Fiction on Monday - Locked in...Locked out...

Today I'm going to post the short story that I took to Writers in the Rafters last Thursday.  Apologies if you were waiting for more for 'The Prize'. but so am I... it happens like that, sometimes.  You're seeing the creative process at work here, and sometimes it isn't pretty...

So, here it is, on the subject of being locked out...

HOMETIME

Beth’s shoulder hurt.  Her schoolbag weighed a ton today - French and German textbooks, and the weight of all that homework as well.  It was two miles to walk home and hot for April.  There was a hill, too, but at least the last half mile was downhill, and she got to walk past the posh houses and the big, open recreation ground, and there was her house, just ahead, an Edwardian end terrace with a tiny garden at the front and a yard at the back.  The side of the house looked straight onto the pavement of a side road, the windows of Mum’s sewing room and the back sitting room like wide apart eyes.

Mum usually had the front door open for her – all Beth’s friends had their own door keys, but not Beth.  Mum was like that.  Not exactly mistrusting, but it was like Mum thought Beth was still twelve, rather than almost sixteen.

Up the little terracotta tiled path and Beth pushed the door.  Hmm.  Locked. Mum might have fallen asleep in the chair, she supposed. Mum did that, sometimes.

Beth hefted her bag and trailed around the house.  She didn’t knock on the front door – Dad worked nights and it would wake him. Dad didn’t sleep well and was usually grumpy, but he got three nights off a week so he had more time at the weekends.

Beth tapped softly on the side window, waiting for Mum to waft the net curtain to show she’d heard, but nothing happened.  Maybe Mum was in the kitchen and didn’t hear?

Beth knocked harder.  Now the dog jumped up on the sofa under the window and barked at the glass. Oh, great! Dad’d wake up early and be in a worse mood than usual and it’d be her fault!

‘It’s only me, Rusty!’ Beth called and, recognising her voice, the dog quietened down, jumping off the sofa and disturbing the corner of the net curtain in the process. 

Beth sighed.  Well, maybe Mum was in the loo, or something.  She waited a few moments, and knocked again, causing Rusty to bark once more.  It was no use knocking.  She was locked out.

But Mum was always in when it was school hometime!

Suddenly she realised that the corner of the net curtain Rusty had disturbed was now away from the glass.  She stood on tiptoe, and peered in…

She dropped down again, upset, disturbed by what she thought she’d seen.  Taking a breath to steady her nerves, she pushed up again against the glass… yes… the vacuum cleaner was fallen over in the middle of the rug.  A vertical line of darkness suggested the door to the hall was open – they never did that, it let the sounds through to wake Dad, and the dog would run about in the hall – everything she could see through the corner of the window suggested something bad had happened…

Beth gave herself a little shake.  This was silly.  She was locked out, that’s all, and she’d just have to wait until Dad got up or Mum came back.

She returned to the front of the house to sit on the doorstep, resting her chin on her hand.  A glance at her watch told her it was five to five – she’d only been locked out for ten minutes, but it seemed like ages.  Well, she’d wait until five past and then knock on the front door.  It would wake Dad ten minutes early, but that would be all right, wouldn’t it? Ten minutes, when you’re locked out and worried about your Mum?

The hands on the watch moved slowly, slowly, slowly…

Four minutes past.  That was enough. The stone step was hard and she was getting really worried.  She got up and began working the knocker at the front door, sending the noise clattering and crashing through the house.  Rusty ran to the door, barking like crazy.  That should do it! Sorry, Dad…  After a minute, she looked through the letter box, hoping to see Dad’s slippered feet on the stairs, but no.  It looked, though, like some of the coats had been knocked down… what was going on?

About twenty past five, a car pulled up.  The next-door neighbours, Mrs Lewis and her daughter Jenny got out.  At the sight of Beth, Mrs Lewis’ face took on a worried, sympathetic look.

‘Oh, dear!  We thought we’d be back ages ago…! Got a message for you from your Mum, love.’

‘Mum! Is she okay?’

‘Why don’t you come inside?’

Mrs Lewis’ house was the same as Beth’s, but it looked much smaller.  The front room was stuffed with sofas and sideboards and plants.  Jenny disappeared into the back of the house to make tea, and Beth sat anxiously, waiting for more information.

Mrs Lewis didn’t like to hurry a story, though.

‘Well, lovey.  I had to go to the doctor’s and I waited ages after my appointment time… I should have been seen at twenty past four! So that’s why I’m late… Anyway, just before we left we heard this…  Never mind.’

She broke off.  Beth was almost bursting with worry, desperate to blurt out questions.  But it was best not to do that with Mrs Lewis – she got sidetracked. 

‘Where was I? Oh, yes.  Don’t mention the ambulance…’

‘Ambulance?’

‘Well.   Your Mum gave us a knock.  Your Dad was taken poorly and she wanted an ambulance sending for.  Well, of course we did, and she went off with him to the General in it.  They didn’t seem too worried, only she said you were at school and could you bring your Dad’s teeth to him?’

Jenny arrived with a tea tray.  Unasked, she loaded a cup of tea with sugar and milk and passed it to Beth.  ‘Drink up, pet,’ she said quietly.  ‘He’ll be fine.’

‘Um… thanks.’ Beth’s shoulders sagged.  She felt very small and young to be coping with this.  And Dad’s teeth?  ‘But I – I can’t get into the house, I don’t have a key, I’m locked out!’

Suddenly, it was too much, and she started to cry.  Jenny, being nearest, put a comforting arm round her shoulders while Mrs Lewis made sympathetic noises.

‘Don’t you worry about that,’ Jenny said.  ‘Your mother gave me your Dad’s keys.  You drink your tea, and then, if you like, I’ll come in with you.’

‘Thank you, it’s very kind!’

‘Jenny!’ Mrs Lewis put in.  ‘Don’t forget you’ve got things to do here!’

Jenny had walked her to the door, though, and waited until Beth had unlocked the door and gone in, pushing Rusty back with her knees. She closed the front door behind her with a thunk and picked up the fallen coats, hanging them back on their hooks.

In the sitting room, she righted the vacuum cleaner and put it away and took her Mum’s cup, still half-full of cold tea, out to the kitchen.   She found a plastic bag for Dad’s teeth, rinsing the bleach off them and leaving them to drain before tipping them in and tying the neck of the bag distastefully.  She let Rusty out to cock his leg against the back gate, and wandered back into the sitting room. There was a note with her name on it, propped against the mantelpiece, and she unfolded it and read it quickly.

Mum’s handwriting was worse than usual, like she’d written quickly.

‘Beth’, it said.

‘Your Dad’s got stomach ache really badly and we’re going to hospital. Mrs Lewis will tell you and give you the key.  Bring Dad’s teeth and a pack of ciggies from the cupboard.  Get bus fare from the fruit bowl and ask at Information to find where we are.

Mumx’

Twenty minutes later, Beth had washed her face, changed out of her school clothes, and was on the number 98 bus to Birkenhead General.  She was on one of the long, sideways seats and kept trying not to think about what the old lady opposite would say if she knew she was sitting a few feet away from a set of false teeth in a plastic bag.

The bus stopped outside the hospital and she hurried in, looking for the information desk.

‘Elizabeth!’

‘Mum!’

Mum had been waiting just inside the door, and she folded Beth into a big, warm hug.

‘Now, don’t you worry, it’s all right.  It’s all right.  I’ve just left him for ten minutes while the doctors have another look. Kidney stones, they think. That’s all.’

They separated.  Beth felt all shaky from the shock, and Mum looked tired.

‘You got those ciggies? And the teeth?’

‘Yes, Mum.’

‘You’ve been a long time! What happened?’

‘I waited for ages! Mrs Lewis was at the doctor’s and didn’t get back until half five… But, Dad? I mean…’

‘Come on.  Let’s get a cuppa and I’ll tell you all about it.’

It was after 8 o’clock when they finally got home.  Beth had been allowed in for a few minutes towards the end of visiting, and had been a bit scared to see Dad, such a tall, big man, looking lost and small in the huge hospital bed.

‘Just a bit weary,’ he’d told her, when she’d asked.  It didn’t really tell her much, but then, nobody seemed to be telling anyone anything, anyway.

Of course, she still had to go to school the next day, and got a telling-off for not doing her German homework, but when she explained about Dad, her teacher sniffed and tore up the detention slip he’d been writing.  ‘Don’t do it again,’ he said.  ‘Verbs matter.’

It was another long walk home, and she kept thinking of the day before, the abandoned vacuum cleaner, the coats on the hall floor.  But today the door was open, and there was tea waiting, and something else.

‘Dad’s going to be all right,’ Mum said.  ‘He’ll be home next week.  And I’ve been thinking.  About yesterday, you coming home and that.’ She pushed a small, shiny thing across the kitchen table towards Beth.  ‘Maybe it’s time you had your own key.’