Short Story #12

WE LOOK AFTER OUR OWN

By Teresa Ashby

“Come on, jump in,” Chris said as he pulled back the covers and patted the bed next to him. “It’s ever so comfy. I used to sleep in here with Grandma when I came for sleepovers.”

Kay wasn’t sure what was more sickening, his use of the word comfy, the little cloud of dust that rose up from the bed or the pathetically sad smile on Chris’s face.

“Do we have to sleep in her bed?” she said with a shudder.

Tears welled in his eyes.

“Poor grandma,” he said gazing down at the pillows. “If only she’d died peacefully in her bed.”

Kay groaned.

“She was nearly eighty,” she said. “She had a good innings. What does it matter how she died? Old ladies fall down the stairs all the time.”

She pulled open the top drawer of the dressing table and felt around inside.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for a secret compartment,” Kay said.

“Grandma didn’t have any secrets,” Chris said.

Kay walked over to the bed and got in. There was still treasure to be found in this ratty old house, she just knew it.

“Do you think she cut you out of her will because she didn’t like me?” Kay said.

“Of course she liked you.”

Kay caught his look in the mirror as he averted his eyes. He’d never been able to lie convincingly.

“But you were her favourite,” Kay cried. “Her only grandson. I think you should contest the will.”

“No,” he said, putting his foot down for once. “I’m not going against Grandma’s wishes. She must have had a good reason for cutting me out of her will. I must have done something to upset her.”

He flopped down and pulled the blankets up over his head. She knew he was crying again. It was a bit much. He’d even broken down at the funeral and when they’d lowered the coffin into the ground he’d let out an almighty sob.

It was downright embarrassing.

And how he could be fond of Grandma she didn’t know. She was a right crabby old woman with a foul temper and a sharp tongue.

On the day Grandma died, Kay had helped herself to the cash the old woman kept in the house.

She’d found a wad of twenties in the milk jug on the dresser and there was more money hidden in trinket boxes and between the pages of books.

Kay noticed a box full of jewellery. These scrap gold merchants were always advertising on telly offering cash for gold. She could fill a big envelope with what she’d found, but that would have to wait until after the old woman was dead.

She wrinkled her nose at the cupboard full of smelly stuff. Freesia bath cubes, freesia talc, freesia scent, freesia this and that – Kay loathed the smell and didn’t plan to take any of it.

The old woman was meant to be out at bingo, but she’d come home early and caught Kay rifling through her drawers.

“I’m on to you,” she’d said to Kay. “I know you’re only with Chris for what you can get. I don’t know why he married you. What are you doing here anyway? I don’t want you in my house.”

“Well tough luck, Grandma,” Kay snarled. “He did marry me.”

Not that she’d have bothered marrying him if she’d known the old bag was going to cut him off without a penny.

“This will be my house once you’re dead,” Kay had laughed.

“Is that what you think?” Grandma came right back at her. “Well I’ve got news for you, missy.”

Missy! It was almost as bad as Chris’s comfy.

The old woman talked the talk, but when push came to shove, Kay had the upper hand and she wasn’t afraid to use it.

Grandma was probably dead before she landed at the foot of the stairs. She was definitely dead when Kay stepped over her on her way out of the door.

Kay tossed and turned. Every time she moved she could smell freesias and it was getting stronger.

Then she heard a hissing voice.

“I know what you did.”

She sat up and before she switched on the light she thought she saw movement in the bedroom.

Well it wouldn’t be Chris. She’d put enough pills in his cocoa to keep him asleep for hours.

She kept them in case he got frisky, not that he was likely to when he kept bursting into tears.

She’d given them to him so she could get away tomorrow without having to explain herself. No point staying with him if he wasn’t coming into any money.

She planned to take the jewellery and whatever else she could find from the house. She figured he owed her the car for putting up with him so she’d be taking that as well as the contents of his wallet.

But she couldn’t sleep. She might just as well leave now as wait till morning. Chris was dead to the world as she banged around getting dressed.

Once she’d filled her bag she went out to the landing. The light didn’t work. She flicked it on and off several times and swore.

Never mind. She groped her way towards the top of the stairs then felt a tap on her shoulder.

She turned and saw a shadowy figure standing behind her. The scent of freesias almost choked her.

“We look after our own in this family!”

Kay screamed and as she turned for the stairs her foot caught in the ragged old carpet. She would have saved herself but for the shove in the small of her back. She went flying, screaming all the way to the bottom, hitting every stair on the way down.

“You mustn’t blame yourself,” Chris’s mum said at the funeral. “Kay didn’t die because you didn’t wake up; she died because she’d drugged you.”

Chris nodded. Oddly he didn’t feel as upset about Kay as he had about Grandma. He felt more upset about her drugging him than about her dying. And he was pretty pissed that her bag had been stuffed with Grandma’s jewellery and other bits and pieces.

“It’s lucky I found Grandma’s proper will,” his mum went on. “I knew she’d left everything to you.”

She hugged him and he found the scent of freesias comforting. The smell made him smile.

He’d told Kay that Grandma didn’t have any secrets, but there was one he could think of. She hated the smell of freesias.

All that bath stuff his mum used to buy for Grandma just got put in a cupboard and forgotten. His mother loved it though and you could smell her coming a mile off.

Kay must have found Grandma’s secret stash and used some of it. When he’d found her body at the bottom of the stairs, she’d reeked of it.

“Yes,” his mum sighed softly. “We look after our own in this family. Kay should have realised that.”

-THE END-

© Teresa Ashby