Carruthers' Demise, chapters four & five (standard:drama, 3766 words) [3/24] show all parts
Author: Brian Cross	Added: Apr 23 2011	Views/Reads: 2626/1855	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
After Chelsey Carruthers' latest novel is rejected, her husband suggests a short break, which does not go according to plan...

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

to a day of increasing humidity. 

Not far along the Drive they came to a clearing and Chelsey brought her
cycle to an abrupt halt, forcing Carruthers close behind into a 
collision-avoiding manoeuvre. 

‘Some warning might help,' he said crossly, but Chelsey was paying scant
attention. She'd slipped nimbly off her cycle, and with one hand on the 
handlebar, the other on her hip, stood staring at the huge oak. ‘Would 
you look at the size of that,' she said without removing her eyes from 
the tree, ‘that's surely the biggest oak I've ever seen.' 

Carruthers dismounted and wheeled his cycle to where she stood in
admiration. ‘It must be centuries old. Just think, Martin, what tales 
it could tell if it were a living creature.' Her gaze fell to a plaque 
standing at its foot – “The Knightwood Oak,” it says here.' 

Carruthers caressed his chin; he couldn't resist a quip. ‘I'm surprised
your new friend Robin didn't mention it to you.' 

‘Oh don't be like that, Martin.' Chelsey stretched out a hand and gave
his a squeeze. ‘Now you know what I put up with when you get calls from 
Casey bloody Jennings every five minutes.' 

‘That's a gross exaggeration and you know it.' It wasn't the heat of the
day that was colouring Carruthers' complexion now, it was Chelsey's 
failure to come to terms with her own behaviour – but she might have 
read his irritation for her mouth curved into a half-moon smile as she 
wrapped her free arm around his waist. ‘Oh come on, let's not quibble. 
It's lovely here and nice and cool under the shade of these huge 
trees.' She planted a soft kiss on his cheek, instantly dissolving 
Carruthers' coolness. 

Chelsey took stock of her bearings. ‘Let's not follow the road all the
way to the reptile centre; let's be more adventurous and take one of 
the trails – see the area in its natural habitat – I mean, without the 
traffic.' 

‘Yes, but I don't think the maps we were given will be comprehensive
enough; we could end up getting lost, honey – I say we stick to the 
straight and narrow.' 

‘Oh nonsense, Martin!' Chelsey let out a big sigh. ‘Who gives a damn
about the maps? And anyhow, if we do get lost...' Chelsey broke off and 
thumbed at a wooden bollard in the ground. ‘There's hundreds of these 
little wooden signposts around.' 

She mounted her cycle as if the issue was decided, shooting a glance at
her husband. ‘Come on you, hop on. Where's your pioneering spirit?' 

‘Where it should be; entrusted to our ancestors.' But nonetheless
Carruthers conceded and the pair set off on a track which seemed to run 
true to the road. 

The tall trees afforded shade to a sultry afternoon, like huge
protectors from the hot sunlight, as they followed the stony track 
through firs intermingled with colourful shades of rhododendron and 
azalea; heading towards what Chelsey thought was the reptile centre. 

But the further they travelled, the more Carruthers got the uneasy
feeling they were on the wrong trail. The track that had originally 
been aligned with the road had developed an arc, seeming to swing them 
away from their intended direction, and in branching off and taking a 
course they thought would correct their route, they found it tapered 
off before finally disintegrating amidst a clearing scattered with 
giant redwoods. 

Carruthers nudged Chelsey and applied his brakes. ‘We're lost,' he
groaned. ‘I knew we should have stuck to the main drag.' 

‘Oh that's right, blame me.' Chelsey slid off her cycle, held the flat
of her hand to her forehead and blew through her teeth, as she stared 
at a series of maze-like mini-trails which looked like leading nowhere 
– and then she spotted a picnic area. ‘There – those three guys, 
they'll put us straight.' 

‘They're likely lost as well.' But Carruthers yielded to the whites of
his wife's eyes, ‘Okay, let's go find out.' 

The trio was largely obscured by the thicket, sitting cross-legged on
the grass, only Chelsey's keen eyesight could have picked them out; he 
certainly hadn't. 

Carruthers slipped through the gap in the thicket ahead of Chelsey and
saw the man to his right slip a thickly rolled cigarette to a dark 
vested, scraggly haired individual in the centre, who fixed him with an 
unwelcoming, wild eyed stare. 

‘You folks lost? Yeah, sure you are.' His smile was more of a sneer and
his uneven, yellow teeth, blended in with his swarthy skin. ‘Where you 
be wanting?' the man asked as the smile faded. 

‘The reptile centre,' Carruthers said stiffly. ‘If you could point us in
the right direction?' 

‘Point you in the right direction?' The wild-eyed man drew on what
Carruthers had no doubt was a joint and sent smoke billowing into the 
air. His gaze flitted past Carruthers and rested on Chelsey, where it 
hung. ‘Don't know why you kind of folk can't keep to the straight and 
narrow.' 

‘What we kind of folk asked for, were purely directions.' Chelsey thrust
her cycle against a hawthorn bush and stepped forward. ‘If that's not 
too much for your fuddled minds? She wafted the smoke towards them. ‘No 
offence, but will you pollute someone else with that muck?' 

‘Now you listen here, lady, we ain't bothering no-one.' A gaunt guy to
Chelsey's left, wearing khaki, his face criss-crossed in a network of 
fissures, accepted the joint and narrowed his eyes. ‘Now if you want 
help I reckon you ought to show a little more civility,' 

‘Fat lot you three ignoramuses know about that. I am not prepared to be
spoken to in this manner.' Chelsey, her voice raucous in the quiet 
afternoon, turned, grabbed her cycle, raised and turned it through the 
air in a blaze of fury and started back through the thicket, a glance 
over her shoulder followed by a single utterance, ‘Creeps!' 

‘Chelsey!' Carruthers held his head, exasperated. ‘Look, I'm sorry
fellas, my wife's been under a good deal of pressure of late. She's a 
writer you know,' he offered, as if that explained everything. 

‘That a fact? She obviously don't write no books on good manners.' The
one with the wild eyes coughed, spat on the grass. ‘But what the hell – 
I guess we can all get uptight at times.' He scratched his long, unruly 
black hair and locked his gaze on Carruthers. ‘I'll tell you what I'll 
do, not the one to bear any bad feelings like – I'll show you the right 
route through to that reptile place.' His eyes shifted to Chelsey, now 
waiting in the clearing, her fingers tapping furiously on the 
handlebars of her cycle. ‘But I'd watch your wife's temper, if I were 
you. It could get you into a whole lotta trouble. I sure wouldn't want 
to see that.' 

‘Don't I know it,' Carruthers muttered, already wishing he'd stayed in
Chiswick. He wasn't really sure about the vagrant's last remark but he 
accepted the man's directions gratefully and catching up with Chelsey 
beat a rapid path back to the road. 

Chapter Five 

Chelsey forged on, Carruthers felt himself losing ground, dug deeper
into his dwindling energy reserves in a desperate attempt to keep 
abreast of her. He saw her glance at him. ‘Having problems dear?' she 
asked, her voice annoyingly unruffled. 

‘No, I'm up to it,' Carruthers uttered between deep breaths, acutely
aware of sweat trickling from forehead to cheek. ‘If we keep to the 
route the guy gave me we should soon be there.' 

‘The guy's name was Foulkes,' Chelsey said, breathing easily while
casting a critical eye over him. ‘You know, you really do need the 
gym.' 

‘How'd you get that?' Carruthers asked, ignoring her observations.
‘After all you stormed off ahead.' 

‘Not before he handed the joint to his leather-skinned mate – when the
guy acknowledged it he called him Foulkes – now that's one creepy 
bloke, he only had to fix those horrible eyes on me and I cringed. Some 
guys you just can't take to, you know?' 

‘Perhaps not, but you didn't have to be so damned rude,' Carruthers
uttered through gasps for breath. He mopped his brow with the flat of 
his hand; all he knew was that they were still climbing and despite 
Chelsey slackening off he was struggling to stay apace. ‘Well at least 
he helped us out.' 

‘Did he – are you sure about that?' Carruthers sighed, there she went
again; she never could concede without questioning. 

‘How do you mean?' 

‘Well my dear – unless it's escaped your attention, and by the look of
you it hasn't – we seem to have been pedalling for quite some time, and 
although unlike you I can handle it, all I can see is forest, mile upon 
mile of trees, no perishing reptile centre in sight; makes you wonder 
if we've been pointed in the wrong direction, doesn't it?' 

‘Why would he do that?' Unless of course, Carruthers considered with
mounting apprehension, Chelsey's “endearing” personality had needled 
him into it. 

And a further five minutes of toiling up a relentless, never-ending hill
in the heat, persuaded him that this might indeed be the case. He was 
relieved when Chelsey pulled up, unleashing a string of expletives at 
the absent Foulkes. ‘For two pennies I'd nail him to that giant oak by 
his hair.' 

‘Well, that would get us a long way.' But Carruthers smiled at the image
that flashed up. He knew that presented with a few tacks she was quite 
capable of doing it. 

‘It'd give me great satisfaction, though.' Chelsey sighed, reached
across and placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘You look like you could do 
with a rest, truth is I could to. Let's try and find somewhere to sit 
down awhile, then we might as well make tracks back.' 

‘The question is where?' Carruthers asked dubiously; they were
surrounded by dense woodland, he was beginning to feel tired, and the 
climb had affected him a lot more than his wife, he reluctantly 
conceded. 

‘We passed a clearing not far back, you were head down, so close to the
handlebar you wouldn't have seen it. I thought it might have been the 
centre but I'm pretty sure it was just a picnic area.' 

‘Well at least it's all downhill.' Carruthers heaved his cycle around
and they freewheeled back down the lane, and sure enough, Chelsey had 
been right. The woodland opened out on their left to reveal a large 
enclosure surrounded by a low log-railed fence. Annexed to it was an 
oval shaped gravel car park, about two thirds full, leading to a 
kissing gate providing access to the picnic area. 

After securing their bikes to the log fence, Chelsey led the way to a
vacant picnic table where she removed her braid and shook free her 
hair. Perching on an unended log seat she took a sip from her bottled 
water, looking across at Carruthers, her eyes narrowed against the 
bright sunlight. ‘Well, that was a wild goose chase, engineered by that 
scruffy little middle-aged hippie, no doubt.' She let out a long 
breath. ‘Oh well, it's done now, no point in me harping on about it.' 

‘No, indeed,' Carruthers agreed, glad she'd let the matter drop. ‘I've
been thinking,' he said, drawing a finger across the table surface, 
‘that we might cross to the Isle of Wight tomorrow if the weather stays 
like this. Chelsey?' 

But Chelsey wasn't listening; something had caught her eye, something
amidst the woodland some twenty metres to their left. ‘What the hell!' 
She was on her feet and flouncing across the grass towards the woods. 

‘Chelsey, what is it?' Alarmed by her movements Carruthers gave chase
but Chelsey's pace was so rapid she'd hurdled the low oak barrier into 
the woodland and had disappeared from his view before he'd a chance to 
get near her. 

Carruthers reached the fence and then hung back, bewildered; the
woodland was thick, and scattered with tiny trails that might have been 
the earth's veins. He cursed his wife's impetuosity and could only 
wander back and forth like a disconsolate border guard, until, some 
five minutes later, Chelsey marched back eyes blazing. 

‘Chelsey – what on earth's the matter?' Carruthers ran forward, tried to
take her hand but she waved him away. 

‘Some guy was watching me through the trees. I saw the branches move,
saw a shape. Someone was standing there – and when he realised I'd 
spotted him he shot away.' 

‘I'll go see...' 

‘No Martin, it's pointless. Whoever was there has gone now.' She looked
at him with an expression full of hostility. ‘I wouldn't be surprised 
if it was that Foulkes guy, he certainly seemed the type...' 

‘Are you sure there was someone there?' 

‘Of course I'm sure, dammit Martin.' Chelsey made for the cycles, hands
crossed to her shoulders. ‘You know how keen my eyesight is.' 

Carruthers couldn't stem his irritation. ‘What possessed you to charge
in after him, anyhow?' 

‘I wasn't having being spied on by some arrogant little toad.' She
turned on him. ‘I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself.' 

Carruthers sighed, it was turning into a dismal afternoon and even the
weather was beginning to correspond to it. The sky had developed a 
brown hue – possibly the prelude to a storm.  He mopped his brow. 
‘Perhaps we'd better head back to the hotel; this heat's getting us 
both uptight.' 

‘It's got nothing to do with the heat.' Chelsey stopped, fastened her
braid. ‘I'm sure it was Foulkes, I got a glimpse of his scraggly hair 
and his silhouette fitted the bill. If |I'd have caught him I'd have 
knocked him flat.' She looked away, glanced to the far side of the 
enclosure where a white-washed lavatory block was situated. ‘I need the 
toilet before we head back. You can unfasten the bikes.' 

‘Are you sure you'll be okay?' 

‘I can manage,' she snapped, ‘and if by chance I encounter the little
runt, I will flatten him.' 

Carruthers watched Chelsey stride across the grass to the toilet block
some two hundred metres distant. He noticed she held her cell phone to 
her ear, wondered who she was calling or who was calling her, and felt 
a surge of resentment that she'd objected to him bringing his.     This 
hadn't been the start he'd been hoping for, not at all, and now the 
conviction that somebody had been watching her, and the fixation that 
it was this guy, Foulkes, had put an additional dampener on things. 

He'd only her insistence to go on. Her senses were indeed first rate,
but given her heightened state of agitation of late, he had to ask 
himself whether anyone had really been there? 

Could the menopause be setting in early? He doubted it, and any
suggestion she saw her general practitioner would likely incur her 
wrath; she was adverse to them these days in any case, owing to an 
unfortunate miscarriage a couple of years back which she'd marked down 
to negligence by her appointed midwife. He'd considered at the time 
that it had been no such thing, that it wasn't the midwife's fault at 
all but that hadn't stopped Chelsey remonstrating, and it hadn't helped 
things between them either. 

He raised his head, a nagging awareness of Chelsey's absence returning
him to the present. She'd been some while, he was certain. Chelsey was 
normally brief as far as her natural habits were concerned. 

But this was an exception, and the longer she failed to emerge through
the strung out crowd of picnickers, the more his anxiety grew. 

As the minutes ticked away without sign of her Carruthers decided he had
to check. He commenced his walk, trying to match his pace to the 
leisurely air of the area but failing dismally, each anxious step 
towards the block seeming to increase his momentum. 

Once he'd reached the toilets he could only hang about outside
ineffectively. He looked around at the scene before him – the families, 
the children happily engaged close by in what kids did, like play ball, 
chase around, holler and shout – perhaps if Chelsey and he had had 
children then things would have been different – perhaps. 

But this was not something to dwell on, particularly as time ground
relentlessly on and still no Chelsey. He glanced at his watch without 
knowing exactly how long she'd been but reckoning now it must be longer 
than thirty minutes. 

His unease deepening to the extent that he needed assistance, he sought
help from the small information office located just behind the block. 
He explained to the guy behind the desk in the cabin his disquiet, and 
the sympathetic officer duly dispatched a young female assistant to 
check the ladies' lavatory for him. 

Any relief he felt at the prospect that Chelsey would emerge and all
would be easily explained was dissolved when the young woman returned 
with a puzzled look on her face. 

‘The toilets are empty, I'm afraid sir – you must have somehow missed
your wife.' 

‘No, that's not possible...' but Carruthers broke off. It was of course
the only possible explanation. She must have taken a wider route back, 
possibly on account of continuing in private the mobile phone 
conversation she was having. 

Carruthers took one more look around the area, but in any case there
wasn't much to see other than the forest encroaching onto the log 
railings at the rear of the block. He hurriedly returned across the 
field, remembering as he did so, that he'd unlocked the cycles and left 
them unattended. Chelsey would be sure to remonstrate with him for 
that. 

Except that she wasn't there and the cycles remained untouched. Now
Carruthers' heart-rate increased two-fold, began thumping heavily in 
his chest. 

His mind began to manufacture a series of barely rational thoughts –
like, had she been right? Had there been someone stalking her – had 
that someone attacked her – taken her away –and had that someone been 
Foulkes – and had that misdirection been part of his plan? 

But surely somebody would have seen – the place was full of picnickers -
though would they have paid any attention? And Chelsey would have been 
certain to put up one hell of a fight – not only that but she was in 
the mood for it. And who had she been on the phone to when she'd set 
out for the lavatory block? And another thing – the only entrance and 
exit seemed right here, where he stood now. 

Carruthers clasped his hands to his head. Out of the corner of an eye he
saw a fair-haired female approaching. His heart told him it was her, 
but his eyes let him down. 

‘Are you alright?' the woman asked. 


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