Chapter 2
14 years later – Earth
“What do you mean?” I blurted, my voice cracking in panic as I shrieked into the speaker of my phone.
“Mick’s throwing a wobbler!” returned my sister’s voice, quivering through the phone line like a rattled bag of sea shells, “Please… I dunno what to do!”
“Hang fire I’m on my way!” I shouted, slamming the phone into its cradle and grabbing my jacket from across the back of the couch. I rifled across the shelves, knocking the various knick knacks and plant pots from their rightful places as I searched frantically for my car keys. My search was rewarded fairly quickly and I quitted my flat with the velocity of one who had just robbed it. Three flights of stairs later and I burst from the apartment building, spilling onto the street in a daze and diving toward my car. It took less than ten minutes for me to arrive at my intended destination and, being presented with no parking spaces, I left my vehicle in the middle of the road. My destination was that of a small cul-de-sac, the third house of which offered upon its garden wall a scrawny ginger haired child.
“Titch!” I shouted to the child, who looked up sharply. My presence evoked an instant reaction and she launched from her seat and into my arms.
“Loony!” she wailed, clinging to my torso and gripping me with all four limbs like a juvenile chimp.
“Hey,” I soothed, wrapping my arms around her in response, “What’s going on?”
“I dunno,” she choked, “Mick came home from the pub last night and…”
“He went to the pub?” I interrupted, unimpressed, “Who was looking after you?”
“No one, but…”
“So he left you alone?” I gasped, “Why didn’t you ring me?”
Titch released her grip and hopped down to the ground, folding her arms crossly.
“Will you just listen!” she snapped, impatiently tapping her foot against the concrete, “Mick came home last night, white as a sheet and gibbering about something he’d seen. He’s not been right since.”
I would have enquired further as to what she meant when the answer presented itself before she had a chance to reply. The front door to the house burst open, spewing its remaining inhabitant into full view. Mick careered madly down the garden path, wheeling a huge brown suitcase in his wake.
“Loony!” he called, more in shock than in greeting, “What took you so long? Come on we have to go!”
“Go where?” I protested, my hands locking hard against the garden gate to prevent his exit.
“Anywhere!” he cried, “But we need to go now!”
He pried my hands from the gate handle and swung it open, barging through and making a bee line for my car. He perched himself in the driver’s seat and motioned with flexing fingers his need for the keys. I turned to my sister in hope of some explanation though was met only with an exhausted shake of her head.
“He’s been like this all night,” she sighed. I wrinkled my nose in question, though for lack of a better option I guided her toward the car and ushered her inside. I traipsed irately to the front passenger seat and slotted myself inside, slamming the door shut with blatant impertinence.
“Seat belts,” instructed Mick, reversing the car violently and exploding from the confines of the cul-de-sac and onto the main road. The gentle clink of buckles answered his request and he chuckled despite himself.
“How do you girls feel about a little holiday?” he asked, his tone lightening suddenly as though pleasantly surprised by the greeting of an old friend. I grumbled loudly.
“I have to be at work in half an hour!” I snapped, “What the bloody hell is going on?”
“Call in sick,” replied Mick, his fingers clenching the wheel with such vehemence that his skin had donned a handsome mauve glow.
“I can’t, Mick!” I retorted, “Jim’s already ill and Sally’s on holiday. We’re understaffed as it is! They’re gonna be up the creek if I don’t go in!”
“Please Loony,” Mick sighed, flashing me a quick sideways glance. I would have liked nothing better than to have unleashed a vicious shriek of rage at that moment and demand to be taken home. But in that one glance I knew that I was powerless to protest further. I had never seen that look before. There was an unnerving rawness to the manner in which his jaws ground together and the way his teeth flashed in a wounded snarl. His eyes were sullen and dark; his brows drawn tight above them as though suppressing the overwhelming urge to let loose a painful flow of hot tears. I nodded in relent and sat back calmly in my seat.
“OK,” I sighed, gently drumming my fingers against the window as I stared at the monotonous looping of grey buildings beyond the glass. Mick relaxed slightly and managed to loosen his deathly grip on the wheel, allowing the blood to flow gratefully back into his hands.
“Then I think I know exactly where we need to go,” he murmured.
****
“Do you not think this is a bit of a stretch?” I asked with loud sarcasm, more than a little shocked, though somehow managing to contain my dismay. Mick shook his head.
“No it’s perfect!” he managed to smile, “It’s exactly the kind of distance we need.”
“No she’s right,” piped Titch from the back seat, her gangly knees drawn up to her chest, “Edinburgh is definitely pushing it.”
“I thought you girls liked Scotland,” Mick whined indignantly, visibly twitching in evident discomfort, “Why are you so opposed to this?”
“Maybe because we’ve been driving for hours and we don’t have a clue what’s going on!” I barked, thumping a fist on the dash board. Mick rolled his eyes as though my outburst was completely unreasonable.
“Well we’re here now,” he sneered, “So there’s not an awful lot we can do about that now.”
We had pulled into a large housing estate that seemed pleasant enough at first, with its marble blushed homes flanking the twisting intricacies of the labyrinthine street.
We cruised along the estate in my rattling can of a car and eventually pulled into the drive of what could only have been described as an anomalous travesty.
“Here we are,” announced Mick, triumphantly as he exited the car with newly regained confidence. I stared in horror as he marched whimsically along the garden path and toward the front door.
The house itself was an ugly looking thing with the aesthetic attraction of an abattoir. Its walls were a dirty brown colour and its window frames and even the roof were slanted and moss ridden. I remained fixed to my seat and crossed my arms stubbornly when Titch leant gawkily on my backrest.
“I like it,” she chirped, tapping the tips of her fingers together in minor applause, “It looks like a witch’s house.”
I rolled my eyes but managed to hide the gesture and instead smiled at her optimism.
“It’s cool isn’t it,” I lied, ruffling her hair, “Come on, let’s go explore.”
I was surprised at the welcoming glow of the house’s interior, though I overtly scowled due to stubborn irritation. It had evidently been abandoned for some time; there was no sign of human life anywhere and every imaginable surface was coated with a thick blanket of dust. Despite this, it was oddly comfortable and floored entirely with plush red carpet. All was floral. The beige walls were embellished with the twisted vines of coiling yellow roses that bloomed atop their stems with a fervent splash of lemon. It was a tad busy and clashed a little with the carpet but it was not unpleasant. I ambled slowly into the living room, followed shortly by my sister, where we found Mick idly staring at the ceiling.
“Well girls, it’s not exactly five stars,” he mused, biting his lip, “but it’s nowt a new rug won’t fix.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Whose house is this?” I asked quietly, pocketing my hands to prevent them from flying forward and throttling someone. I had been too scared to ring work to call in sick and I was aware that I would now definitely find myself without employment. I had never fully mastered the art of making important phone calls which I knew I would have to amend at some point. However at that precise moment in time, I knew that calling my boss would have left me a tongue tied, gibbering wreck that definitely would have sobbed an incomprehensible reply. The last time that that had happened, I had only called in to ask whether it was dress down day.
“It belongs to a good friend of mine,” replied Mick, turning his gaze to the unfavourably large lamp in the corner of the room, “We’ll have to stay here for a while, OK?”
I sighed loudly and nodded when a sudden pang of adrenaline punched at my chest. Mick noted my wide eyed horror with a glare of equal panic as he visibly readied himself for escape.
“I think I left the iron on!” I wheezed.