The Grave (3 page)

The moon was caught in the trees outside the uncurtained
window, the silvery luminescence was enough to show her the dark shapes in the
simple room and the hump of the man sleeping now on the other side of the thin
mattress.  He was breathing deeply, his mouth was open a little.  One arm was
cast above his head the bulk of it squashing the pillow, the other draped over
her chest, just below the level of her breasts, she took in shallow breaths,
trying not to disturb him. 

In the pale light she could make out his hair, the gleam of
skin on his forehead and the darker colour of his lips.  He wasn’t a bad
looking man, older than anyone else she had been with, but she had been
surprised by his tenderness and even more by his gratitude.  When, in the midst
of the sex, she had seen the glisten of tears on his lashes she had to turn
away and she felt her heart change in that moment. 

She didn’t know him, she couldn’t say whether or not she
liked him, certainly being with him was different, but it had not been the way
she had expected.  They had talked little; no amount of trying on her behalf
had drawn out any information about the man.  Though they had been now as close
physically as two humans could be she still did not know where he came from,
what his family might be, she still didn’t even know him by any other name but
Samuel.

Staring through the window at the dark trees and the
beautiful moon she was swept with sadness.  She had intended simply to take
from him, money yes, and whatever else she could get.  Now, in the darkness it
was possible to realise the idiocy of her plan, there was no way to take his
money, if indeed there was any.  No way for her to drive the big old Land Rover
and find her way back through the terrifying darkness of the woods beside the pewter
slide of the river.  Again, yet again, she had made stupid decisions, acted
without thinking and now here she was lying in this strange, plain room with a
man who, more and more she was beginning to like but about whom she knew
nothing. 

She shook her head, what a fool she could be at times.  With
a gentle finger she stroked a lock of hair back from his forehead.  No, she
would take from him only the pleasure he had given her tonight and maybe there
would be a chance to know him better and perhaps he could be a friend.  God
knew she needed friends, especially now. 

She had told him there was no-one in the town to miss her,
she had lied.

Sylvie drifted back into her dreams, almost sleeping,
comfortable with the thoughts she’d just had.  Happier now the decision was
made to do something good, something kind. 

The flash of light across the walls and ceilings almost
passed her by, it was an instant of change, but somewhere her safety mechanism
registered the difference in illumination and she stirred.  Her eyes were wide
in the darkness and though, at this moment she couldn’t really name the cause
of alarm, the knowledge that there was something wrong caused her heart to
pound.  Samuel slept on; she slithered carefully out from under his casual
embrace.  Through the woods now came quite clearly the rumble of an engine and
even at this early stage she felt deep in her gut that this was trouble
coming.  She was no stranger to trouble and sliding her feet from under the
thin covers she pulled on her shirt and braced herself to face it.

The engine noise stopped and, as expected, it was now
superseded by the slam of a door and the crunch of shoes on the broken path
outside.  She flew now on bare feet from the dim room and ran down the stairs. 
Hanging onto the banister for support her nerves jangled and jolted with fear
of what she thought she knew. By the time she had reached the door and dragged
it open he was there, his hand raised to knock.  Thank God she had got there in
time, maybe Samuel would sleep through this, maybe she could deal with it,
handle the situation and he would never know.

She stepped onto the wooden balcony.

“Phil, how did you get here, how did you know?”

There was no answer save the slap of his hand across her
cheek. 

“Bitch, what the hell are you doing?”

Another blow, she couldn’t help herself, she cried out. 

“Stupid bitch, Benny saw you, getting in the weirdo’s car,
he came to find me, do you think I like that?  Do you bitch?  Do you think you
can make me a laughing-stock, behavin’ like a bloody whore?” 

Another blow aimed now at her belly, bringing her to her
knees.  She knew he had held back, she knew from past experience he wouldn’t
let go yet, wouldn’t use all his strength not until he had taken his full
revenge. 

She looked up at him; tears ran from her eyes, cold on the
stinging skin of her reddening cheek. 

“Phil, don’t.  Please don’t, I’ll explain, I was out to get
some money, I thought I could kid him, you know pinch some stuff.  I didn’t
know it was going to be like this.  I thought he’d have a posh house and I had
no idea how far it was from town.  Listen to me Phil, don’t make a noise, come
on let’s go.  Let me get my bag, and then we’ll go.”

“So, you came to rob him, well where’s the stuff, where’s
the money?”

“There isn’t any, least I don’t think so, look at this
place, look at it.  There’s no money, there’s nothing to take.  Come on let’s
go back, I made a mistake Phil.  Just a mistake.”

“Yeah, you can say that again.” 

He raised his leg, a karate kick, his trainer connected with
the side of her chest causing her to gasp and cry out in pain.

Now, the door swung back on its hinges crashing against the
old wood of the walls.  There he stood.  In the light from the car headlights
Samuel looked enormous, the night was filled with the sound of his breathing
and the look on his face chilled her to the depth of her being.  She had never
seen such anger.

He didn’t speak.  He reached out and grabbed the youth by
both shoulders dragging him into the room.  Flinging him backwards he watched
coldly as the yob crashed into the threadbare couch. Samuel raised his powerful
arm and crashed it downwards.  If it had found its mark then surely it would
have smashed the skull of the man cowering before him. 

Phil rolled to his knees, pushing himself upright.  He
skittered across the room, nippy like a rat, quicksilver in his fear. 

Samuel was after him, striding over the boards, his fists
clenched, shoulders bunched, his bulky body full of the fight.

Phil backed off as far as he could and spread his hands
behind him across the kitchen worktop; his fingers seeking and clawing for a
weapon.  He glanced round, there it was.  The knife was lying atop the chopping
board, it wasn’t large but it was sharp.  The scrawny hand closed over the
handle and now, crouched in a position all too familiar to him, Phil turned to
the older, bigger man and snarled. 

“Come on then big man, you want some of me, come and get
it.” 

They were deaf to the screams of Sylvie sobbing and begging
from the doorway.  Locked in a duel as old as time they had both acknowledged
this could only end with one of them down, the other victorious.  There would
be no handshake, no surrender and no chance of peace now until this thing had
reached an end.

Phil jabbed forward with the knife extended; feinting and
dodging, his feet spread wide, knees bent.  In response Samuel simply stood
before him tensed and watchful.

In the event it was over quickly.  He judged his timing and
then, without hesitation and seemingly with no pause for reflection, Samuel
began to move and then simply ploughed on.  Like a juggernaut he barrelled into
the smaller man.  Phil was used to street fighting, circling and hissing,
sizing up his opponent, as much about effect as result and he hadn’t time to
re-adjust his thinking.  Samuel dragged the knife from his hand, brute force,
unstoppable in fury. He spun Phil around and dragged him back with his free
hand imprisoning the squirming body pinned against his heaving chest.  He
sliced once, then back the same way all his strength behind the hand holding
the weapon.

Blood pumped from Phil’s neck soaking his clothes and
washing downwards to his shoes.  Pulsing with his diminishing life force the
crimson fall soaked the front of his body.  He raised a sticky hand now before
his shocked face and then, in just moments, he crumpled gargling from his
useless throat.  He convulsed, his eyes wild but even now unseeing as he bled
out onto the floor.  For a breathless while all that could be heard was Sylvie
keening from the place near the door where she had become a quivering heap.

Samuel stepped from the shower and rubbed at himself with
the thin towel.  It was time now to move.  There was nothing to be gained from
going over it again, what had happened was fact and it was done. 

He had pulled the quivering shape of Sylvie from the floor
where she was crouched, hiding behind hands wet with tears.

“Who the hell is he, you told me there was no-one?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry Samuel, it’s Phil, he’s, well, oh I
don’t know, he’s my boyfriend I suppose, but I kept trying to get away from
him.  He won’t let me go, he gets so jealous.  Oh God, is he dead?” 

As she spoke she backed against the wall, attempting to put
as much space as possible between herself and the body and the spreading pool
of blood.

“He is isn’t he? God, Samuel he’s dead.  What are you going
to do?”

“Deal with it.” 

The answer was so sharp, so lacking in emotion that for a
moment she simply stared at him, silent.

“How, how can you deal with it?  We’ll go to jail.  They’ll
lock us up.”

He ran a hand through his hair, blood smeared on his
forehead.  She couldn’t bear to see it and so buried her hands again and began
sobbing.  He reached out to her and drew her forward.  Wrapped in his arms she
gulped and hiccupped and then after a while the crying stopped.  Now she was
calmer he bent close and spoke to her, his voice was low and serious but he
sounded calm and certain.  It helped.

“Get your things, take the car, you can drive right?” 

She nodded.

“Okay do you think you can find your way back to town?”

Again she gave a small nod.

“Go back to your place, behave as though everything is
normal.  If anyone asks tell them you haven’t seen him.  Do you understand?” 

A nod.

“What are you going to do though Samuel?”

“You don’t need to know, I’ll deal with it I’ve told you. 

Now go. Later, tonight, I’ll come into town.  I need to get
away, I’ll have to go now.  You can come if you want.  If you don’t want to you
may have to answer questions, about where he is.” 

He jerked a thumb back towards the ruined body lying in the
spreading pool on the floor.

“Can you do it, ride it out?” 

She glanced across the room, shook her head. 

“Can I come with you?  Will you take me?” 

There was no gentleness in his face he simply nodded at her.

“I’ll pick you up later, at the car park.  Don’t bring too
much stuff and don’t tell anyone, no-one, do you understand?”

Yet another silent nod was all she could manage.  She still
shivered convulsively now and again but the tears had stopped, dried by the
reality of this situation and what it meant to her and to him.

“Now go, don’t leave anything here and drive slowly.  Go
back through the woods, down beside the river, turn right at the fork and
that’ll see you back to the main road. 

“I’ll be in the car park at seven tonight.  I’ll wait for
ten minutes.  If you don’t come then I’m gone.” 

He leaned over towards her and gripped her tight around the
top of her arms. 

“I like you Sylvie, I’ll take you with me if you want to
come but you come on my terms, we go where I decide.  Okay?” 

She nodded at him and then ran to get dressed and pick up
her things. 

The car drew away, the headlights flicking through the trees
painted a line of green light and then it was gone.  Samuel went to the shed
and brought back a tarpaulin and so he dragged himself through the woods, down
beside the river, where he disposed of the body. 

Now, after his sleep and the shower he ate some bread torn
from a loaf in the cupboard and spread with jam to stave off the hunger and
keep his energy levels up.  There was just one small moment for something, an
emotion, not regret, but an acknowledgement that things had soured again. 

Once more his life was being driven by outside forces, he
shook his head. That sort of thinking would get him nowhere, it was time to
go.  He walked around his shack, collecting the few bits he decided he couldn’t
do without.  It wasn’t much, this wasn’t the first time and so in the end one
bag and a box of food was all he had to load into the back of the Land Rover.

He went back inside, with a heavy crowbar he smashed at the
kitchen units, they had been fairly new, he had installed them, now they needed
to look older. He tore at the mattress and smashed the bath, ripping the shower
head from the wall.  It would have been best to burn the place but he couldn’t
risk attracting attention and so this would have to suffice.

He didn’t bother to lock the door because he knew he would
never come back.  Probably someone would come along and commandeer it, as he
had those few short years ago. Squatters, gypsies, whatever, it didn’t matter. 
If it stayed empty then, in a surprisingly short time, the woods would
obliterate it.  The weeds and climbers would swallow it and reduce it so, in a
couple of years, only a rusty old sink and the broken stove would be left.

The last thing he did was to open the trap door which had
been hidden under the couch, he dragged out a nylon bag, still bulky, still
heavy and he tossed it into the back of the car with the rest of the stuff.

He slammed the car door, gunned the engine and left without
a backward glance.