far end of the cellar.  She couldn’t imagine where it was coming from but in that weird light, she found she could see well enough to wind her way towards its source. As she did, the heat increased, and beads of sweat started to roll down her body.  Suddenly she stopped, the breath dying in her throat as she stared at rows of broad-leaved shrubs that had been planted in troughs covering three quarters of the cellar. Electric lights, running from generators, were rigged above the plants, the lights turning their leaves a sickly yellow.  Both the heat and the hum from the generators combined to re-ignite her headache.  At last, she remembered to breathe and as she did, the same smell that had come from Nadia’s clothes made her gag.  All at once, she realised what had been going on under her very nose and stood as still as a brick staring at the cannabis.  “God”, she thought. “I must be so stupid.  Why on earth didn’t I catch on before?”   She realised they must have picked their moments carefully, probably when she was walking Buster or hiding in her bedroom and there had been a lot of those moments, she admitted.  

Thoroughly unnerved, she almost screamed when her pocket started to vibrate just before her mobile broke into the giddy little tune she’d chosen.  Not being part of the tech-savvy generation, she’d completely forgotten she was carrying it.  Still staring at the plants, she fumbled the ‘phone out of her pocket.

“Hello, is that Terri?” 

It was Pauline and Heaven’s angels couldn’t have sounded as sweet. She pressed the phone against her lips and whispered into it.  “Pauline, can you hear me? I’m trapped in the cellar; Nadia and her brother pushed me down.  Please call the police, say it’s urgent.  I think they must be drug traffickers.”

“What! Whose brother? What’s going on?”

“I’ll explain later.  Be quick, please Pauline. They may be dangerous.”

It seemed an age as she sat and waited.  She cuddled Buster to her and worried.  What would she do in their place?  Goosebumps stippled her arms as she concluded their best course of action was inaction. Given that her circle of friends was not large and very rarely did anyone come to the cottage unannounced, all they had to do was sit tight. She prayed that Pauline didn’t let her down.  A tear slid down her face at the thought, but she barely had time to brush it away before she felt Buster tense. Then he started to yap and although the sound threatened her eardrums, her spirits soared. He was hearing something she couldn’t. She held her breath and seconds later, there was a sequence of muffled thumps and the cellar door creaked open.

“Is anybody here?” roared a voice and a beam of light, worthy of the Eddystone Lighthouse, flooded the cellar as she staggered to her feet.

She needn’t have worried and later, when the police and paramedics had done their jobs and disappeared, they sat and drank tea, just the two of them, three if you counted Buster. Despite everything, she felt happy.  There’d been no sign of Nadia and Co., probably on hearing the sirens, they’d disappeared into the gathering mist now shrouding the cottage, but all the same, Pauline wouldn’t dream of leaving her on her own. 

“I think it’s best that I stay.” She said.  “Apparently, the police suspect cuckooing and think they aren’t real refugees at all but criminals exploiting the situation.”  Her voice started to break up.  “There’ll be an investigation but it was my fault. I should have checked more carefully.  I am so sorry, Terry, I failed you.”

She looked so sad as she sat drooping over her tea that she acted on impulse yet again and said,

 “Don’t worry Pauline. I’m just grateful you decided to phone me today instead of waiting until tomorrow. Anyway, I should have noticed something before now.  We all make mistakes.”

 Reaching out, she covered Pauline’s hand with hers - so warm and soft, it felt like a little bird as it trembled under her touch.  Pauline raised her head and as their eyes collided, they held each other’s gaze and smiled as one. Terri squeezed Pauline’s hand and dared to hope that, for once, her mother had been wrong.

Copyright Janet Baldey