His shaved head dominated an immensely brawny body which clearly begrudged being imprisoned within a shiny grey suit. His ample stomach and broad posterior seemed to be thrusting belligerently against the buttons and stitches in an angry attempt at freedom. His face was a bristling abomination of ghastliness, one you would never forget, though you would certainly try.The piercing, terrible eyes nailed down everything they saw, missing nothing, calculating remorselessly; a resolutely cruel expression of hostility.The bloodless face, gaunt and without a hint of mercy, provided the setting for a sensual mouth commanded by a savagely-hooked nose, like the beak of a large and brutal bird of prey. He exuded a vindictiveness which bred terrified silence in all who beheld him.
The bailiff. And he was knocking at my door.
‘He’s back again!’ shouted Alison, who had taken refuge upstairs and was cautiously peeping through the side window.
‘OK, children, don’t answer the door!’ I hissed.
So we stayed hidden, heads down, watching from the windows. He was studying the front of the house with a glare that could have driven its way through a mortice lock. He turned and his eyes caressed the car with a look of sheer avarice. Finally he hunched his shoulders in defeat and we watched him stomp off back towards the road.
So we stayed hidden, heads down, watching from the windows. He was studying the front of the house with a glare that could have driven its way through a mortice lock. He turned and his eyes caressed the car with a look of sheer avarice. Finally he hunched his shoulders in defeat and we watched him stomp off back towards the road.
Then suddenly he stopped and swung around, obviously hoping to catch us watching from the top windows. He was clearly convinced that the house wasn’t empty. He walked away to his car and drove impatiently off. We gave him 30 minutes, just in case he decided to wheel quietly back to catch us off guard.
We were a typically dysfunctional modern family struggling hard through mid-recession. My job had recently disappeared, which allowed ‘more time with the family’ and even more time to contemplate a cashless future. Yet at the same time, it presented the perfect opportunity to chase my personal, and admittedly rather selfish, dream of owning a country retreat.
We’d bought well in Notting Hill twenty years before; the house was now worth a bob or two. I reasoned that we could afford to exchange it for a bigger place out in the sticks somewhere and have enough left over to live in comfort, with a bit of luck.
‘I AM looking for work!’ I protested to Alison. But she knew better. She was not just my wife but my soulmate of countless years, going back to our schooldays. She was not easily fooled.
‘Do you remember that lovely little village in Dorset we went to years ago?’ I opened.
‘Oh yes... Little Dancing?’
‘Little Daunting.’
‘That’s the one.’
‘Why don’t we go and see it again, without the kids? You know, a weekend away from responsibilities, just the two of us.’
‘It seems a long way to go for you to get your leg over in peace and quiet.’
‘How...! well yes of course, that would be lovely...’
‘Ah, that wasn’t the idea, was it? I don’t think you fancy me any more.’ She pretended to be hurt.
‘No no, it’s just that I was thinking... we could see what sort of properties might be for sale around there.’
‘Ah, now, miraculously, the truth appears, like a snake zigzagging from under a pile of rocks. See how it emerges, soundlessly, unseen and undetected.’
Alison has a way with words.
‘Little Daunting.’
‘That’s the one.’
‘Why don’t we go and see it again, without the kids? You know, a weekend away from responsibilities, just the two of us.’
‘It seems a long way to go for you to get your leg over in peace and quiet.’
‘How...! well yes of course, that would be lovely...’
‘Ah, that wasn’t the idea, was it? I don’t think you fancy me any more.’ She pretended to be hurt.
‘No no, it’s just that I was thinking... we could see what sort of properties might be for sale around there.’
‘Ah, now, miraculously, the truth appears, like a snake zigzagging from under a pile of rocks. See how it emerges, soundlessly, unseen and undetected.’
Alison has a way with words.
‘Er... yes, but less of the snake, thank you.’ We both laughed. Dorset beckoned.
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