Sloth

Sloth ~ Acedia

Right! Okay! Deep breath! In office by 10, do housekeeping, admin, patient number 1 is due at half past, who is he again? Or is it a she? Or is it the transvestite? No, he/she/it is Thursday. More admin then lunch. Chicken and salad wrap, bottle of water. Patients 2, 3 and 4 in the afternoon. God! I’ll have to prepare for them all and read my transcripts! After that write a few letters, leave office and go to pharmacy, then supermarket, grab stuff for dinner, home, power nap? (I wish!) MAKE dinner, eat dinner, wash up, sort my men out, cuppa, book, bath, BED!

When Rebecca stepped off the lift and reached her office she was already exhausted. It was modest though plushly decorated in a pseudo-minimalist style with a range of potted plants, surrealist art work and a number of strategically placed, intricate, modern ornaments; all designed to keep the patient’s mind relaxed yet attentive. As per usual, Ting her receptionist, clad in one of her trademark garishly coloured tight outfits had arrived first and was at her desk. She looked away from her computer screen as her boss entered.
“Hiya! Good morning!”
“Morning Ting,” smiled Rebecca as she struggled to reposition her load of case notes more comfortably under her arm.
“Good weekend?” asked Ting.
“Same old,” sighed Rebecca, sitting down on one of the sofas normally used by waiting patients.
“Nothing exciting, I just did a few things about the house then took Matthew to the playground.”
“Oh, how is he?” asked Ting.
“Still a complete handful, just like his dad,” answered Rebecca with another deep sigh as she organised her huge folder of notes.
“How about you? Did you go out?”
“Yeah he took me out to an Italiano, then cinema. It was okay.”
Rebecca smiled for the first time that day.
“So are you going to see him again?”
“Nah! Don’t think so,” replied Ting. “He made me pay for the cinema!”
Rebecca picked up her folder and handbag and stood up to go into her adjacent office.
“Poor guy,” she chuckled. “Who do I have first today Ting?” she asked before her receptionist could keep talking.
“Oh,” said Ting, checking her computer. “You have baldy first. Ten a.m.”
“Oh no, not him!” said Rebecca raising her eyes skyward.
“Sorry boss!” laughed Ting. “But it is Monday!”
“Ick! Don’t remind me,” said Rebecca as she unlocked the door to her office.
“You want some tea?” asked Ting.
“Yes, please.”
Rebecca turned on the light, set her notes and bag on her desk and took out her laptop and switched it on. She sat down, kicked off her trainers and slipped her feet in her formal, office heels then opened her notes and began to read.

“Everything needs to be parallel.”
“Give me some examples.”
“Pens.”
“Pens?”
“At home and work I use a lot of pens and pencils. Whenever I’m not using them I like them to be parallel.”
“So, let me picture it. You are getting ready to go home from work and….”
“And I set all my pens, rulers, all my draft equipment parallel to each other.”
“Okay, so you set them out in neat horizontal rows then….”
“Vertical! Not horizontally! Has to be vertical.”
“Why does it have to be vertical?”
“It just does.”
The man sitting on the couch leaned forward and blew his nose then scratched his hairless head.
“And how long does it take to get everything parallel Norman?”
“Twenty minutes, maybe half an hour.”
“Then what do you do before you go to bed?”
“I put everything in my room parallel, everything in the toilet parallel, everything in the kitchen parallel, everything in….”
“And how long does this take?” interrupted Rebecca.
“At least an hour,” frowned Norman as Rebecca took note.
“So, in other words, you spend about an hour and a half every day getting everything parallel.”
“Yeah, I do,” said the patient firmly.
“What does your wife say about that?”
“That it’s a waste of time.”
“Do you see it as a waste of time?”
“I do and I don’t.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I feel insecure if they’re not parallel and yet I know it doesn’t make sense to do it.”
“Why do you think it makes you insecure?”
“I don’t know. If I’m lying in bed and I know something’s not parallel I can’t sleep. It’s like I’m being burnt. It burns away at me until I go and make it parallel.”
“Can you give me an example?”
“If, say, the TV remote wasn’t parallel with the DVD remote I’d have to get up out of bed, go downstairs and make it parallel!”
“I see.”
“Then I feel alright again. Even when I was sat out in your waiting room I had to make all the magazines on the coffee table parallel with each other.”
“Thank you. It was getting untidy out there.”
“I know I shouldn’t have done it but I did. It’s just too tempting for me.”
“I understand. It’s a compulsion.”
“It’s stronger than a compulsion. It’s as if I have to do it, likes there’s no choice. And it’s getting worse.”
“Would you like to be able to stop doing it?”
“Of course I would, that’s why I was referred here.”
“I’m going to try to delve a bit deeper Norman, just to try to understand it a bit more.”
“Fine.”
“You do seem to realise that it is time consuming and obviously it causes you stress so what we need to do is see if there are other aspects of your life that might explain your desire to have every day objects arranged parallel.”
“It’s practically everything. It’s no exaggeration. Pens, pencils, knives and forks, table mats, my toothbrush, car keys….”
Rebecca stopped listening, closed her eyes and rubbed the tips of her fingers into them.
Why did I specialise in OCD victims?

The sound of the television blaring and her young son yelling playfully greeted Rebecca when she arrived home as the hour came to six. Entering the sitting room she came across her two men play wrestling with her husband Hugh lying beneath their three year old boy who had apparently pinned him to the floor.
“Here’s mummy to save me!” laughed Hugh.
“Noooooooo!” grinned the toddler playfully.
The he found himself flying as the two hands of his mother lifted him in an embrace followed by a kiss.
“Any kisses for me?” asked Hugh.
“You’ll get one if you make the dinner,” answered his wife as she cut the volume on the TV.

Much later when the boy had been put to sleep the two adults lay close together on the sofa; she with a book and he watching the football on mute in order to appease her. At length she closed the book.
“See any jobs today?”
“No,” he answered. “None.”
“Did you look?”
“I just said I did.”
“Where did you look?”
“The paper.”
“That all?”
“Online. I looked online too.”
“And there’s nothing?”
“Nothing that would suit me.”
“Well you’re not going to get a job looking at the telly,” said Rebecca getting up.
“It’s half nine at night love! What am I supposed to be doing?”
Rebecca answered with a shrug.
“I’m going to the bath,” she said.

She was up at her habitual rising time of six a.m. but she found herself alone in bed. Hugh had joined her some time after eleven the night before and she duly declined his predictable and unsubtle advances. She had recalled his faint snores before dropping off yet she was mildly surprised to find him gone as he was normally still asleep when she left the house at eight. Matthew, their son, was still fast asleep in his own room when she went in to check and as she went downstairs she heard a noise from below.
“Hugh?”
The sound, a faint bump, was repeated several times over. Rebecca peeked into the sitting room. Her husband had his back to her. Both of his hands gently pushed the upper part of the sofa until it was against the wall. Then he lifted the pine coffee table and set it directly in front of the sofa.
“What are you doing Hugh?” asked Rebecca.
He spun round.
“Oh, morning love,” he said in surprise, “I’m just tidying up.”
Rebecca knew him well enough to realise he was hiding something. For Hugh to tidy anything other than the garage was odd in itself but to be doing it at dawn made it all the more unusual.
“Its six a.m. Hugh,” she said imploringly.
“I know,” he said. “But I couldn’t sleep and just thought I’d come down and sort this out mess.”
Rebecca frowned. She didn’t like her home being referred to as by word for untidiness especially when it was she who was primarily responsible for the housework.
“You didn’t need to do it so early Hugh,” she said.
“Don’t worry about it love. Now what do you want for breakfast?” he asked, putting his hands on her shoulders.
“It’s alright,” she said, gently brushing him away, “I’ll do it.”
“No, let me. You’ve enough to be doing.”
She was warmed by his consideration. It was a feeling that was reminiscent of their early days together but which had faded lately. In her heart though the love for him was still there.
“It’s okay. You go back to bed and get some sleep Hugh,” she leaned up and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek.
“Alright,” he said, relenting with a deep breath. “But I’m going to get up earlier from now on.”
Hugh went back to bed while Rebecca got dressed, had breakfast then woke Matthew to get him ready for nursery where he spent two days each week. At five to eight she had him in the car and nipped back to the sitting room to pick up her handbag. Last night she had left it on the sofa but now it rested in the very middle on top of the bookcase by the door. Only then she did notice that the picture frames had been moved as well. Their wedding portrait, formerly askew, was now perfectly in line with the wall and bookcase. Next to it the black and white photo of Matthew, taken on his first birthday, was now in an identical position. Instinctively Rebecca turned her head to look around the room. Every other photo frame, like the sofa and coffee table, had been set anew; in line with the wall; perfectly parallel. Time was pressing. Rebecca had no time to give it any thought but the suppressed contempt she often felt for her husband boiled again.
I’ve TWO kids to look after….

“Who have we got today Ting?”
“Fat girl and dream lady.”

“I’m just lazy.”
“Have you been told you’re lazy Karen or do you believe that you are lazy?”
“I think sometimes I am lazy but my mum says I’m lazy too.”
“How often would she say you are lazy?”
“Not every day. Two times a week maybe.”
“Just to recap from last time, if I can find my notes. Right, you do feel tired sometimes. Your mum asks you to help with things about the house but you said no because you feel tired. You would rather watch television or socialise with your friends. You had an argument with your mother when you refused to pick up your younger brother from school because you and Monica, your friend, were going to an arcade. She said you are obese. Have you had any more arguments with your mum Karen?”
“None as big as that one.”
“Alright, so things are much the same between the two of you?”
“Yeah nothings really changed.”
“Would you ever consider helping her? With housework? Shopping?”
“Yeah.”
“But you don’t?”
“I’m just lazy.”
What a tragic child. I swear to God Matthew will never turn out like her….

“Dream lady cancelled,” said Ting as she filed one of her multicoloured finger nails.
“Thank Christ for that!” exclaimed Rebecca rubbing her hands onto her face.
“What’s up? Are you okay?”
“Headache,” answered Rebecca. “Ting, will you be alright if I went home?”
“Sure! Is there anything I can do?”
“Just hold the fort. Its half two now so you’ll manage.”
“No problem. Get well,” said Ting, hiding her disappointment at not being allowed to go home early.

Hugh was sprawled on the sofa. His white t-shirt was a palette of faint stains, his jeans were torn at the knees and his white socks were filthy. Matthew rolled on the floor amidst his collection of cars and building blocks.
“What’s this?”
Hugh merely blinked when he saw his wife in the doorway.
“Hey babes,” he mumbled, shifting his attention back to the TV.
“Mummee!”
Matthew dashed to his mother. She stooped to embrace him with an unconvincing smile before he led her over to his toys and began to babble about his ‘motoway.’ Rebecca knelt and played with him while Hugh gazed blankly at the TV with an almost catatonic expression.
“Come on and we’ll get you some dinner young man,” she said after a while. Picking him up, she turned to her husband.
“Right,” she said. “Can you give me a hand?”
Hugh unleashed a faint groan.
“I’m really tired love.”
“What have you been doing all day?”
“Nothing,” he said. “I went to pick him up then watched the telly.”
Rebecca was seething.
“Well, can you clean up his toys while I make the dinner?”
“In a minute. He’s just going to want them out later anyway.”
“What do you want for dinner?”
“Anything.”
Her nose twitched.
“Hugh, when did you last change your socks”?
“Oh, about two or three days ago. I haven’t got round to it yet. I’m lazy. He needs changed by the way.”
I don’t fucking believe this!
Somehow Rebecca kept her cool. She said nothing and with Matthew in her arms she turned and walked out leaving him lying on the sofa.

Hugh’s lips stroked her forehead, nose and lips. His left hand caressed her shoulder, his right her blonde hair.
“No,” she said.
“No?”
Hugh drew himself closer to her side. His left hand moved slowly across her stomach. He softly kissed her ear.
“No,” she repeated pushing him gently away.
“Why?” he whispered.
“I’m tired, okay?”
Hugh pointedly tugged the duvet his direction and turned his back on her.
“You’re always fucking tired.”

“Sorry I’m late Ting!”
“Soap woman is here boss, waiting for you in there.”

“I spent eighty pounds on cleaning products this week.”
“And that’s on top of the things you bought before your last visit to me a fortnight ago?”
“Yes.”
“Well your house must be spotless now Joyce!”
The middle aged woman on the couch laughed softly.
“We’ll go back to your phobia; Germs, I believe. I’d like you to articulate for me, as far as possible, in your own words, the linkage between excessive cleaning and washing of both your body and home, and stopping, if you will, the germs.”
“I know they are on everything, any surface, especially the floor.”
“Yes, at your last appointment you told me that if anything falls on the floor you feel the need to wash it immediately.”
“Yes. That’s because the germs migrate to the object, to whatever falls on the floor I mean.”
“Migrate?”
“They leap across onto the object. When you touch it they go onto your hands. Soap kills the germs so that’s why it’s important to thoroughly scrub your hands.”
“What would happen if you didn’t wash your hands?”
“The germs would eat you.”
Rebecca almost stabbed the pad with her fountain pen.
What a sorry case. She should just be put down.

“Who is he?” asked Ting.
“He’s a guy who was involved in fires. I can’t really say to be honest.”
“Hah! Sexy fire man,” snickered Ting. “Got his number?”
“He’s twelve Ting,” said Rebecca. “Do you remember the fires south of the river, about this time last year, in March and April?”
“Vaguely,” replied Ting.
“Well,” said Rebecca, pausing for effect, “this is he.”
“Brixton burner?”
“The very same.”

Rebecca gave the young man the most affectionate smile she could feign. He did not reciprocate.
“So, how have you been feeling?” she asked enthusiastically.
The arsonist shrugged.
“Alright.”
“How’s your mum?”
The adolescent repeated his first answer.
Did your skin turn black because you were scorched in the fires you started?
Rebecca had to inwardly chide herself for indulging in casual mental racism and she duly blamed Hugh for it.
His “joke” not mine!
“So everything’s alright?”
The arsonist raised his eyebrows and nodded once. Then he settled back into his chair, set his legs firmly apart, tilted his head to a ninety degree angle and looked up at the ceiling. Rebecca coughed softly but it failed to get his attention.
“How are you finding life in the home?”
Home was nice-speak for the young offenders centre. This time the arsonist responded with two words.
“S’s alright.”
“What kind of things do you do there?”
No reply.
“Work? Studies? Games?” offered Rebecca.
“Yeah,” said the arsonist drolly.
“Football?”
“Yeah.”
“Who do you support?”
“England.”
“Not got a club?”
“No.”
“My husband’s an Arsenal man,” said Rebecca brightly in the hope of sparking a conversation.
“Arse,” said the young man. He grinned at the ceiling.
Surely they have ceilings in your country or whatever ethnic council estate you crawled out of you cheeky little shit!
Rebecca decided a firmer tone was in order.
“Could you look at me please?”
After a pause of ten seconds he slowly brought his eyes level with hers. His cheeks bulged and something pink slid out between his lips. It turned spherical and transparent before becoming larger. Then it popped and the bubble gum splattered all over his face and chin.
“Put that in the bin,” ordered Rebecca softly.
He did not immediately obey and gave her a lengthy, mocking stare before wiping away the pink remnants and dunking it loudly into a receptacle beside his chair. Smiling, he linked his fingers and sat back.
“Since your confinement have you had any further desire to harm people or property?”
“Yes no.”
“I’m sorry?”
“No yes.”
Unimpressed, Rebecca tried to salvage the session.
“You know, I will be reporting back to your officer-in-charge to give him an assessment on your progress.”
He shrugged.
“If you keep this up it’s not going to look good.”
She gave him a long, fixed look that was designed to be intimidating but he matched it without so much as blinking before uttering his trump card.
“Slut.”
He blew her a kiss.
“I’m going to ask you to leave,” she said.
Rebecca pressed the panic button and the arsonist’s bulky escort officer clambered noisily the room.
“We’re finished,” said Rebecca.
“An hour and a half to get here and back for a five minute chat!” scoffed the man. “Blimey, I am in the right job! Come on son.”
The arsonist winked at her and blew her another kiss as the pair left.
“Oi!” said the officer, closing the door.
Alone, Rebecca put her head between her legs and did not hold back the tears.

She braced herself when she set foot through her front door. Rebecca had barely uttered a word to Hugh since the previous evening and wondered what further ways his idleness could provoke her ire. Instead of a nasty odour however a pleasant, savoury aroma greeted her in the hallway. She walked to the kitchen, uncertain what to expect. Matthew was in his high chair by the counter gingerly eating from his plastic bowl while Hugh hummed a tune while he stirred the contents of a pot on the gas stove.
“Don’t ya want me baby, don’t ya want me oooooooohhhhh oooohhhh ooohhh!”
Rebecca gave Matthew a kiss on the forehead and only at its faint sound did Hugh become aware of her presence.
“Hey sweetheart! Welcome back. Mummy’s home Matthew!”
Hugh embraced and kissed her on the cheek.
“Something smells good,” said Rebecca nodding to the stove.
“Chicken and pasta in tomato sauce, Milano style. Your fav babe. Cup of tea?”
“Please,” said Rebecca sitting down beside her son with an exhausted though grateful sigh.
“We’ve had a busy day, haven’t we Matthew?”
His son banged his spoon onto his bowl.
“Oh? Tell mummy what you did today son,” said Rebecca.
“We went to the park then we came home and cleaned the house, didn’t we?”
“Well done,” said Rebecca warmly.

Later the couple relaxed on the sofa watching a movie and Rebecca allowed him a cuddle for his efforts in the kitchen.
“You did good today,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder.
“Thanks love.”
“Be sure to keep it up.”
“You talking about my cooking or my….”
She laughed and playfully slapped him before he could finish.
“I thought it high time I pulled my weight. I actually found cleaning to be very calming, relaxing even.”
“Great, then you can do it more often.”
“Also it gets rid of bacteria. Germs! I hate the buggers!”
Rebecca’s fatigue meant she had not heard him.
“Let’s go to bed hun,” she said sleepily.

“Bloke-girl. Man-lady!” laughed Ting. “He will be here soon.”
“And I wonder what he’s wearing,” tittered Rebecca.

“As you know Rebecca, my mother asked me to come. It’s not my choice to be here but it gets me out of work for an hour.”
“Yes Andy, I gathered from our earlier session you aren’t exactly happy with consulting someone like me.”
“Sorry, could you call me Mandy?”
“Mandy?”
“Yes, I finally decided on my femme name.”
“Oh I see. Well good for you.”
Please dear God help me keep a straight face!
“It was either that or Julia.”
“Well it’s a nice choice. I do like your outfit by the way.”
“Thank you Rebecca. I love yours too. Very nice.”
“Thanks.”
I’ll say this much for him, his legs look gorgeous!

When the transvestite had gone back to work with two chicken fillets inserted beneath his blouse to act as breasts, Rebecca and Ting ate their lunch together.
“Do you see his shoes?” asked Ting enthusiastically.
“They weren’t bad.”
“They were hot! I asked him where he got them. He said he’d take me shopping to get a pair for me!”
“Ting, I wouldn’t be happy with that. He’s a patient. We can’t get too close to them.”
“Oh, sorry. I can understand why.”
“If he suggests it again say no,” said Rebecca firmly. It was not often that she had to pull rank with Ting but at times the younger woman could be too blasé for her own good.
“Anyway what would your man think if you were traipsing around with someone like Andy? Sorry, Mandy.”
“MAN-dy!” giggled Ting. Despite there being half a sandwich in her mouth Rebecca laughed too.
“Ting, you’re cruel!”
“Yeah, I am. I got a new boyfriend already.”
“When?”
“Yesterday at lunchtime. You were so busy with soap lady I couldn’t tell you. We were in queue at the café and he tried to jump in front of me. I said ‘hey!’ He joked with me and we had a good chat so I agree to go on a date with him.”
“Wow Ting, you don’t waste any time girl.”
“Life is too shirt, right?”
“You mean ‘short’.”
“Yeah, so I thought ‘hmm, he is a handsome guy, well dressed, funny, kind. Sure, why not? I’ll go out with him’.”
“Maybe he’ll be the one for you.”
“I dunno. I love to be free; no man to worry about, no babies, or rents, mortgages or bad, man smells.”
“Believe me Ting I know all about them. If it’s not feet it’s a crappy nappy.”
“Hah! Crappy nappy! So, if I’m a wife, I would miss my friends, parties, going to club. I like to do what I want. So, maybe I will never marry.”
Rebecca looked relaxed yet thoughtful as she cradled her tea.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Ting. “I didn’t mean….”
“No, not at all Ting,” said Rebecca gently. “I know what you mean. I used to be like that to. But then Hugh came along and…. here I am! Men can very easily change our minds.”

She was hugged and another cup of tea thrust into her hands when she got home.
“Could you take your shoes off love? I just mopped the hallway.”
Rebecca tried to juggle her bag and tea in response to Hugh’s reasonable request.
He’s improving.
“Here, let me,” said Hugh, noticing her difficulty. He bent down and carefully slipped her office shoes from her tired feet.
“Thanks,” she said with a smile. She had enjoyed the chivalry of his gesture.
He gave her a kiss.
“Dinner’s nearly ready.”
This is too good to be true. Or is it?
Rebecca sought out Matthew in his room. The three year old was arranging his alphabet blocks. To her surprise she saw that he had spelt out several simple words.
“Good boy! You’ve got ‘dog’ and ‘cow’. Did daddy help you?”
“No. Man helped,” blurted Matthew incomprehensively.
“And what are you trying to spell here Matthew?”
Nine other blocks were each laid out at exact distances apart right below the window.
“What does B-E-L-P-H-E-G-O-R spell?” asked Rebecca playfully.
Matthew giggled and bashed two blocks together.
“That’s a big word. Did you mean belfry? Look, if I take these blocks and change them I can spell ‘be’ or ‘he’.”
“No,” said Matthew raising his hands to stop her from rearranging them. “Keep.”
“But that’s a nonsense word Matthew. It doesn’t mean anything. Shall we play with the other blocks?”
“Yes!”
By now Hugh was calling from downstairs.
“Guys! The dinner’s out!”

Rebecca curled up beside her husband.
“You in the mood tonight?”
“Tomorrow,” she whispered. “Friday night.”

“The dream lady rescheduled for today boss.”
“Well let her bring it on. I’m in a good mood today.”
“It’s a happy Friday!”

“I can remember them all vividly. Every morning I immediately jot them all down, a brief summary that is, of the dreams I had during the night.”
“It’s very conscientious of you Gwynn. You must have a lot of information about your dreams.”
“Yes, far too much really. Would you like me to bring what I’ve written for next time?”
“Possibly. Today however I’d like to hear about any recent dreams that have disturbed you.”
The gaunt, ageing woman sat up straight and coughed. Her hair was cropped and her attire was plain yet her eyes were sensitive and alert.
“To be honest they all disturb me. Each is like a story playing out. They always end badly or tragically and it makes me feel sick.”
Hurry up and tell me one!
“Last night I pictured a man eating…. children.”
Over time Rebecca had heard some awful things in her profession. This image was new and unsettling.
“I was one of them. I thought I would escape but he caught me.”
“I can see how disturbing that is,” interrupted Rebecca. For the first time in months she felt genuinely moved by something a patient had said. In that time her husband’s redundancy and immature behaviour had distracted her from the service she was obliged to provide. Going to work and listening to these people had become a mechanical routine but Gywnn’s unease and deep rooted problem sparked that old familiar caring nature of hers that had led Rebecca Vaughn to her profession years before. Gwynn went silent.
“That’s just one example Gwynn?” asked Rebecca softly. The patient nodded.
“Then I saw a man, a kind man. He fell off his bicycle and was killed. He ended up in some purgatory surrounded by all these dark creatures. I don’t remember what happened next. It’s as though they are all leading up to something, something bad. A wailing lady wanted its comb. Then I saw a terrified old man being dragged down into the earth by rotten corpses….”
“Take a minute Gwynn,” said Rebecca. Gwynn was nearly in tears. Rebecca passed her a glass of water. The woman took a brief sip.
“I’m going to prescribe you something that will help you sleep Gwynn. Meanwhile do try and relax. Do things that might take your mind off what you’ve been dreaming about.”
“Would it be possible for me to come back on Monday?” asked Gwynn.
“Monday? I’m sorry but Monday is usually my busiest day. If any of my afternoon appointments cancel however I might be able to fit you in. Is there something else you wanted to talk about Gwynn?”
She shook her head.
“It’s just if I have a rough weekend, with my dreams I mean, I’d like to be able to talk about it.”
“I perfectly understand,” said Rebecca soothingly. “If anything becomes available I’ll let you know immediately.”
“Thank you Doctor.”
Poor woman. Of all my lot she’s not brought this upon herself.

“Right Ting, I’m off. I have to do the grocery shopping. Take care and enjoy the weekend!”
“You too boss,” said Ting cheerfully. “But I’m stuck here until five!” she muttered when Rebecca was out of earshot.

Rebecca always opted to lie on the couch when she visited Helen.
“It feels as if I bring my work home. I hardly ever talk to him about work but I feel a lot of stress when I get home.”
“Your son, Matthew. He’s alright?”
“Yes he’s perfect. I miss him even when I go to work.”
“And Hugh?”
“Not so much. He’s blowing hot and cold lately.”
“In what ways?”
“Well maybe I’m being a bit unfair but since he lost his job he’s gotten a bit despondent. Some days he sits about the house with his feet up, others he’s making a real effort. He’s cooking and cleaning but somehow I think he’s putting on a show, that he’s just doing it to keep me happy.”
“Are you happy”?
“I could be happier. I’ve my son, my house, my business. But I feel as if I could be using my skills to help people who really need help! The patients lately they’ve been one headache after another. They don’t need help they just need to grow up! Apart from one of them.”
“I think you’re veering away a little here Rebecca. Do you still love your husband?”
“He’s so bright and talented. I just wish he could get a job and put his skills to good use.”
“Do you love him?”
“I think I do.”

“Do you like it?” asked Hugh.
Rebecca took another bite of the chicken curry.
“It’s lovely. Are you sure you didn’t nip out to the takeaway?”
“Naughty mummy questions my integrity Matthew! Tut tut!”
“So, any jobs today?”
“Yeah, a few.”
“Did you apply for them?”
“I only saw them today so I just downloaded the application forms.”
“When are you going to fill them in?”
“When I have time over the weekend, okay?”
“Just don’t leave it to the last minute again. You missed the deadline for that last one because you left it too late.”
“I know. It won’t happen again, okay.”
“It better not.”
“Can’t we just eat our dinner happily love?”
“Matthew, don’t throw your peas!”

Rebecca sat on the bed undressing.
“Need a hand?”
Hugh sat down next to her.
“Is he asleep?”
“Yeah.”
“Then open our door in case he wakes up.”
“Best keep it closed in case we wake him,” chuckled Hugh.
“Come on Hugh, open it.”
“Alright alright.”
Hugh pushed the bedroom door ajar then took off his sweater. Rebecca got into bed, trying to avoid eye contact with him but Hugh was undeterred. He sat down beside her and leaned in. She gave him a faint smile.
“Get in,” she said.
Hugh stood up.
“I want to show you something,” he said in an edgy tone.
“What?” she asked.
“You’re going to think I’m mad,” he said. “I think you’ll like it though. Wait, okay?”
He disappeared into the adjoining bathroom and shut the door. Rebecca was ready to doze off when the door opened and he stepped out. Hugh was naked. Apart, that is, from a black brassier, black knickers and black stockings. His wife sat up and blinked. Her voice was breathless.
“What are you doing?”
“What do you think of it?”
“Hugh, what are you doing?”
“I thought you’d like it,” he said.
“Are they mine?” she shrieked.
“Yeah, they fit me alright.”
“Hugh, take them off!”
“Quiet love or you’ll wake Matthew!”
Rebecca was indignant enough without having to be told this. She flung off the bed sheets and got dressed into her night clothes.
“Don’t you like me in your knicks love”?
“No!” she said moving to the door.
“Please don’t Rebecca,” he begged.
“I’m sleeping with Matthew from now on. Get them off, do you hear me?”
She exited and slammed the door as gently and as loudly as possible.

Matthew and his mother were eating their breakfast when he father slinked into the kitchen on Saturday morning. Rebecca did not acknowledge him.
“Eat up boy,” she said putting a spoon full of cereal into her son’s mouth.
“Morning,” said Hugh.
Matthew laughed.
“Da da!”
“Yes son, da da!”
“And how’s Mummy this morning?”
“I’m taking Matthew to mum’s today,” she said. “We’ll be back tomorrow.”

A text message filtered through to Rebecca’s mobile phone that afternoon:
hi its me sorry bout last ngt i can xplain. pls come home i miss u xox – H

The showdown came on Sunday evening after Matthew had been put to bed. Hugh and Rebecca sat in the kitchen. He had presented her with a steaming cup of tea but she didn’t touch it. Her arms were folded, legs crossed and her hair tied up. She wasn’t in the mood for listening to whatever lame excuse he had but knew she had to.
“How long have you been wearing them?”
“Just the last couple off weeks, honest!”
Rebecca sighed. Hugh always felt uncomfortable when she breathed so deeply and it prompted him to say;
“I’m sorry love. I promise I won’t wear them again.”
“But why Hugh? Why would you want to wear them?”
It was Hugh’s turn to sigh.
“Boredom,” he said. “You’re going to kill me but I thought it would turn you on.”
“Jesus Hugh. How could it?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know but I will never even touch your stuff as long as I live. You have my word.”
“Well,” said Rebecca after a long, thoughtful pause. “You’re right. It is boredom. You have nothing to do all day so your mind strays into doing things like that.”
“You’re right babe. God you’re so cleaver.”
His wife refused to let him flatter her.
“The thought of you wearing them with Matthew, your son, in the next room its, its like something I’d deal with at work!”
“I thought of that too, believe me, I still feel guilty about it and that’s why I’ll never do it again!”
“I’m going to hold you to that Hugh. I mean it.”
Hugh nodded profusely.
“If I ever even think you are going to do it again, you’ll be out the door.”
“I won’t do it again,” whispered Hugh.
Rebecca ran her fingertips along the rim of her mug.
“God you looked daft Hugh,” she said. She shut her eyes and could hold back the laughter no longer. At last Hugh felt he was allowed to smile.
“I know! God, what was I thinking?”
“You weren’t thinking. Drink your tea.”

An hour later they were in bed together.
“Sweetheart, can I tell you something?”
“What now?” mumbled Rebecca.
“I had some awful dreams love.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Last night I’d some awful dreams.”
“Sssshhh baby. Sleep.”
“I just have to tell you….”
“Hugh….”
“So awful.
“Just have to tell you quick.”
“Do I have to kiss you to shut you up?”
“About my dream, it’s so bad.”
“What happened?”
“Zombies chased a nice old man. They pulled him underground.”
“Movie?”
“No, my dream.”
“Yeah, from last night. Then, oh God, it was awful. There was another man and he ate a child….”
What did he just say?

“Hey boss! How was your weekend?”
“Ting, I want you to ring Gywnn.”
“Gwynn?”
“A-K-A the dream lady. She asked for an appointment for today. I said no but tell her she can come at any time this week, preferably today!”
“What about baldy? He has appointment.”
“Sod baldy.”
There’s something I need to know.

Rebecca had a scientific mind. Her thoughts were compartmentalised, sorted according to category. From a young age she visualised her brain being full of shelves and drawers that stored data on every topic in her life. Now it seemed that one drawer, labelled ‘work,’ had spilt into another labelled ‘Hugh’. How Gwynn and Hugh could have shared such remarkably similar and macabre dreams was unknown to her. Indeed it had alarmed her greatly but by learning more about Gwynn, Rebecca reasoned that it would be possible to help her husband using any informed insight she garnered from Gwynn’s accounts of her dreams.
I could be on the verge of a landmark psychological breakthrough!

“Thanks so much for seeing me again Rebecca. I hope I haven’t put you out.”
“Not at all Gwynn. Turns out there was an opening in my schedule after all. Firstly I want to talk to you about the dreams you mentioned on Friday.”
Gywnn turned pale and swallowed hard.
“I won’t mention them but I’d like you to tell me if you think they may derive from anything you’ve experienced recently,” continued Rebecca.
“The thing is I’ve been having bad dreams like that for years now so it would be hard to narrow it down.”
“So you never have the same dream twice?”
“Not to my recollection, no.”
Damn! Thanks for nothing.
“On Thursday night your dreams featured men. One could be described as evil, the other two as good.”
“You mean the elderly man and the one on the bike?”
Rebecca glanced at her notes.
“Yes.”
“Well, I can’t really say. It’s hard to know sometimes.”
“Do your dreams often feature men?”
“Not really. Women sometimes. Mainly though I see myself in awful situations and awful things happening. However over the weekend I did dream of something amusing for a change?”
“What was it?”
“Well, I don’t want to embarrass you Rebecca but it was a brief glimpse of a man wearing ladies underclothes.”
Rebecca’s pen dropped to her pad and rolled off onto the floor.
“Underclothes?” she gasped.
“Yes. His wife wasn’t happy when she caught him. She upped and left with her child!”
Rebecca tried to conceal her unnerved expression.
“Why did the man do it Gwynn? Why did he wear those things?”
“I can’t say really. I sensed from the dream that it was due to a kind of apathy with life, boredom and also curiosity you could say. Curiosity as to how it would feel wearing them, I mean. Also I should add that I’ve never had that dream before but although I can’t discern his face I’ve dreamt of him before.”
“When?” asked Rebecca pensively.
“Why? Do you think it’s important?”
“Yes, definitely.”
“Well I see the same man as a successful businessman….”
An electrical engineer.
….“an architect I think but then sadly he loses his job and becomes unemployed. Fortunately his wife is very successful but she’s very frustrated with him as he can’t get a new job. It makes him very angry. His mind is under stress. This is odd Rebecca, I can seem to recall more about this family that I’d forgotten after dreaming of them.”
“Go on,” said Rebecca anxiously.
“Oh I’m sorry Rebecca,” said Gwynn. She rubbed her hands on her face. “My concentration wavered. I can’t remember any more of it but I’m sure there’s a lot.”
“Take your time.”
Gwynn blew her nose.
“Dear me this man he seems almost like a real person, like he’s really alive somewhere. All my other dreams are fundamentally unreal with monsters and ghosts but that man…. It feels so profound Rebecca. I think he’s real! What could it mean?”
“It’s certainly very perplexing,” said Rebecca, endeavouring to maintain her own concentration. The frightening similarity between Gwynn’s dream and Hugh’s behaviour had jolted her. She was almost scared to probe deeper but something compelled her to continue with the session.
“I think it could be crucial though Gwynn. I will give you a minute. Lie up on the couch if you’d be more comfortable.”
Gwynn did so while Rebecca braced herself. Before long Gwynn spoke again.
“I remember another detail. Again it’s strange. The same man is doing housework.”
“Housework?”
“To pacify his wife. Then he did the cooking, changed the baby. His wife came home, he gave her tea and took off her shoes.”
That could be anyone.
“Their marriage isn’t at its best but it could be a lot worse.”
Again, anyone.
“I’m sorry Rebecca I can’t recall anything more.”
“You did well Gwynn. I think I probably pushed you a little too much.”
“Matthew.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Their son’s name is Matthew.”
Jesus.

Rebecca didn’t know what to make of this uncanny revelation. A sense of exasperated dread stifled her. The more her mind poured over it the more certain she became that the man from Gywnn’s dreams had been her husband. But how could she possibly know? The only conceivable way was for someone to have told Gywnn yet the likelihood of this was slim. Furthermore what purpose would it serve to have told her? More to the point who told her? Hypothetically it was not beyond the limits of Hugh’s character to instigate a practical joke of some sort by telling Gywnn about their personal life. But Gywnn had been coming to the clinic for months and was definitely not the sort of person to engage in such immaturity. There had to be another answer.
“Gywnn, are you able to come back later this week?” asked Rebecca.
“I should be able to come back tomorrow, if you think its important Rebecca,” replied Gywnn.
“I do,” said Rebecca.
I really do.

Seeking a return to some normality Rebecca headed to Tesco’s. She came to the biscuit and confectionary aisle to collect a packet of Matthew’s favourite cookies. A group of people stood shoulder to shoulder observing something further down the aisle.
“Sir, could you please just stand up!”
“In a minute.”
“Sir!”
Rebecca peered through a gap between two heads. There was a large, bald man on his hands and knees. Around him were scattered innumerable packets of biscuits which had been laid out in neat parallel rows. She caught a glimpse of his face.
Norman!
“Will you get up please?” asked the heavy set security guard who had been remonstrating with him.
“I will, when all of them are parallel. It won’t take long.”
A second guard arrived and his colleague nodded to him. Together they moved in and gripped Norman by the arms.
“No!” he yelled.
Using his muscular bulk he succeeded in pushing the newcomer away however the guard slipped and sent a pack of biscuits careering into the assorted rows, knocking them all out of place.
“Look what you did!” snarled Norman. With renewed spite he resumed his struggle but the other guard was quickly back on his feet and the pair pulled him away from the bemused onlookers. Before he was out of sight Norman spotted the familiar face amongst them.
“You!”

Yet the day’s drama had not ended. Upon arriving home Rebecca noticed with satisfaction that the hallway was immaculately tidy which invariably meant the rest of the house was too. Hugh’s voice could be heard form the kitchen.
“I’m lazy, I’m lazy.”
He wore an apron and was on top of a chair with his head in one of the upper cupboards. Matthew ate his dinner silently.
“Hiya love! I’m just reorganising in here,” said Hugh.
“You’ve learnt multi-tasking? That’s good,” said Rebecca sitting down beside Matthew. She set her bag on the kitchen table which had already been neatly set for dinner.
“Careful!” called Hugh.
“What?”
“Rebecca! For God’s sake!”
Hugh got down from the chair and lifted her bag then repositioned the knife, fork and table mate that she had inadvertently moved.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I had this is set properly and you come in and wreck the bloody thing!”
“Hugh, it’s only a knife and fork!”
“I had it all perfect. I had it parallel.”
Rebecca suddenly felt very cold.
“What?” she asked quietly.
“Parallel! Two or more objects in exact line with one another!”
Rebecca put a hand on Matthew.
“That’s obsessive compulsive Hugh,” she said worryingly.
“No it’s not. I just like things to be parallel. It’s tidier!”
Only at that moment did she recall what he had done in the sitting room exactly seven days earlier.
“You did this before Hugh! Last week!” Her accusation caused her husband to roll his eyes. The abrupt movement on her chair against the tiled floor produced a coarse scraping noise that made Hugh cringe.
“Easy!” he snapped.
Rebecca got up and marched into the sitting room. Every item from the ornaments to the picture frames to the TV remote had all been placed precisely parallel.
Not for the last time did Rebecca bury her head in her hands.

He had to be confronted. Her sanity demanded it. She could have cried quietly to herself and wait for him to sympathise but it was a childish trick and she knew it. So that night as they lay in bed Rebecca spoke frankly.
“Hugh, some of the things you’ve been doing, I’m not happy with it.”
“What things?”
“This ‘parallel’ nonsense for a start.”
“So you don’t want the house near and tidy?”
“Come on Hugh I never said that,” said Rebecca keeping her emotions in check.
“What else have I done”?
“Well, it’s your mood. It scares me sometimes.”
“I’m doing my best love.”
“In the long term Hugh, I could never put up with it.”
“You want to leave?”
“No. I don’t want it to come to that.”
“Typical.”
“Typical?”
“Typical of a woman to make demands.”
“I think its perfectly reasonable Hugh. There’s another thing but it’s not really to do with you. This woman, a patient of mine, she described a man she dreamt of. From what she told me of his characteristics, that man was you.”
“What?”
Hugh looked unimpressed as Rebecca described her recent sessions with Gwynn and what the woman had related to her.
“Coincidence!”
“But how could she know about Matthew. I’ve never told her.”
“Then the Thai girl told her. You should sack her.”
“Ting isn’t privy to my sessions and besides she is under strict instructions not to reveal any of my personal family information to anyone least of all a patient!”
Hugh was unconvinced.
“You know what she’s like Rebecca; a chatterbox!”
“She didn’t tell her Hugh!”
“So what are you trying to say? Are you trying to blame me for a stranger’s mental problems just because someone matching my description appeared in her lousy dream?”
“Don’t be stupid, I’m just trying to find answers, that’s all!”
“Well how the hell should I know anyway? God, you’re really stressing me out now. Keep this up and I’ll be the one who leaves!”
Rebecca gave up. Holding back the tears she switched off the bedside lamp.
“I’m going to spend a few days at my mum’s,” she said.
“Fine with me,” said Hugh in an unemotional mutter.

Ting couldn’t believe it when Rebecca told her.
“Dream lady is coming back again?”
“Yes and please be extra nice to her Ting,” said Rebecca.
“Wow, she must be really crazy!”
Ting placed both her index fingers on opposite sides of her forehead and twirled them in a clockwise loop.
“Cuckoo cuckoo!”
Rebecca looked at her pointedly.
“Ting, please.”
“Sorry boss,” said the receptionist before she meekly retreated back to her desk. When she had gone Rebecca lifted her phone.

Gywnn’s house was a few miles away from Rebecca’s office but she found it with ease. It was a detached two storied building that was old and careworn and, as Rebecca thought, an architectural manifestation of its sole occupant. The interior was as archaic and dishevelled as the outside but it nonetheless possessed a unique homeliness to it. Gywnn led Rebecca into her lounge where they sat down.
“As I said on the phone Gwynn I thought it would be easier for you if I came here this time.”
“Yes, it was a good idea Rebecca. I still have bouts of agoraphobia from time to time.”
Is there any mental illness you don’t have, you poor woman?
“I’ll get to the point Gywnn. We’ve been discussing some of your dreams lately. It’s important that we continue down that road.”
“I’m glad you came today because I’ve had more, more dreams about that family I mean.”
Rebecca swallowed hard.

Gywnn sat opposite Rebecca, her eyes closed in concentration as she tried to stoke her memory.
“Last night’s dreams were long, a lot happened though I can’t see them fully yet.”
“Take your time,” said Rebecca tenderly.
“They were a happy family; father, mother, son. Then his wife was getting more and more irritated with his behaviour. Oh, it’s so sad. I think she might divorce him. The boy will miss his dad so much.”
“Matthew?”
“Yes that’s his name. He is very young, about three, but he will never be the same child after his parents separate. He will be sad and miserable, his mother will be too overbearing yet he has real potential. He’s so cleaver for his age.”
Rebecca smiled.
That’s my Matthew.
“His dad will get depressed. He will miss his son and his wife too. He really does love her. He’s just caught in a vile rut. Every day he’s trapped in the same old routine. If he’s is left on his own, I fear he’ll come to a bad end.”
The room seemed to grow darker. Whether it was a consequence of the fading light outside or the effect of Gywnn’s words on Rebecca’s heart she did not know.
“The mother, she’s an intelligent woman, passionate about her family, her career. She’s a health practitioner of some description. She’s a good person but she herself is caught…. She must learn to….”
“Yes?”
“I can’t see… Now, this is strange. There’s something else, a figure lurking near them, in their home. He or she is quietly encouraging the father to do his own thing so to speak, to continue with his bad habits that annoy his wife so much.”
“Who is he?” asked Rebecca.
“I’m not sure. I can’t see him clearly. He is small. He crouches down a lot and shuffles along. He doesn’t like to be seen by anyone. He likes to move and operate behind the scenes. God help me! He’s laughing at me. He’s laughing at my pathetic life! Gosh, his name…. his name…. it’s on the tip of my tongue. It’s…. His name is Bel… No, I can’t recall it now! It’s been hidden from me. Sorry.”
“Don’t apologise Gwynn. It’s alright,” intoned Rebecca softly, not wishing to derail the woman’s abundance stream of information.
“Lord! I’ve seen this thing before, many times in my dreams. He is always there. He hides in the background, in the shadows never showing his face. Oh, Rebecca he’s revolting. I’m not sure he’s even….”
“Even what?”
“Ah, sorry! I lost my train of thought.”
“That’s a lot of information Gywnn.”
“Do you think its significant Doctor? Do you think my dreams about them may be symbolic of my own problems?”
“I have to tell you something Gwynn.”
Gywnn perpetually nervous countenance sharpened considerably.
“I shouldn’t really tell you this but that family you describe, is my family.”
“Your family?”
Rebecca unleashed a long, deep sigh.
“The father you spoke of resembles my husband. He’s unemployed and just last week I also found out that he had been wearing some of my underwear. The other day you said he was doing housework, well lately my husband had begun doing it as well. You said he gave his wife tea and took her shoes off in the hallway. That’s exactly what Hugh did when I came home on Thursday.”
“Hugh is you husband?”
“Yes. I thought it was coincidence and who knows it may still be but then you told me something else.”
“What was it?”
“The name of the little boy in your dreams is Matthew. My son’s name is Matthew.”
If Gywnn’s frightened eyes could have widened any further they would have sprung from their sockets.
“And the woman who is frustrated with her husband, well, you may as well have been describing me.”
There was a long silence.
“I’m not sure what to say Rebecca.”
“When you said the son’s name was Matthew, I nearly died.”
“Rebecca I’m so sorry!” exclaimed Gywnn.
“No, no Gwynn! Don’t be, please. God, I just don’t know what to make of it and its hardly professional of me to be even telling you but…. I didn’t know what else to do.”
“How old is Matthew?” enquired Gwynn, perhaps aware that by discussing someone affectionate she could help thwart Rebecca’s apparent despair. Indeed the younger woman brightened at the very mention of her son’s name.
“He’s three,” she said.
Gywnn smiled for the first time.
“What an age!” she remarked.
“You can’t take your eyes off him for a second. If he’s not playing with his cars he’s pulling the pots and pans out of the kitchen cupboard.”
“You’re lucky,” said Gywnn happily and with no hint of jealousy. “I have no children. I’ve no close relatives. My mother left me this house. It’s all I have.”
“Have you always lived here?”
“We only came here in 1987. Before that we lived in a religious community.”
“Ah yes, you mentioned it in our first session. You seemed reluctant to talk about it,” said Rebecca, resuming her psychiatrist’s mantle.
“I was abused there,” said Gywnn flatly.
“Sexually?”
“It was physical.”
“Who abused you Gywnn?”
“My father.”
“I’m sorry. Why did he abuse you?”
“He said it was punishment. He did not want me growing up to live as an immoral woman in an indecorous world as he saw it.”
Rebecca handed her a tissue with which Gywnn wiped her eyes.
“He was obsessed with me turning out according to his view of what was right. He warned me of the dangers of greed and gluttony and lust but, most of all, of idleness. He said idleness would make me lazy, would make me rude and irrational. It would make me susceptible to bad habits and if I didn’t nurture and employ the gifts God gave me then it was certain that I’d come to a sorry end. He said I’d end up on the slag heap of society with drunkards and prostitutes and miserable, self-loathing people who are of no use even to themselves! ‘Satan makes work for idle hands,’ he would say. If that’s so then why did he beat me every chance he got? I had to recite the Ten Commandments at a moments notice and if I didn’t get them precisely correct he’d wallop me!”
Gywnn eyes erupted in tears. Rebecca reached across and gently clasped her patient’s hands.
“Look at me. Unmarried, alone, no friends or family. My father was right. I’m an utter failure and ought to be ashamed!”
“Gywnn, that is not true.”
“It is true! Now here I am bringing my baggage to you and causing you to worry about my dreams.”
“That’s what I’m here for. Don’t worry.”
Rebecca rose and sat herself beside Gywnn.
“I wish my life could have been different. I wish I had had the courage to take the risks I should have taken, to do a job I loved, to marry the love I could have had.”
“We all live our life as we see fit Gywnn. We make the decisions that feel right for us at the time,” said Rebecca soothingly.
“Not me. If I could do my life over again I would not be sitting here, now, miserable like this. And all the while that something has been laughing at me.
“We’ll get to the bottom of it Gwynn. I promise to do my best.”
“I know you will Rebecca. You know this isn’t the first time I’ve caused such bother.”
“It’s not bother Gwynn.”
Gwynn’s expression became glazed, her eyes had a far away sheen as if she was looking through her memories.
“That’s why it is so familiar. How could I have forgotten?”
“Forgotten what?” asked Rebecca, readying her pad as her right hand poised with her fountain pen.
“There’s another latent image. It’s that thing again. I’ll tell you what happened. When I was in my teens our pastor took me and a group of other young people camping in the Lake District. I was upset. I didn’t want to leave home and go there without my parents but my father insisted so I had no choice. Once we arrived I fell sick and the bug spread to the other children. They all recovered before me and when they did they were…. different. Hitherto they had all been outgoing and adventurous and full of confidence. All of a sudden they were lazy and rude and ignorant. The pastor tried his best but to no avail and instead if going out hiking or building rafts the children preferred to skive in their tents drinking fizzy drinks and reading pulp. Now, moments ago, I recalled seeing something dark and sinister during that holiday, the same creature I just described to you. I dreamt of it skulking around the camp, peering into our tents with glowing blood red eyes! Yes, oh God, those eyes. I won’t be able to sleep now!”
“Just relax,” said Rebecca who, while apprehensive, remained keen to hear as much as possible.
“Lord, how could I have forgotten that? Unless it wanted me to forget.”
“Lie down,” whispered Rebecca. She moved back to her original chair as Gwynn lay up on the sofa.
“Because it’s secretive. That’s why!”
Rebecca’s thoughts were in motion.
It’s ridiculous. She’s mad. But….
“Can you recall any similar incidents in your life Gwynn?”
“I can, now,” said Gwynn with solemn reluctance. “At fourteen I was sent to a Comprehensive School, only for one year because the community were forced by the government. It was awful. The other children picked on me of course though I’m sure you expected me to say that. I wanted to work hard and do well at school, to make my mother and father happy. I never forgot his lectures on idleness and inertia. But all around me the children were wasteful. They were cheeky to me and the teachers. Many failed and dropped out. I heard news of suicides as well. Of course such behaviour and incidents are common especially these days but compared to my classmates I felt unique and, pardon me, brighter than them. I even felt responsible for their welfare but then…. sweet God!”
“Gwynn?”
“Then he came back to me. Night after night he came to me as I envisaged horrific things at school in my dreams. I’d be punched and kicked and thrown down and they would laugh and he would laugh loudest of all, a laugh of satisfaction as if it was a job well done! Who or what is he?”
“Gwynn I think we should take a break,” suggested Rebecca assertively but the woman did not seem able to stop.
“It got worse. Every job I had I was no good at. I either got sacked or resigned or asked to leave. Every boyfriend I had broke my heart and left me for someone better, every friendship has proven to be a false dawn. Every group of people I have ever associated with have been made worse off because of me! My father died. Then my mother. My self-esteem plummeted. All the while, lurking in my dream’s, was that despicable thing! It wanted me to fail. It wanted me to live this so-called life! And he succeeded!”
Gwynn sat bolt upright in a profuse sweat as her angst-ridden tirade concluded. Rebecca kept quiet, hoping a moment of silence would calm Gwynn down. She had witnessed many egocentric rants in her time but this one was different.
She’s not mad. I know it. I can’t say how I know it but she isn’t mad. No way in Hell.
The psychiatrist went to the kitchen and brought back a glass of water. Gwynn lay still with one hand over her eyes.
“Rebecca. Am I to blame for your problems?”
“You aren’t to blame for anything Gwymm.”
“Typical stupid old Gwynneth. I’ve latched onto you. My only friend is my therapist! How pathetic is that?”
“It’s not pathetic. It’s good to have a friend you can speak honestly to. But Gwynn, I have to ask you.”
Rebecca looked at her squarely.
“This figure, the creature, who do you think it is?”
Gwynn tilted her hear floor-ward and shook it.
“I can’t say. Whatever it is or whatever it represents it’s repugnant, a bit like me.”
“Gwynn you’re to stop devaluing yourself, okay? I can’t help anyone who does. This is a dual process. I can only help up to a point. You have to make an effort too. Try and be more positive. Please.”
“I will,” said Gwynn. “I don’t want to upset you,” she added apologetically.
“You never have Gwynn,” said Rebecca laying a friendly hand on the woman’s shoulder. She had begun to regret telling Gwynn about her family’s appearance in her dreams. Doing so had not helped. Then there was the strange figure that had been a feature of Gwynn’d dreams for years. There was something about it. The obvious theory was that it represented her father and his cruelty however it exuded a malevolence her upright father never had. It would require more investigation.
“Can I come home with you Rebecca?” asked Gwynn. Immediately her complexion braced itself for a refusal.
“That not possible,” said Rebecca as sensitively as she could.
“I can understand why. I’m dreading when it gets dark. I’d just hate to be alone, especially tonight.”
Rebecca had briefly lost her train of thought.
Tell her something reassuring yet non-commital.
“It’s like what I tell my other patients Gwynn. The power to change comes from within you. No one’s going to come along, click their fingers and then you’ll be cured. All people like me can do is steer you in the right direction. These things Gwynn; these bad dreams. I think you can overcome them. I know you can overcome them. But you have to want to overcome them.”
Say what I will but she is starting to drive ME mad. I need you Hugh. I need you as you once were!

“One of my patients is beginning to try me. She said things that really unnerved me. I can cope with her it’s just that everything’s still stressing me out.”
“With your husband?” asked Helen.
“I plan to stay with my mother for a few days.”
“Why?”
“He and I had a bit of a row last night.”
“Is that what made you decide to go to your mother’s?”
Obviously.
“I feel I need to clear my head, to get a change of scene.”
“You and your husband could go away for a short break.”
“It’s a nice idea but because of all this I don’t think now’s the time.”
“When will be a right time?”
“When I get all this sorted.”
“All what sorted?”
Question after question. Now I know how my lot feel!
“Work problems, problems with my marriage.”
“Wouldn’t it be better if you spoke to your husband about them?”
“It would.”
But I already have. Just look at last night’s fiasco.
“Will you speak to him then?”
“Yes, tonight when I go home.”
Rebecca decided to change the subject.
“I wonder what Gwynn and co. would make of it if they knew I was coming to see you Helen.”
“The irony of a psychiatrist consulting a psychiatrist?”
“Yes.”
“How do you think they’d think?”
Why am I even here?

Hugh was moody and replied in mono-syllables as he stirred the sizzling wok.
“Hi!”
“Hi.”
“How was today?”
“Fine.”
“What are you cooking?”
“Food.”
“Smells nice whatever it is,” she said, venturing to be nice.
“Chicken?”
“Yep.”
“Where’s Matthew?”
“Upstairs.”
“Playing?”
“Playing.”

“Vroom vroom!” said Matthew
His cars were racing. His favourite red one was in pole position, leading the way. It never lost the Matthew’s Room Grand Prix. As usual he assigned his mother the yucky yellow one, destined to be the eternal runner up.
“Aw, you beat me!” said Rebecca.
“Winnnnnnnnner!” babbled Matthew.
“Now show me your blocks Matthew. What did you spell for me today?”
“No!” he answered firmly. “Don’t like them!”
The toddler became what his mother would call ‘huffy’, that is, a mood bordering on cantankerous and very often a prelude to such an emotion.
Just like his dad.
“Oh Matthew! Show mummy. Please!”
The youngster grabbed his red car again but Rebecca was determined not to let him become used to having his way so she gently beckoned him over to the assorted blocks. Most lay scattered nearby but four words had been formed; each on top of the other.

“Clever Matthew! You’ve spelt the word ‘stay’. What else have we?”
She read them in full. Her grip on her son’s tiny hand tightened. They were stacked with an acute precision that no three year old could possess. And they formed a sentence:
S-T-A-Y
A-W-A-Y
F-R-O-M
H-E-R
Rebecca gathered Matthew up and took a step back. In the following silence she became conscious of another presence in the room; an icy, vigilant, pertinent presence.
Get out NOW.
Matthew moaned. Rebecca’s heart vibrated against her son as she slowly back-stepped to the door. Nothing happened. She crossed the threshold and prepared to breathe again. Then one of the stray blocks that was perched atop another, toppled, fell, and rolled with abrupt force through the stacked sentence obliterating it. And it did not stop. It surged right to the door way. Before it struck Rebecca’s feet it halted. Brutally rendered still, it was as if the block had met an invisible brick wall. Any letter would have felt ominous but the upturned ‘B’ that faced her from the block seemed to scream out as an indicator of some sort. Rebecca fled downstairs. Hugh had warmed the plates in the stove and was now setting them on the table when his wife, clutching Matthew tightly, hurtled into the kitchen.
“What’s wrong?” he asked abrasively.
“Upstairs!”
“What?”
“It’s in his room!”
“Rebecca, what?”
“There’s something in his room Hugh!”
“What? A spider or a rat or something?”
“No, it’s something I…. I couldn’t see!”
“Jesus, calm down!”
Matthew began to sob loudly, caught as he was in the midst of his parent’s loud and emotive confrontation. His upset made Rebecca’s mind more frenzied and Hugh all the more agitated.
“Hugh, I don’t want to go back up there!”
“Will you shut him up?” yelled Hugh.
“Hugh! Listen! There’s something up there! We have to go!”
“Rebecca….” His voice sounded broken and imbued with a combination of spite and frustrated grief.
“What’s the matter with you? Are you on your fucking period or something?”
Matthew’s crying continued and Rebecca held him close.
“Please Hugh, something’s up there!” she said looking to the ceiling.
“Well what love?” asked Hugh more calmly.
“I couldn’t see but we have to go and get out of the house!”
“But what was it?”
“Hugh, it’s something, I can’t explain. It’s a….!
“Alright!” he said cutting her off. “I’ll go up and have a look.”
“Hugh, don’t. It could kill you!”
“Kill me? God! Rebecca will you take it easy love?” he implored as he took off the cooking apron. She sunk into a chair at the table and caressed Matthew’s short blonde hair. His crying subsided into a low sob.
We’ve scarred him for life! God, no! Please no!
“Hugh something knocked one of the toy blocks across his room. I don’t know what it was but I feel it’s something evil!”
“Evil?”
“Something…. I don’t know!”
“Are you sure he didn’t throw it?”
“I’m certain!”
Hugh frowned, sighed and turned to go.
“I’ll sort it out,” he said.
“Careful!” pleaded Rebecca.
“Bloody fucking women and their PMS!” swore Hugh as he jogged upstairs. “It’s enough to drive a man to his bleedin’ grave!”

He went down the hall to Matthew’s room. All was quiet. Everything was in its usual state of semi-order. He picked up the block that had rolled across the floor and took it back downstairs.
“Is this the block?” he asked, entering the kitchen. It was empty. Rebecca and Matthew were gone. Before he could follow them his attention was turned to a looming shadow that had followed him downstairs.
“Now what?”

STAY AWAY FROM HER. It could only mean Gwynn. What is it with that woman AND what does that thing want with me?
That Matthew had been alone in his room with whatever had formed the sentence terrified Rebecca all the more. As she sat in her mother’s house she refused to let go of him despite his pleas and those of her mother, Suzie. The latter had assumed correctly that Rebecca and Hugh had fallen out however she remained ignorant of the details. For the time being Rebecca decided to keep it that way loath as she was to resurrect the incident in Matthew’s room and her subsequent argument wither husband. Suzie, though sympathetic, was a cold realist and was privately unhappy with the prospect of her daughter and grandson staying with her on a long term basis so true to character it did not take her long to question Rebecca and propose obvious solutions.
“So it was bigger than your average tiff yet not quite a full blown argument?” asked Suzie consolingly.
Rebecca sniffed and nodded in the affirmative.
“Yeah.”
“That’s not so bad,” said Suzie trying to find a silver lining. “How did it start?”
Rebecca then realised she would have to make her mother privy to the affairs of Gwynn as well as the phantom block and she was in no mood for doing so.
“Oh it doesn’t matter Mum,” was all she could muster.
“Rebecca! Come on now. Don’t give me an answer like that. You’re not thirteen again, are you?”
Suzie, like all mothers, knew the simple psychological tricks that compel their offspring to drop their guarded reluctance and confide with them. Rebecca however remained resolute yet she knew she had to tell Suzie something regardless of the backlash she would inevitably receive.
“I came home tonight and…. the place was a mess. He’d left the washing out all over the kitchen, he hadn’t made the dinner. He was just sitting there watching TV, expecting me to do everything. I’m not his bloody maid, am I?”
“Rebecca,” sighed her mother. “I know that’s tough to deal with but men aren’t angels, they are men.”
If I had a pound for every time I’ve heard you say that mother….
“Besides,” continued Suzie, “I thought you told me he was doing housework now and making the dinner.”
“Only when it suits him.”
“All the same it’s not worth fighting over. You’ve been married, what, four years? By now you ought to know that you can get him to do what you want by, shall we say, other means. Such as denying him….”
“Mum!”
“I’m just saying, that’s all!” said Suzie defensively.
Rebecca’s phone buzzed.
“Oh, here we go,” said Suzie cynically.
Where are you darling? There is nothing in Matthew’s room! ~ Hugh: read the text message. Rebecca put the phone away.
“Well?”
“He says he’s sorry.”
“It’s a start!” said Suzie encouragingly.
“Means nothing,” said Rebecca with contempt.
“At least reply Rebecca! Ask him round for tea.”
In this at least Suzie was right. Rebecca could not ignore him. To do so would make things worse than they already were. Her mother wanted her to go home, preferably that night but the thought of returning there terrified her.
At least tell Hugh! Be honest. It’s the best policy. Is it not?
With a frustrated sigh Rebecca handed Matthew to his grandmother and reached out her phone.
“I need to talk to him.”

He was waiting on the driveway when she pulled up.
“Anything inside?”
“No, I looked thoroughly. There’s nothing!” he insisted calmly.
Rebecca looked cautiously at her home as if ascertaining his claim for herself. In particular she gave Matthew’s upstairs window a look, careful glance.
“Look, what’s this about? Why did you storm out like that?”
“We’ll go inside,” she said.

Indoors she was as wary.
“How’s Matthew?”
“He’s tired.”
“I can’t blame him. Poor child.”
“Hugh, I’m sorry, okay?”
“I was really really upset. I came back down here and both of you had disappeared!”
“I shouldn’t have done that, sorry.”
“You shouldn’t. Now, tell me what’s been going on.”
Rebecca relented. Her quasi-reliable man was beside her so she was safe. Safe from whatever lurked above, if it had even been there in the first place. From there she revealed the extent of her consultations with Gwynn, her morbid dreams and their parallels with their family and finally the unknown being that subtly haunted them. Throughout Hugh looked increasingly guarded.
“That’s quite a story,” he said when she had finished.
“I think whatever hurled the block at me is the same thing from her dream,” she whispered stealthily.
Hugh looked worried.
“Rebecca,” he began quietly, “I don’t want to sound patronising but…. you’ve been working your bum off lately.”
His wife gave him a questioning look.
“I mean, you’re the psychiatrist. Isn’t it possible your drawing these inferences because of overwork?”
It was not altogether an implausible theory. She could barely remember the last time she felt fully relaxed and content. Yet her overriding gut feeling was that Gwynn had spoke the truth and she duly articulated these thoughts to Hugh.
“When you think about it though,” he said in answer, “monsters from dreams, its sci-fi Rebecca, nothing more.”
“Perhaps you’re right Hugh. You probably are.”
“But?”
“But I still need some time away, a few days just.”
“That’s alright,” he said instantly.
Rebecca raised an eyebrow. Just hours ago he had been begging her to stay.
There’s hope for him yet!
“Well, maybe tonight only, yeah?”
“Yeah, give me a night off, right?” he said with the kind of warm smile that had wooed her long ago.
“You missed a good dinner,” he added.
“Sorry about that!”
What in heaven’s name have I been thinking? Heed mum’s advice and GROW UP REBECCA!
“Didn’t your mum tell you that?”
“Hmm?”
“When you were a kid, always eat your dinner!”
“Oh don’t start!”
She gave him a hug.
“Help me pack an overnight bag for Matthew.”
They went upstairs and into their son’s room.
“See?” said Hugh, gesturing around him. “Nothing! No bogey men!”
Rebecca grabbed a few items of clothing then got some for herself from her room.
Hugh kissed her goodnight as she got into her car.
“I’d like to meet this Gwynn. She sounds cool!”
“Cool? I don’t know. She’s an innocent old soul.”
“Maybe my presence will help you get some answers. Then you’ll be rid of the old bag.”
“By all means!” laughed Rebecca. “See you tomorrow.”
She drove off. Her husband watched the car until was out of sight.
“Goodnight sweetheart. Isn’t that what lovers say?”
Hugh glanced back at the house then started walking away in the direction Rebecca had gone.

“You left your phone here!” yelled Suzie. “It’s been screeching for an hour!”
“Who is it?” asked Rebecca.
“How should I know? I didn’t answer,” said her mother thrusting it into her hands.
Rebecca did not recognise the number flashing up on the screen but she answered the call anyway.
“Hello?”
“Hello!”
The voice was female, English accented, somewhat distressed.
“Who’s this?”
“Rebecca, it’s me!”
“Who?”
“Gwynneth!”
This night just keeps getting better!
“Gwynn? How did you get my mobile number?”
“From your note.”
“What note?”
“You left a note for me this evening when I was in the bath. It was in my letter box.”
“I did not Gwynn!” said Rebecca thoroughly put out.
“But it had your name to it Rebecca, and an address,” pleaded Gwynn.
“What address Gywnn?”
The woman read out the address. It was that of Rebecca’s mother’s.
Suitably alarmed, Rebecca abandoned whatever polite pretences her patience had retained.
“How did you get that address?”
“I’m telling you Rebecca, in all honesty, it’s on that note!”
“Gwynn I’m warning you! I will call the police!”
Rebecca’s threat made Suzie employ an energetically inquisitive gesture.
“Who is it?” she hissed.
“But Rebecca I need to see you tonight! I had another dream that….”
“Sod your fucking dreams, I’ve had enough of you psychopaths!”
“Rebecca I really have to….”
She ended the call and hurled the phone on the sofa in disgust. Suzie, hands on hips, let Rebecca collect herself before demanding an explanation. It served only to aggravate Rebecca further as she had no answer to her mother’s predictable questions. The altercation became more heated and eventually Rebecca went upstairs to sleep with Matthew.

“Get ready!” whispered the voice inside her sleep.
Ready for what?
It felt as if she had barely closed her eyes when an abrupt, coarse sound violently collided with her weary ears. She became conscious of her son’s hand tugging gently on her night gown as she became awake.
“You okay son? What was that?”
The familiar sound of her mother raising her voice succeeded the initial noise and was a worthy rival to it.
“Clear off!” she yelled.
For God’s sake Mum!
She sprawled out of the warmth of the bed and into her slippers. Suzie was at the front door, peering out through the glass.
“I said clear off!” she yelled, rapping the pane.
“What is it?” asked Rebecca.
“This little hoodlum won’t bugger off! I came down for a fag and he was standing there in the path! He must be off his head on drugs. Take a look at him!”
Rebecca did. Half way up the garden path stood a short figure in a white hoodie emblazoned with the word ‘garage’ and black tracksuit bottoms. Although it was fully dark Rebecca saw that his face was black too. And she recognised it.
The juvenile arsonist.
When eye contact was established his lips flashed into a momentary grin then reset into the same emotionless line as before. He flicked open a silver lighter in his hand.
“Police. Now!” she barked.
“Do you know him?”
“Just get them Mum!”
“Rebecca, I….”
Suzie was left talking to herself as her daughter surged past her to snatch the cordless phone. Her frenzied state made her unable to successfully input a trio of nines yet she managed to press it twice until the phone slid out of her frantic hands and onto the hard, polished mahogany floor. Out spilled the batteries and a vital, cracked segment of circuitry.
SHIT.
More chaos pended. From the back door in the kitchen resounded a banging that could only be described as furious.
“Keep an eye on him Mum!” ordered Rebecca as she ran to the source.
Please be Hugh!
It wasn’t. She switched on the outside light and Rebecca’s heart plummeted to her bowels. It took several agonising seconds for the face outside to register and when it did she stared right back at the demented pair of eyes that beheld her with disdain.

It was Andy. The transvestite, clad in a long, tight one-piece dress, pushed down on the door handle. It was still locked.
“Open!” he said.
Rebecca turned off the light and backed away.
“Mum where’s my phone?” she screamed, picking up the bread knife on the counter.
“Rebeccaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”
Suzie’s face was pressed to the front door. The arsonist had company. Starlight glistened faintly atop a smooth male head before he moved into the light that streamed from the house. In his hand was a narrow iron pipe.
“It’s Norman!”
“Who is he?”
“He’s a patient. They’re all my patients!”
“What are they doing here?”
“How should I know?
Gwynn knows!
“Oh Rebecca do something!”
“Where’s my phone?”
“Wherever you put it!”
The two women edged back as the larger man approached the door. He stopped and looked at them menacingly. Even though they were visible to him he rang the door bell. It was a simple, solitary, calming chime but the grimacing gaze of the man outside gave it a surreally threatening dimension. He pressed the bell again. And again. Then over and over and over.
“Piss off!” shouted Suzie, enraged.
In response Norman ceased his ringing. He raised the pipe to shoulder level and paused. It slid through his stubby fingers and as it clattered onto the step he arched his head forward through the glass. Suzie screamed and Rebecca pushed her upstairs. Norman’s fist became blood-strewn as he felt across the shattered pane for the key which was still in the lock. His bleeding thumb grasped and turned it. Rebecca prepared to lunge at him with the knife. Sure, he would overpower her but she could at least inflict some pain on that ugly, bloated face of his. Before she could act Rebecca remembered throwing her phone on the sofa and had thought about dashing into the sitting room to retrieve it.
Too late now.
When Norman withdrew his hand and opened the door a shadow streamed across the kitchen floor to her left. Standing there was Andy: tall, silent and enraged. With a terrified whimper Rebecca leapt up the stairs. Suzie huddled with Matthew in the spare room. He was still asleep.
“Rebecca, what do they want?” she wailed.
“Come to the toilet, we’ll lock ourselves in!” said Rebecca thinking quickly as she stuffed the knife into her pyjama bottoms. Suzie collected her grandson in her arms while Rebecca shoved her down the corridor to the bathroom. There was no sign of the three intruders. She risked one look back downstairs. The three men stood there in a row, staring up at her with dispassion. Only then did the horrific nature of the situation fully strike her. How many hours had she spent with these people? How many hours of her life had been wasting trying vainly to help them? How had they come to be here in her mother’s house, a supposed fortress of familial security where every thought and deed was pleasant and a million miles away from the problems of such degenerates.
What DO they want? Hugh please help me!
As if in answer she heard a familiar, reassuring gait pad up the path, onto the step and through the threshold. The three psychopaths turned slowly to face the new arrival as he stepped into Rebecca’s line of sight.
Hugh.
Her husband faced each of them then looked up tenderly at Rebecca. Hugh reached out his right hand.
“Come down,” he said.
Despite her shaken nerves Rebecca still possessed enough wit to recognise how unusual both his sudden arrival and request was. Hugh's eyes radiated in a way she had never seen before and his voice, whilst the same as always, had a novel taint to it.
“Hugh?”
“Yes darling. It’s me.”
“Hugh, come up here. Don’t stay near them, they’re dangerous.”
“They seem harmless to me. I’m not sure they can even hear me.”
He leaned in to face Norman whose head was caked with multiple, bloody cuts.
“Hullo?” said Hugh, getting no response. “Well, with Igor here the lights are on but there’s nobody home!”
At Norman’s seeming incapacity Rebecca descended but only by one step. Hugh pouted.
“All the way dear. Down you come!”
Her doubts as to Hugh’s bona fides they were now confirmed. She stayed put.
“Babes! Come on! Babes? Is that the right word? It’s hard to keep up with all your superficial terms of endearment.”
His words barely registered with her for there was an undeniable malevolence emanating from him like heat off a fire.
Nice and warm but….
But it was folly to go down, she knew it was. Then the events of earlier, when she had been with Matthew in his room, came back to her with sudden force.
The creature. The invisible creature. Now it’s here. IN Hugh. No….
It was as if some outwardly impulse compelled her to take another step down. Then another. And another. Rebecca gripped the banister with both hands. It was like she were a piece of metal being drawn inevitably to a magnet; a magnet that was alive, poised and deadly. The more she held on the more she was pulled. Her feet slipped out from under her and the impact with the stair was painful. She moaned pitifully and through her wet eyes saw him smile down below.
“Need a hand love?”
A second later she was pulled gently to her feet. He was standing right beside her, his hand in hers. At close range one look at him told her what she already knew yet dare not acknowledge.
This is NOT Hugh.
“We need to have a little chat Rebecca. You’ll be more comfy on the sofa.” He made a stooping movement that was little more a hasty blur and when she blinked he was holding the knife. She descended in front of him and filtered past the three patients who remained comatose, still and silent. They trudged slowly into the sitting room behind the pair.

Rebecca sat in the middle of the sofa looking at the pine floor. To her own surprise she felt remarkably calm. What passed for her husband stood at the fireplace; hands behind his back.
“What do I want?” he began. “It’s about your career Rebecca.”
She said nothing.
“All your do-gooding. Well, so-called do-gooding because, lets face it, babes, you haven’t been doing any good lately, have you? In fact you’ve not done the likes of these three any good whatsoever for a very long time. As a politically incorrect, male, lower-class, taxi-driving, witty inhabitant of this urban sprawl of yours might cynically jibe; ‘why Doctor Vaughn, you ain’t cured a single bleedin’ nit-wit since Saint Swithin’s Day, ma’am.’ Quite literally in dear old Norman ‘the parallelogram’ Cooper’s case. Look at him! He’s a bloodly blood fountain! Courtesy of your handiwork my dear!”
“Hugh?”
“Excuse me? Oh no. No no no. We’ll get to him shortly, don’t worry. As I was saying, before you so rudely interrupted me, you are doing a lot of good, or at least you’re trying to. But you’re crafty Rebecca, you’re oh-so sneaky and, worst of all you’re diligent! You will keep trying and trying and trying until you actually do some good for these rejects and therein lie’s the problem. See, me and the boss would rather you didn’t. We’d prefer it if fatso, darky and tranny here and all your other so-called patients never changed. For us that would be good! So even though you’re a pretty rubbish counsellor I don’t actually care. For you good equals bad. For me bad equals good.”
“What’s this all about?” Rebecca could scarcely even hear her question.
“What’s it all about?” he repeated softly.
“What’s it all about?” Louder this time.
“What’s it all about?” At the top of his lungs.
“It’s all about sloth!” he screamed. “Idleness, indolence, inertia, languidness, laxness, lethargy, sluggishness, slackness slothfulness! That is what it’s all about!”
Rebecca felt pinned to the sofa. He breathed rapidly then resumed his tirade.
“You’re profession has exposed you to it; to all these things. It has brought you into contact with the insane! With the degenerate, with the worthless, with the waste products of mankind! Take a look at them!”
He stretched out his arm to the three patients.
“They aren’t mentally ill! They are lazy, selfish and immature! Even a monkey could have manipulated their weak minds to wilfully summon their empty souls here. And true to your professionalism you and your sultry little secretary scoff at them behind their backs, giving them colourful nicknames. ‘Baldly’, ‘Bloke-girl’, ‘Brixton Burner’, ‘soap-lady’ to name but a few. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining, they’re all very succinct but conceiving them and joking about their holders is hardly behaviour becoming of a mental health care professional! Don’t you see what I’m getting at Rebecca? Don’t you see the point I am trying to make? You are bored! You are idle! You are as bad as they are! And to top it all, and this is funny, you, their physician, their healer, are having therapy yourself!”
“Its stress related.”
“Yeah yeah, I believe you! But not only have you messed up your own life you’re trying to mess up your family! You’ve blown your husband’s self-esteem out of the water with your bitchy verbal missiles and you mollycoddle your son! It all leads to one thing; sloth! Sloth sloth sloth!”
A measure of defiance brewed deep within Rebecca’s heart.
“My husband was made redundant!”
“And you were delighted!”
“I was gutted!”
“Ostensibly, yes! On the surface you were! But inside, deep inside, you were over the moon! You still earned enough money without his income but now you could look down on him from a position of superiority in the same way you look down your nose at your patients. You had the best of both worlds! Lady Rebecca, mistress at home and at work! All hail the Empress Rebecca!”
Rebecca could have swung for him but she remained seated.
“What do you want?” she demanded.
“Nothing. Believe me, I want nothing! Nothing whatsoever. You see I knew you’d eventually solve your many personal problems and throw yourself back into work with diligent, determined dedication. That’s not going to happen now. Keeping you terrified, aware of what you’re up against and holding your family to perpetual ransom is more conductive to my ends. Welcome to the real world babes.”
He allowed the acutely ominous threat to sink in.
“There is a single condition. You, Hugh and Matthew will come to no harm provided that you, Rebecca, continue down the road you are on. Don’t help these thralls. Don’t help anyone who comes to you seeking counselling. Don’t do any good at all! Deny others their full potential by manipulation or coercion. Give every patient bad advice, tell them lies, give them drugs that will fuck them up even more so that they will never see the light!”
“I will! Just let us go!”
“As to hunky Hugh, well it was an interesting experiment. In giving him the traits of your patients I wanted to see how you would react. I was very amused. As to copying his shape it was necessary practicality, designed to ram home just what you are up against. We also had to communicate and what better form to use than that of your beloved hubby-wubby.”

“Just give him back to me and I will do anything you want!”
“I will, you have my word. From now on every time you look at him will serve to remind you of our encounter and the promise you have sworn.”
“Just give him back!”
“Patience Rebecca. You nearly made me forget something! There is one other condition.”
“What?”
“You call her Gwynn. I call her…. well, it’s not repeatable. She is a problem. A big problem.”
“How?”
“Dearest Gwynneth is what’s called in the business a blessed child. You get them from time to time and they’re nearly always women! Some of them see souls, foresee futures, know things they should not know. Their skills vary but at the end of the day they are a liability! They know too much, they see too much, they think too much. Luckily no one ever believes their ramblings but it’s still nice to smite them once in a while. She will be here very soon.”
“The blocks said stay away from her. If she’s coming here how can I?”
“That was a warning. Then I realised just how stubborn you are. You would have found a way to contact her and by degrees discover truths no one should really know. She could probably have redeemed you and I couldn’t take that risk. So I decided to bring an end to it, bring her to an end. I can’t take any chances, not in my old age.”
“She mentioned a note.”
“With this address. Yes, that was me.”
“What are you going to do to her?”
“Nothing.”
He turned to the arsonist and the transvestite.
“You two, bring her in. She arrives in sixty three seconds.”
Without a sound the two patients departed.
“Don’t kill her.”
“I won’t.”
“When do I get Hugh back?”
“When our business is concluded. He’ll get a job, don’t worry, you just need to let him off the leash now and again. You will be rich and comfortable and you will never see me again!”
“Good!”
“Be sure not to forget your promise and remember also; when we are at our most irrational, we believe the most fantastical. The very knowledge of my existence will keep you in check. I know it will!”
Rebecca gave up, her mind emptied of all thoughts as she sat waiting. From without she heard the front door open. Gwynn appeared looking emaciated. Her haggard clothes were more unkempt than usual and when she saw the thing that looked like Hugh her hair arced like a frightened cat.
“Ah! The final piece of the puzzle!”
“Rebecca?” Gwynn’s voice was faint and filled with fear. Rebecca motioned for her to come nearer. Gwynn shuffled over to her side.
“Did you come here to help her or beg for an end to all those dreams of yours?” he asked happily.
“Help or beg?”
“Stay close Gwynn,” said Rebecca.
“That’s the man from my dreams,” whispered Gwynn tersely.
“Speak up!” he said. “Didn’t Rebecca tell you to be more assertive?”
“Is he your husband?” asked Gwynn.
“He just looks like him.” Said Rebecca
“My God!”
“Tell her what I am Gwynn,” he said.
She answered with extreme hesitation.
“You are an inferno. The lord of openings. A prince of Hell.”
“Thank you. See what I’m up against with all these ‘know it alls’ Rebecca?”
“I believe her,” said Rebecca defiantly.
He shrugged.
“Makes no difference. I come now to the second condition. Rebecca, I have no further need for this pest.”
From out of nowhere he produced the kitchen knife. He spun the handle toward Rebecca.
“Take it.”
“What for?” asked Rebecca.
“That should be obvious,” he said, glancing contemptuously at Gwynn.
He wants me to kill her.
“No,” said Rebecca. “I can agree to the first, not to this. I won’t kill anyone.”
He gazed at her with no emotion then spoke to the arsonist.
“Go upstairs. Break down the bathroom door. Bring the woman and child to me.”
Without a word the youth exited and walked up the stairs.
“No!” screamed Rebecca. She made an effort to follow him but the vast shape of Norman moved to block her path. From behind the transvestite put his arms around her stomach and lifted her to face he who controlled him. She struggled in vain then surrendered to her panicked sobs.
“Rebecca,” he soothed. “I won’t harm them. I won’t harm them unless you expunge this nutcase. One life for two? Three, I should say. I’m forgetting poor, hen-pecked Hugh. It’s a fair trade by any standard.”
Norman seized Gwynn by the shoulders and effortlessly hauled her over to face Rebecca.
“Rebecca. Prove your loyalty to our agreement. Kill her. No one will ever know.”
I will know.
“She has no friends or family or even a cat. She’s neither a cute little, pig-tailed toddler nor a sexy, blonde student. She’s a sour, shrivelled up old bint. In other words she won’t be missed. No one will care!”
He set the knife’s handle into her sweaty palm and gently enclosed her thumb and fingers around it.
“There,” he said softly. “If you want you can close your eyes, you don’t have to see it happen.”
His tone was compassionate but it made Rebecca feel ten times worse.
“Rebecca….” said Gwynn.
He put a finger to the woman’s lips.
“Ssshhh! Leave her alone.”
Rebecca opened her eyes. Gywnn’s nervous puppy-dog expression was at a zenith. Rebecca had never seen her as miserable as she was now, awaiting her own death.
Her death WOULD be no loss but….
“You will forget the guilt Rebecca,” he said anxiously. “Raise the blade to her throat.”
“Sorry,” said Rebecca, following his instruction.
“Get ready!”
Gwynn shut her eyes.
“Now, strike!”
Rebecca paused and closed her own eyes. Then she obeyed. She thrust the blade. Not forwards. Rightwards. Towards him. The blade’s metal tip disappeared into his gullet. In a violently fast movement he leapt back against the fire place. The weapon remained lodged above his Adam’s Apple. Gywnn shrieked. Rebecca fell backwards. A chaotic, oppressing and unseen force filled the air. The patients stood impassively still and silent. He writhed against the fireplace and staggered forward onto his knees. A howl, more primitive than the wildest beast and more appalling than the worst cries of despair ever heard pierced Rebecca’s ears. Gwynn collapsed. Rebecca covered her head and watched him. The knife dissolved. Every molecule inside him appeared to come asunder in fury. His form lit up in a brilliant molten sheen before vanishing entirely. Silence once again.

Rebecca wiped her eyes and looked around. The bald man and the transvestite slowly walked out. Gwynn lay still on the floor. Rebecca rose and helped her up. No words came from either woman. They embraced and wept.
“I’m just going upstairs,” said Rebecca.
At the foot of the stairs she met the arsonist. He descended without a word to or glance at her. She stepped aside and the youth walked out the door and into the night. Suzie cowered on the toilet seat. The bathroom door had been smashed open and Matthew whimpered restlessly in her arms. Rebecca came and took him from her and held him close. Then she remembered.
Hugh.

Her house was unchanged. He wasn’t in the kitchen, the hallway or the lounge. Rebecca ran upstairs. The door to Matthew’s room was closed. She opened it and went inside. A bare male foot protruded from under the bed.
“Hugh!”
She dashed over and patted the foot. With considerable effort she pulled her husband out from beneath the bed. His eyes were closed and he was naked.
Please God NO!
Her racing heart eased when she felt his chest. It was warm.
“Wake up baby, wake up! Please wake up!”
He did.
“Hey!” he said. “Fuck me, my head.”
“Relax!” she said. “What happened?”
“I got dizzy. I must have the flu. No.”
“What’s the last thing you remember?”
“God! I checked Matty’s room for you. You saw a mouse. But I couldn’t see it. I came back down and you’d gone. You’d taken Matthew. Then I had the worst dream ever. It was like being swallowed by shit.”
Christ! When I came back that time…. I was talking to IT. Hugh had been left under the bed…. Stupid stupid Rebecca!
“I feel okay now,” said Hugh attempting to stand up.
“Easy does it,” said Rebecca helping him. “Gently.”
“Where’s my clothes?”
“They were dirty.”
“And Matthew?”
“Safe at his Gran’s.”
“Just us then.”
“Let’s get you dressed,” said Rebecca.

When they got to their own room Hugh had recovered. He stood by her as she rummaged in the wardrobe. She felt him put one hand on her waist and didn’t object. His other hand began to massage her neck. Closing her eyes she shut the wardrobe and turned to him. As her body moved round her hip brushed his excitement and she smiled.
“Naughty,” she teased.
“I am,” he said.
“So am I.” She leant toward him and her lips embraced his. It felt good.
“Help me,” she said as she took off her jacket. He undressed her slowly and she loved it.
And why not? We were almost killed tonight.

They fell onto the bed.
“Do me rough,” she moaned.
For months she had denied him and now realised how selfish she had been.
Men aren’t angels they are…. Yeah! Thanks Mum!
The stress, the fear, the things she had seen needed to be washed from her mind. Explanations could wait. Enquiries could wait. The truth could wait. She needed calming down. She needed her man. Now.
Never again will I let him go! Job or no job he can have me whenever he wants!
“Kiss me and lick me.”
Don’t stop.
It culminated in her unleashing a loud sigh of blissful exhilaration. His head collapsed onto her breasts, exhausted.
Out like a light as usual. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
She laughed and rushed her fingers through his sweat encrusted hair.
“Perfect.”
He doesn’t need to know what happened.

In the end there were no questions asked. Had Suzie not been so traumatised and rendered more mute that usual by the ordeal she would have been adamant that Rebecca tell the police what had happened. Instead she said nothing. Hugh began actively looking for a new job. Invitations to aptitude tests and interviews gushed through their letter box.
“It’s only a matter of time,” he said cockily.
On top of his housekeeping duties he had a new found passion for cooking.
“The way to a woman’s heart is her stomach,” he said.
“It’s a pity you hadn’t known that eight years ago.”
“Come here you!”
Matthew meanwhile showed absolutely no trauma whatsoever from the incident and was as boisterously playful as always. His parents flirted and teased each other at every opportunity. Love making was back on their respective agendas.

The three patients never returned to see her. She suspected that perhaps Norman and Andy had retained residual memories of the event and wanted to avoid any contact with her for fear of resurrecting the experience. Days after the incident Rebecca read in the paper that one Mel Cooper, the wife of Mr Norman Cooper, had been arrested for attempted murder. The wife had argued that her husband’s obsessive compulsive disorder had pushed her own sanity to the brink and the only way to save it was by killing him. Fortunately for Norman his powerhouse stomach proved somewhat resolute against the pureed rat poison that had laced his soup and with his wife behind bars he was free to continue his own habitual life of sloth. It was likely that Rebecca would be summoned as a witness for the prosecution. She was unmoved. Later she was equally unmoved when an officer of the CID requested her case notes pertaining to one Andy King, a cross-dresser found overdosed in his garage. According to the officer the request was just part of a routine inquiry. Rebecca happily obliged.
They weren’t worth helping anyway.
Finally the arsonist caused a tabloid sensation when he returned to the young offenders centre in the middle of the night of the occurrence. No one ever discovered how he escaped from Belmarsh or why he came back hours later. He claimed to have no memory of how he had left his locked cell, vacated the centre or where he had gone.

Gwynn, being Gwynn, kept silent. Rebecca had not heard from the woman for days. In this regard she was not altogether happy for she felt it necessary for them to discuss what had happened in order to draw a more conclusive line under it. The one day, about a fortnight after the events at Rebecca’s mother’s home, the woman arrived at the clinic unannounced. Duly apologetic she asked to see Rebecca.
“It knew a lot about us,” said Gywnn with new assuredness. “Since that night I’ve been able to relax a lot more and I haven’t had a bad dream since. It’s like I have a fresh, new life.”
“Gwynn, will it come back?” asked Rebecca.
She felt embarrassed to ask a patient like Gywnn an ominous question she did not know the answer to.

“No,” she answered with joyful confidence. “Not in our life times.”
“It nearly had me kill you. I’d have been enslaved to it.”
The uncomfortable memory gushed back. Gwynn handed her a tissue and offered a reassuring embrace.
“We beat it. That is what matters. Always remain true Rebecca. Always.”
I don’t need YOU to tell me that! Which of us stabbed it in the neck anyway? You or me? If I can beat a monster like that then I can do anything!

Dinner was ready. Matthew was asleep. Hugh was downcast.
“Guess what,” he said.
“What?” she asked, giving him a warm kiss.
He handed her a letter. It was brief and one line jumped out to her.
Thank you for your application and attendance at interview unfortunately….
“I’m sorry, hun. Keep trying, you’re nearly there!”
“No need,” he said, handing her another letter he had concealed behind his back.
Dear Mr Vaughn, with reference to the above post we are writing to advise you that your interview was successful and are delighted to offer you the position of Consultative Engineer Ref: #0063….
“Hugh!” she squealed, throwing her arms around him.
“Did I do good?”
“Very good.”
“I start at the beginning of May!” he said proudly.
“Fantastic! That’s only a week and a half!”
“I know. Hey, I better buy a new suit!”
“You better! I’ll get you some new ties.”
“I told you I’d get a job sorted, didn’t I?”
“Diligence, Hugh. It all comes down to diligence. Hey! I’ve an idea!”
“Yeah?”
“Let’s take a few days next week and go down to Cornwall!”
“Cornwall?”
“Come on Hugh! It might be our last chance of a holiday together until summer! Please!”
Hugh nodded in consent.
“You’re on!” he said.
Rebecca kissed him again.
“I’m going to miss coming home finding my dinner ready.”
“Well, enjoy it while it lasts!”
“I love you my big London-Irish lump!”
“Enough to rub my feet?”
“Don’t push it!”

“Things are really turning round Helen. My husband has got a new job.”
“Is he happy with it?”
“Absolutely! It won’t be quite as well paid as his last one but it’s still a fantastic job.”
“Still, it’s a positive development. Would it then be fair to say you and your husband are on good terms again?”
“More than fair. It feels as though our marriage has been kick started.”
“I’m happy to hear that. I hope my advice has played a part.”
Humour her.
“It has Helen. Definitely.”
“I’m glad.”
“Thank you.”
“And how’s work Rebecca?”
“It’s going well too. Really well. Things have settled down a bit. However I’ve decided to make some cut backs.”

Rebecca was glowing.
“Hey boss lady, you look nice! New dress?”
“Thanks Ting. Yeah I thought I’d treat myself. There were no patients this morning so I got my hair and nails done too.”
“Very pretty! I like it!”
“How was the dentist?”
“Cute,” replied Ting with a giggle.
“So, you’re hoping you have to go back soon? Tell him you need a filling?” asked Rebecca with a wry smile.
“Hey, good idea! I won’t brush my teeth for a few days. Then I will complain of a toothache! He will have to see me!” joked Ting.
“I like the way you think girl! You’ll go far!”
“I hope so!”
“Once you woe your dentist, don’t give him an excuse to get rid of you. Keep him happy in every department,” said Rebecca with a wink. Ting was usually impossible to embarrass but this time Rebecca had succeeded.
“Okay, I know what you mean,” said Ting merrily. She sat down and took out a sandwich.
“Do anything last night?” asked Rebecca.
“Oh, I put up my Christmas tree.”
“Ting! It’s April!”
“Yes, I know. I just wanted to add some colour to my flat.”
“Ting, you’re hilarious!”
“I won’t keep it up for long. It costs too much for the lights and I have so many bills.”
“Well if it’s extra money you want I can help. In fact it’s something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you.”
“Oh?”
“When Hugh starts work next month we’ll have no one to mind Matthew. Nurseries are okay but I don’t like the idea of leaving him with strangers every day. So we’d need a child minder, preferably someone who can also cook for us and clean the house, do the laundry et cetera. And preferably it would be somebody we know and trust.”
Ting looked worried.
“Are you thinking I can do this?” she asked nervously.
Rebecca avoided her concerned gaze as she scrunched up the plastic bag that had carried her own lunch.
“Look, I’ll be honest Ting. I don’t really need you here anymore. There’s nothing in the office that I can’t do myself. All you do is answer the phone, open the post and lock up. There’s just no point having you here.”
“So what do you suggest?”
“You come and work in my house. You’ve met Matthew loads of times. He’s a good boy and you will get on fine.”
“Yes, he is,” said Ting, obviously uncomfortable.
“I’ve tasted your cooking, it’s wonderful! I could eat Thai food until I die!”
Ting tried to look pleased at Rebecca’s praise.
“And I assume you can do housework. If Hugh can, anyone can. What do you think?”
Ting’s confidence seemed to have been expunged.
“It’s just at home I earned a graduate degree. I think an office job is better for me, better experience.”
Rebecca shrugged, tossed the bag into the nearby bin and stood up.
“Well Ting, that’s fair enough. I’m happy to give you a reference but at the end of next month there won’t be a job for you here. I’m sorry.”
Ting looked mortified. Rebecca seemed to know she was considering her offer so she threw in further incentives.
“Needless to say I’ll renew your VISA with the immigration office and you can live in our box room. It has its own loo and shower. Rent free! Oh, and a slightly higher wage.”
Ting was out of options. With burning reluctance she gave her assent.
“Great! We can hammer out the details later,” said Rebecca before disappearing into her office. Ting starred ahead into space.

The sun shone brightly through the office window as Rebecca gratefully welcomed her final patient of the week.
“How have you been keeping Gwynn? Any news?”
“Lots,” answered Gwynn. “I enrolled for a course at the Open University,” she said proudly.
“Wonderful! What course may I ask?”
“Embroidery.”
“Embroidery? I didn’t even know you could do that at degree level,” commented Rebecca, just about hiding her amused cynicism.
Can you at least TRY to get a life?
“Oh you can. I did some research on the internet. It’s so useful. Have you ever used it Rebecca?”
Does the Pope wear a funny wee hat?
“God, yes! I’ve been online for over ten years.”
“I’m doing an oil painting class as well and I’ve made a very good friend there.”
“Brilliant! That’s a good, creative past time.”
“Yes and Clarence is very helpful.”
Clarence. Fuck me what a name! What age is he? Five hundred?
“He’s given me lots of painting tips.”
I bet that’s not all he’s given you….
“He’s ever so kind as well. I missed the class a fortnight ago but Clarence took notes on what I missed. He filled me in last night.”
I bet he did!
“He sounds nice. Have you asked him out on a date?”
Gwynn blushed.
“I already did. We’re going to the pictures on Monday.”
I’d love to be a fly on the wall at that but I will be cuddled up in bed with a real man in a cosy B n’ B!
“Well, best of luck with it Gwynn.”
“Thank you Rebecca.”
Yawn!
“No more bad dreams I hope?”
“No, not since…. you know?”
Rebecca nodded.
Then why are you here wasting my time?
“Well,” continued Gwynn. “I did have one. I don’t normally remember my dreams anymore but this one really shook me.”
This should be good.
“Go on Gwynn.”
“Four people are driving along…. there’s an awful accident…. And they are all killed.”
“That it?”
“Yes.”
“A dream like that represents a subconscious fear of failure Gwynn. The four people are symbolic of one, your self-esteem, two, your faith, three, your confidence and four, your anxiety.”
“I see,” said Gwynn fascinated.
“It’s obvious you are building a much happier life for yourself but you need to stay confident, be positive and remain focused on what you really want out of life!”
I really ought to bullshit more often!
“Of course. You’re right Rebecca. You’re such a cleaver girl.”
And you’re such a sad old bat.
“Don’t mention it.”
“That’s all I really had to tell you Rebecca. I feel so much better now.”
“Well if you need me you know where I am.”
“It would be nice to meet you again one day.”
No it wouldn’t.
“Yes, maybe one day.”
Gwynn rose and offered Rebecca her hand.
“Take care Gwynn,” said Rebecca accepting it.
Don’t drive off a cliff or anything….
“Goodbye Rebecca.”
Just wait until you get my bill….

It was the morning of their departure. The family ate at the kitchen table while Ting, who had recently started working in the house, was brewing more coffee.
“Is Matthew ready to go west?” asked Hugh.
“Daaaaa,” said Matthew.
“Eat up boy,” ordered his mother.
Ting slipped in between them and set a cup and saucer of fresh coffee at Rebecca’s place. Her act went unacknowledged.
“Tingggggg” grinned Matthew. The young woman gave him a smile and a wave.
“Yes Matthew,” said Rebecca. “That’s Ting. You know her, don’t you? She’ll be minding you when Mummy and Daddy go to work.”
Rebecca took a sip of coffee. Her mouth contorted and she spat the liquid back into the cup.
“Ting,” she said, barely hiding her frustration.
“Yes?” asked Ting approaching, alert that something was wrong.
“I don’t take sugar,” said Rebecca bluntly. She handed the cup back to Ting.
“I will get you another one. Sorry,” apologised Ting.
“You ought to know how I take my coffee by now Ting.”
Hugh shook his head and dug into his cornflakes. A replacement cup, sans sugar, was duly served. Again Rebecca did not thank Ting. Instead she said;
“Ting, go upstairs and pack an extra coat for Matthew; his red and black one. It might be more colder down there than I first thought.”
“Sure,” said Ting before exiting the kitchen as quickly as possible.
“Go easy on her love,” said Hugh as soon as Ting had gone.
“She needs to learn,” said Rebecca defensively. “I’m not paying her to have an easy time.”
Hugh gave up. Now that he was getting sex again he thought it unwise to contradict his wife.
“Hands out of your porridge Matthew! Use your spoon,” snapped Rebecca.
The boy ignored his mother and both hands delved into his plastic bowl. It capsized, spun off the table and rattled noisily upon colliding with the floor, sending its contents in every direction.

“Matthew, for heaven’s sake!” sighed Rebecca. She retrieved a baby wipe and cleansed his oatmeal covered fingers.
Ting returned to see the mess on the floor she had already mopped earlier that morning. She picked up Matthew’s bowl and spoon and wiped her fingers on her apron.
“Ting, get that mopped up then give him some more. I’d like you to feed him this time.”
“Yes Mrs Vaughn,” replied Ting who was already on her knees sweeping the oatmeal into a pan. Rebecca watched her sternly but inside she was smiling.
A week ago that would have been me. It’s nice having a maid.

An hour later Rebecca was in the bathroom, leaning over the sink looking at a small, narrow plastic object she twirled in her fingers. She shook it gently. Gradually the tip of the object changed from white to pink. Rebecca smiled.
I knew it!

Bags were packed and loaded, the jeep’s engine running, Hugh teased Matthew in his back-seat chair and Rebecca was giving Ting some final instructions at the door.
“Right, we’ll be off now Ting. When you’ve washed up clean that new outfit of mine. I want to wear it to work next week. Oh, and my new boots too. Then you can have the rest of the day off and Sunday too!”
“I will do it and thanks.”
“Good girl. See you on Wednesday.”
“Bye! Have a good time!” said Ting as brightly as possible.
Rebecca walked off and got in the passenger seat. Matthew waved to Ting. She waved back. Hugh put the jeep in gear and the family drove away. When they were out of sight Ting went inside and closed the door. Her voice was hurt and bitter:
“And don’t come back.”

Streams of late afternoon sunlight gleaned through the windscreen to wake Rebecca from her pleasant doze. Trees streaked by on either side of the road.
“Where are we?”
“Somewhere near Okehampton.”
“When did I drop off?”
“Around Swindon-ish.”
“You should have woke me. I would have drove.”
“Nah, I’m alright. I’ve enjoyed the drive.”
“How’s he?” asked Rebecca looking back to Matthew.
“Slept all the way.”
“Poor lamb,” said Rebecca. She reached out and gently brushed his cheek.
“Engine’s like a lullaby,” explained Hugh. “It purrs.”
My baby’s so peaceful. I want to take care of him forever. Tell Hugh the news! Now’s the time.
Rebecca beamed and tapped her husband on the hand.
“Hey! I was going to tell you later but I can’t wait!”
“Yeah?”
She pointed to Matthew.
“We’re having another.”
“A baby?”
“A little baby.”
Hugh’s voice sounded hoarse.
“Wonderful babes, wonderful. When did you find out?”
“I’ve done the test six times. All positive.”
She sniffled; Hugh’s emotional joy had infected Rebecca.
“Rebecca, I want to hug you. I’m going to stop.”
“No! It’s getting dark. Keep driving. Plenty of time for that,” she said.
“I’m really happy,” he said.
“So am I.”
“It’s the perfect time for us. Isn’t it?”
“Timing couldn’t have been better.”
“Girl or boy?”
“Girl this time. I hope!” she said. “We need to even things up. Two boys, two girls; it’s only fair,” she said happily.
“There’ll be four of us!” laughed Hugh.
“Four?”
“Can you imagine it? Our family of four! Oh, I love you!”
The utterance of the number dispelled Rebecca’s joy at the revelation.
Four.
Hugh began regaling a blissful future of school plays, graduations and weddings but his wife’s thoughts drifted. They locked on to a recent sentence. She had heard it over a week before and had instantly forgotten about it. It was a graphic, violent sentence.
“Four people are driving along….” There are four of us! Me, Hugh, Matthew and my baby….
“Hugh,” she interrupted.
“Huh?”
“Slow down. Stop!”
“I can’t! I’m….”
“there’s an awful accident….”
“Hugh!”
The memory of recent, extraordinarily terrifying events consumed her. The arrogance that had lately permeated her was expedited for she was in a world were anything could become true, even the bad dreams of a lonely old woman. Her reaction was instinctive. And reckless. Rebecca lunged for the steering wheel. Her right hand seized and tugged it her direction. Hugh yelled. He countered her movement of the wheel, pulling it back toward him. Beneath them the jeep’s front wheels wobbled, rocked and bounced. The vehicle jerked rightward, spun, left the ground and rolled like a dice.
“And they are all killed.”
It crashed off the tarmac down into a hollow of trees out of sight from the highway. A heavy blast shook the greenery and a powerful amber glow briefly lit up the dusk ridden air that was soon filled with rising smoke. The birds stopped singing.

Watching from the woods was a figure. Its charred skin blended with the growing dark, scarcely distinguishing it from the diminishing light of day. A gash along its upper throat was black and from its lips spewed the faintest of hoarse laughs.
“When we are at our most irrational, we believe the most fantastical.”
The figure turned and faded into the deepening twilight.

© Ciaran McVeigh 2010