|
|
Jenny smiled as she investigated the kitchen, feeling the schoolteacher side of her nature regain ascendancy. Sometimes Bob was as helpless as one of her pupils. She found herself humming as she moved from sink to cooker, from cooker to fridge, undisturbed by the darkness that waited beyond the kitchen window. By the time the meal was ready, there were flames caressing the coals in the grate. With the improvement in the atmosphere, Jenny's tired muscles had begun to relax. The damp, resentful air retreated as the warmth and laughter, the light and companionable conversation expanded around them. It formed a protective shell which the dark thoughts lurked on its borders would not be able to penetrate. But it was not the darkness and cold that were the invaders here, it was they, assaulting the native gloom, who were the aliens. Gooseflesh chased itself up Jenny's arms. The dark could not attack from without; she was safe. "Still cold?" Bob took her hand in his. "No, just tired. I think I'll tidy up and go to bed." Jenny freed her hand and collected their plates. She watched the water cascade into the sink and the bubbles frothing around the steady stream with iridescent rainbows sliding around their surfaces. A memory of sitting on an untidy lawn with a plastic bowl at her feet, holding up the froth and letting the wind waft it away. Jenny plunged her hands into the bowl of soapy water and raised them full of foam. Her smile froze and her heart gave an extra thud, the memory vanishing like the burst bubbles. It was out there again, she could feel it in the tightening of her shoulders, the rising disgust that choked her breath. She could not look. It could only get in, get her, if she allowed it to exist. Wasn't that what they meant when they whispered behind her back that it was all in her imagination? There were no bruises, no torn clothes -- she must have created the whole incident, dreamed up the monster that waited outside the window. "You do not exist!" Jenny told the image, and if it did not exist then there was no reason why she should not look up at the window. "Right." She took hold of the edge of the sink. Breathe in, release, nice and easy. Breathe in again -- now! She raised her eyes, and they stared back at her -- apprehensive, absurdly relieved. There was only her reflection, complete with its surroundings of shiny taps and bubbles. Jenny let go of the sink and watched herself brush a strand of hair aside with damp fingers. "Did you call?" Bob's reflection entered behind her own. She waited until he drew closer before scooping up a handful of suds and anointing him on the nose. "No, but while you're here you can dry the dishes." He pulled a face and looked around for a tea towel. Jenny turned back and a cup slipped crashing from her fingers. It did not exist, it didn't! "What's the matter?" "Nothing, the cup slipped." "Don't give me that, you want to see your face. Look!" He turned her to face her reflection. "I thought, for a moment, I saw something, that's all. Silly." Her words stumbled on before Bob could tell her once again that there was nothing there. "Not silly." Bob drew her to him. "You had a terrifying experience." Jenny made to protest, but he stopped her. "But whatever it was, it's over." "Whatever? But I told you what happened." "What you thought happened, yes." Jenny pulled away. "Anyway, it doesn't matter now." She stooped to pick up the shattered remains of the cup. A low, sobbing moan began somewhere outside. Jenny only hesitated an instant. It was her, she created the sound in her head to match her desolation. She must really be going mad. "Can you hear something?" Bob said. The broken crockery slipped from Jenny's fingers. She looked quickly up at Bob. His brows were drawn together as he listened. "The wind?" Jenny suggested. He shook his head. "Some kind of animal." The moaning grew louder (or did it just come closer?) faded, then without warning, stopped. Bob seemed smaller as he relaxed. "Oh well, it's gone."
|