The Cotton Lass & other stories, page 7
As they disappeared into his house, his arm was round her shoulders. They were both laughing.
Tears welled in Penny’s eyes. She felt used. This woman was obviously more than a friend. She’d seen Matt’s face, absolutely radiating happiness.
She got herself and her shopping into the house, not letting the tears fall. It’d only been a few weeks and he’d not made her any promises. But still …
She started to put up the tinsel, but that made her feel worse, so she pulled it down again and dumped it in a corner.
Unable to settle to watching TV, she went to bed early with a good book.
Tried to read the book.
Failed.
She couldn’t help listening and the other car didn’t drive off. It was still there at midnight when she fell asleep.
It was still there in the morning, too.
After work Penny drove cautiously home. Matt’s car and the other one were still there. She felt like driving past, not wanting to run into him. But that would be cowardly, so she turned into her carport as usual.
Matt came out of his house, turning towards her with a smile. There was a loud squawk from the other side of his house. Gus. The squawks sounded frantic.
Matt hesitated, then waved to say he’d be back and ran round the side of the house.
Penny took the opportunity to hurry inside and lock the door.
When the doorbell rang, she peeped out from upstairs. Matt. She was tired, didn’t want a row, hated rows, so didn’t answer it.
She didn’t go out to get her mail from the letter box at the end of the drive until she was sure he and his visitor were sitting outside in his rear courtyard.
She’d received some Christmas cards from England. The mere sight of them made her feel homesick. Only two weeks to go to the holiday. She’d sent all her cards a while ago.
The cheerful messages from her friends upset her. She dumped the cards on a side table, tore the envelopes to tiny shreds and kicked the tinsel under the table for good measure.
This was going to be the worst Christmas ever.
She’d have to hide how she was feeling from her brother, who was due back soon after working double shifts for the money. He was saving for a deposit on a house. Which was good, admirable in fact.
But oh, she wanted very much to see him again. With their parents dead, he was her closest relative in the world.
The following evening Matt was waiting for her outside his house, arms folded. She couldn’t, just couldn’t face him, so she drove past and didn’t come back for another hour.
He wasn’t there then, thank goodness.
She was stupid enough to wish he had been.
But she grew angry at herself for wishing that when she peeped out of her bedroom window and saw the other woman sitting outside in the courtyard, laughing and clinking her glass of wine against Matt’s.
He was looking thoughtful and it was Fiona who was doing most of the talking, gesticulating wildly.
Penny grew angry at herself for staring longingly out of the window at a man who didn’t give two hoots about her and had brought another woman to live with him, without warning her that he wasn’t serious about their relationship. All right, potential relationship.
How pitiful she was, dwelling on that. She should get on with her life, find another guy. There was one at work who’d been chatting to her a lot. Only she wasn’t attracted to him.
Neither car was next door when Penny got home from work the following day. Good. She could unload her shopping in peace. Christmas food. Her brother was coming down to Perth soon and they’d be able to spend Christmas together. It’d be fun.
She was determined to have fun.
Somehow.
But as she was going into the house, she heard the parrot squawking again. Then there was a crash and the squawking reached desperate levels. She couldn’t leave it at that, not if the bird was in distress, so she dropped her shopping and ran through Matt’s carport and round the side of his house.
The cage was on its side on the floor, with seed spilt everywhere. A huge cat was poking its paw through the bars. Gus stopped squawking and risked a jab of its beak at the cat, which yelped and backed off, fur standing on end.
‘Get away!’ Penny yelled. ‘Go on! Scat!’
The cat scampered off over the low wall to the next house.
Penny set the cage upright, speaking soothingly, hoping Gus wouldn’t bite her hand. ‘It’s all right. I’ve chased that nasty old cat away. Let’s get your cage sorted out.’
‘I’ll do that.’
She jumped in shock as Matt spoke from beside her. ‘Oh! I didn’t hear you coming.’
‘You wouldn’t with Gus squawking like that. Was it the damned cat again?’
‘Yes. I chased it away.’
‘Thanks. Penny, I—’
‘I’ve got to get home and—’
He caught hold of her arm. ‘What did I do to upset you?’
She tugged her arm away. ‘You have another woman living with you! You kissed and cuddled her when she arrived. I can take a hint.’
‘Fiona?’
Penny nodded.
‘She’s my cousin.’
As he spoke, Fiona drove up. ‘Hello! You must be the elusive neighbour. Matt’s been trying to introduce us for days.’
Penny shook hands then backed away. ‘Got to go. I dropped my shopping to rescue the parrot and I’ve got frozen stuff thawing out.’
Matt didn’t follow her. What did that say?
But as she carried the second lot of shopping into her house, he came out and took it from her. ‘Let me. We need to talk.’
‘Do we?’
‘I hope so.’
She waited in the kitchen, feeling breathless. He did that to her.
‘Fiona’s been away overseas for a year. That’s why I was so happy to see her. She’s my favourite cousin and she’s staying with me till she gets a place of her own. Her fiancé will be joining her at Christmas. They were working overseas together, only his contract has another couple of months to go. They’re going to get married at Easter.’
‘Oh.’
‘Does that explain the situation?’
She felt such a fool, could feel her cheeks heating up. ‘Yes. Sorry.’
‘Will you join us for a sundowner? I have some very nice white wine.’
She had been such a fool, jumping to conclusions, but Matt was smiling at her anyway. ‘I’d like that.’
‘And can we resume our friendship, see where it leads?’
‘Yes.’ She couldn’t help adding, ‘Thank goodness for your parrot.’
‘It’s a galah.’
‘Sorry. He still looks like a parrot to me.’
‘He’s a hero today. I must give him a piece of apple as a thank you for bringing us together again. See you in a few minutes.’
Penny danced round the kitchen after he’d left. She knew where she wanted their friendship to lead.
It was going to be a wonderful Christmas, she was sure. And if she had her way, they’d have a barbecue on the beach, too.
Sunshine and parrots … well, all right, galahs … and perhaps love. What more could a woman want?
Dress Sense
Introduction
Most of my short stories are romantic or (I hope) lightly humorous, but not this one.
It was one of the first short stories I ever wrote and was broadcast on the radio. I learnt so much from writing it – and rewriting it a dozen times at least!
The story was inspired by a drama on TV about spies. I wasn’t interested in the guns and fighting side of things, but in the human element, which set me wondering what would happen to an ordinary woman caught up in one of those cases.
What if it was no longer safe for her to stay around? How would she cope?
As I have done with most of the short stories in this book, I’ve added more details to this version.
Dress Sense
Heather had always been nervous after dark, for no reason that she or her parents could work out. Her father used to laugh at her, as gently as he’d done everything else. She wished he were still alive to mock her fears tonight.
She carried her shopping into the house and closed the outer door. When a draught of cold air crept round her neck from another direction, she spun round, a shiver of fear rippling down her spine. There shouldn’t have been any draughts, because she’d locked up her father’s house very carefully indeed that morning.
As she turned back towards the kitchen, someone grabbed her by the arms. A hand covered her mouth. ‘If you scream, we’ll shoot you.’
There were two men. Big men, who towered over her. Men with masks over their faces. She had no hope of fighting back.
They hauled her out to a chair and dumped her on it. She didn’t dare scream. Her heart was pounding hard as every woman’s worst nightmares came true.
‘Good girl,’ said a soft voice. ‘You don’t want to cause us any trouble, now do you? That might make us very angry indeed.’
‘Answer him, girlie!’ It was the hoarse voice that had haunted her nightmares for the past month, ever since someone had tried to grab her in a dark street – and had very nearly succeeded. Thank heavens for observant passers-by who’d come to her aid!
One man poked her hard on her upper arm. ‘Answer him.’
‘No, I don’t want to cause any trouble,’ she said hastily.
Another masked man came out of the shadows in the hall. He stood over her. ‘Tell us where your father kept his notes.’
‘The police took all his papers away. There weren’t many things at home.’
‘We know he kept some rather special papers here. It wasn’t allowed, so he must have had a hiding place somewhere. The police haven’t got the ones we want.’
‘I don’t know anything about that.’
One man shook her hard, then slapped her face. ‘I don’t!’ she cried desperately. ‘Dad never told me anything. He always said his job involved boring mathematical stuff.’
The eyes of the third man, who seemed to be the leader, narrowed and his lips thinned with anger.
She waited for them to kill her. And she didn’t even understand what this was all about. Her father couldn’t have been mixed up in conspiracies.
‘Well, boys, I think we’ll have to look for some clue in her memories. God knows, it’s a long shot, but she may just have seen something. Give her an injection.’
A needle jabbed into her arm and the scene around her faded into a blur. Voices shouted at her. Question followed question. She answered as best she could, but it didn’t seem to be what they wanted.
Someone kept sobbing. Some poor woman. Muffled, agonised sobbing and moans. She felt so sorry for that poor woman.
After a black eternity, she could feel the drug starting to wear off. She was surprised at how hoarse her voice was, and when she moved, pain stabbed down one arm.
A voice cut through the confusion in her mind. ‘She obviously knows nothing. Shoot her and let’s go.’
‘Is that really necessary?’
‘Yes. She’s heard our voices, seen our bodies.’
Fuelled by terror, she managed to take them by surprise. Jumping to her feet, she started running across the room, trying desperately to get away from them.
‘Shoot, damn you!’
The bullet slammed into her back with a force that tore one scream of anguish from her before the floor came up to hit her in the face and the lights started to fade.
A shadow crossed her face and as she half opened her eyes, a voice echoed in her ears from a long way away. ‘Heather, wake up! We haven’t long. Dammit, girl, wake up!’
It was a colleague of her father’s, one she had never liked. ‘Mr Jones! Are you dead, too?’
‘No one’s dead.’
She took a deep breath and managed to focus on the room. Two men by the door, handguns at the ready, another standing beside her.
Mr Jones took hold of her chin, making her yelp with pain and focus on him. ‘Sorry. But I need you to concentrate. What happened here, Heather?’
‘Some men broke in.’ She forced more words up the sandpaper tunnel of her throat. ‘They wanted Father’s papers.’
‘Tell me what happened! Every detail.’ He was as urgent in his questioning as the others had been, and only marginally more gentle.
Her thoughts kept wandering off. After the funeral, Mr Jones had advised her to move out of the house and she had refused. Her father had always said she was pig-stubborn, just like her mother. But why should she have to leave? She loved that old house.
Well, now she knew why. What had her father been working on, for heaven’s sake?
‘Some men – I don’t know how they got in. They were just – there suddenly. How should I know who they were? They gave me an injection. Then they questioned me.’
‘What did they ask you?’
‘About Father’s papers. I can’t remember clearly.’
‘Try.’
‘I can’t remember! And then they shot me. They killed me.’
‘Stupid bitch!’
The man beside her spoke. ‘It’ll have been one of the new relaxant drugs, sir. She really won’t remember much and it’ll take her a while to regain proper focus.’
Heather looked down at herself. She could see no blood, but her back was a mass of agony and it hurt her to draw breath. ‘They did shoot me,’ she insisted. ‘In the back. Why am I not dead? Am I dying?’
Mr Jones stepped back. ‘Find out why she isn’t dead, for Christ’s sake, then maybe she’ll talk sense!’
The man with the kind voice tried to move her carefully. But it hurt, dear heavens how it hurt!
‘She has a bulletproof vest on, sir. Her back’s badly bruised and I’d guess she’s got a cracked rib or two, but the bullet didn’t penetrate. It must be a damned good vest.’
‘Bulletproof?’ Heather grabbed his arm. ‘What do you mean – bulletproof?’
‘You’re wearing a bulletproof vest. Surely you knew that, love?’
She started to laugh, but the pain was too sharp and the laugh turned into another moan. ‘No! I didn’t know. I was just cold. I saw Dad’s quilted jerkin and put it on.’
Mr Jones leant over her again. ‘Well, you’ve just saved your own life by wearing it.’
‘Why should my father need a bulletproof vest? What was he doing?’
‘You really don’t need to know.’
Tears were trickling down her cheeks. ‘No. I don’t need to understand any of this, do I? I just have to act as a living target. After my father’s accident—’
‘Murder,’ he corrected.
She always had trouble saying the word ‘murder’. The father she knew was a gentle, loving man. Why should anyone want to murder a mathematician? Whatever Mr Jones said, she had been sure that it was all a mistake, a horrible mistake.
Until now.
‘What am I going to do now?’ she whispered. ‘I can’t stay here any more.’ Tears made chill tracks down her cheeks.
‘No, you can’t. They don’t usually leave living witnesses. You did see them, didn’t you? Good. At least you’ll be able to help us make up digital pictures.’
‘Yes. I saw them quite well, actually, because the masks slipped when they were thumping me.’ Nausea roiled round her stomach as she realised that the intruders had made little attempt to hide their faces once they were inside the house. They must have intended to kill her all along.
‘What can I do now?’ she whispered. ‘They’ll come back for me.’
‘You’ll have to vanish.’
‘Pardon?’
He spoke slowly, as if to an idiot. ‘You’re going to have to vanish, Heather. Permanently.’
‘You mean – like in the spy movies?’ Surely not? Things like this didn’t happen to ordinary people like her.
‘Exactly like that. We’ll give you a new identity, then find you a home and a job in another country. Australia is the usual choice. Or Canada. You’ll settle in there and carry on with your life.’
‘And plastic surgery, too?’ she joked. She would not, could not believe this was real.
‘Yes, of course.’ His voice was impatient. ‘You don’t want anyone to recognise you, do you? Good thing your hair’s a nice mousy brown colour. If it’d been an unusual colour, you’d have had to dye it.’
The dark man cleared his throat. ‘We can’t delay much longer, sir.’
‘You’re right. Call the ambulance.’
One of the men watching the door slipped outside.
Helen stared up at Mr Jones’s cold face. ‘What was my father doing? I demand to know.’
‘You’re in no position to demand anything. Besides, a dedicated greenie like you wouldn’t like it if we told you.’
‘But—’
‘Let well alone, you silly bitch! Just accept our offer gratefully if you want to continue living.’
‘My father wouldn’t work on anything that would damage our planet,’ she said stubbornly.
‘Your father was a patriot. Let’s leave it at that, hmm?’
‘Then who were those men?’
‘Terrorists. From an organised group, not noble bloody amateurs like your sort.’
She lay back, too tired to argue. Her fingers rubbed against her father’s vest. She looked down at it and started laughing, in painful jerky gasps.
‘What the hell’s got into you now?’ Mr Jones snapped.
‘The bulletproof vest,’ she told him, still laughing.
‘What about the damned thing?’
‘I only chose this one because I liked the colour. It matched my new jeans, you see. I always did have good dress sense.’
The two of them stood staring down at her, faces expressionless.
‘You must see how funny that is.’
But they didn’t laugh.
She was still smiling when a woman gave her an injection and the world began to slip away.
The last thing she heard was Mr Jones’s voice.
‘Cover up her face! We want her to look nice and dead when we carry her out.’
After that, it was a very long time before she laughed again.
