Split Seams

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Awakening was an unhurried affair. A series of climbs almost to the edge of awareness followed by retreats into the depths of slumber. Little by little the mists of sleep melted away. Susan opened one of her blue eyes only to immediately slam it shut again pulling the blankets over her head. Something was wrong, her surroundings were strange, she felt out of place.

Peeping out through half closed lashes she could see a small unfamiliar bedroom, one furnished in an old fashioned way. A shabby mirror backed dressing table, with some odd looking ornaments lying on the top. Between the wooden framed window and the corner of the room a mismatched cheap wardrobe had been placed rather awkwardly, it’s warped door refusing to close properly. Her clothes lay scattered untidily, half on the floor, half on a dusty wicker chair, not hung up neatly as was her usual way. A clock had been placed on the floor, one of those white plastic electronic things with red numerals that flip over. It declared the time to be 06.33. Apart from the clothes she didn’t recognise anything else in the room, certainly not the curtains or the carpet, not even the wallpaper . The room was a hotchpotch of oddments, as if it had just been thrown together in a hurry. A room empty of thought and full of junk.

“Oh my God,” she said to herself, “Where am I? What have I done?”. A sudden fear came over her, squeezing her eyes tight she stretched her hand out, tentatively feeling over the bed for the dreaded mound of somebody else’s body. With a flood of relief she realised she was alone. Running her hands over her firm body, she felt the soft lace of her bra and panties, `Thank God,’ she thought. Her mind spun, she couldn’t remember undressing herself and hoped nobody else had.

Sitting up on the bed perfectly still, her slim back pressed against the pillow knees pulled up under her chin, she listened, her ears alert for the sound of floorboards creaking or doors opening but she could hear nothing. For what seemed ages she sat rigid, listening and thinking. Something had happened the previous day. Searching her mind she tried to remember what had taken place.

Earlier in the week she and her workmates at the bank had decided to go for a drink after work on Friday after work to celebrate the new bonus payment. It was fantastic, they were to receive a minimum of one thousand pounds each, some as much as ten thousand depending on length of service.

None of her friends were aware that she was the daughter of the Chairman of the bank, Sir Edward Carter and that she had been placed in that particular branch of the bank purely to gain work experience before moving up to higher things. Her father had been a widower for eighteen years and although Susan did not live at home anymore, he doted on her. Yesterday morning she had deliberately left her Ford car at her tiny one bedroom flat on the far side of town, choosing to walk to work in the knowledge she would be celebrating that evening. It was only about two miles and the walk would do her good.

Feeling a bit chilly Susan pulled her knees up tight to her chin and wrapped the duvet cover around her as she tried to piece the previous evenings events together in the hope she might find a clue to where she was.

They had all decided to meet in The Drovers Arms, a large mock Tudor pub which was situated immediately over the road from the bank. As it was so close it was where any celebration from stag nights to Christmas drinks always began. Because of different work times Susan was the first in the pub on this occasion, her workmates would follow in about fifteen minutes. Ordering a cheese roll and half pint of beer she went and sat down while she waited for her workmates to arrive.

It wasn’t very crowded at that time just an elderly couple chatting quietly in one corner, she knew their faces because they had been into the bank that afternoon. Try as she might she could not recall their names. Sitting on his own at the bar reading a newspaper was a well dressed young man who smiled at her and offered to carry her drink to the table, an offer she had refused. Leaning unsteadily against a large reproduction oak beam framed fireplace was the usual solitary drinker leering at her greedily with undressing eyes over a half empty glass of flat beer.

Beyond that Susan could remember nothing. She assumed she must have had a drop too much, and that one of her workmates had let her stay the night. But she was puzzled. Although her mind seemed slow and confused, she did not feel as if she had drunk excessively which was not like her anyway. As all these thoughts filled her mind she had a strange compelling desire to get out of there and go home, to get to more familiar surroundings.

Slipping her graceful five foot ten inch frame out of bed and tiptoeing to the old- fashioned wooden sash window she disturbed Disturbing dust which caught in the back of her throat as she peeped through the floral curtains out onto a totally alien landscape. It was a beautiful morning, the sun was shining, the birds were singing.

Through the glass she could hear the clink of milk bottles being delivered nearby. As she pressed her face against the cold glass she looked to the right and to the left. It appeared she was in a house in the middle of a row of terraced houses which backed onto a large expanse of grass, a park or sports field or something like that.

Immediately before her lay a small back garden surrounded by a tall brick wall with broken bottles cemented along the top, probably to deter thieves, thought Susan. One side of the wall was covered with some sort of vine, tangled and creeping its way almost to the top. There seemed to be an old wooden lean-to on the other side of the wall in the neighbours garden. She watched for a moment as a cat gingerly made it’s way through the glass shards along the wall before jumping down onto the lean-to. Beyond the park she could see the tall buildings of a city centre, none of which she recognised. Having lived in Manchester for all of her twenty one years she knew the landscape of the city intimately. This was not Manchester.

Susan suddenly became alarmed, a fear welled up from her bare feet and gripped her throat she had to get out of there. Not only was she in a strange house, but a strange town as well. Dressing quickly in her new smart grey working trousers and white blouse and finally finding her light grey leather shoes under the bed. She looked around for her coat it was nowhere to be seen although her handbag lay on the floor beside the clock, opening it she glanced over it’s contents, which seemed to be all there. Looking at her reflection in the mirror she quickly ran her comb through her long blonde hair but didn’t waste time putting make-up on. She wanted out.

Opening the bedroom door, which thankfully made no squeaks or groans in protest, she peered out into the gloom of the landing. The whole house seemed dirty and uncared for and had a musty damp smell, Susan couldn’t wait to get out of there. Tiptoeing down the narrow corridor towards the door as gently as she could she still could not avoid a loud creak from the floorboards. Freezing in mid-stride, afraid to go forward or back she listened before moving as silently as she could along the landing to the top of the stairs and creeping down the stairs to the ground floor. Lying on the floor at the bottom of the stairs was her red anorak she grabbed it and put her hand on the door lock to open it. The handle was solid, as if it was not meant to turn.

“Good morning Alice,” said a thin hoarse voice behind her, “you’re up early.”

Susan turned round to face a small dumpy woman of about fifty years of age. Her grey speckled hair looked as if it had never been combed, never mind cut. She was wearing a dowdy orange jumper with food stains down the front and creased green trousers; she had a table knife in her hand. Looking at the knife Susan took a step back. The woman turned around and walked back to the kitchen, saying over her shoulder, “Plenty of time Alice, come and have some toast.”

Curious, Susan hung her coat over the back of a chair and followed the woman into the kitchen, offering her hand she said, “Excuse me, I don’t think we met last night, my name is Susan.”

“Oh Alice you are a one,” laughed the woman in a throaty way, “You were Janet last week. You’ve always come up with fairy stories. Who are you today? Not still an actress I suppose?”

Susan said, “No, no, really. My name is Susan Carter, I work in a bank in the town centre. Who are you and where am I now?”

The woman’s face adopted a curious puzzled look for a second then she broke out in a big smile and replied, “You’re having me on again deary. You know where
you are, you are at home with me, your mum.”

Susan’s jaw fell open, she slumped down into a chair with a startled look on her face, “My mother? Oh no you are not, my mother is dead. Whose house is this? Where am I? How did I get here?”

The woman stood there with a slight smile on her face and made no response.

Snapping open her handbag Susan reached for her mobile phone, her face creased with concern as she realised it wasn’t there, she began fumbling through the contents of the bag more and more franticly to no avail. She raised her head in startled realisation, “My mobile’s missing, where’s my phone?” Continuing in frustration, “Oh I’ve had enough of this.”

Jumping up she ran up the hall to the front door, snatching up her coat with her left hand she simultaneously grabbed the lock at the same time with her other hand, she tried to turn it but it wouldn’t move. Pulling with all her strength and using both hands she couldn’t make the door open.

Turning she saw the woman framed in the kitchen doorway a smile still on her face. “Where’s the backdoor?” said Susan “Excuse me,” as she rather rudely marched past the woman to the kitchen before she could answer. Seeing a door she guessed would lead to the outside she pulled it hard and breathing a sigh of relief when it opened, she stepped out into the fresh air. Glancing quickly around the garden her heart sank when she could see no doorway in those steep surrounding glass topped walls. She ran across the damp grass to the far end where the vine was but she could see no way out, she had no alternative but to turn and re-enter the house.

Inside the kitchen stood the woman now with an overweight younger man talking in a conspiratorial manner. As Susan enter the room they both turned and looked at her, the woman with amusement and the man with a more concentrated look.

“Morning Alice, been for a walk have you?” he said.

“Who is this?” Susan turned to the woman, demanding a reply.

“Well if you don’t know your brother William by now God help you,” said the woman.

“I told you, you are not my mother and I have no brother, or sister for that matter and no cat, no dog no tortoise and no tropical fish.”

”Very funny Alice,” said the man without smiling.

Susan looked at him hard and said, “Susan. My name is Susan,” she paused for a moment is if in a quandary before continuing, “ I would like to use your telephone please if it’s no trouble.”

“Well it ain’t no trouble to me, Alice,” he emphasised the name, “but it will be to you because we haven’t got a phone.”

Susan couldn’t believe it, “No phone, no phone,” she exclaimed, “What year is this? The 1950s or what?.” She thought for a moment before continuing, “I suppose that means you haven’t got the Internet either.”

“Come along Alice, you know we have never had a phone, no TV, no radio, not anything,” said the woman.

Susan couldn’t believe her ears. She pinched herself to make sure she was awake and wished she had put at least a bit of mascara and lipstick on, her father always emphasised the authority and power which comes through presentation. Now she felt naked.

“At least then will you be good enough to open the front door for me so that I may go home.”

“This is your home and the doors been jammed since last year when you…” he faltered as if there was something he did not want to say, “well you know.”

“No I don’t know,” shouted Susan, “I don’t know how I got here, where I am, who you are, the only thing I know is that you are trying to prevent me leaving this house and communicating with the outside world.”

“Look young lady,” said the man as he pointed menacingly at her, “they told us you would become hysterical occasionally so you have to calm yourself down, I suggest you have a hot bath and go to your room for a sleep.” Ominously he added, “Or else there is always your medicine.”

“They? Who the hell are `they’?” screamed Susan, “How many of you are involved in this, this, this conspiracy?” she searched for the right word and then collapsing into a chair, continued in a softer almost defeated tone, “Oh tell me what’s going on please, please?”

Both man and woman answered together, “The doctors.”

The woman continued, “Alice, they told us you would have identity problems and severe mood swings but that there is medication to help you.”

“It doesn’t sound like it’s to help me, it’s to help you,” Susan sobbed I’ve had enough I’m going upstairs.” She turned and ran back to the room upstairs.

Later

Susan lay flat on the bed her hands behind and under her head. She had been crying. It was late afternoon. Following the shouting match she had run up the stairs to escape from those people in order to get her thoughts together, unable to understand what was happening to her. She had awoken in a strange bed in an unfamiliar house inhabited by weird people. The house seemed to exist in the last century, the people in it denied her identity, Why had her mobile been stolen?
She saw three paths open to her. She could start yelling and screaming until neighbours or somebody came, she could try to climb out of a window and escape that way, or she could take control of the situation and try to find out what this was all about.

Just then there was a soft knocking on the door, it opened slowly.

The woman’s still uncombed head came into view, “I’ve just put the kettle on Alice, would you like a drink bringing up here or will you come down for it.?” The words, although conciliatory did not sound genuine spoken in that gravely voice.

Susan was just about to say she would come down for it when she remembered the reference to medicine and decided to take the drink in her room but at the same time she knew she had to find out more about her situation.

“Please call me me Susan. I am not Alice, you don’t know my name and I don’t know yours, what am I to call you. I certainly wont call you mother.”

The woman came and sat on the bed, she stared hard into Susan’s eyes and said, “Alice Bishop, that is your God given name, I’ll not call you any other. You can call me what you want,” she paused, “Even Mrs Bishop if you want.”

Ten minutes later the drink arrived but the woman didn’t linger she simply said rest is a good thing, try and get some sleep as she shut the door softly. As soon as Susan was alone she went to the window to throw the drink away but it was screwed shut, she could see the big heads of two screws on each side fixing it solid in it’s wooden frame. After looking around for somewhere to dispose of her drink she settled on behind the wardrobe and slowly tipped the contents of the cup onto the carpet there.