Death Day

she gasped. He plunged deeper, allowing his probing tongue to taste her flowing juices and she pressed hard against his face until he put his hands beneath her and lifted her to the floor, impaling her on his erection.

    Slowly at first, but then with increasing urgency, Debbie moved back and forth until her gasps became cries, mingled with his own muffled gasps of pleasure as they reached a peak together and he buried his head between her breasts.

    As the sensations subsided, they lay beside one another, aware only of the warm glow from the other's body and the plaintive howling of the wind outside.

    Debbie leant over him and kissed his chest before looking into his face. He smiled up at her and stroked her cheek with one hand.

    'Maybe cataloguing isn't so bad after all,' she said and they both laughed, holding one another tightly.

    They lay there on the floor, naked, for a little while then Debbie said: 'I wonder what it's like to go through life without someone to love. Without someone who loves you?' She twisted the hairs on his chest into little spirals with her index finger.

    Lambert shrugged, 'I've never thought about it.'

    She smiled, 'What was it Shakespeare said, "It's better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all." '

    'Something like that,' said Lambert, trying to suppress a smile.

    'What's so funny?' Debbie wanted to know.

    'You're very philosophical.'

    'Am I getting boring?' She looked into his eyes.

    He tutted and sighed, 'I might have to give that some thought.'

    She pinched him.

    'Ouch,' he said, sitting up, 'you bitch.'

    She giggled.

    'Assaulting a police officer is a very serious offence,' said Lambert in an officious voice. 'You have been warned.'

    'And what if I do it again?' she asked, teasingly.

    'I shall have to consider my verdict carefully.'

    Debbie kissed him on the cheek, 'How about an early night?'

    He agreed.

* * *

    Lambert sat up, sweat coating his body. He stared wildly around the room, his breath coming in gasps. Glancing down at the alarm clock he noticed that it was four A.M. The luminous arms of the clock glowed like gangrenous glowworms in the darkness. Beside him, Debbie stirred, murmured something in her sleep, and was silent again.

    As carefully as he could, Lambert swung himself out of bed and padded to the bathroom. He turned on the cold tap, filled the basin with water and splashed his face. As he looked up, a haggard face stared back at him from the bathroom mirror. The dark lines under his eyes looked as if someone had drawn them with charcoal. He peered down into the clear water and splashed more onto his face.

    When he was sure he had calmed down, he let the clear liquid out of the basin and padded back to the bedroom, pausing on the way to look out into the night. He could see nothing. Not a light anywhere, just the watery moon slowly being smothered by banks of thick cloud. He shivered, realizing that he was still naked, and hurried back into bed.

    He closed his eyes and waited for sleep, but it wouldn't come. No peaceful oblivion, just that same stubborn image. The one which had woken him in the first place.

    The car careening towards the lamp post, smashing into it. His brother hurtling through the windscreen, while he sat in the road watching.

    Morning was a long time coming.

* * *

    Maureen Bayliss piled the last of the breakfast dishes in the sink and looked at her watch. She sighed. Time to get the kids off to school. The washing up could wait until she got back.

    'Mum. Mum, I can't find my boots,' shouted little Ronnie Bayliss from the living room.

    Maureen hurried to the door and pressed a finger to her lips. 'Don't shout,' she rebuked. 'Your Dad's trying to get some sleep.'

    She looked up at the ceiling as if fearing that her husband, Jack, had been woken by their son's frenzied howlings. Jack worked nights at Medworths Foundry, and if he was disturbed while trying to sleep, he'd be like a bear with a sore back for the rest of the day. That she could do without. She told Ronnie that his football boots were in the kitchen and he pushed past her to find them, eventually stuffing them into the red vinyl bag along with his other games equipment.

    'Is Carol ready?' asked Maureen, glancing once more at her watch. 'We're going to be late.'

    A moment later, the hall door opened and Carol Bayliss emerged. She was a year younger than Ronnie, about six, and Maureen was pleased that they went to the same school so that the boy could keep his eye on her. Carol was a quiet child, withdrawn. Exactly the opposite of Ronnie. Just the type of child whom other kids seem to find a source of amusement. She herself had been to the school twice to report instances of Carol being bullied by older girls and she didn't intend letting it happen again.

    Now she helped the child into her navy blazer and straightened her pig-tails, kissing her lightly on the top of the head.

    Maureen peered out of the living room window and saw that the sun was shining, but she put on her leather coat just in case. There were dark clouds gathering to the east and she didn't fancy getting caught in a shower on the way back from the school. She struggled with the buttons, horrified to see that she was indeed putting on weight as Jack had told her. She breathed in and managed to button it, hardly daring to exhale for fear of the buttons flying across the room.

    'Everybody ready?' she said, and the kids scurried out of the front door before her.

    She followed, closing the door as quietly as possible so as not to wake Jack, and headed up the garden path. As she turned the corner, she couldn't help but notice that the curtains of the Mackenzie house were still drawn. It was unusual for June to be so haphazard, thought Maureen. She was usually a stickler for detail. They had lived next door to one another for the last ten years and had become close friends, both of them having their children about the same time. Now they walked, with the kids, to school every morning, did their shopping together and generally went about their business as one.

    Ronnie opened the gate which led down the path to the front door of the Mackenzie house and, as Maureen followed him, she saw that upstairs curtains were drawn as well. They've probably slept in, she thought to herself and reached for the brass knocker, smiling to herself, imagining June's panic when she realized what had happened.

    Maureen struck hard, stepping back in surprise as the door swung open. Ronnie was about to dash in when she grabbed him.

    'Let's go and wake them up,' he said, leering mischievously.

    Maureen suddenly felt uneasy. Why should the front door be open when all the curtains were drawn? Perhaps Ray had gone out early that morning and forgotten to close it behind him. Perhaps they hadn't locked it the night before, there had been a strong wind after all.

    Perhaps…

    Perhaps what?

    Maureen took a step back, pulling Ronnie with her. He looked up at her, 'What is it, Mum?'

    'Come on,' she said, trying not to convey the note of anxiety in her voice. No, why lie to yourself Maureen Bayliss, she thought, for some unknown reason you are scared. There's something wrong here.

    She locked the gate behind them and told the kids to stand still while she went and fetched Jack. She fumbled in her purse for the front door key, went in and rushed upstairs. She pushed open the bedroom door, waking Jack immediately. He rolled onto his back, his eyes bleary.

    'God, what is it, love?' he said, trying not to sound irritable.

    'It's next door,' she told him. 'The curtains are all drawn and there's no answer when I knock.'