TRAGEDY

It wasn’t that Costas was abusive, he was just an unreliable liar.  He’d taken all the money Helena earned and ploughed it into failed businesses or gambled it on the stock exchange.  There had been nothing but the bare minimum for Helena and their children, so when they woke one morning and he was gone, everyone was rather relieved.  The children ran round the house looking for traces of him.

“His clothes have gone, Mummy!” Irina shouted.
“His car’s not in the garage!” called Dion.
“I think he’s left us,” Helena said.  The baby cried in the cot and Matthias sat down in his play pen with a bump.
“Good riddance,” Helena’s mother said when she arrived to look after the younger children.

Helena took her older children to school and went to work at the department store.  If she was careful, she’d have just enough money to pay rent and feed her family.  At least she wouldn’t have to worry about Costas anymore.

That evening a powerfully built man knocked at Helena’s door and handed her a bit of paper.

Helena read it; “This isn’t right!”
“Ring the helpline,” the man said.
Helena shut the door and stared at the letter again.  It was from the well-known loan shark ‘Immediate Money ForU’.  Costas had borrowed £330,000 from them.  No reputable bank would have given him such a loan; he didn’t even own a home to secure it against.  No wonder he’d ran away.  She tried his mobile for the twentieth time.   Five minutes later and her phone rang, it was a woman called Angela ringing from Immediate Money ForU; “You owe us £330,000,” she said aggressively.
“No Costas  …”
“Costas has gone abroad, he’s signed the debt over to your family’s name.”
“He can’t do that!”
“You were his partner at the time, you’re liable for the debt.”
“But I don’t have any money!”
“Your family will help you …”
“It doesn’t matter if they do!  We can’t pay it back, it’s impossible with the amount of interest you’re charging …”
“Helena!” Angela’s voice was patronising, “you can’t borrow money and not pay it back.”

The next day at the school gate Helena could hear the whispers from the other mothers:

“She borrowed £330,000 from the IMFu and can’t pay it back.  Poor Angela is at her wit’s end.”
“Her whole family has been brought into it.”
“They’re refusing to pay.”
“Well, if she refuses her children should be expelled and the department store should sack her, she doesn’t deserve any support!”
At work it was the same, Helena was irresponsible, untrustworthy and reckless, no-one sat next to her at lunch time.

That evening Helena’s family visited, her mother held her as she wept; “It was Costas!”
“I know.  We’re trying to find him,” her father told her.
“We’re all in this,” said her sister, “and we’ll stick together.”
“The IMFu are acting like bullies, we’ll refuse to pay!” her youngest brother stated.
“Hold your head up high, ignore what they’re saying about you,” the eldest one said.

“I’m sorry,” the manager at the bank said; “I’m going to have to take the bank cards of you and your family, the IMFu have told us not to give you anything unless you start paying them back.”

“But how will we feed ourselves and our children?” Helena asked.
“Not my problem,” the bank manager said.

Helena had to do it, she left her children with her sister and went to see Angela.  Angela was very nice, she made Helena tea, she said that the loan could be paid off over an indefinite period of time; “Your children can leave school aged 16 and work for me.  I will take the pensions of your parents and they can go back to their jobs, your brothers and sisters can make cut backs to their lives and their children’s lives.  You will all work together and pay the debt …”

“But my parents are retired and my children want to go to university.”
Angela shook her head; “You should have thought of that before borrowing the money.”
“Even if we all work, my mother, my father, my brothers and my sister, even if our children start to work now, we can’t cover even the interest you’re asking for!”
Angela sighed; “Don’t worry, Helena, I have a solution, why don’t you speak to one of our advisors about another loan.”

BRING AND SHARE

“I’m going to say something,” Elvina announced.
“Don’t,” her mother replied, looking up from dressing the child, but Elvina was on her way out.
At the meeting hall the women stood around the table.
“He’s late,” Sara observed.
Elvina put her bag on the table, “Fish.”
“Rice,” Sara gestured to a sack.
“Bread,” stated Beth.
“Potatoes,”  Farah added.
“Milk,” said Luella.
The man walked in, smiled in his charming way and rubbed his hands; “What a lot there is here!  I need a bit more than last time, my mother is sick and my cousin is visiting to tend her.”
There was an excuse to take more every time.  Elvina spoke up; “What have you brought?”
“Nothing,” replied the man shrugging, “if you think hunting is easy, try it.”
 

When he had gone the women gathered together; “What is the point of him?” Elvina asked.

The question was greeted by a shocked silence.
“Well too ...” began Farah.
“When was the last time he lay with one of us?” Elvina demanded angrily, “the youngest of our children is two and I don’t see any of you ...”
“Protection,” Beth said firmly.
“If he wasn’t causing wars with neighbouring tribes we wouldn’t need protecting,” Elvina answered.
The women looked at each other.
“He hasn’t brought anything for weeks,” Luella said softly, “he must be struggling ...”
“How long are we going to make excuses for him?” Elvina demanded, “I say banish him.”
Sara’s hand shot up; “Aye!”
The others stared at each other in shock, then slowly put their hands up; “Aye.”
Elvina anticipated their question, “I’ll bring the meat.  How hard can it be?”

 

Killing the deer wasn’t hard, but dragging it back the miles she’d covered tracking it was.  Elvina’s resentfulness kept her going.  She thought of slamming the carcass on the table, her friend’s impressed faces and how they would all live in peace with more food.  No more free loading man.  She found herself late to the table and hurried inside, the deer on her shoulders to be confronted by the man sitting on the great chair with Farah on his knee, kissing his ear and stroking his shoulders, Luella was bringing him a mug of milk, Beth was taking off his shoes for him and Sara was tending to a small flesh wound on his shoulder.  On the table lay two deer carcasses.  Elvina met the man’s bold stare; his hard eyes were full of triumph.  She looked at her friends and they turned their backs on her, but the man put out his hand and smiled.

She felt the weight of the deer, the heaviness in her limbs; but more than that, she remembered the triumph of the kill.  Elvina turned away.

“You should have kept quiet,” her mother told her as she returned.

The child ran to her and Elvina gathered the boy in her arms; “We’re banished,” she said.
“We won’t survive without the community!” the old woman replied.
“They’d like us to think that,” Elvina fetched the deer carcass smiling in pride.
Her mother stared at it resentfully; “You’ve chosen a hard road.”

WAR CRIMES

Serena arrived at the party, step light, carefree and effervescent.  The eyes of men followed her and her stories caused laughter.  I stood in her shadow as she discussed art, academia and politics; I was trying to forget the danger.
Our mother touched my arm; “Amelia, check outside will you?”
I slipped out the back door and swore.  Birdsong had stopped, I could see the dark clouds rushing in and great black shadows falling across the summer garden.  One by one the fairy lights went out and the air turned icy.

I rushed indoors, but it was too late.  The band ceased, the dancing stopped and people fell silent.  The Occupiers were among us.  Their Leader pounced on the bar, sticking his head into the punch bowl, slurping up the liquid and spilling the rest, another smashed the buffet table over with his tail and the last trod birthday cake into the carpet with his paws.  The Leader raised his head; his red eyes had fallen on Serena.  She faced him in her white party dress, the polite smile a mask to hide her anger.  I reached her before he did and ushered her into the bathroom.  I helped her out of the dress and into sack-cloth, I daubed ashes on her face and tied her long hair back.

“It’s not your fault,” I repeated.
“But it is,” she said, a grey drab thing now, fit for the Leader’s eyes.
In he stalked, sneering at us; “Did you think I’d miss the party?  Was there talk of rebellion?  Are they taking my Serena away?”
“They wouldn’t dare,” she replied boldly.
“They couldn’t!” I added hastily, “Serena will never leave you.”
The Leader looked at me suspiciously; “Bring her to the Adjustment Room,” he ordered and returned to the bar to stick his head into the basin of wine that had no doubt been poured for him, in the hope it would improve his mood.
“Amelia, please try and persuade him to come with us now,” Serena begged, “do not let him drink!”
My efforts were rejected with vicious irritation.  He was with the other Occupiers and they were surrounded by an ingratiating crowd of reassurers.  He wanted to hear them.  Serena and I walked alone down the dark lane; at the end was the rusty railway line from older days.  On it was the disused carriage – the Adjustment Room.  We waited in the freezing night air until we heard him shambling along the lane towards us, then Serena went inside.

 

I sat outside listening to his raised voice, her placations and her cries.  I remembered the time before the Terrible Change when we had all been friends, before the sickness that had swept across the land and made them strong and us weak.  I thought of the innocence of our family celebration, about how the contrast between then and what Serena was going through now could break her mind.  I cried the tears of a collaborator.  I had to take my sister to him, she was the price we paid for food, wine and protection.

 

Eventually he crawled out, looking almost human – for he had been human once; “I hate this war,” he said, “I liked seeing her as she used to be, but I couldn’t ... I couldn’t allow it.”  He lay down to sleep beside the rusty rail.  I could hear Serena sobbing.  He didn’t stop me when I slipped past him to enter the Adjustment Room.  I lay next to Serena and held her tightly; “Each visit and I diminish more,” she whispered, but we did not discuss it.  We never thought, never questioned; we did what was necessary.

THIS LOVE

The acrid smell of smoke wakes me at dawn.  The bed is on fire again.  How irritating.  I twist and leap out the side of the bed, staggering across the room for the fire extinguisher.  In so doing I trip over a bag which has been strategically placed between bed and far wall.  I just manage to keep my footing.  Good thing too, I would have fallen on the knife block which has somehow found its way from kitchen to bedroom.  The orange flames reveal that the knives have been reversed, so they are wedged blade upwards.  Funny that.

Naturally the fire extinguisher is missing.  Unphased, I grab the one I hid in my wardrobe and choking on the black smoke which is starting to fill the room, I extinguish the blaze with ruthless efficiency.

You rise from the easy chair where you have been sitting watching me and pull the curtains open letting in the soft light of the rising sun.
"That's another mattress ruined," I complain cheerfully and reach for the glass of water by the bed.  I raise it to you in a toast; "better luck next time!"  I take a long grateful drink.  I only realise my mistake when I see your lips curl into a beatific smile.

A WINTER'S PARTY

I met you at some random party.  It was so warm inside, loads of people, all crushed up together.  Alcohol, food and talk, talk, talk, much of it boring.  I guess if you go to enough of these doos you hear the same conversations over and over again and they all morph into one.  Money, mortgages, property prices; the things that stick us to our commitments until we’re paralysed.

I was happy enough until you touched me.  I can’t remember when or how, but I looked into your face and that was it.  I saw amongst that talk of work and wealth, the freedom of winter - you changed the season in my soul.

“Come and play in the snow,” you said or maybe I did.

We left the warmth of the house and crossed the road, just the two of us.  The black ice made the going treacherous; I had to hold onto your arm.  The Church was opposite us, you kissed me under the lych gate.  I glanced back at the house, afraid my husband had come out to look for me, but he was still inside, no doubt he was engrossed in discussing his pension plan.

The cold was bitter, it was snowing in the graveyard, the flakes made a shroud that concealed us as we made love on a tombstone.  I was scared to look at the name on it, in case it was mine.