Released Feb, 2019
Episode One
There was room in his van for at least one more.
Having singled out three possible targets, he considered each one before
selecting the blonde.
The women seemed unaware of his interest.
That was good.
He wet his lips, wrapped a chain around his fist and closed in.
She didn’t know how the day was going to end, but it hadn’t started well. Having woken with tear-crusted eyes
and
a desperate knot in her stomach, Bailey Jacobs had missed breakfast, skipped lunch and drifted into the park
to
contemplate events of the last twenty-four hours.
Sitting on a bench with knees tucked tight to her chest, she covered her
face and cried.
‘Why?’
A dog stopped to sniff her boots and she glared at it between
ring-covered
fingers. It cocked a leg, peed and moved on.
‘Why did he have to be such a dick?’
A middle-aged couple strolled into view, their arms locked and hips
swaying
in time as they followed the path towards her. She could tell they were in love. They were so tightly
wrapped
you couldn’t get a breath between them.
She would have forgiven him almost anything. But that?
‘Excuse me, Miss.’
She looked up to see an old man smiling down at her. He had a walking
stick
in one hand and pointed to the space beside her on the bench with the other.
‘May I have this seat?’
His small face topped a pale-blue jacket with matching trousers hitched
high
above his waist. She shrugged and collected the flow of her dress to make room for him.
‘Thank you,’ he said as he shuffled to the bench and sat. ‘Do you know
your
laces are undone?’
Bailey grunted and covered her boots with her dress, then turned back to
the
lovers floating closer.
Paul hated cuddling in public. He’d happily fool around after a couple
of
drinks, but to show real affection … it would never happen.
‘Margaret Baxter.’
She wasn’t sure the old man had spoken to her until she felt his hand on
her
leg. ‘What?’
‘Sweet sixteen,’ he said. ‘We danced until morning.’
He leaned closer and she prepared to push him away.
‘Married forty-two years.’
She’d expected bad breath or that musty, medicinal smell you get with
old
people. But instead there was a hint of mint and a pleasing flash of spice. He had an infectious grin and
grey
eyes that twinkled fun.
‘Peas in a pod, Margaret and I. Inseparable.’
A dog appeared from the hedgerow, foraging between a clump of early
nettles.
When a jogger ran by, the dog disappeared after him.
‘I wish my bones were so well oiled,’ the old man said with a sigh.
‘When I
was your age …’
Bailey drifted.
Paul stood at the front door of his flat, spit flying as he cursed her
for
walking away from him. He wore Levi’s with the top button undone and his belly catching the light. No shirt,
no
shoes, just jeans and a mop of scruffy brown hair. At one time that would have been enough to pull her back
in,
but not anymore.
‘Perhaps we’ll meet again, young lady.’
Bailey blinked and turned to him. ‘Whatever.’
The old man kissed two fingers and lay them gently on the bench with a
murmur. Then he rose unsteadily and pointed shiny brown shoes towards the car park at the end of the path
where
a woman waited. Her yellow dress, bare arms and white-gloved hands were enhanced by the side of a glossy
black
van parked ominously behind her.
The old man’s stick prodded the ground with every other step as he
hobbled
towards her. When he eventually reached the woman they embraced and Bailey’s heart squeezed a little
tighter.
She couldn’t remember the last time Paul had held her, but guessed it was nothing as gentle as that.
Bailey wiped her nose, climbed off the bench and pointed scruffy black
boots
towards the sickly lovers in the opposite direction. She passed them with a disagreeable grunt.
It was early May and a recent spate of warm days suggested summer was
going
to be a hot one. Bailey folded her leather jacket over one arm and hoisted the front of her dress, bootlaces
scattering as she slapped the path towards home.
Paul had asked her to live with him—a desperate attempt to save their
relationship. At seventeen she was almost three years younger than him and while that didn’t put her off
moving
in, his promiscuity did.
Paul Thacker: cheat, liar and her one true love. She cringed. How could
she
be so stupid? Their first three months had been a dream come true. Even the most mundane chores were new and
exciting and so much fun. They were never apart in that time and hardly came up for air. But their last
three
months had been a nightmare that unravelled too quickly to comprehend. It wasn’t just his inability to stay
faithful—although that hurt the most—he had started picking on her and teasing her in front of his friends.
She
was too tall, too fat, too opinionated. And when she made up her face she looked like a panda.
From start to finish, the whole thing had lasted a little under six
months.
Whether that was good or bad for her first real relationship, she didn’t care. All she knew was that she
felt
crap and wanted to die.
Life was a mountain of shit and she was stuck at the bottom wondering if
it
was worth the climb. Something had to change, but she didn’t know what. In the meantime, she resigned
herself to
living at home with her oppressive mother and annoying brother.
She didn’t hate her mother—she actually admired her for surviving a
shitty
marriage and singlehandedly raising two fairly well-rounded kids—but she nagged constantly and nothing
Bailey
did was ever good enough for her. Paul took pleasure in highlighting her failings all the time, so why did
her
mother have to do it as well?
From the pit of her stomach—where impulsive emotions and impetuous
decisions
often surprised her by erupting without notice—a realisation surfaced. Something she’d ignored for weeks,
but
knew was inevitable. A decision she welcomed and dreaded in the same breath ... she wasn’t going to be
Paul’s
girlfriend anymore. That was final.
She sighed and pushed back a tear.
Life hadn’t worked out the way she hoped and it frightened her to think
what
lay in store for a seventeen-year-old failure with no friends and fewer prospects. Would she get over Paul?
Would she get another job? Would life ever prove interesting enough for her to want to continue being a part
of
it? Based on her experiences to date, she didn’t hold out much hope.
At the ridge of a small hill where the path descended into a vale
peppered
with trees and bushes, she stopped. Down below a woman strode through the long grass, waving a stick as she
shouted. Bailey couldn’t be sure at first, but as she closed the distance between them she realised the
woman
was calling her name.
‘Bailey.’
Bailey edged closer, her laces dragging behind as she placed each boot
hesitantly in front of the other. The stocky woman had short hair and a scrunched up face. When she saw
Bailey
she raised her stick, shook it angrily and marched towards her.
‘You, girl. Stop there.’
Bailey had stopped, but considered running.
‘Have you seen my dog? Big. Tricolour. Bernese.’
Bailey’s eyes flicked between the woman’s stick and her scowl. ‘What?’
she
said, stepping backwards.
‘Are you simple, girl?’ The woman let out an exaggerated breath. ‘The
dog in
question is a Bernese Mountain Dog. His name is Bailey. He is waist-height, black and white with brown
markings
on his legs and chest. And he has two rather large brown eyes that are simply adorable.’ She pulled a curt
smile
then let her real face fall back into place. ‘Now tell me, do you think you might have seen him?’
The woman spoke with a nasal timbre and her mouth half open as if
sucking a
sweet. Bailey didn’t like snobs. She’d not met many but those she had always spoke down to her. This one was
no
different.
‘Well have you?’
Bailey blinked, shook her head and said, ‘No.’
‘Very well, but keep your eyes open girl, just in case.’ The woman
turned
and paced away, raising her stick in the air as she shouted, ‘Mrs Chatterington’s the name. Everybody knows
me.’
Mrs Chatterington’s shouts faded as Bailey followed the path through the
trees and up a hill to a row of houses lining the park. A narrow alley with high fenced walls led through a
maze
of back gardens to a quiet road at the front of the properties.
Her mother’s house sat on the bend of a cul-de-sac. Brampton Road was a
no-through road that consisted of detached houses built in the seventies. Number 10 had been Bailey’s home
for
the last fourteen years—not including the summer she spent with her aunt after setting fire to her brother’s
bedroom.
As she slid a key into the lock and pushed the front door open, the rich
smell of cooking preceded a voice from the kitchen.
‘Is that you, darling?’
Previously distracted by Mrs Chatterington and her missing dog, the
reality
of Bailey’s tragic life came crashing back. She groaned, slammed the door and ran up the stairs, making sure
her
boots thumped every one that got in the way. Collapsing on her bed, she pushed her face into the pillow and
let
the tears flow—wishing thoughts of Paul would piss off and take the pain with them.
When someone knocked on her bedroom door a short while later, Bailey
squinted through a clump of matted hair as her mother entered the room carrying a tray.
‘Leave me alone,’ she yelled.
‘Did you take a tablet?’ her mother asked.
Bailey wanted to scream.
‘Do you want one now?’
‘What?’ She heard a whoosh and the room filled with light. ‘Go
away.’
‘I brought you biscuits.’
Bailey huffed, rolled her legs over the side of the bed and sat up. She
grunted as her mother handed her a plate of biscuits and a can of Coke.
‘Paul called again,’ her mother said.
Bailey levered the ring-pull and the can hissed open.
‘He sounded upset.’
She chewed on a biscuit.
‘He asked if he could pop over tonight.’
Crumbs sprayed from Bailey’s mouth as she blurted, ‘And what did you
say?’
‘I told him to wait until you were better.’
‘What?’ She scoffed. ‘Better? Now he probably thinks I’m an emotional
loser
hiding away in my bedroom.’
Her mother frowned, but said nothing.
‘I don’t want to see him. Do you understand? Not now, not when I’m
better,
not ever.’
As Bailey dismantled a custard cream, her mother rubbed her knee and
said,
‘Whatever you do, don’t rush to grow up, darling. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you and there’s so
much to
enjoy.’
‘But it hurts, Mum.’
‘It’ll get easier, I promise.’
‘When?’ Bailey felt a new tear crown. ‘I’m a failure. I’m crap at
everything
and nobody likes me.’
‘Don’t be silly, darling. I like you.’
‘But Paul doesn’t. If he did why would he cheat on me?’
‘I don’t know.’
Bailey rubbed the tear away. ‘We couldn’t even make it to six months.’
Her
voice cracked mid-sentence and she wished it hadn’t. ‘A complete failure.’
‘It happens, darling. It hurts, but it happens.’
‘I’m trying to think what I did wrong.’
Her mother squeezed her knee. ‘It’s not your fault. He was the one who
cheated, not you. Listen, if this boy isn’t the right one then don’t try and make him.’
Bailey reached beneath the pillow and removed a photo frame that had
seen
better days. The picture was of a handsome man with thick black hair. He sat astride a motorbike while
holding a
baby wrapped in pink. She circled the man’s face with her finger. ‘Was Dad the right one for you?’
‘No,’ her mother said. ‘But that was different.’
‘Not that different.’
‘Has Paul hit you?’ Her mother’s voice sharpened with a gritty edge
Bailey
hadn’t heard since Aunt Liz phoned last Christmas. ‘Has he?’
‘No.’ She lied.
Her mother sucked in a breath and held it before speaking. ‘Promise me
something. If a man ever lays a finger on you, don’t do what I did. Don’t accept it. It’s not normal and
it’s
not okay. I’m always going to protect you, Bailey. So you come and find me and tell me. Will you do
that?’
Bailey nodded, thinking she probably wouldn’t.
The rest of this episode (Bailey Jacobs and the Disappearing Dogs) is available to read now for registered Members.
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