The Forge: Fire and Ice

A WORM IN THE TOFFEE APPLE R.L Kerrigan

Alice was always jumpy this time of year. She palmed a couple of Diaxims from the top of the dresser and urged them down her dry throat. Mark said it was just the fireworks. She rather thought it was the horrid pregnant silences between explosions which made her worse. But it was day time now. No fireworks yet.

She twisted the fat diamond rings around her slender finger and looked out of the bedroom window. The cold mid-afternoon sun streamed through the monkey puzzle tree and across the perfect front lawns. Next door’s new Tesla Off-Road glinted beautifully. It had been left out on display in front of its huge and empty garage for one reason, thought Alice. But there would be no persuading Mark on this. He had been quite clear. Until his bonus review at the firm was completed there would be no upgrade on the cars. There were the village fees and upkeep on the French house to be paid and if she wanted to ski at all this year, she would have to cut her cloth. They could afford it. Mark was just being a difficult bastard.

Pursing her lips at the injustice, it occurred to Alice that she hadn’t been out of the front door at all today. A trip out might be just what she needed. The doctor had been clear that she was to stay active and positive if she wanted to be happy and valued. She was lucky to be here. London had been so taxing. A lifetime ago. It was like a jungle, so hard to feel clean, even in the compounds. The distant memory pricked out sweat on her top lip. The rules were different there. Why any decent person would choose to live in that swarm was beyond her. Of course the firm had a presence there, but made sure its top execs had remote and virtual working tools so that they never had to actually leave the Villages.

Descending the stairs to the nursery room, Alice checked her phone for messages. Nothing from the agency. Two days now. Still no new nanny. Was it any wonder her nerves were starting to fray? Really, Mark was bloody lucky she knew how to pull together in a crisis. He had said he would give the agency a piece of his mind after Eva upped and left… Evie… Ellie? Whatever that sodding girl’s name was. To be given Village papers and then to just disappear? The ingratitude of it boiled Alice’s blood. She scooped up the silent child from its play pod and made her way through to the garage suite. Sunglasses, handbag, keys, kid.

She flicked on the garage light with an elbow. The pale space was flooded with cold white light. Three cars, Mark’s vintage Harley, a couple of over-flow champagne chillers humming quietly with empty crates from the vineyard stacked on top. The latest order of Mark’s favourite Grand Cru was still on the floor in front of one of the fridges. Bottles and bottles. She wouldn’t be putting it away for him. He could drink it warm, thought Alice with a small tut as she made her way to the four by four in the middle, flung wide the back door and clipped in the car seat.

As she pulled out on to the driveway the child started to squawk loudly. Alice passed it the dosing dummy, flipped the noise cancellers on in the back, and in an instant all was tranquil again. Scrolling the short list of her recent places on the dash screen, she selected Beans on the Green and commenced auto-drive. She shouldn’t even have to touch the display, but she was stuck with this archaic model. Alice sat back, massaging her temples as she grappled with the day’s biggest question: what would she donate to the parish bonfire night charity drive?

The destination alarm pinged, breaking Alice’s deep thought. They had come to a halt under a willow between the village green and the river. Exiting the car, she spotted a woman making her way across the grass towards the café. Alice recognised her from her hypnofasting class. It was working, she thought enviously, the woman looked beautifully frail. Seeing Alice, the woman gave a weak wave, twig fingers scraping the air in a languid arc. Alice looked away first, dropping a pair of large sunglasses over her narrowing eyes.

Alice waited until the woman was out of sight before removing the car seat from the back of the car. She didn’t want to be seen without help unless she could immediately explain why. But more than that, she didn’t want to risk the child exiting the car before making sure the Xanpaed in the dummy had silenced it again. Villagers didn’t pay what they did to have the tranquillity and order of the village spoiled by an uncontrolled infant. By-laws couldn’t be clearer on this.

She hadn’t got much further towards the café when Reverend Quinn hove into view. He was upon her within moments, long lolloping strides bringing his waxy smiling face to within uncomfortable inches of hers.

‘Alice my dear. Is that you over there by the river?’ He gestured towards the car.

‘Only, I must ask, did you see any rats on the far bank? They find a way of getting over you know.’ His eyebrows slanted comedically, his moon-face suddenly the picture of angry concern. Alice remembered that he was up for the position of Council member with portfolio for pest control. His sermon on Sunday had been all about the cleanliness and godliness proximity. He was clearly pitching for the role vacated by the late Mr Antrobus, whose non-detection of a sizeable nest in a village storm drain had cost him dearly.

Alice shuddered. ‘No. I mean, I doubt I could see that far across the waters but… no, nothing moving as far as I could tell.’ It was every village member’s job to be vigilant.

‘Good-O!’ said the vicar, beaming once again. ‘Will we be seeing you and your lovely family at the bonfire night fete this evening?’ He placed a sweaty hand on the child’s head.

‘Of course, Reverend. I’m just deciding what to donate to the drive.’ Alice shuffled the infant carrier out of his reach.

‘Capital. I’m sure you can get your hands on something.’ He gave her a conspiratorial wink then looked past her to the tranquil waters beyond the green.

‘Wonderful, wonderful,’ he murmured.

As the reverend trotted off, Alice decided to change direction. There was too much to think about. She needed Mark. Leaving the green behind her, she headed towards the stone-flagged market square. The firm’s Agile Space was housed in a double fronted Georgian building with a brass plate and hanging baskets. She found Mark at his desk, deep in conversation with a disembodied face on one of his three screens. Seeing her, he graciously ended the call and removed his earpiece.

He smiled up at her. ‘Hello my darling,’ he said.

She ignored his outstretched arm.

‘I’m having the shittest day Mark. I mean, where is the fucking nanny? You were supposed to sort this. I’ve got the donation to organise, the kid keeps surfacing, the car is a bloody nightmare and all without any sort of help. You know I wouldn’t normally bother you at work but I need this handled!’

Mark stood up and closed the office door. He looked sheepish.

‘Yes, darling, well the thing is, I haven’t wanted to bother the agency.’

‘What the fuck Mark?’

He loosened his tie. ‘Look, it was Wednesday I think,’ he turned back to the screen and scrolled up through his diary.

‘She got a bit… reluctant. I could have handled it a bit better I suppose but yes, look…’ He pointed at a meeting entry.

‘We’d had a bad outcome on the Paradiso account and I needed something to distract me at the end of an awful day. Please don’t be cross. I wasn’t asking her to do anything out of the ordinary. She’s for all our use after all isn’t she?’ He looked to Alice like a sad little boy. She started to soften.

He went on, ‘Anyway, she starts refusing at the first fence and I… well… I sort of lost my temper. I cleared away afterwards and I’ve been meaning to deal with it since.’ He looked extremely sheepish now. Alice felt her indignation give way to irritation.

‘For God’s sake Mark. Is that what the clutter is about in the garage? All those boxes stacked up so that no-one can get into the chillers?’ She dropped her voice slightly but hissed, ‘You should have just told me you silly fool.’

She left the office feeling disgruntled. She had a reasonable explanation now but it irked her that she had had to draw it out of him. She knew it was because he was embarrassed. There was a reason outsourced workers were so expensive; Village papers and vetting cost a great deal, deposits were astronomical. He was always getting at her for over-spending yet here he was, wasting money and resources like this.

But slowly, the intense feeling of righteousness started to lift her mood. As she drew near the car, she began to wonder if there might not be a silver lining to this whole debacle after all.

That night, the village green was alive with the yellow glare of at least 30 elevated, lawn-safe bonfires. The aroma of popcorn and toffee apples hung on the air. It was artificially intensified to mask the more offensive smells but it always gave Alice a lovely warm feeling inside.

She looked about her at the crowd. The whole village was there. Everyone seemed genuinely happy on these occasions and Alice felt a spontaneous surge of contentment. Such unmedicated feelings were rare. At that moment she noticed the skeletal hypnofaster stalking towards her, a satisfied grin stretched over her taut skull-face.

‘Gosh Alice, twice in one day! The girls and I were just saying that we don’t see enough of you. Did you manage to find anything to donate to the Fires? I know it’s hard babe.’ She pulled a grotesque baby-face in commiseration at Alice’s presumed failure. She carried on, no interest in a reply. ‘So Angus caught a rat on Sunday’s Hunt. Perfect timing for tonight. It had crawled into the Protected Zone from one of the estates.’ She mouthed the last word as if it was some sort of expletive. ‘They all do. They’ll soon learn to just stay there.’

She rolled her eyes, lurched in to touch Alice’s cheek with her own then picked her way back into the throng of villagers.

The woman would hear about Alice’s largesse soon enough. Alice and Mark were not Hunt people yet and normally this sort of exchange would have sent her hurtling into a pit of social anxiety and envy. But not tonight. She’d nothing to feel inadequate about tonight, at least.

Mark moved close beside her. The child in his arms was transfixed by the flames, large eyes dilated and unmoving as it sucked rhythmically on its dummy. The loud screams and cries for help coming from the rats on the far bonfires didn’t seem to faze it. Alice could never understand what they were saying anyway, she supposed it was English of a sort. She felt exquisite pride as she thought how perfectly silent her own expensive donation had been compared to the raucous and, let’s face it, utterly disposable offerings of her neighbours. A rat was ordinary and uninspired. Her donation showed class. And after all, a well-chilled body burns for a bit longer, the pretty face a much more pleasant sight as it melts off the bone.

She glanced across at Mark, his face shining in the firelight with admiration and gratitude. She might get that new car after all.

the end