Heller's Regret (10 page)

“No, thank you,” his soft voice replied.

Perhaps he was a grazer who helped himself to
the contents of the fridge and pantry at will? I wasn’t
particularly hungry either, but had a raging thirst.
Pot of
tea
, I thought to myself. It was just what I needed.

I was even more freezing this morning,
despite fiddling with the thermostat last night. Before making the
tea, I went to Mrs Grimsley’s bedroom to hunt through her clothes,
not having brought any warm clothes with me at all. I found an
ancient, moth-eaten, grey cardigan in her cupboard that I wrapped
around me, taking comfort in its additional warmth.

I made the pot of tea and brought it upstairs
with me to Samuel’s room where he quietly played with his trains
again. I sat on his bed, my hands gratefully wrapped around the hot
mug, slowly sipping the tea and watching him play with his wooden
engines. I thought I’d been there for barely a blink of time, but
when I checked my watch, I realised it had actually been three
hours. Good God! Time flew by in this house.

A loud knock on the front door resonated
through the house. We both froze in place, staring at each other.
Fear gripped my heart. What if they’d come for Samuel? I couldn’t
let them take him. Mrs Grimsley would never forgive me.

I put my fingers to my lips to warn Samuel to
be silent, furtively glancing out of his bedroom window, careful
not to be seen. There were two of them standing on the veranda,
dressed in black. They banged on the door for a while, called out
and looked around them puzzled, then gave up and drove away. It was
only when I exhaled that I realised I’d been holding my breath.

“They’ve gone,” I told him. We smiled at each
other conspiratorially. We’d beaten them this time.

“Now Samuel, do you want to play the piano
for me for a while or should I start in the basement?”

“Piano.”

“I was hoping you’d say that!” I exclaimed
delightedly. “I love hearing you play.”

We headed downstairs where I first made
myself a fresh pot of tea, taking it with me to the music room,
feeling a bit guilty. Perhaps you weren’t meant to drink tea in the
music room? I made Samuel promise not to tell Mrs Grimsley. He
agreed with a mischievous little smile on his face.

Samuel played beautifully again and I
savoured every note, applauding enthusiastically after each piece.
After a while, he tidied up his sheet music and carefully closed
the lid of the piano. I looked at my watch and was shocked to see
it was the late afternoon. He’d been playing for hours and hours. I
could have sworn it was only twenty minutes.

“Let’s get down to the basement, shall
we?”

He nodded and slipped his little hand into
mine. I made sure all the lights were on before we descended. It
was a dirt floor basement, an absolute junk pile, crowded with
broken furniture, dead appliances, and trunks of old clothes. It
would take an eon for me to find anything in this mountain of
detritus.

“What is it you want me to find for you,
Samuel?”

He shrugged.

“You don’t know exactly?”

He shook his head.

“Will you know what it is when you see
it?”

He nodded.

“Do you think it’s in one of these boxes or
trunks?” I asked with not much enthusiasm, thinking of the hours of
toil ahead of me.

He shook his head, and pointed his finger
downwards.

“You think it’s buried in the ground?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, then. Well, I suppose I better get
digging.”

He smiled sweetly at me, and settled himself
on a large trunk, his thin legs dangling, not quite reaching the
floor. I searched through the mess locating a very old shovel.
Deciding I’d better approach this task methodically, I started in
one corner, moving the junk to another area before digging into the
bare ground. Fortunately, it wasn’t too hard to break through, but
it was slow, back-breaking work.

Despite labouring hard, I found myself
growing colder and colder, thinking that perhaps there was damp
rising from the earth or something. I seriously considered raiding
Mrs Grimsley’s wardrobe for a beanie and some mittens as I dug.
After a couple of hours, I had to take a break and we went upstairs
where I made another pot of tea, sitting down to drink it with
relief.

I rested for half an hour, adjusted the
thermostat higher again, and went back to work. Every time I found
anything interesting, an old coin or button, I’d show it to Samuel.
He’d examine it carefully, then shake his head regretfully, making
a small pile of the rejects next to him. I worked until well after
dark, stopping every couple of hours for a pot of tea and a rest. I
was pleased with my progress at the end of the day and promised him
to continue tomorrow. Another sweet smile was my reward.

I was determined that we would both get a
good night’s sleep to make up for the previous night. So we climbed
under Samuel’s blankets again while I read him more
Alice in
Wonderland
. He enjoyed the story immensely, listening closely
to every word I said. When I judged I’d read enough, I made him go
to bed and he acquiesced without any argument. I kissed his
forehead and smoothed back his hair as he peeped out from under his
blanket. He really was the loveliest little kid I’d ever met. I was
growing very fond of him.

I sat in the kitchen afterwards enjoying one
last pot of tea before I also hit the sack. I thought for a while
about that sad music, when it started again. Maybe I was expecting
it or just getting used to it, but it didn’t startle me as much
this time. I sipped my tea and listened to its melancholic melody,
finding my mind returning to Daniel and Niq. But I could no longer
recall what they looked like at all, no matter how hard I strained
my brain. All I could remember was the refrain I’d repeated to
myself the day before – Niq had the eyeliner, Daniel had the scars.
But what if I forgot even that tomorrow? Then I wouldn’t remember
them at all. I
had
to make myself remember. I could write it
down, but what if I lost the piece of paper I wrote it on? I
worried over it for a few minutes before an idea popped into my
head. I nodded to myself – it was a good one.

I went to Mrs Grimsley’s room and rummaged
through her meagre makeup collection. Fortunately, she had what I
wanted – a black eyeliner pencil. I peered in her dressing table
mirror and applied the eyeliner thickly around my upper and lower
eyelids, smiling at my reflection afterwards. I would never forget
about Niq now. But what about Daniel? I would have to do the
same.

I searched for something sharp, heading back
to the kitchen to search in the drawers for what I needed. I found
a small paring knife, which looked reasonably sharp. I drew it
quickly across one wrist, passing it to my other hand to repeat on
the other wrist. Blood flowed immediately. It stung like hell, but
it was for a good reason I reminded myself, which made the pain
easier to bear.

Pleased with a good night’s work, I went
upstairs to bed, stopping short in the door to my room when I saw
the portrait on the wall. Had I taken it down when I’d woken up or
not? I couldn’t remember, but couldn’t face her evil stare,
averting my eyes. Why did she hate me so much?

I struggled to take it off the wall, my hands
slightly tender from digging and my wrists aching, but finally
managed to lay it face down on the floor. I needed something heavy
to put on it to keep it down though, my eye falling on a couple of
weighty tomes lying on their side, dustily neglected in the room’s
small bookcase. I placed them gently on the back of the painting,
then collapsed into bed, curling into a fetal position, clutching
the cardigan around me to ward off the oppressive chill.

Chapter 8

I slept through until morning and woke up
feeling energised, ready for more hard work in the basement. My
stomach gripped with dread though when I saw that the painting back
hanging on the wall, the books neatly returned to the bookcase. Did
I or didn’t I? I’d been very tired the previous evening and maybe
I’d only dreamed that I’d taken down the painting and put the books
on top. How would I ever know what was real and what wasn’t if my
mind kept playing tricks on me?

I made the mistake of glancing at the woman
and immediately wished I hadn’t. Her snarl had become more obvious
and I could now see some of her teeth. Her eyebrows had drawn
together even further, giving her an evil appearance that
frightened me. She was judging me and I knew she thought I was a
sinner. She could see straight into my heart and knew all of my
sins, my many, many black sins. There was no escape from her
condemning eyes.

I fled my room down to the kitchen to find
solace in a pot of tea, Samuel close behind. As I headed to the
kitchen, I heard a phone ringing. It was a mobile sitting on a side
table. I didn’t know whose it was, but answered it politely.

“Hello?”

“Matilda! You haven’t been answering your
phone.” I didn’t recognise the voice.

“I’ve been busy,” I said in a neutral voice,
not wanting to give away anything to a stranger.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes.”

“You sound strange. Are you sure everything
is all right?”

“Yes.”

“Farrell and Barnes visited you yesterday
afternoon, but you didn’t answer to door. Do you want me to come
over?”

“No!” That’s when I understood it was Them
wanting to take Samuel away. “I have to go. I’m quite busy today.
Thanks for calling.” I hung up, turning to the little boy. “It was
Them again. They never stop trying to take you away from here. We
have to be ever vigilant, Samuel.”

He nodded solemnly and followed me into the
kitchen, watching as I prepared a pot of the awful tea. I sipped it
in relief, warming my icy hands on the mug. I wriggled my legs
vigorously to keep warm as I drank, the temperature having
plummeted even further overnight. God, it was so cold. I knew I
should eat something, but had no appetite. Samuel didn’t request
any food either.

After drinking five cups of tea, I adjusted
the thermostat, once again increasing the temperature. I hoped it
would start warming up soon; my fingers were aching with the cold.
I looked forward to working in the basement again, hoping that the
physical labour might warm me up some.

Once I finished the tea, I visited the water
closet before we went downstairs again, Samuel trailing behind me.
That day I found a very old gun of some sort with a box of bullets
hidden among the junk. I put it aside safely in case I needed to
defend us one day. Samuel nodded his approval of my plan when I
explained it to him. There was no way I was letting anyone take him
away from me.

I spent all day digging in the basement, but
with no result that satisfied Samuel. That evening, after I’d
tucked him in, I sat in the kitchen sipping tea, listening to the
desolate music and letting myself cry. I reapplied the eyeliner and
sliced my wrists, but could no longer recall the names of the
people I’d hoped to remember.

Back in my room, the woman judged me, her
appearance turning truly demonic, teeth fully bared, eyes red and
wild with fury and hatred. I couldn’t bear to make eye contact with
her, not understanding why she hated me so much. Then it came to me
– she believed I’d hand over Samuel to Them. It all made perfect
sense.

“No, no, no,” I assured her. “I would never
do that, I swear.”

To hopefully placate her, I offered her some
of my blood in supplication, smearing my cut inner forearms across
her snarling mouth. That night I slept better than I had since I’d
come to the house, and knew that she appreciated my sacrifice as a
gesture of my goodwill towards Samuel. I respected her for her
fierce protection of the little boy, finding my fear of her
lessening.

The next day I worked all day in the
basement, under Samuel’s watchful eye. In the evening, I reapplied
my eyeliner and drew the knife through my soft inner-arm flesh, but
couldn’t remember the reason behind the actions anymore. All I knew
was that it was important to me, so I continued regardless. As I
smeared my blood offering on the woman’s mouth again, my heart
leapt with joy when I caught the faint glimpse of approval in her
eyes. I decided that the next evening’s offering would be greater
than I’d given her so far. I had to prove my loyalty to Samuel, and
that would certainly gain greater approval from her.

The next morning on my way to the kitchen and
basement, the mobile rang again. I ignored it, well aware that it
was Them trying to trick me into handing over Samuel. I laughed to
myself. They underestimated me to their own disadvantage. I was
ready for Them when they came, thinking of the gun stowed safely in
the basement. I would ask Samuel or the lady in the painting to
show me how it worked so I was fully prepared.

I diligently worked all day in the basement,
finding a purpose in digging in the ground. I broke only for tea,
but by the time I was ready to pack it in, I still hadn’t found
Samuel’s precious object. Samuel’s disappointed little face hurt me
deeply. I promised him that I’d dig harder and for longer the next
day. And the next. And the next, for as long as it took to find
what he sought.

That evening, as I’d promised my judger and
accuser, I cut deeply into my arms with the knife. The pain was
intense, but my blood provided her with a bountiful offering. Her
head nodding with appreciation as the rich redness poured from me
onto her. I fell asleep blissfully, still beaming with pride.

By mid-next morning, I’d dug up about half of
the basement. My next shovel turn unearthed another button, which I
handed to Samuel. He inspected it as carefully as all the previous
items I’d found. But this time his eyes widened with
recognition.