Susan 21

Susan

October 2022

I finally escaped the nightmare that is, and forever will be, the A1 Great Western Bypass a little after five and joined the slow but steady bumper-to-bumper crawl towards the exit ramp. Ahead of me, a sea of brake lights far off into the distance. I was genuinely ready to scream.

"Never mind. Bear with it. Home and safety are just fifteen minutes away..."

Or would be if the heavens hadn't just opened. The rain was hard and utterly relentless, as if I'd skipped sideways into a parallel reality and arrived back on Earth right in middle of the Monsoon season.

"I'm glad I'm not out in this," I whispered. "...because this is an absolute bitch."

I made my way towards Beamish Village at a steady pace and soon began the hunt for my regular turning spot. Alas, it was blocked by road works, which meant a minor detour. Never mind. Such is life. I continued onwards towards Beamish Hall and the back exit to the village, still battling against the rain, which was now hammering down hard on the car's roof and bouncing off the tarmac road ahead of me.

That's when I saw her, standing in the shadow of an enormous coal waggon, her frozen face illuminated by the dull blue glow from her phone as it spilled into the rain sodden night.

The coal waggon is an artefact thoughtfully dumped at the side of the road by our local tourist board. Beamish Open Air Museum isn't that far away and this weatherbeaten relic from our industrial heritage is, truthfully, little more than a glorified traffic sign. It's not very good as a shelter either.

I wondered who she was and what she was doing out in such miserable weather. I could see from her frantic prod-prod-prodding that she was wrestling with her device, maybe trying to get a signal.

"Poor woman... " I thought. "She must be mad. Or lost. Or both..."

I spotted a lay-by about thirty meters ahead, indicated left and pulled over. I put my hazard lights on, wound my window down and screamed against the wind. She couldn't hear me so I opened the car door and stepped out into the torrent.

"Do you want a lift?" I shouted although she could barely hear me.

"Sorry? What?" she shouted back.

"Do you want a lift?"

I didn't need to ask a third time. She came running, hard and fast, against the unrelenting whirlwind. The passenger door swung open and she clambered in without pausing. Risky, really, when you think about it but... so it goes.

"I knew my Guardian Angel was looking out for me," she said, gasping.

"Are you on your own?" I asked, searching the hedgerows for any hint of a second or a third person concealed in the undergrowth. (God bless you, Roald Dahl. )

"Yes! Yes! I'm on my own!" she said. "I'm supposed to be some place called Tanfield Lea."

"You're a long, long way from Tanfield Lea," I replied. "I can drop you off, if you'd like."

"No, thank you," she said. "I don't want to take you out of your way. Beamish Village is fine. I think I know where that is. I can find digs there."

She slid into the seat clutching what appeared to be an ancient haversack, all heavy canvas and solid iron buckles. Her clothes, a mix of waterproofs and paper-thin hippy garb, were soaking wet and clinging to her skin.

I waited until she'd buckled up before I indicated right and pulled out. The road behind us was clear and we were soon up to speed.

"And, by the way, I'm Sarah..." I said.

"Susan," she said, wiping rainwater out of her eyes. "Susan Murphy-Bright."

"I am so grateful," she added. "The bus driver said that Beamish was just a ten minute walk and..."

"Well, it is a ten minute walk," I said. "On a good day, in daylight and bright sunshine, and without the torrential downpour..."

Susan wiped her brow with a scruffy hanky and smiled.

"I doubt you'll find digs in Beamish village," I added. "It's pretty much closed now that the Summer Season is behind us but I can take you further on."

"That's very kind of you," said Susan. "But the village is fine. I think I can find my way from there."

"I only live a couple of hundred meters away," I said. "Why don't we go home, get you dried off, find something to eat and wait until this downpour has stopped. After that, we can either call you a taxi or I can drive you up to Tanfield Lea? It's about twenty minutes away, give or take. How does that sound?"

"Are you sure?" said Susan. "That's incredibly kind of you. But you don't know me at all. I might be a mad axe murderer."

"True. Very true," I replied. "But then so might I."

Susan laughed. "And you harvest your victims by patrolling county roads in search of fresh meat?"

"Who doesn't? Fresh protein is hard to come by these days. I blame Brexit."

"Not so fresh in my case," said Susan. "These old bones would turn any cannibal into a vegan overnight."

"Sorry if this seems like I'm prying," I said, accelerating up to speed. "But what are you doing so far out in the wilds?"

"I was on my way to stay with my God Daughter," said Susan. "Although she isn't expecting me until tomorrow and I don't think she's at home."

"Does this God Daughter have a name?"

"Yes, Charlotte," said Susan. "Charlotte Lewes."

"You mean 'Charlie'?" I asked.

"Yes, that's her," said Susan. "Charlie..."

I laughed. "You really are in luck," I said. "Charlie is my neighbour..."

"Really? Excellent..." said Susan. "My Guardian Angel really was looking out for me...."

"And, yes. She is away at the moment," I said. "I've been keeping an eye on her place. I'm sort of expecting her back later, say after ten. I'll drop her a line as soon as we're stationary..."

We turned into the darkened country lane that leads up to our houses and paused to check for Hikers walking in the opposite direction.

"I have to ask," said Susan, clutching at her sack.

"Shoot," I said, following the winding road up to my house.

"You're not actually a Mad Axe Murderer, are you?"

"Not today," I said. "Next week? Not so sure. Ask my husband."

We edged our way towards home and eventually arrived at the gates to Chez Moi.

"This is rather grand," said Susan. "Not what I was expecting at all."

"What were you expecting?" I asked, puzzled.

"Well, not this..."

"It does for us."

"Us?" asked Susan.

"Us, as in me and my husband, Alex, and our son, Theo." I replied. "They're down south at the moment, visiting his folks, so I'm on my lonesome."

"Lonesome?"

I smiled. "Yeah, just me and the dog. I have too much work to do."

"Oh, I see," said Susan, the tone of her reply mirroring exactly how I feel about my in-laws.

The gates opened and the lights on the driveway sparked into life, as did the security floods on the main house. I watched a pair of reflective eyes twist and turn, and then scamper across the lawn. Probably a Fox.

"Yeah, you're right," I said as soon as we cleared the gateway. "They're not my... I know this is going to sound snobbish but... "

"They're not your kind of people, right?" interrupted Susan.

"Right. Exactly." I replied.

"Then good for you," said Susan. "I put up with far too many people I didn't care for during thirty years of marriage. Time that could have been better spent. You're better off without them. Enjoy the peace and quiet, that's what I say."

I pulled up in front of the garage, whipped out my phone and switched off the house alarm remotely. Seconds later, we were at the front door and battling with my keys. I opened the Reception door and immediately fell over a parcel that had been dumped earlier in the day.

That's when I heard a nervous whimper from the top of the stairs. Sam, my geriatric Alsatian, had somehow managed to climb to the half-landing though how he did so is a mystery. His legs are now so weak and strained through old age and hip dysplasia that he can't walk far without assistance. He'd managed anyway, even though scaling the stairs must have hurt him. I made a mental note that we need to buy another, more robust stair guard. He ripped the last one to pieces in less than an hour.

Susan entered in my wake, looking a little nervous. Sam more or less tumbled downstairs, approached with his usual caution, sniffed her twice then licked her hand. Susan had his approval, which is always a good start. Sam then returned to his bed in the kitchen, curled up in a ball and went back to sleep.

Mum home. House safe. Stranger okay. Eat. Sleep. Repeat. Job done.

"Well, that's an instant win," I said.

"I love dogs," she said. "Always have. Hopefully always will..."

"So I see... And he obviously likes you..."

I pointed Susan in the direction of the Wet Room. It smells of damp and mildew in there, and curiously reminds me of my mother-in-law.

I nudged the offending parcel towards the bottom of the stairs with the heel of my foot whilst Susan clambered out of her wet clothing. She emerged seconds later wearing a pair of long, dark blue leggings and a scruffy Mr. Happy t-shirt that was probably older than me.

At a guess, I would say that she was about sixty five, taller at around five foot ten but also a little thinner. Big hips, a narrow waist and a thick head of greying hair worn in a mass of tight curls that spilled over her shoulders and down her back. She also had a huge smile, big bright eyes and an honest face, all coupled with a rich, cultured voice. I liked her immediately.

"Good news," I said as she emerged. "The water heater fired up just as it's supposed to. I can run a hot bath for you, if you could use one..."

"This really is dreadfully kind of you," said Susan. "And I most certainly could use a bath. I don't smell all that nice."

I checked the clock on the wall. "Dinner will be about an hour," I said. "It's veggie, if that's okay."

"Perfect!"

"And, once that's started, I'll give Charlotte a call and find out where she is,"

Susan took herself off upstairs whilst I got on with dinner. With that chore out of the way, I picked up my phone and dialled Charlie.

"Hey," said Charlie. "Nice to hear from you. Everything okay?"

"Fine," I said. "Everything's good. Look, I've found your house guest."

"Susan? Is she okay?"

"Yeah she's fine," I said. "Currently upstairs running a bath. I found her on the main road, lost. She was a bit wet."

"And you took her in? That is so cool," said Charlie.

"What about you? Are you safe?"

Charlie paused. "The flight was a nightmare," she said. "I've booked us into a hotel for the night and I'm in no fit state to drive three hundred miles in weather like this. Mum, likewise. We're just going to sit this one out."

"Just take it easy," I said. "Get home safe. Susan's fine with me."

Charlotte giggled. "You like her?"

"I do," I said. "She's very likeable."

"Look her up on LinkedIn," said Charlie. "You'll like her all the more."

We said our 'Goodbyes' and hung up. I went directly to my Mac, pulled up LinkedIn and typed 'Susan Murphy-Bright'. She came up straight away, first hit.

"Okay, that was a surprise," I whispered.

Doctor Susan Murphy-Bright, Emeritus Professor of... I won't name her Department, her field or her University but it's one of the good ones. Her specialist subjects include Sociology, Psychology, Human Behaviour and a whole load more. Most of the Humanities, in fact. And she has more publications to her name than I can mention. I scanned the page and then... Huh? That last line.

Consultant on the Paranormal.

Wut?

"Paranormal? Really?"

There followed a list of the TV programmes and documentaries so long that I gave up reading. "Some kind of 'rent-a-head'", I thought. In broadcast circles, a rent-a-head is a scientist or expert who is always available, no matter when or where, to give an opinion on any particular subject, even if the subject is not within their specific field of expertise. They're always available at the drop of a hat too, which implies that they can easily interrupt their current work in exchange for a small consultation fee and, of course, public exposure.

"Wow... Interesting, indeed... " I whispered. I'd have read more but I had duties to attend to.

I was in the middle of preparing dinner when Alex called me. He wasn't having much fun.

"We'll be back a couple of days earlier than planned," he said. "Hope that's okay?"

"That's excellent!" I said. "But why?"

"Because this place is monumentally shit..."

I sensed this was going to be a long conversation. I pulled up a chair and sat. "Err, okay. So what's happening?"

"They're all at each other's throats. Arguing about anything. Mostly money, or the lack of it. And Dad's flight got bounced too. He won't get here until tomorrow night."

"Where are you? It sounds... busy."

"Theo and me? We're in MacDonald's, eating fries, drinking milk shakes and just watching the world go by. Anything for a bit of peace and quiet."

Three minutes passed until the Star of the Show put in an appearance.

Theo whispered "Hello, Mommu. I mish you..."

"I mish you too, my little man,"

He's impossibly cute. We talked briefly but the line was a bit rubbish to I agreed to call him back the following day.

Dinner was a vegetable curry accompanied by an assortment of spicy Samosas and a lot of seasoned rice. With dinner simmering away on the Hob, I opened a bottle of white wine, filled two glasses and took a walk upstairs. I found Susan relaxing in the bath.

I knocked and poked my head around the door. "Everything okay?" I asked.

"Absolutely marvellous," said Susan. "Couldn't ask for better. The candles were a lovely touch."

"Here," I said, handing her one of the glasses. "I figured you might need this..."

"You are an absolute angel," said Susan. "I can't drink tea or coffee after five or I'm up all night, so it's wine or spirits or both."

"If you don't mind," I said. "I'll just close those curtains. Whilst we have no immediate neighbours on that side, we do have a steady stream of poachers hiking down to the river and beyond, and a display of bare flesh is likely to bring them closer to the house than either I or they would prefer."

I pulled up a chair and sat at the opposite end of the bath.

"You're on your own," said Susan, swirling the water about her toes. "And in such a huge house, too."

"Yeah, for now," I said. "My husband is away with his folks. They've only just reconnected after a long, long period of... Estrangement and he's mending fences. But then, similarly, he's renewing our borders."

"Renewing your borders? That's a curious turn of phrase?"

"It is, isn't it?" I said. "We, or rather I, would be very much happier if his parents, and his numerous brothers and sisters, and their respective families, kept their distance. I'm convinced that they see us as just one giant money pot, which we're not."

"Oh, I see," said Susan. "My husband's relatives were the same. Never saw them from one year to the next and, as soon as he passed, they all began circling, all of them looking for a hand out. Vernon left them nothing. He had nothing to leave."

"That sounds miserable," I said. "But, truth be told, I'm lonely. I miss my son and my husband, and our housekeeper has gone back to Estonia to fix things with her family. With Charlie away, I haven't seen another living soul outside of work in four days and I could do with some company."

I could hear the timer on the cooker beeping gently.

"Dinner's ready," I said. "Hope you like curry."

"As long as it's hot and meat-free then I'm good," said Susan, gently raising herself from beneath the water.

I couldn't help but stare, although I turned away before my gaze could be judged intrusive. But, Lord above, I hope I look that good when I'm sixty five especially after I've squeezed four kids out of my uterus. Big boobs, albeit slightly droopy, atop a narrow chest and even narrower waist. A few stretch marks here and there but then I'd be surprised if she hadn't any. And I wasn't wrong about her hips, either. Very wide. Very strong. Oh yeah, and a nice set of bushy pubes too, since you were asking. You weren't? Well, I was, and ... Yeah... Well...

Susan made herself decent and we retired to the dining room. I'd put her leggings and t-shirt through the tumble dryer so she had something warm and comfortable to change into. I left Classic FM on in the kitchen as background ambience and lit the room with candles and a couple of side lamps. I also pulled out three reasonable wines, a good mix of red and white, and one of Charlie's Knicker-dropper specials so named because... You get the idea.

Dinner was a lengthy affair eaten slowly and thoughtfully over good conversation.

"What about the dishes?" asked Susan. "I can do them in a jiffy..."

I waved her away. "Pah! They can wait until morning...."

"No, I can sort them out as quick as you like,"

"And vex my tyrannical housekeeper? I think not," I replied. "She's more uptight than an Iron Nun."

"An Iron Nun?" said Susan. "She sounds formidable. And what a wonderful turn of phrase, too."

I led Susan through to the Lounge where I flicked on the fake log fire and handed her a blanket for her legs. I then opened up Charlie's special bottle of wine and poured us both a fresh glass. Susan didn't refuse. Actually, she was already somewhat tipsy. Sam joined us, as he often does, in front of the fire.

Susan began. "Has Charlotte told you why I'm here?".

"She's not said a word," I replied. "But, at her recommendation, I did look you up on LinkedIn and Facebook. Instagram too, if only to check that you're the real deal."

"And?" said Susan.

"Well, I doubt you're an Axe Murderer, which is a plus," I said.

"What if it's my weekend off?" asked Susan.

"It's Thursday..."

"Is it? Lord above... Where did that week go?" said Susan. "I thought it was... Oh. Never mind."

"So, why are you here?" I asked.

Susan paused before speaking, trying to gauge my reaction.

"Well, this started a couple of months ago. Charlotte wrote to me about Lucas [her former husband]. Has she said anything?"

I shook my head. "She's not told me a thing. But, I'm guessing from your credentials that..."

"Lucas claimed he'd seen things around the house. Weird things. Paranormal things. Stuff that moved of its own accord. Books that opened by themselves. He heard footsteps and someone, not Charlotte, snoring in the small hours. The kettle would switch on and off by itself. Someone would knock on their door at midnight. Every night for a week."

"That is so weird," I said.

"Why weird?"

I shook my head. "It's weird because Charlie has never said a word to me about any of this..."

Susan smiled and continued. "He also claimed that he'd been looking out the window one night and that he'd seen a naked woman running across the lawn..."

I raised my hand. "Confession time," I said. "That could actually be true."

"How so?" asked Susan.

"Well, it could have been me..." I said, smiling.

"You?"

"Well, me or Charlotte..."

"Really?"

"Really."

Susan laughed. "I won't ask," she said.

"No, actually. I will ask," she added. "How?"

I paused before answering. "Just... You know... We have a swimming pool out back. Charlie and I occasionally enjoy a midnight swim."

"Oh... I see," said Susan. "And... This naked woman that Lucas saw... Would be you?"

"Or Charlotte..."

"Naked?"

"Why not?" I said. "Nobody else around to see... And... "

"And what?"

"And Lucas... " I said. "Let's say he was occasionally off his face on weed."

"Weed? You mean Cannabis?"

I nodded. "Yup... So far out of his head that I'm not surprised he was hallucinating."

"Figures," said Susan. "He moved out and has refused to come back. He's in a Stoner hospital, or hospice, or someplace, trying to get himself clean, or so I've been told. Says the house had it in for him and I'm here to give Charlotte some kind of reassurance that her dream house is perfectly safe, and I'm willing to bet every cent I have in my bank account that it is. "