A night in October

Freya jerked the curtains closed immediately, pulling some of the plastic hooks off the rail as she did. She threw herself back into the bed and yanked the white covers over her head. Her phone was underneath her, she pulled it out and stared into its brightness, like its light was a tether to safety.

What she had seen, that figure, wasn’t real. As a child, she had been so utterly terrified by her own imagination that she would wet the bed frequently. She would believe with every fibre of her being that something with teeth was clinging to the ceiling in the hallway, just outside her bedroom. She could almost hear her eight-year-old self sobbing in fear beside her, and resented it. She had come so far since then, hadn’t slept with the light on since school. And she refused now to believe that sobbing child. She would not entertain the idea that she had seen anything at all on Mount Pleasant Drive. It was easier to think that what she had seen owed to a trick of the light; a combination of the moon and the clouds distorting the street lights.

Still, she kept the covers over her head and clung to the phone in her hand. She felt like she daren’t peak outside and instead watched the battery life on her phone run out.

***

When Freya woke, her phone was dead. She rubbed at her eyes then plugged it in to charge. The curtains were kept closed and she sloped out into the hallway wondering what time of day it was.

‘Morning?’ she tried and headed into the sitting room. In the light of the sun she saw that there was dust on the old floral sofas and even on the back of nana’s blue tweed chair.

Nana was sat in the chair. And Freya could see her left shoulder moving, like she was doing something with her arm.

‘My train back to uni is at nine tonight nana, is that okay?’ she said. Her nana made no move to respond. Freya looked down at the wicker coaster on the side table and at nana’s mug which was sat on top. The tea inside hadn’t been touched. A cold, white-ish film had formed over its surface.

‘Nana, are you okay?’ Freya went around the chair and bent to nana’s eye level.

‘What?’ she asked in a croaky voice, her eyes looked as if she had been pulled out of a reverie.

‘Are you alright? Freya rubbed her nana’s arm, it was moving back and forth on the chair incessantly.

‘What? Yes love. Don’t bother about me,’ nana said and looked quite frankly at Freya, like she used to do. She took in her appearance and then tutted softly under her breath.

‘Look at the state on you,’ she said, ‘why don’t you go a run a brush through that hair?’

Freya moved to flop on the sofa in protest but was halted by a knock at the front door.

***

‘Is your nan in, love?’ Julie asked. Then pushed past Freya, into the flat. She took her coat off and pressed it into Freya’s chest, before heading inside.

Julie had never shown any inclination towards like or dislike with Freya. In fact, she seemed to view her friend’s only grandchild in the same way one would view a lampshade; as an object that was not especially interesting but could occasionally be useful.

‘Hello Julie, I’m fine thank you,’ Freya mumbled as she hung the coat up and swung the front door shut.

‘Is it really that serious?’ Julie was saying as Freya entered the sitting room.

‘Christ on a bike, man! It’s only a few sheep!’

‘Sheep?’ Freya repeated, sweat pricking under her arms. Nana turned in her chair to look at Freya sternly.

‘Oh, go on Freya!’ she admonished, batting a hand at her, ‘take my purse and go and get yourself a pop!’

Freya assented. Sending her to the shop was nana’s time-tested way of getting Freya out of the flat.

***

Only a few sheep. Only a few sheep. Julie’s words spun around Freya’s head as she sloped down the hill to the shop. Only a few sheep?

The mountain was ahead of her. It was bright and busy, full of lorries coming from the quarry. They were loud, and they billowed dust clouds up and down Mount Pleasant Drive, covering the autumn colours with chalky white.

Freya rubbed her arm, feeling silly in the light of the working day. She saw the butty van that had parked at the foot of the mountain for time immemorial was still there, serving the workers in high-vis vests.

When the left turn to the shop came at the bottom of the hill, Freya paused. What if, when she went to the shop, the strange was man was standing there again? She weighed her nana’s purse in her hand. It was heavy, and she wondered (not for the first time) if she could brain someone with it. Then a new thought occurred to her; could her nana?

The child in Freya turned her head slowly, wincing as if she expected to find nana behind her, come to check she had not taken more change than was allowed. But she wasn’t there.

A car drove past and someone in a house to her right closed a window. Freya shuddered, then shook herself. She removed the strange thoughts from her head, and moved toward the butty van instead of the shop.

***

Freya clicked open the cap of her forty pence bubble-gum pop and let the blue liquid fizz down her throat. She enjoyed the over-sweet carbonated bubbles and how they scratched as they went down. The man working the butty van professed that it was his favourite too and smiled earnestly as he served her.

She stood and listened to the chatter amongst the workers around the van. Most talked of sports and family troubles, a few discussed the job and its changing nature. Freya looked up, past the trees, and focused on where the entrance to the quarry would be. It seemed to her livelier than ever. Truck after truck came from behind the trees, with bed-loads of rock. The bustle made her think that it was impossible for the figure she thought she’d seen last night to exist. There was no room for it in a modern world, where every inch of nature had been categorised and claimed. There was just nowhere for it to hide.

It was curious however, that Freya had heard neither warning alarms nor blasting. Rock was flying out of the quarry like never before, but there hadn’t been a single blast. Not today, nor yesterday, when she thought about it. Then, when had all that rock been broken up?

She walked and sipped the pop slowly, considering everything. She knew people were talking about sheep dying, and yet no one around the butty van had remarked on it. The figure, well that was something she had all but written off as a fantasy. And as for nana, it was likely that Julie was just exaggerating. Nana just needed a few days to herself is all. So thinking, Freya resolved her conscious to boarding the train back to uni that night, and putting the stirred up memories and emotions back inside her.

***

When Freya reached for the handle of the front door, she found it was already open. She moved inside the flat and found it was silent. When she popped her head into the sitting room, there was no one in there.

‘Nan-‘ she went to call out but cut herself off when she caught sight of the hand written note on the coffee table.

‘Gone out. Take yourself to the train station,’ it read. Freya looked down at her fist. She still had nana’s purse, how could she have gone out? She checked the ceramic dish on the kitchen counter and found nana’s phone still in it. There was no lock on the brick-like phone so Freya had a quick scan through. It looked like the most recent messages were texts sent to customers, advising that they still owed nana money. There were quite a few of them, and some of the names were familiar to Freya, like Sid from the allotments and June from the White Hart.

Freya took one of her nana’s winter coats from the airing cupboard and slung it over herself. Going off her only lead, she would make her way to the inn and see if her nana had gone up there to collect on what she was owed. She anticipated having to trek through mud and wind to get to the inn, but she would not leave until she knew her nana was okay.

She stepped out into the autumn cold once again but was immediately thrown from her stride. The strange man from the shop was waiting outside for her. This time, he had two children with him.

***

Freya jerked the curtains closed immediately, pulling some of the plastic hooks off the rail as she did. She threw herself back into the bed and yanked the white covers over her head. Her phone was underneath her, she pulled it out and stared into its brightness, like its light was a tether to safety.

What she had seen, that figure, wasn’t real. As a child, she had been so utterly terrified by her own imagination that she would wet the bed frequently. She would believe with every fibre of her being that something with teeth was clinging to the ceiling in the hallway, just outside her bedroom. She could almost hear her eight-year-old self sobbing in fear beside her, and resented it. She had come so far since then, hadn’t slept with the light on since school. And she refused now to believe that sobbing child. She would not entertain the idea that she had seen anything at all on Mount Pleasant Drive. It was easier to think that what she had seen owed to a trick of the light; a combination of the moon and the clouds distorting the street lights.

Still, she kept the covers over her head and clung to the phone in her hand. She felt like she daren’t peak outside and instead watched the battery life on her phone run out.

***

When Freya woke, her phone was dead. She rubbed at her eyes then plugged it in to charge. The curtains were kept closed and she sloped out into the hallway wondering what time of day it was.

‘Morning?’ she tried and headed into the sitting room. In the light of the sun she saw that there was dust on the old floral sofas and even on the back of nana’s blue tweed chair.

Nana was sat in the chair. And Freya could see her left shoulder moving, like she was doing something with her arm.

‘My train back to uni is at nine tonight nana, is that okay?’ she said. Her nana made no move to respond. Freya looked down at the wicker coaster on the side table and at nana’s mug which was sat on top. The tea inside hadn’t been touched. A cold, white-ish film had formed over its surface.

‘Nana, are you okay?’ Freya went around the chair and bent to nana’s eye level.

‘What?’ she asked in a croaky voice, her eyes looked as if she had been pulled out of a reverie.

‘Are you alright? Freya rubbed her nana’s arm, it was moving back and forth on the chair incessantly.

‘What? Yes love. Don’t bother about me,’ nana said and looked quite frankly at Freya, like she used to do. She took in her appearance and then tutted softly under her breath.

‘Look at the state on you,’ she said, ‘why don’t you go a run a brush through that hair?’

Freya moved to flop on the sofa in protest but was halted by a knock at the front door.

***

‘Is your nan in, love?’ Julie asked. Then pushed past Freya, into the flat. She took her coat off and pressed it into Freya’s chest, before heading inside.

Julie had never shown any inclination towards like or dislike with Freya. In fact, she seemed to view her friend’s only grandchild in the same way one would view a lampshade; as an object that was not especially interesting but could occasionally be useful.

‘Hello Julie, I’m fine thank you,’ Freya mumbled as she hung the coat up and swung the front door shut.

‘Is it really that serious?’ Julie was saying as Freya entered the sitting room.

‘Christ on a bike, man! It’s only a few sheep!’

‘Sheep?’ Freya repeated, sweat pricking under her arms. Nana turned in her chair to look at Freya sternly.

‘Oh, go on Freya!’ she admonished, batting a hand at her, ‘take my purse and go and get yourself a pop!’

Freya assented. Sending her to the shop was nana’s time-tested way of getting Freya out of the flat.

***

Only a few sheep. Only a few sheep. Julie’s words spun around Freya’s head as she sloped down the hill to the shop. Only a few sheep?

The mountain was ahead of her. It was bright and busy, full of lorries coming from the quarry. They were loud, and they billowed dust clouds up and down Mount Pleasant Drive, covering the autumn colours with chalky white.

Freya rubbed her arm, feeling silly in the light of the working day. She saw the butty van that had parked at the foot of the mountain for time immemorial was still there, serving the workers in high-vis vests.

When the left turn to the shop came at the bottom of the hill, Freya paused. What if, when she went to the shop, the strange was man was standing there again? She weighed her nana’s purse in her hand. It was heavy, and she wondered (not for the first time) if she could brain someone with it. Then a new thought occurred to her; could her nana?

The child in Freya turned her head slowly, wincing as if she expected to find nana behind her, come to check she had not taken more change than was allowed. But she wasn’t there.

A car drove past and someone in a house to her right closed a window. Freya shuddered, then shook herself. She removed the strange thoughts from her head, and moved toward the butty van instead of the shop.

***

Freya clicked open the cap of her forty pence bubble-gum pop and let the blue liquid fizz down her throat. She enjoyed the over-sweet carbonated bubbles and how they scratched as they went down. The man working the butty van professed that it was his favourite too and smiled earnestly as he served her.

She stood and listened to the chatter amongst the workers around the van. Most talked of sports and family troubles, a few discussed the job and its changing nature. Freya looked up, past the trees, and focused on where the entrance to the quarry would be. It seemed to her livelier than ever. Truck after truck came from behind the trees, with bed-loads of rock. The bustle made her think that it was impossible for the figure she thought she’d seen last night to exist. There was no room for it in a modern world, where every inch of nature had been categorised and claimed. There was just nowhere for it to hide.

It was curious however, that Freya had heard neither warning alarms nor blasting. Rock was flying out of the quarry like never before, but there hadn’t been a single blast. Not today, nor yesterday, when she thought about it. Then, when had all that rock been broken up?

She walked and sipped the pop slowly, considering everything. She knew people were talking about sheep dying, and yet no one around the butty van had remarked on it. The figure, well that was something she had all but written off as a fantasy. And as for nana, it was likely that Julie was just exaggerating. Nana just needed a few days to herself is all. So thinking, Freya resolved her conscious to boarding the train back to uni that night, and putting the stirred up memories and emotions back inside her.

***

When Freya reached for the handle of the front door, she found it was already open. She moved inside the flat and found it was silent. When she popped her head into the sitting room, there was no one in there.

‘Nan-‘ she went to call out but cut herself off when she caught sight of the hand written note on the coffee table.

‘Gone out. Take yourself to the train station,’ it read. Freya looked down at her fist. She still had nana’s purse, how could she have gone out? She checked the ceramic dish on the kitchen counter and found nana’s phone still in it. There was no lock on the brick-like phone so Freya had a quick scan through. It looked like the most recent messages were texts sent to customers, advising that they still owed nana money. There were quite a few of them, and some of the names were familiar to Freya, like Sid from the allotments and June from the White Hart.

Freya took one of her nana’s winter coats from the airing cupboard and slung it over herself. Going off her only lead, she would make her way to the inn and see if her nana had gone up there to collect on what she was owed. She anticipated having to trek through mud and wind to get to the inn, but she would not leave until she knew her nana was okay.

She stepped out into the autumn cold once again but was immediately thrown from her stride. The strange man from the shop was waiting outside for her. This time, he had two children with him.

***