Nancy
lowered her head and spotted her headdress on the floor beside her handbag.
Nancy groped for the strap. The seat continued to convulse beneath her. Vince
was not letting her off that lightly.
They all should let us be…
 |
| Nora by Charles J Harwood |
She
administered a vicious tug. The fabric tourniqued at her ankle. Her hand
quivered. His resistance exceeded hers. She begged oblivion would take him from
his misery.
Her
shuddering fingers tried one last time. Her bag slid towards her. Blood
squished against her eardrums as she unzipped the bag and foraged for her
phone. A rubber skin now coated her hands rendering her fingers into mitts. Her
mobile flopped around like a fish. She spurned her selection of this slimline
Samsung.
The
display lit up; the swipe of the screen conjured the keypad. She tapped the
three digit number and the dreaded two bleeps came back to her. Signal failed,
location undetermined, the hole is too deep, the place is too dark, the walls
of this cavern are too thick. Nancy wanted to smash the cursed thing against
the fascia. Instead she kept uttering a frantic mantra into the mouthpiece as
if someone were there. ‘Please, please,
please.’
A
hush now snuck over the cab. The rain hissed on the roof. Barry was reaching
the final bar. The single headlamp continued to suffuse enough light to see.
Nancy knew she would, even if she didn’t want to.
Vince
had fallen back in his seat. Her hem remained imprisoned within his clasp.
Sleep had apparently overwhelmed him. His flesh, a subdued blush clashed
against his bloodied shirt. But his lifeless state meant she could make a last
bid attempt. She made cautious approach and brought her cheek to his mouth. His
cologne and sweat had suffused with a spice she couldn’t place. But no breath
caressed her skin. No pulse prodded at his throat.
Vince
no longer appeared concerned. Eyes closed and head rolled back, he could have
been awaiting a kiss.
And it’s him she needs to show…
The
rain cut Barry’s closing enquiry.
Nancy
clasped her hands together. Her grunts on attempting chest compressions gave
acoustic severity in the wake of Barry’s mellow intones. Vince’s head jerked in
response but she was making a mess of it. He wasn’t laying flat and she
couldn’t get her fists into position. Her vision blurred over. His life had
drained away because she possessed no skill or talent, just brute force and a
vague recollection.
He wouldn’t have chosen her to save his life.
With
a shaky hand, she lowered Vince’s jaw and looked inside. Shadows gave nothing
away.
Vince was getting displeased with her.
She
pinched his nostrils together and closed her mouth over his. She forced a
shuddering breath inside. Her lungs had vacated but a morsel of air before
resisting. His lungs were getting none. A full obstruction.
Vince was most unimpressed with her.
Nancy’s
next motion was fuelled by a wretched source. She dragged her body to the
floor. Logic and hope had taken leave. She would burrow her way beneath the
front seat even though the dark obscured her vision; even though the gap
forbade her shoulders. Shards paved the way. They prickled her palms on her
route. Her fore-hair teased her lashes and a waft of gin ionized the air. Just keep going, keep going. Her
fingernail tapped a bottle. London gin took a meander to the wheel arch. She
flicked the bottle towards her.
The
present could take nothing else from her, but the past was rearing up from
behind. Aunt Millie. Stick to Aunt Millie, Cluedo, crosswords, warm milk before
bed. A thin membrane was breaching. Please
God no. Would seven years be enough to seal up the memory? Nancy realised
no amount of time may be enough.
Her
finger landed upon a daggered shard, two inches long.
The
Weston Hill Care Centre.
Nancy’s
lips quivered.
Doctor
Croyd.
She
closed her eyes. She closed her hand.
The
shard pinched her palm.
Nancy
enforced a withdrawal from the enclosure. The memory was just a memory, she
reminded herself, not a rat or a snake about to bite her.
Her
hem slapped her thighs. A shriek scoured her throat. Had someone else entered
the cab? Her knees chafed the carpet. She kicked her shoes aside. The cabin
whirled around her. Was someone there?
Leon
remained in his seat, forever oblivious to sensations. The doors remained
closed, the rain continued to whisper. Nancy barred her sights from Vince’s
form, glancing briefly at the gouged leather. A pale hand rested crab-like over
her hem. Nothing seemed to have changed, but someone else still shared the cab
with her. A nerve ending had misfired.
But
soon, she would be alone.
