Ch 8. Monica.

Chapter 8

It was late morning on Sunday and my father had gone off to the snooker club. My mother was busy washing the great pile of breakfast dishes that my father had generated in his breakfast treat for us. I was also busy having made a start on some of the family's ironing.

         "Can you fetch the washing in, Monica? It looks like rain," my mother said.

         I looked out through the kitchen window. The sky was turning dark and spots of rain had already speckled the paving stones. I left the ironing, hurried out with the laundry basket and gathered up the washing to take back to the kitchen. "Mum, didn't you do my underwear? I'm getting a bit short on bra's."

         "Of course I did. I did all the washing including your underwear and hung everything out last night."

         "Well, they're not here."

         My mother looked up from the sink. "They must be. I remember putting them out." She dried her hands and sifted through the washing in the basket.

         "They're not there, Mum."

         My mother walked across and checked inside the washing machine before making her way over to the back door. "Maybe the wind blew them off the line." I followed her outside and we began checking the flowerbeds, ignoring the occasional raindrops.

         "Look, Mum, there's footprints in the soil." I looked up to the top of the garden wall. "Someone's dropped down from the wall. Someone's been in here."

         "Who on earth would…" My mother stopped mid-sentence and looked at me.

         "Oh no, he's been in our garden. It's that freak, Mum. He's been in last night and taken all my underwear."

         "He wants a bloody job, the, the… Let's call the police, we'll have to call the police. That policeman was very nice, he said to call him any time."

         "What's the point. They said they can't do nothing even though I've seen him, even though he tried to attack me with a razor. Unless I've got witnesses that actually see him doing something, they won't even start looking for him. They might take notice when he strangles me or something. He's frightening me, Mum, he's really frightening me and we can't do a thing about it."

         My mother put a comforting arm around me as the rain started to become heavy. "Come on, let's get out of the rain. I'll just put a board over the footprints, then I'll make us a cup of tea and we'll call the police. I wish I could catch him myself, that, that thing for the want of a better word. I'd bloody swing for him."

         A policewoman arrived at the house and seemed to take a genuine interest in the crime. She had a copy of my earlier statement with her.

         "Nothing's happened, has it?" I said. "You're still nowhere nearer to getting him?"

         "We're doing all we can, but we don't have much to go on at the moment. A stout man, late forties with grey hair, hardly wanted poster stuff is it. That's why it's important you report everything that happens, every tiny detail. I assure you that I won’t give up on this. If he carries on I'll get him, but you must tell us everything that happens, when it happens."

         My mother handed over a piece of paper with all the items that we could think of as being missing. "That's great. That's a great help if we search anyone, or their house, and it's good that you've covered the footprints. Don't touch them and I'll get someone over to look at them."

         "Peggy, from number fifty-six, had some underwear stolen from her line last year. Do you think it could be the same man?" My mother said.

         "I'll look into that. There's more of that sort of thing going on than people realise. I know it's not a nice thought, but there's a chance the person who stole from your line, is not the same man who is harassing you."

         "Great, that's really made me feel better. There might be two of them out there after me."

* * * * *

         I was in work the following evening, but I felt a bit withdrawn. The loss of my underwear was not my main concern. It was the thought he had actually been in my garden, while we were asleep in our beds. What if he got into the house and into my bedroom? The thought sent shivers through me. His intrusion had played on my mind all through the previous day and I had great difficulty getting to sleep at night, the slightest noise sending me into a panic. He had been seen outside the restaurant on the last two Mondays and I wondered if he would turn up again to taunt me. I thought of my missing underwear, wondering why the thief wanted them and what he would do with them. It upset me as my mind wandered to the probable perverse use he might make of them, but I knew I had to rid myself of such thoughts. I thought of the police, if I pestered them enough maybe they would do something, maybe they would get him, maybe not. If they did, maybe like the officer had said, it might not be the same man and the calls would continue. It was all so frustrating.

         The restaurant was not busy so it was fortunate that nobody was injured when the brick came through the window of the front door. I screamed and Tony ran outside. He came back in and said that he only managed to catch a glimpse of a Ford Cortina before it turned the corner and went from view. I was standing looking at the brick wrapped in a pair of my pants. The man had secured my pants with parcel tape displaying the gusset like some kind of sick message. I went forward to pick up the brick but Tony stopped me.

         "Leave it," he said. "Leave it till the police get here."

         I was staring down at some stains on the material, his stains. The sight shocked me and I was disgusted that someone could do such a thing. I began to feel sick and started to retch slightly then I turned away and dashed out to the staff washroom.

* * * * *

         Wednesday night I was on the late shift again and I turned up at the restaurant a little early so I could have a chat with Anne before I took over. The place was not busy. It never was on a Wednesday, but the sheet of plywood over the broken window was not helping trade. We sat in the kitchen together drinking coffee.

         I looked at a huge plaster above Anne’s eye. “So, you still haven’t told me about what happened to your eye. That Dave hasn’t been knocking you about, has he?”

         “Having a laugh aren’t ya? If there is any knocking about to be done then I’d be doing it. We were coming back from a night out with Jeff and Sue at the banger racing when a car stopped in front of us and Dave ran into the back of it. I bashed my head against the windscreen and got this bloody cut. It wouldn’t have happened if Dave had not been driving like an idiot.”

         “Was Dave hurt?”

         “Not at the accident. But he had a right go at the people in the other car and they turned out to be villains and gave him a right beating. They took his car as well.”

         “Poor, Dave.”

         “Sod, Dave. Poor me, I’ll probably be scarred for life. Anyway, back to more important stuff. So, the cops took your knickers away as well as the brick," Anne said. "I hope they weren't those kinky split crutch ones that you bought at that underwear party we went to."

         "I don't wear them. I only bought them for a laugh."

         "Might as well leave them out on the line for the weirdo then."

         "It's not funny, Anne."

         "Course not, I'm sorry."

         "I think Tony might sack me, you know. And that's what that freak wants. It seems like he'll do anything he can to destroy my life. If he keeps attacking the restaurant, I might lose my job."

         "He'll make a mistake, Monica. They'll get him and lock him up."

         "Yes, but what mistake? If he cuts my throat open, will that be a mistake?"

         "Oh, don't be so bloody morbid, that's not going to happen."

         "Maybe, maybe not, but if he carries on harassing me here, I don't think it will be long till I'm out of work."

         "No problem, we can soon get another job if he sacks you."

         "We?"

         "You don't think I'd stay here if he sacked my best mate, do you?"

         My troubled face lightened a little as a grin blossomed. "You're a good friend, Anne, you really are." I spoke with a choked and emotional tone to my voice. I reached over and kissed Anne on her cheek, which startled her slightly. "You know the worst thing, Anne? The worst thing is, I really don't know why he's doing this to me. What have I ever done to him? I sit down sometimes and I try to think of the answer, but I get nowhere. It's really getting to me and I don't know what to do."

         "Oy, stop it now. Don't upset yourself over him. Bollocks to him. Look, why don't you come to The Ilford Palais with us tomorrow night, might cheer you up?"

         "No. No you know I've got karate, and anyway, I thought you were working tomorrow night."

         "I got one of the other girls to cover for me and it wouldn't hurt you to miss the karate for one night, would it?"

         "I need to go, the gradings are coming up soon. I'm falling behind because of all this shit from him. I haven't been training at home, I haven't been out running, swimming, or anything."

         "More reason to get out with the girls and have a right good blow out."

         "No, really I'd rather not. I really need to come on a bit if I want to get my first brown belt." Anne began to laugh. I grinned back at her. "What's funny?"

         "It's just that you talking about coming on, that's just what I haven't done. I think I'm pregnant."

         "What! Oh, Anne. But I thought you were on the pill?"

         “I was but I heard some rumours about some women getting thrombosis so I stopped taking them.”

         “That was a bit silly.”

         "Maybe, but it's all right. I'm happy with being pregnant."

         "Well if you're happy about it then so am I." We stood up and shared a hug before grinning at each other. "He's a bit quick off the mark though isn't he? Are you sure it's not Eddie's"

         "No, it's Dave's, it's definitely Dave's."

         We heard shouting, some kind of commotion outside the restaurant and we went to have a look. There was a large furniture lorry parked outside and Tony was arguing with the driver. The driver suddenly threw his arms in the air, got into the lorry and drove off as Tony walked back inside.

         "Six tables, why would I want six second-hand tables? What kind of fool sends me six tables that I don't want?" He shook his head and walked out to the kitchen but he looked over at me as he went and it was not a friendly look.

         “He thinks it was the nutter’s work," Anne said. " What do you think Monica?”

         “I think it was. And the way Tony looked at me, I think I might have to start looking for another job.”

         “Well, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Anne said.

Monica. Ch 9.  (18+) Things turn worse for Monica. #1992574 by Bruce.