Life Styles: A Story by Barbara A.Rope
The penetrating scream continued. His face became redder by the second. Forehead damp with perspiration and his cheeks wet with tears. The high-pitched noise was unbearable. Blonde curls stuck around his face.
“ Here then, take it,” she said, with apathy in her voice.
Immediately the noise ceased and his small fat hand grabbed out at the packet of crisps. The younger child, Martin, was plucked from the high chair and wiping his face with kitchen roll in one hand and picking up the car keys with the other, Zoe hurried to the car. The drizzle; from the grey overcast sky, made her morning even more unpleasant. She had forgotten to raise the roof of the convertible the night before. Eighteen-month-old Martin, who remained very placid was thrust into the baby seat as she attempted to raise the roof and call three-year-old William to the car. With Martin secured she rushed back into the house to find him attempting to watch a video, the crisps trodden into the lounge carpet.
Zoe was nearing the end of her tether. Without a word she swept him off his feet and carried him, screaming, to the car. With his feet pounding first her and then the car upholstery, she managed to fasten him in his seat. She sighed and backed the car out of the driveway. Glancing at her watch she realised they were late once again.
Quickly and without hesitation she dropped off the boys at the childminders. Her mobile rang, as she was about to drive off. Bradley, her husband spoke curtly into her ear.
“Yes, I’ll be there. Nine o’ clock did you say? Okay, see you. Bye,” she said and sighed heavily.
Bradley hadn’t been the same since he’d got back from Iraq. His last tour of duty had taken its toll, especially on his temper. He was trying hard to fit into civilian life again.
On arriving at the Health Club she snapped down the mirror in the sun-visor, applied lipstick and flicked a brush through her short blonde hair. She looked into her blue eyes momentarily and realised how tired she looked, the dark circles around them telling their own story. She ran her hands down her navy blue skirt and straightened her jacket. After all she was the manager and had to look the part.
*
Mrs. Winston loved her job as childminder. She would always tell people, ‘Serendipity put me here to do this work.' Never revealing the truth about her unhappy past and her inability to have children of her own.
William and Martin loved Mrs. Winston, they fulfilled most of her requests and she provided lovingly all their needs. Martin accepted her as he did most things, always content in her safe company.
“Two of you little ones are enough for me at any one time,” she said and kissed them on the head.
At lunch William sat to the table, with Martin in a high chair beside Mrs. Winston. The meal was eaten quietly and the children had a nap afterwards giving Mrs.Winston time to clear away and prepare for the afternoon.
*
Betty wiped her brow with her apron and stopped to serve to Stan. He was a regular customer and she had become friendly with him over the years. They always chatted about their respective families and the weather. They often put the world to rights on quieter mornings, but this wasn’t one of them. Betty was hot and tired as she put down the heavily stacked plate of burgers, chips, eggs and beans before him. He gave her a beaming smile revealing a few gaps in his teeth, his lined face even more creased. The transport café was heaving, so just a cheerful ‘Thank you’ and ‘Your welcome’ was passed between them. She seemed to hesitate for a moment but then continued with her work.
Stan ate with enthusiasm; he loved his food. Being a long distant lorry driver, meals were the highlight of his day. Soon he sat back from the empty plate sated and sipped his tea. He viewed the room and nodded acknowledgements at familiar faces that looked his way. He looked at his watch, only another few hours to go before he picked up his load to take to Spain.
*
Zoe’s day had become more intense. Sports equipment had broken down and two members of staff had called in sick. The day just flew by. Her stress levels were at an all time high when she realised it was time to pick up the boys. She had managed to eat a banana around lunchtime, other than that nothing. She rang Mrs. Winston with her usual excuse and apology.
“No need to worry my dear. We’re all safe and happy and that’s all that counts,” she said in her philanthropic way.
The piles of paper that lay on Zoe’s desk were pushed into her case for attention when she arrived home. She closed her eyes momentarily as she envisaged the evening of tantrums from William and demands from Bradley along with housework, which seemed endless. Still, she would catch up if she worked into the night. She phoned the different departments to ensure that all the clients had left the building. Her last call would be at reception to check the building was empty and to set the alarms. She tossed her bag onto the passenger seat and jumped into the car. It had drizzled all day and the upholstery still felt damp.
“No doubt Bradley will comment on this,” she said out loud as she drove off.
The short drive to Mrs.Winston’s house only took fifteen minutes. The light was fading into night and the orange sodium streetlights made reflections on the wet road. The sky was still heavy with a blanket of cloud.
William started to protest the moment he saw her. Martin remained in his usual state of indifference.
“Firm but gentle,” advised Mrs.Winston as she saw William change into a little monster.
“You must invest more time with him Zoe or he will break your heart one day,” Mrs Winston suggested with real meaning.
“Time is something I don’t seem to have much of these days,” Zoe replied, her eyes welling with tears. “I know you mean well, but I don’t think you understand the pressure I’m under.” She stopped speaking abruptly; she knew she would break down altogether if she carried on. She cleared her throat.
“Thanks, see you tomorrow,” she said, picking up Martin and grabbing William’s hand.
Mrs. Winston looked out of her bay window; she bit her lip and shook her head. She felt deeply for Zoe as she saw William doing his utmost to prevent her from fastening him in the car seat. She knew how hard the poor woman was working to give her boys the best in life.
Five minutes into the journey and William started to whine. Zoe ignored him. The noise grew enveloping her head, as it became the familiar piercing scream.
*
Stan knew some of the lads at the container depot. He had made this run many times before. This would be his last. The load contained wooden furniture for Spain. The ferry crossing was pleasant enough. It amused him to observe the tourists and holidaymakers who travelled alongside him.
“So many mobile homes,” he murmured to himself as he watched them board.
He liked his work, but he was looking forward to retirement. He was sixty-years-old and he and his wife Anna felt the time was right. They had spoken of their dream many times and now it was going to become reality. They had purchased a house on the Costa Brava and after this trip they would be leaving England to live in Spain.
*
Zoe parked the car at the front of their detached house. Martin was asleep and William was trying to wake him up by kicking his seat. She felt as if her chest was about to explode as she opened the door and put on the lights. Throwing her jacket and bag on the chair she returned for the children. Momentarily pausing in the hallway, she realised she was shaking.
“I hate this bloody house,” she burst out, her bottom lip becoming a straight line as she grit her teeth. Zoe thought of Mrs. Winston and how homely her house felt.
“Stop that noise now,” she shouted as she returned to the car.
William ran into the house as soon as he was released from his seat. She carried Martin into the house, it was almost eight o’clock. Her head was pounding now and she was exhausted. William was banging a toy on the television screen. Zoe could stand it no longer. Grabbing his arm she dragged the screaming child upstairs. She could hear herself shouting in a chant-like way, “Enough, enough.” As she pulled him, the scream became shriller. Roughly undressing him, in a manner unknown to the child, she threw his clothes across the room. William’s scream became a genuine cry as she pulled him into the bathroom and rubbed his face hard with a damp facecloth.
“Now you have something to cry about,” she mumbled with the rhythm of her harsh movements.
William’s chest heaved upwards as each sob engulfed him. He was frightened of his mummy and wanted her to stop. She put her face next to his.
“Now get to bed or I’ll slap you so hard,” she choked in an almost automatic way.
William started to say something, but he didn’t get a chance.
“Shut up now,” she screamed her face red with exertion, spittle collecting in the corners of her mouth.
William ran to his bed sobbing. She slammed the bedroom door hard. Martin was still asleep on the sofa where she had left him. There he remained. Zoe opened the front door and walked out into the dark, damp night air. She walked and walked.
*
Stan stood on the deck of the ferry as it neared the port of Santander. He smiled to himself. A passenger mistook this as a smile and spoke:
“Nearly there now. Looking forward to your visit?” he enquired, not waiting for an answer, he continued.“Me and the wife have just retired, we’re driving through Spain in our mobile home,” he announced with great pride.
Stan smiled more broadly masking his thoughts on mobile homes or the stereotype ideas he had of their occupants.
*
Bradley was furious when Zoe wasn’t waiting for him. He paced the arrivals lounge and tried to phone her, all to no avail. As the taxi drew off, he stood at the front of the house and looked at her car and then their house. Lights shone in the lounge and hallway.
“What the Hell is going on?” he yelled as he burst through the doorway.
The house remained silent. He threw his case and jacket beside the stairs in the entrance hall.
“I said what the….” his voice trailing off as he saw Martin fast asleep on the sofa, fully dressed. His fat cheeks glowing red with the heat as he slept. Bradley realised something was wrong.
“Zoe, Zoe,” he called in a whispered tone.
He took the stairs two at a time. He looked into William’s room, the child oblivious to anything but his dreams. He checked all the rooms, their silence giving him an eerie feeling. He noticed her jacket and case on the chair. He opened the case and saw her mobile, wallet, everything she normally took with her. He swallowed hard and put his head in his hands as he sank into the chair.
It was after midnight and Zoe walked on. Her feet were sore; she was wet and cold. She had no coat, no money and she was lost. She sobbed silently as she looked at the visible street signs. Gradually shops became familiar. Her face wet with snot and tears, she walked back home. Around two o’clock she stood at the front door. Not wanting to wake the children she knocked tentatively. Bradley threw open the door, making it bounce on the doorstop. She stood before him like a waif, wet and tired. Her eyes and nose were red from crying.
“Where the hell have you been?” he yelled into her face.
Zoe stared; she couldn’t speak. She knew she’d done wrong but she just wanted a hug. He didn’t oblige. They slept in separate rooms that night.
Next morning the atmosphere was normal, as if nothing had happened.
“Drop me off at the garage will you? I’ll pick up my car and you can take the kids,” he said in a directive way as he stood in the kitchen eating a bowl of cereals.
William behaved like a model child as the four of them rode in the car. Bradley unfastened his seatbelt on arrival at the garage. He leant forward towards Zoe, as if to kiss her. Instead he whispered in her ear: “If you ever leave the boys again, you will never see them again. Got that?”
He left the car, but before closing the door he waved to the boys.
“I’ll be eating out after I go to the gym tonight. Don’t wait up for me,” his words cutting into Zoe’s chest.
She drove off, her chest tight and her stomach feeling as if she had a stone in it. Automatically she unfastened the boys on arrival at Mrs.Winston’s house. She came out to meet them; they were early for once. Mrs. Winston’s heart sank when she saw Zoe’s face.
“I won’t ask if you have time for a coffee, but I’ll give you one all the same.” She herded Zoe indoors. The boys went into the playroom and played happily together.
“Now you can tell me it’s none of my business and I’ll try and keep my nose out, but you look so unhappy.”
Mrs Winston looked into Zoe’s tired eyes, her own big brown ones smiling gently. Zoe didn’t need any prompting. She exhaled sharply and fell into a deluge of tears. Mrs. Winston held her close giving her the hug that she needed so badly. Through the tears she told her everything. Mrs.Winston persuaded Zoe to ring work and explain that she was ill.
*
Driving towards Burgos in his high-tech cab complete with satellite navigation system, Stan felt relaxed and happy cruising through the Picos de Europa mountain range. He laughed to himself as he was reminded of his wife Anna’s remarks about the cab looking like the Star Ship ‘Enterprise.’ He would be sad in some ways to leave this part of the job. The sun was shining, the scenery good and the autopista quiet at this hour. After driving for a while he suddenly noticed a red light flashing furiously on his vast dashboard. One became several. He looked for a place to pull in and fortunately came to a rest area.
“Now what’s up girl?” he said with affection in his voice.
He sat in the cab with the engine running to diagnose the problem, but it didn’t seem to make any sense. More lights were flashing and it confused him as to what was wrong. He turned off the engine and walked around the long white sides. He examined all the area where the cab joined the load. Everything appeared to be fine. It was company policy that the driver rang in the moment there was a problem, so Stan pulled out his mobile. It was dead; no signal, he pursed his lips and jumped back into the cab.
“Well at least they’ll know where I am,” he comforted himself looking at the navigation system that seemed to be flickering on and off.
“You stay there girl,” he chuntered and started to walk towards a yellow emergency phone he could see in the distance by the roadside.
The sun felt warm on his face as he walked, although he wished he’d remembered to bring his water bottle. On reaching the phone he started to feel hot and sweaty. The phone was out of order. He looked in the distance for another one.
“No, I’ll go back and stop the next passer-by,” he murmured to himself.
Red faced and puffing he walked the slight incline back to the truck. He decided he would have to lose some weight and start eating a healthier diet. Anna had given him this advice, but he was beginning to realise it was a must.
“Surely somebody will be passing this way soon,” he said as he leant against the side of the truck in the shade, drinking the last of his water.
He noticed there was a slight smell of burning in the air, and hoped and prayed it was nothing to do with the engine. Stan who was normally a calm man was beginning to lose his temper. He thumped the side of the cab.
“One more try, come on girl don’t let me down. After all I’ve got no funny noises and it’s just flashing lights. We can do it,” he said, as he jumped back into the cab.
The engine wouldn’t even start. He thumped the steering wheel with his fist.
“Thanks a lot,” he grumbled and sat in the cab without air conditioning. He decided to sit in the shade under a tree so he could see the road. The ground was hard and dusty. The faint smell of burning was getting stronger. He looked around, but could see nothing. Time ticked on.
“Why is it when you want somebody there is nobody about? And yet the minute you stop for a piss, the whole bloody world passes by,” he moaned to himself.
“Right that’s it I’ll take a piss.”
He relieved himself at the back of the tree but nobody appeared. Then wisps of smoke from somewhere near the truck caught his attention. He couldn’t detect where because the whole of the truck was white and nothing seemed to show.
*
Zoe stayed in the kitchen whilst Mrs. Winston went about her daily duties. She was sitting in a big old rocking chair holding an empty cup of coffee. Mrs. Winston had listened, but had made no comments about her behaviour.
After a while Zoe stood and watched the children through the serving hatch. They didn’t know she was there. She wondered at the interaction of her own children and Mrs. Winston. Martin was lively and inquisitive; William was well behaved and helpful.
“I must be the worst mother ever,” she whimpered into her hands.
Mrs. Winston returned to the kitchen leaving the children engaged in play.
“Tears are not going to make this situation any better, my dear,” she said rationally.
“Come on now let’s sort out your life.”
Zoe looked surprised at Mrs. Winston’s direct comment.
“Well you do want to, don’t you?” came the reaction.
*
Stan was busy looking up the road. He missed the first few flames that licked around the cab, small at first and pale yellow in colour. The black dense smoke was the indicator that he had big trouble. He stood frozen for the moment. He was unable to think clearly. His entire mind seemed to want to concentrate on the photograph of Anna in the cab. After taking two steps forward from the shade of the tree he became conscious there was nothing he could achieve by moving closer. The flames had taken hold and nothing as simple as a fire extinguisher was going to do anything about the dreadful event. The fire had become a living being, lashing its arms around the vehicle, bellowing thick black smoke and roaring with an excited tenor. As it grew Stan walked backwards towards the tree, fascinated at the speed the fireball ate all before it. By the second, the heat and noise grew, he stood before a cracking, snarling inferno and he was frightened. Fortunately there was no wind so the black plumes rose into the sky above, even so he was concerned about the spread of this dreadful creature into the adjoining area.
“For God’s sake will somebody please pass by,” he shouted, above the loud cracks and roars of the fire.
As if by magic, he noticed a vehicle on the horizon to his left.
“Thank God. Help at last,” he choked, his emotions beginning to release themselves.
The feeling of tears changed to those of giggles within his chest when he realized it was a mobile home coming towards him.
“Just my luck, mister-bloody-middle-class here to save the day,” Stan said quietly to himself as the vehicle drew up.
“We meet again,” said the man from the ferry.
He held out a hand as he jumped out of the mobile home.
“You’re not hurt are you?” he smiled as he grabbed Stan’s hand, placing the other around his shoulders as if to protect him.
Suddenly Stan started to feel the magnitude of the event. It hadn’t crossed his mind that he may have been hurt.
“No, I’m fine, a bit shaken I must confess, but no I’m fine,” he replied feeling a little dazed.
Overhead they could hear the throbbing sound of the blades of a helicopter circling the smoke filled air.
“Why don’t we go and have a cup of tea in the van and let the professionals deal with this,” the man said graciously.
Stan walked to the mobile home with his rescuer’s arm still over his shoulder. He was glad for the feeling of human contact.
*
“You’ve got to ask yourself some pretty hard questions now Zoe. Why don’t you get in touch with your mother and ask her advice?” Mrs. Winston enquired.
Zoe looked at her feet, her eyes dull and staring.
“Because Bradley wouldn’t like it,” she replied almost in a whisper.
“My goodness girl, you’re a manager of a club and you don’t make decisions in your own home. What is going on there?” she retorted, in her normal brusque way.
Zoe raised her head and explained how driven Bradley had become about his home, his appearance, and his quality of life. She explained that he was so extremely competitive, always wanting the biggest house, the best car, even down to the fittest body.
“What has that to do with you and your mother?” Mrs. Winston continued.
“He doesn’t think they are…..” sobs engulfed the rest of the sentence.
After a full day with Mrs. Winston and a nap in the afternoon, Zoe felt stronger and more positive about what she must do. She played with the children for ten minutes before they left for home. The children responded well.
Bradley arrived home at ten. He went straight to the television and turned it on. Zoe leaped up and turned it off.
“We must talk,” she said in a resolute tone, but trying not to sound argumentative.
“Zoe I’m tired and I don’t want to talk, okay,” he said, as he searched for the handset.
“Well I do and you’re going to listen,” she said, beginning to feel a little unsure of herself.
“I’m going to work part-time and spend more time with the children. And I want you to help me more around the house.” she announced.
“Not with this mortgage you’re not,” he replied with authority.
“Then we sell the house and one of the cars, we could down size and live well from both our incomes,” she tried to explain.
Bradley had heard enough.
“You lazy bitch, planned this one well haven’t you?” he snapped and strode into the kitchen. “You’re changing nothing,” he continued to shout.
She tried again, but he wouldn’t listen. They slept in separate rooms again that night.
Next morning Zoe was up and had the children in the car earlier than usual. Because she wasn’t so stressed about time, they seemed to be responding better. This alone was proof for Zoe she needed to change their lives.
*
Mrs. Winston was surprised at the early callers. Zoe explained she was going to leave the children as usual, but she was going to see her mother. She also explained she hadn’t seen her for over a year because Bradley didn’t like their influence on her or the children. She wanted to say how sorry she was and to ask for help. Mrs. Winston warned her.
“Humble pie may be the dish of the day. You need her and I’m sure she will help you. Good luck my girl.”
*
Stan entered the mobile home to feel the cool air conditioning relieving his discomfort. He sat on the plush sofa and placed his head in his hands. Outside was a frenzy of activity.
“My last run,” he said solemnly as he accepted a glass of ice cold water.
He raised his head to thank the woman who stood before him. She passed him the glass and was about to turn away when she realised.
“I retire and come to Spain and I still finish up serving you,” she said with a chuckle in her voice.
“Betty?”
“I take it you two know each other,” said Norman in a dry tone.
The trio talked for a while and then the police allowed them to drive on to Burgos. Fortunately, Stan had always carried a body pouch with his documents, passport and licence. He informed his company about the event and they told him to return as soon as possible with a fire and police report.
“What do you do now?” asked Norman.
“I have no idea,” replied Stan and the three of them laughed.
“We might as well make a day of it until your company rings you back,” suggested Betty.
“Where to next?” asked Norman.
Stan started to like the idea of the freedom of the road in the mobile home. They weren’t anything like he had imagined and it made him think of his life in the future and of being stuck in one place. The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea of travelling. How would he broach the idea to Anna? She loved the little house they had bought in Spain and had spent many a happy holiday there already.
*
Zoe pulled up outside her parent’s home. She was calmer than she had been for weeks. She practiced the words as she approached the front door, which flew open as she stood there.
“How bad is it Zoe? Is he hurt? Have they contacted you?” cried her mother.
Suddenly her mother’s arms enveloped her. Her wet face pressed close to hers.
This wasn’t the reception Zoe had expected and was totally confused as to what was happening.
The telephone was ringing as they entered the lounge. Her mother snatched at the receiver. She was crying again only they were tears of joy this time. Zoe observed her mother and realised how vulnerable she was. They made tea together and talked. The unknown crisis had provided a perfect reunion in her mother’s moment of need.
Zoe was able to unburden herself totally.
“Maybe you and the boys could come and live with us in Spain?” said her mother with warmth in her heart.
“Maybe?” mumbled Zoe a little unsure of such drastic changes.
*
Mrs. Winston didn’t recognise the car that pulled up outside. It was only five o’clock and Zoe wasn’t due until around six-thirty. A tall dark handsome man strode purposefully up to the door and knocked hard, ignoring the bell. Mrs.Winston put the door on the chain and opened it.
“I’ve come for my sons,” Bradley announced.
William and Martin heard his voice and responded well. She opened the door and they ran to him. He swept them up in his strong lean arms.
“Zoe never mentioned you coming today,” Mrs. Winston said shaking her head.
“That’s okay, Zoe is too busy and I thought I’d help out a bit,” Bradley smiled with a boy in each arm.
The boys waved and laughed as their daddy put them into his car. Mrs Winston noticed none of them were wearing seat belts.
*
“So it’s settled then, we’ll be in touch when I get back to England. Anna and I’ll meet you and we can spend some time together.” Stan said with enthusiasm.
Betty and Norman waved off their friend as he went for his flight. A full day together had made them feel close. They left Barcelona happy and content.
*
Zoe sat in the police car, at the front of her house, with a policewoman by her side. The drive from Mrs Winston’s had made her feel apprehensive, but now she was totally numb with shock. She couldn’t speak. Voices around her sounded as if they were in a dream. People’s movements seem to be in slow motion. She felt the stickiness of blood on her hands. People were talking to her, but she couldn’t hear them. The flashing lights hypnotized her as she stared into space. Her mother’s voice was the only familiar one, she recognised. They took her away in a car. They gave her a drink. She slept alone.
*
Mrs. Winston pulled the newspaper out of the letterbox. She yawned and rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she spread the paper on the kitchen table.
The photograph of William and Martin sitting close together and smiling hit her in the face. Slowly she read the headline. Murdered. She could hardly read on. Sobbing over the newspaper she read through a blur of how their father had taken their lives by shooting them and then had taken his own life.
Zoe lay cradled in her mother’s arms in her familiar childhood room.
“Boy have I got something to tell you,” shouted Stan as he bounced through the front door.
4,977 Words.
