Evelyn

Emergency services? 

Yes, I want to report a disruption, she said.

What is it?

Well, there’s a house across from me that hasn’t been lived in in many-a-year. I can hear people inside, probably young’uns drinking again. 

Where are you based? 

I’m number 6 Orchard Road, Brackenmill.

We’ll get someone out to your location shortly.

Thank you.

 

Evelyn sat the telephone back into the handset and pushed it across the table. The curtains in the living room were drawn almost shut and the streetlight from the pavement outside allowed an orange light to pour through and across the carpet. She reached forward towards the table again and grabbed the bottle of whiskey and poured a half-glass and brought it to her lips. It was lukewarm and torched her throat as she gulped it down. She clenched her eyes and waited for the drink to settle in her body and felt a warmth spread from her chest outwards to her hands and fingers.

On the television, a late night television host laughed and cackled at the animated gestures of some celebrity who’d come along to promote his new film. Through her watered eyes, she could scarcely distinguish either of their faces.

 

The phone buzzed and rattled on the table, setting the glass and cigarette tray dancing on the wood.

 

Hello? She said.

Evelyn.

Yes.

It’s Officer McConnell. 

Well.

What’d I tell you about ringing in disturbances?

She was silent.

I was out to you twice last week, he said. And there wasn’t as much as a whisper from that house. 

Well then, she said.

Look, the officer said. If I’ve time before the night is out, I’ll call by, alright?

Right.

Right, then.

Bye.

 

She set the phone down. With her fingers numb and faraway from herself, she reached for the cigarette papers on the table and with her teeth tore open a packet of tobacco and began rolling a cigarette. Her fingers fumbled with the paper and she dropped the tip onto the frayed carpet. When she reached down to grab it she flicked it with her thumb and it rolled in under the sofa below her. She sighed, slumped back, and put her hands over her face. There she sat, crying, for some time. 

The television was too loud to hear the knock on the door. Officer McConnell moved around to the window and peered through the gap in the curtains and tapped on the window. She shot up from her slumber, knocking the table with her knee and sending the whiskey bottle to the ground where it thumped and rolled to a stop.

With unsteadiness, she pushed herself to her feet and, in the static darkness, made her way out of the living room and down the hall towards the front door.

Come in, she said, come in.

Officer McConnell surveyed her at the door. She was ghastly pale and wrapped in an old faded housecoat which he allowed had not yet seen the washing machine. Her hair fell in lumps and tangles around her ears, and she stepped back to let him in.

Fancy a glass? She said, as she entered the living room and swooped down to snatch up the fallen whiskey bottle. 

I don’t, he said. He looked around the room. The curtain rail was tilted unevenly on the wall and the television unit had gathered a collection of plates and uneaten clumps of food. Underfoot, the carpet was stained black in blotches, which she’d tried to hide with fallen pillows and blankets and shoes. A kentia plant sat on the table by her chair with blackened leaves which drooped waywardly as if the rot had given up it’s infestation. 

Jesus, Evelyn, he said.

What? Take a seat, here, let me clear this for you. She propped the stained pillows up and brushed the fallen ash from the crevases of the leather sofa. 

He sighed and sat. She moved across to her seat in front of the television, and held the remote shakily towards it and turned down the volume. 

They sat in the silence for a moment. Officer McConnell held his breath as best he could, breathing in and out silently through his mouth to avoid gagging on the musty air. 

So was there a disturbance or was there not? He asked.

What?

Was there a disturbance or not? He said again, nodding towards the window across the street to the empty two-story house perched in the darkness.

Oh, she said, oh, yes. There was. There was a disturbance. But they’ve moved along now.

Right, he said. Who’s they?

Well, she said, leaning forward. I reckons that them young’uns are using that place as a drug-den.

And how do you figure that they get in? With the door locked and widows shut up?

Beats me, she said, smiling. He looked almost in horror at her teeth, which seemed to fall out daily and crumble one-by-one like shards of burnt sandstone. She yawned and said, Jesus, what time of the night is it?

The officer looked at his watch. Quarter to twelve, he said.

Jesus, she said.

They sat in silence again for a moment that felt longer than it should’ve. McConnell looked at the two cracked portraits of children on the wall behind her, hanging off-kilter on their nails. 

He leaned forward, watching her as she looked on at the silent television as it sent flashes of blue and white across her face. I’m worried about you, he said.

No need to be, she said, began rustling with the cigarette papers again.

Can I be blunt? He asked.

Can you have a blunt?

No I mean can I tell you something that’s very straight to the point?

She nodded. That’s the way I like things being told to me, you know it. 

Well, he said. You look like shit.

She nodded again.

He said, you look like an old woman, and you not yet seen fifty. This isn’t you, he looked around, this isn’t you.

She listened, focusing intently on rolling her cigarette. 

What’s wrong with you? He asked.

You know fine well.

He looked up at the cracked pictures of the children, a boy and a girl who smiled through the dusty frames. I figured you’d be proud of them, he said.

I am, she said, striking a match and puffing on the cigarette. You know I am. Two bright little darlings. I hope they’re doin well.

You still haven’t heard from them?

She shook her head, blowing smoke out across the room. Naw, as soon as the moved away, it seems to be that they forgot me. Which I get, Officer, you know. There’s a big world out there full of this and that and things to experience. I’d say it’s easy done to go and forget your Mammy.

He sighed. You haven’t got no one, have you?

She shook her head, smiling. Me? No. I had Sarah until she went mad. I suppose I’m a’feared of the same happening to me. Me and her were like two peas in a pod, sure you know yourself.

Don’t be silly, Evelyn, he said. That kind of illness isn’t contagious.

She laughed. I knows that. But it still stands that I haven’t anyone to talk to. This house gets so quiet at times it seems that the walls are screamin at me. 

Well, why don’t you meet someone. Get yourself all cleaned up and go meet someone, a friend or somethin.

Where?

The bar. Or that community club they run on Friday’s. Or at the church.

She laughed. At the church, she said. You’d be best stayin away from that place.

Why’s that?

I just don’t believe in that malarkey. And that priest up there is an ol’ creep I heard. 

Alright, then. 

She tapped the ash from her cigarette into the glass tray.

I best be goin, anyway, he said, and stood up and brushed off the back of his trousers. 

Alright, she said.

Clean yourself up, Evelyn. This isn’t you anymore.

Thanks, McConnell.

I mean good by it.

I know.

He left the living room and closed the front door behind him and his car rumbled out of the driveway. 

She reached for the remote. Pointing it at the television, she held her finger on the volume until the voices rose and distorted into a loud drone, and sat back in her seat.