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
“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
