Baby Teeth

 

by Caroline Geary

pumpkin spice latte

 

‘Hi Claire.’ Marcus draped himself round Claire’s skinny jean clad legs, his mop of unruly hair just level with her hip

‘Hi you,’ she said, ruffling his hair. He only came up to her waist, but he was certainly growing. She was sixteen now, and she had baby sat six year old Marcus for the last two years. She had lived next door to the Johnson family for the last ten, and her parents were great friends with Mr and Mrs Johnson. Claire found Marcus a slightly odd child; he could actually be a bit creepy. He was pale, and sombre in character. Something behind his eyes made him seem older that his years. Claire found it hard to make eye contact with him and he had a habit of making her feel uneasy, but ultimately, he was no trouble and it was a bit of easy money. Money that she pretended to her parents she would be saving for University, but actually she spent on cigarettes and the odd can of cider that she shared with Barry at their clandestine meetings in the park. 

Mrs Johnson greeted Claire with an overbearing perfume scented hug and a heavily lipsticked grin. Knowing Mrs Johnson it was probably some super expensive designer brand but its cloying odour reminded Claire of a mixture of rotting roses and stale air. Claire stiffened in the embrace. 

‘You know our number,’ Mrs Johnson said turning towards the hall mirror and patting at her heavily sprayed hair. Claire noticed that it barely moved. ‘As always, please call if you need anything. Anything at all’ she said. 

‘Sure,’ said Claire, dropping her bag to the floor as Mr and Mrs Johnson shrugged on winter coats and headed to the back door. 

‘He’s had dinner,’ said Mrs Johnson over her shoulder ‘But there are plenty of snacks in the fridge and a nice pizza you can pop in the oven if you like’.

‘Thanks’, Claire nodded. 

‘We’ll be back around midnight; that is okay isn’t it? said Mrs Johnson. 

‘It’s fine.’ Claire smiled. ‘I’ve bought some college work to do.‘

The Johnsons nodded and left, the hall door swinging shut behind them. The house feeling somehow colder in their absence.

However, college work was the last thing on Claire’s mind. She had planned for her boyfriend Barry to come over. The Johnsons would not allow this; they had a strict no friends policy that was more than likely aimed towards boys.

She reached into her handbag and pulled out a huge bar of chocolate. The Johnsons weren’t a fan of unhealthy food and this was a sure-fire way to get Marcus on side.

‘Marcus’. She called. She jumped as he appeared in front of her out of nowhere. He looked up at her. She noticed he was now sporting some pyjamas. ‘This is for you,' she said waving the chocolate in front of his face. 

‘Wow,’ he said. ‘My mum hardly ever lets me eat chocolate. Is that really all for me?’

‘Yes,’said Claire. ‘On one condition.’ Marcus looked up at her with huge dark eyes. ‘You have to keep a secret’.

Marcus nodded.

Claire leant over towards him and said in a lowered voice.

‘I’ve got a friend coming over later, but you mustn’t tell Mummy and Daddy.' Marcus’ eyes darkened. 

‘You’re not allowed boys round here,’ said Marcus pouting.

‘I know,’ said Claire doing her best to sound sincere ‘So I didn’t want to tell your mummy and daddy as it would only annoy them. But it just to study and studying is very important, isn’t it?’

Marcus’ face looked oddly pale. He could be a real creepy kid at times.

‘Oh, come on,’ said Claire trying to lighten the mood by waving the chocolate bar. In his face.

The small boy folded his arms.

‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘No way. You're here to babysit me. And that means playing with me and not sending me to bed early cos you have a friend round. I don’t want a stranger in my house.’

‘Fine’ said Claire spitefully, breaking off a chunk of chocolate and popping it in her mouth. ‘No chocolate then?’

‘I don’t care’ said Marcus stamping a foot and running off upstairs.

Claire threw herself onto the lounge sofa with a sigh. She clicked on the television and munched the chocolate bar, devouring the whole lot. She shivered; the Johnsons’ house was always so cold. She texted Barry. ‘Sorry babe. Kid being a brat and says he’ll tell parents if you come over.’

She shivered again. She did not fancy being here on her own until midnight. The house was very old fashioned. Dark wood doors and unusual paintings. Eerie portraits whose eyes seemed to follow you. One was of a lady with flowing long hair and a dark cloak. It reminded Claire of a witch and she made a point of never looking at it as she walked by. The house had a long dark hallway too that gave her the creeps and a winding staircase which made you feel exposed, there were too many hiding spaces. Eyes watching you between banisters. 

She had made herself feel slightly nauseous eating the chocolate and stood up to go and get a glass of water. Despite the television being on the house felt very silent. She wondered what that little brat Marcus was doing. She walked out into the dark hallway and jumped. A small pale face looked out from between the banisters above and down at her.

‘Jeez Marcus’ she said ‘You gave me a heart attack’. 

‘I’ve got a wobbly tooth,'' said Marcus not smiling just giving it a wiggle. ‘If it falls out tonight, I’ll get money from the tooth fairy.’

Claire scoffed.‘The tooth fairy isn’t real Marcus; you know that at your age, you're not a baby’

Marcus’ small mouth formed a surprised ‘o’ shape.

‘Don’t give me that look,’ said Claire. ‘If you're old enough to tell me what I can and can't do then you can take a home truth like that!! Suck it up.'

Marcus stood up then. The shock turning to anger. The dim light of the hallway giving his face an unearthly pallor 

‘You shouldn’t have said that,’ he said raising a shaky finger and pointing at Claire. ‘You will wish you never said that.'  He looked so angry it took Claire's breath away. She could see the whites of his eyes and for a fleeting second, he reminded her of a wild animal. He then turned and fled up the stairs 

Claire shuddered and rolled her eyes although by the time she had poured herself a coke she was feeling a bit guilty about things. And also, she had realised he would tell his parents what she had said about the tooth fairy and how it all happened. She cursed herself, she was going to end up in trouble and she had not seen Barry either. She would have to talk Marcus round.

She turned on the hall light and went up to Marcus’ room. The light was off and the room was silent. She wondered if he was already asleep.

 ‘Marcus?’ Claire said softly not wanting to turn on the main bedroom light in case he was asleep. ‘Marcus?’ She stepped further into the room and tried to make out if the lumpy shape on the bed was Marcus’ sleeping body or a bundled-up heap of duvet and pillow. Claire felt the hairs on her arms prickle and her mouth became dry. She was just about to take a step nearer then,

‘Claire.’

She spun around and Marcus was standing right behind her. She let out a gasp as she noticed a trickle of blood journey down his chin. He then held up something in his fingers and smiled a wide grin that didn’t meet his eyes, revealing a gap in the row of small front teeth.

‘Oh you lost a tooth!’ Claire couldn’t help smiling in relief, although why the relief, she wasn’t quite sure. ‘Rinse it off and we’ll leave it for the tooth fairy’ she said kneeling down to Marcus’s height spotting an opportunity to put things right.

‘Sorry I teased you it was a silly joke, just a joke.  Of course the tooth fairy is real’.

‘I know,’ said Marcus, his small jaw set in a serious manner.

‘You do?’ asked Claire ‘And yes, you’re right’.

Marcus nodded.

‘I am right. I saw her even though you’re not supposed to see her.'

‘Saw who?’ asked Claire

‘The tooth fairy,’ said Marcus solemnly. 

Claire smiled - slightly unnerved by Marcus’ odd behaviour but also quite pleased the tooth fairy issue seemed to have been resolved. She nodded encouragingly.

‘           ‘Well, that’s great, it was just all a silly joke wasn’t it? And now it’s sorted. All we need to do is put the tooth under your pillow and ta da!’

Marcus did not mirror her excitement. Instead, she heard him say. ‘You’ll be sorry’ under his breath, so low it was barely audible.

‘Sorry?’ asked Claire. Marcus looked her directly in the eye.

‘She said you’d be sorry for what you said.’

Claire shuddered god this kid could be creepy.

‘Well, I am sorry’ she said ‘I’m really sorry. Would you like a story before bed?’

‘Yes please,’ said Marcus. So they had two stories but the atmosphere remained tight and tense. The tooth went under the pillow and Claire went downstairs. 

She found an old TV comedy to lift her mood and lay down on the sofa to watch. Soon she found herself drifting off into a fitful sleep then jerking awake again, clutching her teeth, her mouth feeling raw and sore and full of blood, and then the sweet relief of realising it was a dream.

When her eyes snapped open at just after 11.00 pm, she became aware that she needed a pound coin to sleep under Marcus’ pillow. She looked in her wallet and was relieved to see there was one there. She stood up and gasped. She was certain a dark figure had moved past the door.

‘Marcus?’ she asked. She stuck her head round the door but there was no one there. She started to make her way up the stairs. The air felt cold and still. She listened outside Marcus’ door but there was no tell-tale rustle of covers, just the rhythmic breathing of a child sleeping. 

Walking into the room, being careful to be silent. She slipped a hand under Marcus’ pillow. At first she couldn’t find the tooth. she deftly slipped a hand further under the pillow, so far that is was almost under Marcus’ head, then she found the tooth, small and sharp, but as she deposited the pound coin, and went to smoothly withdraw her hand, her fingers felt another tooth. As she felt around and tried to make sense of what was under the pillow her fingers found another tooth then another, and another, and then another. Confused, she grabbed them all and moved out into the light of the hall to see just what she had in her hand. Not wanting to wake Marcus by putting the hall light on she moved to the bathroom and pulled on the light. The room flooded in harsh fluorescent light and Claire was confronted by the ashen gaze of her own reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her lips were covered in blood. She hadn’t noticed before but now she could taste the thick salty liquid. She looked down in her hands to see what she was holding. It was a handful of bloody teeth and almost certainly adult teeth. She looked back in the mirror and raised a trembling finger to her lips. She parted them slowly and stared in the mirror. She saw then, which her tongue had already suggested. All her teeth were missing.

About the author 

Caroline is a Creative Writing student who writes quirky fiction and short stories with a twist.  

 

  

A Penchant for Tulips

 

by Caroline Geary

Twinings English Breakfast 

 

Mark awoke to the sound of his cat heaving.  An unearthly gurgle that had him springing from his bed, ready to sling Hugo, his beloved ginger Tom, out the back door. He did not want his floor decorated with feline vomit. He couldn’t face cleaning up cat sick at the best of times, but especially not before he’d had his coffee. After fumbling with the lock of the back door, the still retching Hugo under one arm, he managed to swing it open just in time to deposit Hugo onto the back doorstep, where said cat promptly vomited. 

Ten minutes later Mark sat with Hugo purring away on his lap. He sipped his coffee, his brow furrowed. This being sick had started a few weeks ago. Mark had taken Hugo to the vet twice now, and even though he had spent the best part of a couple of hundred pounds, neither the vet nor Mark was any the wiser as to what was wrong. Mark tried to think of anything he’d done differently in the last few weeks, but only one thing stood out. The arguments with his elderly neighbour Edith. They had never got on. Since he had moved in a year ago she had been a miserable old windbag. She had moaned that his car obscured her drive (it didn’t, and she didn’t drive anyway) She complained his music was too loud (even when it was Crowded House at a very modest volume). She also moaned that the cat did his business in her garden (he didn’t, he did it in the other neighbour’s garden, Mark had seen him) and she moaned when he fed the birds as she claimed the birdseed attracted rats. (she might have a point with that one) 

So could it be. thought Mark, that she might have something to do with this? Could she be poisoning Hugo? He often went missing for hours at a time and could easily be lured into next doors with a saucer of milk or a sniff of tuna. She could put poison out in the garden too he thought. Weren’t slug pellets poisonous to cats?

 

He looked out into the garden. Edith, he noticed, was weeding the flower beds. He eyed her suspiciously; she must have sensed him looking as she lifted her head and glared back. Hugo was nowhere to be seen. As Mark made himself a second cup of coffee a plan began to form. 

The next morning his delivery arrived early. Good old Amazon he thought as he opened the package labelled Paw Tracker 100. He grinned at his genius.

'Hugo! come here boy,' he called, and Hugo arrived obediently as his feet. Removing Hugo’s old collar and replacing it with the Paw tracker, Mark positioned the camera at the front of the collar and  held the button down until the blue light flashed. He was pleased to see the camera had some charge. 

'Off you go boy,' said Mark encouragingly. 'Let’s see just what you get up to these days and just what, or whom, is making you poorly.’

Hugo’s huge amber eyes looked questioningly at Mark before he turned, jumped up on a stool, curled up and went to sleep. Mark sighed. This was not going to be as interesting as he had hoped. He set off to work, noticing Edith’s curtain twitch slightly as he pulled away in his old Golf.

            When Mark arrived home that evening, he scratched Hugo behind the ears.

 'You been there all-day mate?' he asked as the ginger tom was still seated in the same place Mark had left him that morning. Hugo yawned, exposing his little pointy teeth. Mark removed the collar and put the camera on charge cracking open a beer.  Soon after, he was slumped on the sofa in his favourite position, feet up on the footstool and Hugo purring happily on his lap. He swigged some beer and popped the USB stick into his laptop. 'Let’s see where you’ve been today mate,' said Mark stroking Hugo's left ear making it twitch in irritation. 

 

Mark was impressed by the quality of the footage, although black and white it was really easy to make out what was going on, even if it was somewhat disorientating seeing the world from Hugo’s perspective. 

Firstly, the footage showed Hugo jumping from the stool, finishing the food in his bowl, and slipping through the cat flap. Next the footage went very, very still. The  image on the screen showed the back lawn and the footage was moving very, very slowly. Mark had to lean forward and strain his eyes to see what was in the shot. He didn’t see it at first, but then he could identify a small sparrow, hopping around on the lawn. The footage then leapt forward as Hugo pounced towards the bird. And missed.

'Ha old boy! Better, luck next time,’ laughed Mark.

Next Mark could tell Hugo lay in a patch of sun, the image so bright nothing could be made out on the screen, he then washed his paws and tried and failed to catch another bird. Mark was just about to give up on seeing anything of interest when the wall separating his and Edith’s gardens loomed into view. Hugo leapt over the fence the view on screen lurching violently, and up to Edith’s back door. Mark leant forward, interest piqued. 

He’s waiting at the door thought Mark. This clearly meant Hugo had been in Edith’s house before. Mark was about to take a swig of beer as Edith's lower legs appeared behind the frosted glass and the door swung open giving Mark his first-ever glimpse of the hallway. It was as he imagined. Old fashioned but classy. The parquet flooring polished mirror smooth, a patterned rug covering much of the hallway. Mark watched through Hugo’s eyes as the cat padded through to the kitchen 

Mark was suddenly treated to a cat’s eye view of Edith’s sagging tights. 

 The camera had no sound, but he was shocked when he saw Edith’s face loom into view. Her expression was warm and smiling. He realised he had ever seen her smile before. Not once and he certainly hadn’t expected Hugo to be the cause of such genuine delight. After a few blurry movements, the next thing Mark saw was Hugo’s favourite dry biscuits being poured into a bowl and then the biscuits looming into view as the whole screen became a blur. It was clear he was watching Hugo wolf the food down. Mark was puzzled. As far as he could see Edith hadn’t added anything to the cat biscuits, He hadn’t seen anything that might resemble a poison. Weird. It was as though Edith was luring Hugo in as she liked him, and not out of spite at all. 

Next it seemed that Edith was retiring to her front room. Mark watched her slippered feet shuffle along the parquet and it was clear that Hugo was upon her lap as soon as she sat down. He could tell by the head movements that Hugo gave that she was rubbing him behind the ears. If there had have been audio on the recording Mark was certain Hugo would be purring like a pick-up. On the screen Hugo turned himself round and Mark was surprised to see that although Edith was smiling whilst talking to Hugo, a solitary tear had run down her cheek. He was shocked at his response; he felt a pang of remorse at his bad feelings towards her.  There was something desperately painful in seeing an older person cry. Mark drained his beer and continued to watch. On the recording Hugo had seen a bird in the garden thorough Edith’s window and had jumped up onto window sill. As Hugo paraded up and down Mark couldn’t help noticing the framed photos. One was a wedding picture, clearly of Edith in her younger days, her hair rolled up in elegant curls and her husband's arms around her waist. He wondered when she had lost him. Was it recently? he wondered. There was another photo of the husband in a soldier’s uniform. Mark wondered if this dapper looking husband of Edith’s had been killed in the war. He felt a creeping sense of shame as he realised, he never asked her anything about herself. The third and final photo on the windowsill was one of Edith and husband holding a baby. Mark frowned; he didn’t remember Edith ever mentioning a child and he had never seen her have any visitors. He scratched the back of his neck and fidgeted in his seat. He felt decidedly uncomfortable. Wasn’t it common courtesy, your civil duty even, to check in on your neighbours? Especially elderly ones that lived alone?

Back to the screen and Hugo was back in the hallway. He paused next to a vase of tulips. Oh god please don’t knock that over thought Mark, his lips pulled into a grimace as he watched Hugo sniffing the flowers. The folds and curves of the petals were all Mark could see. He found himself looking at a tulip, which soon became a tulip with half a petal, which soon became a tulip with a quarter of a petal. And then realisation hit him. Hugo was eating tulips. Cat’s cannot eat flowers. And definitely not tulips. He didn’t know how he knew it, but he had heard it somewhere and knew that they were poisonous. He wasn’t sure they were deadly, but it was enough to make a cat sick. The penny dropped and he realised Edith hadn’t been poisoning Hugo, she had simply been lonely and Hugo had been some comfort to her in her time of need. 

He shut the laptop lid firmly and sat back in his chair. He sat there for quite some time. Just thinking. 

The next day he was up early, he hit the supermarket and filled his basket with English breakfast tea, a novelty tea towel featuring a print of cats carrying out various cooking activities and some ginger biscuits. When he arrived home he went straight to Edith’s front door and rang the bell, noticing that his mouth felt dry and his hands clammy.

She answered quickly. She scowled at him and just said

'Yes?'

‘Edith,’ he said, holding out a hand. ‘We haven’t been formally introduced or got off to the best start.' He shifted from one foot to the other ‘And I’d like to apologise. Do you mind if I come in?’ Edith eyed him suspiciously, peering over the rim of her glasses. Mark raised the biscuits ‘Peace offering?’ he said.

Soon he was sitting in Edith’s front room waiting for her to bring in the tea.

Edith arrived then, a little hunched over, but steady on her feet. There were two biscuits on the plate, a teapot complete with a knitted tea cosy. a small sugar bowl and a jug of milk. Mark added two cubes to his tea with a splash then merrily dunked his biscuit. Edith's eyes twinkled in amusement. 

‘Like I say,’ Mark began, ‘I’m sorry I haven’t been very neighbourly. I promise to do better.’

‘Apology accepted’ said Edith. They were silent for a while then Edith said. ‘It's nice to have company.’

Mark smiled.

'It is. Do you not get many visitors?'

Edith shook her head, 

'No family?' Asked Mark, giving a cursory glance to the photo frames on the window sill. 

'No,' said Edith. her eyes had followed Mark’s to the pictures. She shook her head ' I lost Charlie before his first birthday. Pneumonia.'

'I’m so sorry,'' said Mark. 'What about your husband?'

'Ernest?' asked Edith,

'Did he die in the war?'' asked Mark.

'Oh he’s not dead,' said Edith.  'He’s in Oak Lodge.'

It took Mark a second to digest what that was.

'The nursing home?' he asked, finishing his biscuit, 'Do you see him often?'

 'I can’t get there,' she said. 'I’d love to but there's no one to take me.'

‘Well I can take you,' said Mark 'It’s no problem, would you like that?'

 Edith's eyes sparkled  'Yes, yes, please, I would like that so much!'

‘We’ll go tomorrow,’ said Mark. ‘We could take him some biscuits.' 

So it was arranged. Mark would pick Edith up at 10 o’ clock the following morning. 

Mark felt much lighter as he walked to the front door.

‘See you tomorrow,' he said. 

‘At 10 o'clock,’ said Edith with a smile.

Mark turned around as he left and with the warmest tone he had, he said.

‘Oh and I think my cat Hugo would like you.  He gets lonely when I'm at work. He's no bother, his name is Hugo if you call him he’ll come in and keep you company.’

‘Oh how lovely, thank you’ said Edith. 

 He smiled as he noticed her cheeks colour a bit. He turned to go, then turned back once more and added.

‘Oh but just make sure he doesn’t nibble any house plants if you have them. He has a penchant for tulips.’

About the author

Caroline is a Creative Writing student who writes quirky fiction and short stories with a twist.