The Cann's
With spam emails and no interesting news, I close my laptop and go upstairs to find something to wear tonight.
I pause in the doorway of my room and look at my rucksack on the bed. With a sigh, I walk toward the bed, but bypass the rucksack.
I stand at the window, staring into the garden. This seems like a familiar occurrence, looking out on this view; the grass, the fencing, the trees.
Sighing once again, I go back to the bed and unzip the rucksack. I pull out my collection of white, grey, and black shirts, along with my black, red, and blue ties and my black trousers. I place all the clothing on the bed and look to the wardrobe. I open it to find some plastic hangers and begin to hang my shirts up in the wardrobe.
After the exhausting job of unpacking, I come to the conclusion that I will wear the clothes I have had on today. Luckily, I have a white shirt and black trousers on, so at least I look half decent.
I go to the chest of drawers opposite my bed and pick up my Calvin Klein aftershave. I squirt my neck and my fingertips. As I slap my face with my fingertips, my face stings a little, thanks to my shave this morning.
I find the three bottles of whiskey I packed at the bottom of my rucksack.
“Least I’ll be able to sleep tonight.” I say out loud.
I pick one of the bottles up and look at the packaging. I hope Simon and Sandra like Jack Daniels.
As I walk downstairs, in the open hallway, there’s a mirror hanging on the wall to the right of the door. I’ve been so distracted that I haven’t even noticed the mirror until now.
I stand in front of the mirror, alter my collar and pull my shirt down, tucking it further into my trousers.
I pull a false smile and mouth a ‘hello’ followed by a ‘how are you’. I stop smiling and stare at my neutral expression. I lean in toward my face and tilt my head.
“More wrinkles, more grey.” I sigh and place my hands on my stomach. “And a beer belly, God I’m getting old.”
I stare at my combed-over fringe and see a streak of grey; I use my fingertips in an attempt to cover the strays. I strum my fringe like I’m playing a guitar sideways; the grey strands gradually become camouflaged within my dark brown hair.
I turn away from the mirror and open the front door. As I do, the chilled night breeze slithers under my shirt and caresses my skin. I step out of the house into the cold night air and lock the front door.
The cul-de-sac looks as peaceful as it did during the day. Not like I was expecting it to become a ghetto during the night or anything. Ha.
I walk down the path of my drive and stand on the pavement. I check left and right for cars, and begin to cross the road.
Suddenly, there’s a loud banging sound coming from my left. What the hell’s that? I pause in the middle of the road and look to the grubby house at the end of the road. I can just about make out a dark figure using a slab of wood to hit, what sounds like, something metal. He stops and turns around to meet my curiosity with a glare. He tosses the piece of wood aggressively onto the road, which makes a sharp, hollow sound that echoes around the cul-de-sac.
I stare at the man. He wears a long green and black patchy jacket, which hangs shapelessly above his black, moss-encrusted boots. His face and head are smothered by a grey beard and long, greasy grey hair. His beady eyes look me up and down. His tiny claw-like hands clench. He walks away from his house towards me and stands on the pavement. He doesn’t blink or take his eyes away from mine for a second.
Limping back to his house, he slants from left to right checking over his shoulder as he unlocks the door. He opens the door, steps into his house and stands in the doorway, staring back at me for a moment and slams the door shut.
“What the…” I say out loud.
I feel uneasy as I walk towards the Cann’s home, still looking at the odd house on the street. I see the curtains twitch. I pause again, straining my eyes to see the grubby house. I stand on the pavement outside the Cann’s home, and continue to stare. The curtain twitches again, and the front door slowly opens. It stops opening and the feeling of someone watching me makes the hair on my neck stand.
All of a sudden, a fox runs out and the front door slams shut and makes me jump.
I begin to take cautious steps in the direction of the house.
“Hey, Ryan!” comes a shout from the Cann’s, making me turn quickly.
“Simon,” I say, relieved.
“Hello. Come on in. What you staring it?”
“Oh, I saw a fox.”
I walk up the drive and tread on the corner of the lawn. Simon looks in horror as my shoe flicks some dirt onto the path to his house. Simon comes away from the doorway to shake my hand.
“You know how to make me jump don’t you?” I say jokingly.
“Sorry for startling you again, buddy.”
Simon keeps a hold of my hand while leaning to flick the dirt back onto the lawn.
“Go right in Ryan, make yourself at home.”
I walk into the house, still holding my bottle of Jack Daniels. The house has a different layout to any other house I’ve seen. I see the kitchen to my right. Four poles stand out to me; they come out from the ground and reach to the ceiling. They’re positioned around the kitchen and throughout the whole lower floor. There are no walls separating the rooms, just the pillars. I assume they must be where the walls used to be.
Next to the kitchen is the dining room, it’s linked with the sitting room to complete this lower floor. The spiral staircase reaches up through the ceiling in the middle of the room.
Sandra is lighting a candle in the middle of the table, which has three plates and three sets of cutlery.
She wears a black dress, the hem floats just above her knees. Her hair is straight and has a golden glow to it. She turns around and smiles as she sees me.
“Hello Ryan,” she says as she walks up to me, wrapping her arms around me. “It’s lovely to see you, hope you like my cooking tonight.”
“I’m sure I will, Sandy, don’t worry about that. Thank you for inviting me round for tonight.”
“That’s no problem at all. Si and I wanted to meet you and get to know you. You seem like a lovely guy.”
“Thank you.”
Simon walks in from outside and shuts the door.
“Ryan, do you want a drink?”
“Yes, please. Oh that reminds me, I have some whiskey here. I know it’s not the normal bottle to bring round as a gift to the hosts but that’s all I had, hope you both like JD.”
Simon and Sandra both laugh.
“That’s very kind, I like whiskey. We’ll have to crack it open later on.” Simon says.
“I like whiskey too, but only with Coke. Diet Coke of course.” Sandra laughs.
“We have wine, Champagne and whiskey, what do you fancy?” Simon says.
“Oh err.”
“Sit down buddy.” Simon interrupts me and walks into the kitchen.
I walk to the neatly presented table and ask: “So where do you want me?”
“Sit wherever Ryan. What do you want to drink?” Sandra asks.
“I’ll just have what you two are having thanks.”
“Okay, bear with me; I have to go dish up. There’s wine on the table if you want it, just help yourself, it’s been opened.”
Sandra walks into the kitchen and I help myself to wine. They can’t be used to having guests round; they seem a bit nervous. Sandra looks nice, though. Simon is dressed the same as me so that’s reassuring.
He walks back into the room holding two glasses of whiskey with ice cubes in each glass. “I got us boys some whiskey. Down that wine Ryan, we’ll stick to the whiskey, shall we?”
“Yeah sure.” I knock my head back and gulp the wine. I put the glass aside and Simon places a glass of whiskey in front of me.
“Good lad. I just find wine bitter sometimes. It doesn’t beat whiskey on the rocks.”
“I know what you mean there,” I say.
“The house you were staring at earlier, you met the guy or seen him yet?” Simon says.
“No, I haven’t met him yet but I did see him. Funny looking chap. Scruffy, a bit like a tramp.”
“Yeah that’s him. He’s not all there I don’t think. We moved to Mulberry Lane about twenty years ago and he’s been here as long as we have. When we came to see the house, his house wasn’t so grubby, but he did come out to see us. Spoke about Mulberry Lane and how much it’s changed. He seemed a nice guy, just a little odd and over-friendly. He’s a curtain-twitcher, always looking out, watching people.”
“That’s not such a bad thing, though.”
“Well yeah, that’s true.” Simon takes a sip from his glass and gasps and licks his lips. “Tastes good. He had some trouble with some kids before. He ended up punching one of them. There were three kids, they were shouting and throwing stuff at his house. He came charging out and took them all on. They never came back and the police got involved. Did feel sorry for the guy.”
“Has he always been alone?”
“Yeah, since we’ve been here, he’s lived on his own. Never seen anyone come visit.”
“Poor guy,” I say sympathetically.
“Yeah, he did tell me that his wife died and then he lost his son; I didn’t dare ask how. He seemed emotional about the subject.”
“Here we are,” Sandra says as she enters the room holding two plates.
She puts a plate in front of me and one in front of Simon.
“Eat up boys. I’ll be back in a second.”
“Thanks Sandy,” I say.
Simon begins to eat straight away, but I wait for Sandra.
After a minute or so she walks in holding her plate, smiling. She sits down and picks up her cutlery.
“How is it Si?” Sandra asks Simon.
“It’s real good,” he replies.
“How about you, Ryan?”
“Oh it tastes great, thank you” I say.
Even though I haven’t started eating it yet, I can tell that it will taste good just looking at the deep red sauce and the big homemade meatballs. I take my first mouthful of spaghetti.
“It’s so delicious, Sandy.” I say.
“Oh thank you, I’m so relieved you like it.”
“You may have to make me a massive pot to take home.” I say, half hoping she will say she will for me.
“I’d be happy to.” She smiles as she chews.
“Top up?” Simon asks me as he looks at my empty glass.
“Yes, please.” I hold my glass towards him and Simon pours in more whiskey. As he does so the ice dissolves.
“So Ryan, tell us a little about yourself,” Sandra says.
“Well, what would you like to know?”
“Sorry if that question sounded like you were having an interview.” Sandra begins to giggle. “Tell us about your family.”
“Well, there’s a lot to say about my family. Where do I begin?” I hesitate for a few seconds. “I haven’t seen my wife Tanya, or my kids Alex and Sammy, for four years. They left one night while I was sleeping.”
“Oh my god, I didn’t know, I’m so sorry.” Sandra says.
“No, don’t worry you weren’t to know. I woke up and wondered where Tanya was. So I went into the kids’ rooms and they were gone. Their drawers were all pulled out and they were empty. I ran back into my room and all of Tanya’s clothes had gone. I looked under our bed and the suitcases were gone. So I ran downstairs and saw a note. Tanya wrote to me, saying she and the kids needed some time away from me. I didn’t understand why they needed time away, I hadn’t done anything wrong. I tried to call Tanya’s phone so many times, but it always went straight to answer phone. I didn’t understand why they left and still don’t to this day. I have no idea where they are.”
“Terribly sorry, Ryan.” Simon says.
“I’m so sorry; I wouldn’t have asked if I knew.” Sandra says.
“Don’t worry it’s fine, it was a long time ago and in a twisted way, I’m used to it now. Police haven’t found them yet but they’re still tracking them. Tanya’s family don’t even know where she is to contact her. I’ll never give up on them. You know? I’ll keep looking and keep an eye out for them. They know where to find me. I just have to keep hoping that they come back to me.”
There’s an awkward silence, which I hate.
“So is there anything I should know about the house?” I say to break the tension.
“No. Except no one liked the house for some reason, they all said it gave them bad vibes.” Simon says.
“Bad vibes? In what way?” I ask.
“Like I told you when we first met, no one wanted to go into the basement when they were viewing the house. When the door was opened to the basement, they would just leave. The house has been empty for a good while since Andrew left. I went round to the house one afternoon, because we hadn’t seen him for a while. I knocked on the door and heard movement inside. I shouted for him but no one came to the door. So I looked in the windows and saw some people. Andrew lived at the house on his own, no wife or kids. His wife left him a year before and they never had children. So I went to the back to find a scruffy looking man who was smoking. I asked what he was doing and he said ‘I’m smoking’. I told him to leave but then another two guys came out and they threatened me. I called the police and they got them out, turned out they were a group of squatters, they had rights but the police dealt with it.”
“Bloody squatters,” I say in disgust.
“Yeah, I couldn’t believe the cheek of them. The house was sorted for Andy, but he never came back. So it was put up for sale, and people have been coming to look at it for a good four years without any takers. So I did the house up to try and make people like it. Didn’t work though, I did some work to the kitchen and the garden and people still weren’t interested. That is, until you came along. You weren’t scared of the basement and Mike knew you were the one to move in.”
“I think it’s a nice house, it’s homely and familiar. It felt like I already knew the house and had been there before, like in a dream. I’m comfortable in familiar surroundings even though they aren’t actually familiar because I’ve never been in the house before. Sounds strange doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, that is odd.” Simon says.
“I don’t think it is.” Sandra glares at Simon. “Maybe you’ve dreamt of a house similar to it? Do you get Deja vu in there?”
“Weirdly, I do. It’s an odd feeling I have, walking around the house, but it’s a comfortable, familiar feeling.”
Silence descends again until I ask Sandra and Simon questions about their lives. How they met, the house, previous homes, their child and their work.
Sandra is a housewife and Simon is an insurance executive, describing it as a job where he checks up on insurance companies to monitor whether their customers are being treated fairly.
As we finally finish our meal, Simon slumps in his chair, Sandra pats her mouth with a tissue and I sip my whiskey.
“That was great, thank you so much.”
“That’s okay, anytime,” Sandra’s words slur slightly.
“I’ll clear up don’t worry, you sit yourself down girl,” Simon says.
“Do you want a hand?” I ask.
“No, don’t be silly, mate, you just sit there and talk to the tipsy Mrs.”
Simon clears the table and walks into the kitchen with our plates and cutlery, leaving me and Sandra at the table. I continue to drink my whiskey. I lean over the table to pick up the whiskey bottle, and pour more into my empty glass.
“Do ya, miss your wife?” Sandra slurs.
“Yeah course I do, and my kids.”
“You’re such a lovely man Si, I mean Ry. I hope you want to come round for dinner again soon.”
“I sure will. You’ll have to whip up some more Spag Bol.”
I look to Sandra’s eyes. There are bags and dark circles under them. She lifts her wine glass to her mouth with a slow and shaky hand and sips the wine.
“I’ll do it for you” she says.
“Good, can’t wait.”
She finishes her wine but continues to sip from the empty glass. Looking puzzled and disappointed at the lack of alcohol in her glass, she tips it upside down just to double check it’s empty. She sighs and picks up another bottle of wine. Simon walks back into the room and looks puzzled as Sandra stands up, holding the bottle of wine.
“Darling.”
“Yes, Si?”
“Where are you going?”
“To bed. I’m a bit tired.”
“Okay darling. Say bye to Ryan.”
“Bye-by-b” Sandra slurs.
She comes staggering over to me and hugs me tight. She pulls away and looks at me, squinting. She sticks her lips out and kisses my nose.
“Er… Night, Sandra,” I chuckle.
She walks to the bottom of the stairwell and drunkenly crawls up the spiral stairs.
“Bless her.” Simon laughs.
For a moment there is silence as we both sip from our glasses, savouring the burning whiskey in our mouths.
“So why did you decide to make the downstairs like this?” I ask.
“I don’t know, it was a joke at first but Sandra really wanted it. So you know, gotta keep the wife happy.”
“It looks good, I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
“Interesting, isn’t it. It’s nice to just be able to walk and get to wherever you want easily. Well…apart from getting upstairs drunk”
We laugh and continue to drink.
“Oh. I’ve just remembered,” Simon gets up from his chair, goes to one of his bookshelves, picks out a book and brings it over to the table. “Could you sign this for me and Sandy? We loved this book of yours, Menace. It’s one of my favourite books.”
“Yeah sure, do you want me to write a message?”
“Mystery is my favourite genre. No, that’s okay just sign it. There, please.” He says pointing in between the title and my name.
“There you go.” I say, handing back the book.
“Thank you so much, that means a lot to us.”
“The pleasure’s all mine, I’m glad you like my books.”
Simon puts my book back and returns to the table.
“So have you got anymore books to come? It’s been a while hasn’t it?”
“Yeah it has been quite a while. Since Tanya left I haven’t been able to write properly. Luckily one of my pieces, Killing for Your Love is ready. I’ll look to get it published soon and…”
“Can I read it?” Simon interrupts me. “Sorry to interrupt, Ryan. Can I read it first? I’ve read all your books and I would be happy to tell you if I like it and whether you should publish it. Of course it will be good, but I can act as an editor or reviewer.” Simon stares at me wide-eyed.
I might as well let him read it, he seems like an honest guy, so why not.
“Yeah, sure, I’ll let you read it. I already have it prepared as a manuscript so I can give it to you tomorrow if you like. Have a read, then let me know what you think of it” I say.
“It would be an honour. My god, thank you, Ryan.” Simon says ecstatically.
“No problem. Just promise you’ll be honest with me, I’d appreciate some feedback.”
“Oh I will. Thank you. Can I ask? What genre is it?”
“Well.” I clear my throat. “It’s a mystery action novel. Without giving too much away, it’s about a married couple, Daniel and Lizzie.” I take a deep breath. “We follow their lives for a while, see Daniel propose and their marriage ceremony. But one morning, after a couple years of marriage, Daniel wakes up to find Lizzie gone. He’s worried and dreads telling the kids that he can‘t find her. He goes to their rooms to tell them but they’re both gone too. He decides to call the police, but they don’t do enough for Daniel’s liking; he feels like the villain as they question him. He decides to investigate the case himself. With no demand of ransom, Daniel works out there’s more to it.” I pause for a moment.
“So Daniel is going to kick some arse to find Lizzie? Simon says excitedly.
“Yes that’s pretty much the story.”
“Sounds good to me; a good action novel. If you don’t mind me saying so, it’s pretty similar to your situation?”
“Well it’s actually based on my fight for Tanya and the kids. Obviously, it has been dramatised a little, but I would fight for them and will continue my fight to find them till the day I die. It shows what I’d go through to reunite with them. You know when you think about how far you would go for the people you love and care about?”
“Yeah, I know the feeling.”
“Exactly, you know when you think, ‘I would kill for my love if I had to’. That’s what the novel is based on, love, fight, endurance and killing.”
“Wow.” Simon says while staring at me. “Beer?” he asks.
“No thank you. I should probably get going” I stand up and hold my hand out in front of me. “Thanks for tonight, I had a great time. Please thank Sandra for dinner, it was delicious. I’ll bring the manuscript round tomorrow.”
“No problem mate. We’ll do this again soon.” Simon shakes my hand firmly. “Can’t wait to read the book. Do you want me to walk you home?”
We both roar with laughter.
“I’ll be okay Simon, thanks for the offer though.”
He walks me to the front door and opens it. We shake hands once again and I step outside into the cold.
“See you tomorrow mate, thanks again.” I say.
“See you tomorrow,” Simon replies as he shuts the door.
I turn away from the house and look up to mine. Wow it really looks good from here.
I walk into the middle of the road and look over to the grubby house. My blurry vision takes a moment to focus, but I can see the beaten piece of wood still lying on the ground.
I walk up the slope, which proves to be a challenge. The whiskey is definitely taking affect.
As I unlock the door, I feel eyes on me. I step inside and look behind me. I look to the Cann’s’ house, the neighbouring homes and finally the grubby house, one last time. No one’s there, must be the alcohol playing tricks on my mind. Mulberry Lane is silent, as it always seems to be. I stagger inside, as I do so, something by the tree line that borders the park catches my attention. I can make out a dark figure in the distance, standing in front of the tree line with his arms folded. I stare at him for a moment. He’s wearing a black hoody with the hood up, I can’t make out his face. I continue to stare, assuming he is staring back, although I can’t see his eyes. He unfolds his arms and begins to slowly walk towards the road.
I quickly shut the front door and charge up stairs. I get to the top and run along the landing. I peer out of the window that looks onto Mulberry Lane. The figure has disappeared. I scour the area, starting from the Cann’s’, to their neighbours, then the grubby house. The figure is nowhere to be seen.
I put my back against the wall and move across the window, so I can see my neighbour’s front gardens. Again, the figure isn’t in sight. I breathe easy and go downstairs.
I step into the kitchen and pick up my laptop bag. I rest it on the table and go into a back pocket of the leather bag. I pull out my manuscript of Killing for Your Love and leave it on the table.
I walk back upstairs. I take a quick glance outside. Mulberry Lane is still silent. Everybody’s lights are off. That’s definitely a sign for me to try and get some sleep.
I walk into my room and see myself in the reflection of the glass from my window. I walk up to the window and look at my tired face. There are dark slugs under my eyes. Is that old age or tiredness?
As I look in the mirror, something catches my eye, movement at the end of the garden. I look down to the tree line and notice two golden orbs staring back at me. My eyes take a moment to focus, whilst I look into the gold eyes. I can just about make out four legs, four white paws and an orange frizzy tail. It’s probably the same fox that the scruffy man had in his home. I knock on the window and the fox runs away into the woods.
I walk back to my bed and lie on top of the covers for a moment. I pull out a photo of me, Tanya, Alex and Sammy. I look at Tanya’s brown eyes, her straight blonde hair and her pale skin. I look at Sammy and her brown locks. She’s a brunette, but a splitting image of her mum. Then I look at me and Alex. I spot my hands under his arm pits and look to his ecstatic face. He looks like his old man, poor kid.