Life at the End of the Road Read online

  ‘Is everything ok?’ I meowed at them.

  Nothing changed downstairs, but the smoke, the Laura, turned to face me - and looked straight into my eyes.

  I had two legs. I was laying on a bench. No… a pew. I checked my limbs; there was only the normal amount of hair. What had those kids given me? What was the deal with that Root that gave me such an extreme fever dream? Was that supposed to be - in any conceivable way - pleasurable?

  ‘I’m disappointed, Rey.’ Art stood above me, standing up straighter than I’d seen him before, possibly to make his small frame seem taller, and more imposing.

  I slowly sat up and was immediately confronted by one of the worst headaches I’d had in my life. It felt more like a hangover than a headache, like I’d been up and out until the early hours. My body felt weak, dehydrated.

  ‘Here.’ Art thrusted a cup of water into my hands.

  I gulped at the water greedily, barely taking the time to breathe.

  ‘Slowly,’ Art insisted, ‘slowly.’

  I barely slowed, and swallowed the last of the water. I thudded the cup down on the pew next to me - not out of anger or frustration, but out of unsteadiness.

  ‘What happened, Rey? I thought you were staying for another cup of tea?’

  ‘Sorry, I…’

  ‘And then you turn up again a few hours later, in an even worse state than before?’

  ‘Hours?’ I grumbled, ‘Yes, I guess… I…’

  ‘You spoke to those kids, then.’

  ‘Yeah…,’ I answered, ‘How did you know?’

  ‘You’re not the first person I’ve seen in this state. We don’t get many drunks around here, but we do get… this.’

  ‘You know what this is?’

  ‘Of course I know, Rey. Most of the town knows there’s something that goes around these parts. Not that they would admit it, of course. They all have their reasons - be it denial, shielding their children, or - to be cynical - concern about the impact on property values.’

  I was beginning to become sick of Art’s manner of talking around the important details.

  ‘What is “it”, then? What aren’t you telling me?’

  ‘I don’t know the finer details, Rey, but being in my position you do come in possession of at least a basic understanding of the town.’

  I remained silent, leaving Art to fill the void in conversation.

  ‘There’s… something, I’m not sure what form it takes, which crops up around here. The teenagers in town in particular are increasingly partaking in it. It’s the Devil’s weapon. Corrupts your mind, or clouds it, perhaps. I’m no expert, of course, but from what I understand, it is far more potent than your average cannabis or your social drug of choice back home.’

  ‘Yeah. Yeah, that sounds about right. Was awful.’

  ‘I’ve heard this. Perhaps it takes a while to acclimatise. Perhaps you overdid it. I couldn’t tell you why it might be awful, but I know others, for whatever reason, describe it in a much more positive light. One thing that I do know from previous experiences, Rey, is that you’re incredibly hungry right now. Is that fair to say?’

  My stomach growled in response, stirred by the concept of eating. ‘Yes, yeah. That’s fair. Sod the diet.’

  ‘Then may I propose a deal: if you stay for lunch, could I ask a small favour of you? You can ask me all the questions you like as we eat.’

  I accepted, not anticipating the amount of kitchen work that I would be required to assist with. I was not opposed to the work, however my lack of experience made it a slow and rather clumsy effort. Art didn’t comment on my abilities. He only thanked me for the work I’d put in, despite he himself having done most of it, and to a much higher standard than I had.

  Art served a hearty stew, delicious in taste, and you might have assumed such high quality food had come from a restaurant, rather than a small and very under-stocked kitchen attached to the side of a small town church. Over lunch, I plied him with further questions about my hallucinogenic experience, which, while he seemed happy to answer, did not provide me with any more of a substantial level of knowledge than I already had, or at least had assumed. The Root - although Art had never referred to it as this - was particularly prevalent in Redbury, but didn’t seem to crop up far outside of the town’s borders. It acted as a drug, producing hallucinogenic visions, as well as completely dehydrating the body and tiring the mind. He didn’t know where it came from, or even if it was natural or man-made - although the name did seem to indicate it came from the earth.

  As we began to clear up our plates, Art confronted me with his favour.

  ‘I did promise only a small favour, and it’s one I intended to keep.’

  ‘Sure, I owe you for the meal and tea anyway.’

  ‘There’s an older woman who lives in the outskirts of town - Elizabeth is her name. She’s a bit out of the way, but typically comes into the centre once or twice a week to stock up on food from the shop. When I spoke to Sam…’ He paused, as if regretting mentioning by name. I shrugged in response.

  ‘Well… it sounds like she hasn’t been seen in town for over a week now. This, of course, if where you come in, Rey. I was wondering if it would be possible for you to head down there and check if she’s ok? You don’t need to stay for tea or anything, simply some signs of life would be reassuring to hear.’

  ‘Yeah, of course, I can do this. How far… where is it?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh, it’s not far, Rey, not far at all really. It’s about twenty minutes walk, just east of here.’

  I sketched this out in my mental map of Redbury. ‘East? As in… through the woods?’

  ‘In the woods, really.’ He paused to study my face, seemingly looking for lingering signs of fear of creatures lurking in there. ‘But there’s a footpath that leads all the way there. Elizabeth, bless her, in her old age manages it fine, so shouldn’t be a problem for a young man like you, at all.’

  ‘In the woods…,’ I reiterated.

  ‘You still have some doubts about it?’ he asked.

  ‘No, it’s just… and there’s nobody else in town you could ask? No… choir boys or anything?’ I winced slightly, wondering if in modern times, asking this was in poor taste.

  Art chuckled. ‘Sadly, no. Some of the children in town are a bit scared of her, in fact. Others… well, you know how cruel boys can be. They make up stories about her. All sorts, you do have to admire their imagination - although you do have to blame those fairy tales they hear growing up. They say she’ll eat you, or turn you into soup, or whatever they decide is most amusing on that particular day.’

  ‘Kind of them. I probably would’ve joined in though, as a child. So I can’t blame them too much.’

  ‘No, of course. And, besides, I think it’s something the parents made up anyway - or at least encouraged. Any reason to keep their children out of the woods is fine by them. Especially since the disappearance of that poor Peter Samson.’

  Art looked down, paying his respects.

  ‘Ok, Art. I can do this. It’s only twenty minutes, right?’

  ‘Oh, less so, I’m sure, for you.’

  It was into the forest for me, then - possibly the only place in town that the idea of made my gut wrench. However… why was there still this fear inside me? I’d decided that the Shadow in the forest was a figment of my imagination, hadn’t I?

  I remembered my fever dream, and seeing Laura looking much the same on that upstairs landing, formed of smoke and with once again those haunting red eyes. I threw my typical scepticism of fate and destiny to one side for a second time today. My fever dream was possibly a sign that I needed to go down this line of investigation if I was going to find her - even if it meant entering the one part of town that filled me with dread.

  I said my goodbyes, my farewells, my see-you-laters to Art, exited the church once again, and headed off east.

  8

  The Legend of the Burning Boy

  Jealousy is an ugly emotion. Jealousy in a re
lationship can be uglier still. It may be inevitable, you might even argue that it can be healthy in small doses, but beneath it all, it comes from an ugly place.

  I had my first real relationship during my school days. For virtually everyone on the planet this period is one of high-strung emotional turmoil, and most of those relationships that take place within it are doomed by its circumstance. In this particular relationship, I had been the victim of jealousy - which has been both unfounded and unnecessary, and had eventually contributed to the breakdown of the relationship.

  Then, I was at a crossroads in terms of how my subconscious could have reacted to not having been trusted in this relationship. My first option: I could have come to believe that this was the way that people were supposed to behave in long term relationships, and carried on the legacy myself. Fortunately, I went the other way: swearing off jealousy and making a concerted effort to mentally reaffirm my trust in future partners.

  I had held true to this for several years, until, with all the confused emotions of Laura’s unknown whereabouts, combined with the knowledge that she’d been seen travelling into the woods with her former boyfriend (my mind continued to shout: lover), I began to have doubts in Laura for the first time since we’d begun dating.

  In the following chapter, Anna comes across this very ex-boyfriend/lover, and we begin to piece together some of Laura’s actions in the days leading up to that initial phone call. I’ve tried to write this as true to character as I can, but it’s possible - out of jealousy - I’ve bent the truth a little.

  I left the Myerscough household shaken. I hadn’t ever seen someone act like that before. I sighed with guilt at the thought of the dark memories I must have stirred up in poor Rebecca’s mind.

  But then, there was her warning: to leave town for good, that I (or we) were in danger somehow. If I felt I was able to leave the town without finding Laura, I would have done so already, but my responsibility to her kept me there. If I could help it, however, this was going to be my last homecoming.

  I walked around town for a few minutes, trying to shake the foreboding warning, and eventually the sensation was replaced by hunger (of course). Feeling that it was too early for the pub (although in Redbury it was never too early for the pub, as long as it was open), I navigated to the town’s only open shop.

  When I walked in, I was greeted (or, not so much greeted as recognised) by an old acquaintance - Sam Ramsey.

  If Sam had once been attractive (and the prevailing opinion amongst the girls I knew back in my teenage years had been that he was), he had grown out of it. That’s not to say he was unattractive, by any means, but to think that this was the same boy that had once been fought over was laughable. He’d grown out his hair into a… well, there wasn’t a name that I was aware of for this particular cut, and he had begun sporting patchy facial hair. Both these factors together made it seem more like he’d given up on his self-care routine, rather than it being a particularly conscious decision. The edge of a new tattoo poked out from beneath his t-shirt.

  ‘Anna,’ he commented, ‘I didn’t know you were here.’

  ‘I’m here, yes. Sorry I didn’t call ahead,’ I responded, failing to inflect in a way that would have made it obvious that I was being sarcastic.

  ‘How have you been?’ he asked, although it seemed to be more out of politeness and necessity than from any actual interest.

  ‘I’ve been good,’ I answered, giving the typical British response and nothing more. ‘How about you?’

  As he began to answer, I realised I didn’t care enough to attempt small talk, and interrupted him.

  ‘Actually, while I’ve got you. You haven’t seen Laura, have you?’

  ‘Yes, alright, I saw her while she was here. Why’s everyone making such a big deal out of it?’ he replied, frustrated.

  It definitely was a big deal if Laura was back in town to hang around with Sam after having been away for so long.

  ‘Who’s been making a big deal out of it? Rey?’

  ‘Rey? Oh. No, not him. Although I did see him, I think. He came into the shop earlier.’

  ‘You recognised him?’ I asked.

  ‘Yeah, from the picture. Well, from a picture. Laura showed me.’

  ‘Did you ask to? To see the picture, I mean.’ I couldn’t imagine him wanting to see Laura’s new boyfriend of his own accord (it did, however, stink of a proud girlfriend showing off her new partner).

  ‘No. Well, kind of, but not really, no.’ It was as clear an answer as I could expect of anyone in this town.

  ‘Wait, going back a minute: you said someone was making a big deal out of you seeing Laura? Who was it?’

  ‘Oh, it was Art.’

  ‘Art? Remind me? Is that Steve’s brother?’

  ‘No, Art, you know…’ Sam touched his head, stomach, and both shoulders, forming a cross.

  ‘Ah. Yeah. Art. Of course. He’s been asking you about Laura?’

  ‘Yeah. Sounds like somebody spooked him. Think he ran into Rey. Couldn’t tell, hard to get information out of him, as always.’

  ‘Right. So you saw Laura? When? Where?’

  As if it had only just occurred to him, Sam looked me up and down, studying me shamelessly.

  ‘Anna! Ann, come on, we haven’t seen each other in years and now you’re here questioning me like it’s an interrogation?’ Sam flashed me a smile. Here we go, then.

  ‘Sam, we can catch up later, this is serious. Where did you see her?’ I thought back to the necklace that I was carrying in my bag. Was it the one Sam gave Laura? Maybe it was possible that Rey and Laura’s relationship hadn’t been so unbreakable, after all?

  ‘Ann, honestly, we barely spoke. We bumped into each other on the street, had a quick chat, that was it.’

  ‘That was it? You didn’t speak any more?’

  ‘No. That was it, I promise, Ann.’ I couldn’t remember Sam having ever called me Ann growing up.

  I swung my bag off my shoulder, and rooted around in it for the necklace, which I found loose amongst the tissues and makeup at the bottom.

  ‘Do you recognise this?’ I asked Sam as I produced the necklace from the bag.

  Sam reached for the chain for a closer look. After studying it for a moment, his eyes lit up, and he smiled. ‘Yeah, I recognise it. That’s the necklace I bought for Laura, back when we were going out, isn’t it?’

  ‘That’s what I thought too. Any ideas why she might still have it?’

  ‘I don’t know, Ann, I don’t know. Maybe she still has feelings for me.’

  ‘I’m sure her fiance wouldn’t like to hear you say that.’

  Sam looked confused. ‘Her fiance? Laura’s engaged?’

  ‘She didn’t tell you? I know you didn’t catch up for long but I would’ve thought it’d be one of the first things she’d tell you.’

  ‘Yeah, I… I dunno, Ann. As I say, we didn’t speak for long.’

  ‘And do you remember a fire? The one when we were growing up?’

  ‘Jesus, what is this? You’re on the warpath or something here. Let’s catch up, Ann. We can go to the pub, have a few drinks, see where-’

  ‘Sam, seriously, please. Do you remember?’ The idea of a drink right now might have seemed appealing, however the idea of having one with him did… not.

  ‘Yeah, alright, alright, I remember. Up on Albany, where all the new homes are that everyone complains about.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s it, do you remember anything about it? Anything that seemed peculiar at the time?’

  He paused for a moment, feigning reflection.

  ‘No, Ann, I don’t really. All I know is - that old guy in the mansion, he owns all the land, he’s the one who built all those houses. Bet he’s not popular right about now. Couldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth could he? But I guess that’s why he’s rich. You said Laura still has my necklace?’

  Of course this was the only part of the conversation that he was interested in. Everything had always been about satisfyi
ng his ego.

  ‘Yeah. But not like, out, or anything. Just tucked away in a box.’

  Sam’s smile deflated. ‘Oh. Well. She still kept it, that’s quite flattering.’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘But I guess she’s always had a fondness for the less-fair sex, hasn’t she?’

  Sam sidled closer to me, leaning casually on the display of chocolates and mints under the counter.

  ‘You were the same, weren’t you?’ he continued, and pinched my upper arm, playfully. ‘You always liked a bit of company.’

  I recoiled. ‘Sam, don’t try any of that shit with me.’

  He shrugged as it to say “it wasn’t me”. ‘What have I done? What “shit”?’

  ‘You know what I mean, getting all handsy. Fuck that.’

  ‘Oh, what, so you won’t come for a drink with me just cos I touched your arm?’ he asked.

  ‘I was never gonna come for a drink with you, Sam.’ I turned to leave the store, bells ringing as I opened the door.

  ‘Don’t be such a frigid bitch, Anna,’ he muttered at me as I left. ‘Oh, fuck off, I’m too good for you anyway.’ And then, under his breath, but just loud enough for me to hear: ‘Cunt.’

  If Laura was missing, then I knew who I didn’t trust to have nothing to do with it.

  I continued my search of the town, but it proved fruitless. I hadn’t a particular direction in mind, even with the clues I’d scrounged from Laura’s bedroom (I wasn’t exactly a professional private investigator). As I’d walked around Redbury, my experiences from earlier in the day rang around my head.

  It wasn’t memory of my encounter with Sam that I thought of. While that had been disturbing in its own way, it was nothing compared to the ghosts of the past. Instead, it was the words of Rebecca Myerscough that kept cropping up in my mind. I had no real reason to think that any of the ramblings of a (clearly) crazy person were to be heeded as warnings, but the fear and desperation in her eyes had lent these words a certain gravitas.

  I could see Rebecca being a vision of Joyce’s future if I (or Rey, I suppose) weren’t successful in finding Laura; I already recognised a similarity in their demeanors. I wondered if it would change me, also. It wasn’t as if I’d particularly spent much time with Laura these past few years (not for lack of trying), but she was still, at the root of it all, my closest friend. I didn’t really have anyone else. It was hard to get close to new people, but she had always been there, she had never been new. Not to me.