Red Coat

THE WOMAN IN THE RED COAT
By
KIM WEST

"Forever amber. It's for you darling."
He placed the small pebble of ancient resin into the palm of her hand,
closing his around it. It had been a peculiar day. Her feelings felt
fragmented and unable to reassemble themselves. She tried hard to avoid
that particular kind of wilderness because she was most afraid of those
times. All her instincts would fail her, resulting in a torpid state of
confusion.
"Actually, it will look a lot better in water" she said pertly,
dropping to her knees and dowsing the old stone in a rock pool.
"There!" and she held up the glowing amber.
"Hmm" he intoned, frowning and not really interested, as he turned away
to the sea.
"This sea holds so many mysteries don't you agree pussy cat? All those
secrets."
Was he trying to be poetic? She groaned.
"When I was a child I used to skip along the sea's edge with my dog. I
was so happy."
His lies diminished him. What sea's edge? What dog? He came from
Stafford. Was there no experience that he hadn't claimed for his own?
She restrained a sigh.
" I was so happy."
She dropped the amber but he didn't notice. In silent agreement they
gave up on the poetics and walked back to the car, leaving the tide to
it's constant lapping and shifting.
Later, back at the old house, he lay sprawled over the chair by the
fire.
"Sea air" he muttered and fell to snoozing.
She stared at him. God had built him so big. He must have been destined
for heavy work, with his stature that of a Thomas Hardy blacksmith or
foundry worker. She imagined him grasping huge slabs of metal in an
environment of thunderous noise and stinking heat. She tried to see him
reveling in his strength. But none of that sort of promise had appealed
to him. Instead he had become a drifter. Job to job, place to place,
woman to woman.
"A great disappointment to God, I'm sure," she muttered, switching the
kettle on.
God could have cast him as a fisherman. His physique would have
sustained the buffeting of storms at sea and the bitter cold. He could
have been a lighthouse keeper. With his arrogance he was surely due for
such a dose of solitude. Yet it seemed that he loved her instead and
what a burden this was to her now. She could perceive no escape and was
worn thin by the nothingness of it all.
He opened his eyes.
"Come here."
She turned away because he was exasperating her. It was in the way he
sat there. She wanted to push at him and tell him to get off his arse
and do something useful, instead of smirking knowingly at her. She'd
really like to have had the strength to rush over and tip him out of
the refuge of that bloody chair, just for the effect of it. Just to see
what he would make of it.
"What are you thinking about?" he murmured, lighting a cigarette and
staring at her intently.
"It's private."
"Oh come on," he said, looking at her from the corner of his eye as he
stretched his toes indolently by the fire.
"It's private."
"Well how do you know what you're thinking is private?" He slowly
pushed off a filthy sock and inspected the sole of his foot.
"Here we go," she thought despairingly
"Does it make you feel important?" He picked a piece of fluff from
between his toes, then pushed off the other sock and sat back.
"No not really. It's just important to have some privacy."
He crossed his legs and sighed. Staring into the fire he quietly
said:
"Sometimes, just sometimes, you really are a stupid cow aren't you?
Here we are on a beautiful day like this. We've walked for miles on the
beach and should now be making love. You stupid cow. Stupid!"
I t was like a cruel song. Its tension was rehearsed. He didn't have
any scruples at all. This was because he knew her so entirely.
"Come here you silly old moo. Come here and be loved."
Her collapse was total as she caved into this onslaught. By now she had
become too emotionally weak to bother with shouting or screaming. That
never did any good because he always won in the end. He was big and she
was crumpled on the floor weeping, while he sat observing his
experiments on her. She wept and wept through his emotional rape. He
was too cunning for the other kind. Too much evidence that way. He
never moved, feeling it better to remain detached at such times,
because it seemed to him that she needed to fall into her pit. She was
always more bearable afterwards.
Her face on the cold stone floor, with the edge of the mat pressing a
line across her cheek. She let herself go and her tears flowed into the
cracks. The salt mingling with the salt of the sea, until her Alice in
Wonderland pool engulfed the room. Only she could hold it back, but she
didn't want to, preferring to sink away as the weeping fell into
sleeping.

"Awake my child! Awake!"
She stirred a little.
"Awake! Awake!"
She blinked. Someone was bending over her. It was a woman in a long red
coat.
"Oh God! What's going on?"
She struggled up, trying to straighten out her seaweed hair.
"It's alright. It's O.K.," said the woman in the red coat.
"Just keep calm. I've sorted everything out for you. He's gone."
"What? What are you talking about?" She found herself with a tiny
ineffectual voice that was not her own. She gave up with her hair and
tried to smooth out her crumpled clothes as she rose to her
knees.
"Just don't worry. Come on, I'm making supper. Sit by the fire and warm
up."
"But who are you? Where's he gone? What's going on?" These were mere
silent thoughts, because she found that she could no longer speak as
she staggered to her feet.
The woman in the red coat steered her to the fire and sat her in the
old armchair that he had been sitting on before she fell into her deep
sleep. She found herself complying and the fire warmed her through. She
sat forward and huddled up to it. There she sat, perched on the edge of
the seat with her cheeks flushed, feeling very puzzled. The sounds of
supper filtered through from the kitchen and she peered over her
shoulder. That red coat now hung on the coat rack by the door. It was
very long, nearly touching the floor. She turned back to the fire and
began to wonder if she was dead.
Died of broken heart.
Died of neglect.
Died to escape a wasteful life.
Maybe he had kicked the living daylights out of her and she hadn't been
conscious enough to notice her own death.
Tidal wave.
Earthquake.
End of the world.
Would anyone get any warning?
"Will you be long?" Her voice had returned.
"Now don't you worry my child. Don't worry."
The woman appeared silhouetted in the kitchen doorway with a supper
tray. She was tall and dark and she had shoulder length hair.
"Let's take it one step at a time."
Supper was wonderful, the work of an angel.
"That's it! She has to be an angel. But I know her. Somehow I know her.
Somewhere between mother and lover. Somewhere near sister."
The woman stood by the window, looking out into the darkness.
Calm.
Looking.
Could she see in the dark?
"My name is Alice." She turned from the window.
"I couldn't stand by any longer seeing you suffer like that. All that
coldness in your life was not good for you. I've watched too much. Too
many tears. Too many by far. You need to leave that behind, so I have
helped you."
"Are you my Fairy Godmother?"
Unspoken, just another thought in a childlike whisper.
"I told you before that to go through the past would lead you to the
future." Now this woman was being poetic.
"When was that? Did you come here before? Did you come into my dreams?
Do I know you?"
She was close now and was gazing into her eyes. She was middle aged but
so sparkling. Lights flecked in her eyes and a myriad of freckles
danced on her cheeks.
Angular nose and curling lips.
Bewitching.
"It's all so simple. The body is in the garden shed. We will drive it
to the rubbish tip tomorrow at first light and dispose of it. Then you
can start you own life."
"The body?"
"His body."
"He's dead?"
"We killed him."
"We killed him?"
"He deserved it."
"He did?"
"He was always making you cry."
"Yes."
"He hit you."
"Yes."
"He mutilated you."
"He did?"
"He left you to cry."
"He did."
"We punished him forever."
"We did?"
"How?"
"Knives."
"Knives?"
"We caught him unaware."
"We did?"
"We did."
"Are you mad?" She leapt to her feet.
"Where is he? What have you done? Who are you?" She tried to scream
herself free of this dream.
"It's all easier than you can imagine. Don't swear. No one will know.
You can believe me."
"I don't remember this. I remember nothing. I couldn't have done this.
I can't remember it."
"We did it together."
"You said that your name was Alice. Well Alice who? Who are you?" her
voice trailed off into confusion.
"Just leave that for a moment. You know me really. You'll remember.
It's time for bed now. Come on."
Shaking and timid she allowed herself to be led upstairs.
"Sleep now."
She obeyed, falling into the arms of the woman with the red coat.

"Jane! Where's my old jumper?" a distant voice stirred her.
"What's this, another change of perception?" she thought as she
woke.
"Jane!" his voice through the floorboards
"Jane! C'mon. I've got stuff to do."
She shook herself free from the woman's arms.
"Jane!"
"What?"
"My old grey jumper. Where is it?"
"In the wash basket."
She swung her legs over the side of the bed as Alice opened her eyes
and stretched like CatWoman.
"Hello," she purred.
"Look Alice, I've got something to tell you. He's not dead. He's
downstairs. He's just called up to me."
"It doesn't matter."
"What do you mean?" She was grabbing her clothes and dressing in panic.
The woman however, stretched again and sat up. She was so calm. Jane
stared.
"This is ridiculous you know. Where did he sleep? Does he know you're
here?"
The woman pulled a face, shrugging wickedly and giggling.
Jane stopped wrestling with her jeans. Whatever was going on she was
losing her fear.
"What if he comes upstairs?"
"You could introduce us."
There was moment when they both held their breath. Then the ripples
caught them up in a whirl and the laughing began.
"Jane!" came the commanding voice from below.
Spluttering helplessly now, she screeched: "Shut up you're dead!"
Hoots of insane laughter released at the sound of his feet on the
stair.
Aching chest.
Weak knees.
Alice was tumbling around on the bed slapping at the pillows; laughter
healing those cavernous wounds as the doorway was suddenly ridiculously
filled by him. He stared around in horror, at last thoroughly off
balance.
The woman with the red coat gathered a sheet about her, toga-like and
left the room.
Speechless, he had to move aside in order to let her pass.
"Alice?"
"Yes my dear."
"You'll be back won't you?"