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Diabolical - Chapter 1
🕑 Added 2022-11-22 12:12:45 +0000 UTC-Year 1937, Irish Free State, Province of Leinster, City of Dublin-
In a shabby, soot-stained apartment, there lived a family of three. Their residence was located in the North Strand, a working-class district in the inner city. As was the status-quo for many of that time, the husband and wife struggled woefully to provide for themselves and for their ten-year-old son. Not only was the Irish Free State still feeling the aftereffects of the civil war of 1922-23, but to make matters worse, a terrible depression held the globe in its grip. In fact, the North Strand was as much a slum as a ‘working class district’. The government, under head-of-state Éamon de Valera, had started a scheme of replacing tenements with decent housing for the poor, but progress was slow.
It was understandable then that tension ran high in the Webb household – the husband, Benjamin Webb, had a history of occupation that could best be described as ‘unstable’. As a young man, he’d a fascination with the arts, and had painted portraits and landscapes in water-color. He’d sought to carry his passions with him, but the bitterness of reality wasn’t something that he could escape.
After many years spent struggling to have his efforts recognized, he finally capitulated. Now, he worked whatever job he could find; with the plummeting of wages and the mass-layoffs, he was often taken advantage of. If things were different, he’d have gone to search for greener pastures, but he couldn’t take the risk. Through some miracle, at least he’d been able to cling onto his job despite the economic instability. That had been the case for the past three years, but now…
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“…was right about you, Benjamin! God, I was such a fool for not listening to him!”
A twenty-six-year-old woman, pretty and with chestnut brown hair, desperately bit on her lower lip. With her elbows resting on a shoddy wooden table, she held one hand over her eyes. Her face was white as a sheet and her cheeks were wet.
Benjamin’s hands thumped against the rickety table. His visage was one guilt and of grim determination. “Damn it, Jane, listen to me! You don’t understand…!”
The woman furiously shot up from her seat, sending the three-legged stool clattering to the ground. Her eyes were wild and mad, and she held a kitchen knife in one hand. “…don’t understand? Don’t understand?! How dare you!” she yelled.
Jane rounded the small table murderously. Seeing her advance, Benjamin hurriedly retreated until he was standing in the doorway. His pupils turned into pinpricks when the knife suddenly shot towards him. Ducking under the throw, he managed to preserve his life, but he still felt a burning line being drawn across his shoulder.
“You fucking bitch…!” He shouted, in a voice filled with pain and humiliation. Something warm and wet dripped down his back. He touched it and, lifting his hand to his eyes, saw that his entire palm was covered in blood.
His building rage quickly dispersed when other objects started coming his way. Jane was screaming and with these thin walls, it was a given that their neighbours were already well aware of their troubles. Benjamin briefly considered attempting to restrain his wife, but when a cup exploded near his head, sending shards into his eyes, he said the only thing he knew could stop her:
“Arthur will be home soon! Do you want him to come back to this?” He shouted, ducking behind the doorframe while rubbing his eyes. The barrage of miscellaneous objects came to an abrupt halt, just as he’d predicted.
“…get out.”
Jane’s voice was as deathly as the grave. Beneath that still surface, he could sense a bubbling murderousness.
“I’ll fix this, I swear!” Benjamin said, gritting his teeth. His back was against the wall, and he didn’t dare to even look around the corner. A shard had cut open his forehead and blood mixed with sweat dripped into his eyes. He wiped it away with the back of his hand.
A dark silence stretched between the two of them. He waited for a dreadfully long moment before he finally heard her reply.
“You’ve done enough, Benjamin. You’ve humiliated me, you’ve humiliated your son and you’ve humiliated yourself. This family will be better off without you. If you feel any guilt about what you’ve done, if you want to make things right, leave.”
Benjamin could hear the exhaustion in her tone. He felt something sour pool in his stomach. Clenching his jaw, his head sagged until his chin thumped against his chest. His eyes were hot and itchy.
“Jane, please give me another chance! There’s no way you two can live on your own! Let me help!”
The words slipped from between his pale, bloodless lips. He still loved her and he loved his son, despite everything, despite… despite what he’d done! Life without them wasn’t something he’d be able to bear. He had to persuade her.
“Ha. Ha. Ha.”
Her response was an empty, forlorn laugh. He listened from the other room as she righted the stool and sat down. Something clinked, then he heard the sound of rushing liquid. She’d poured herself some water – they didn’t have anything else in the house. He heard the cup being lifted and put down.
“No, Benjamin, we don’t need you. We don’t need you because I’m going to do what I should’ve done long ago – I’m returning to my parents and I’m taking Arthur with me.” She said, after she’d gathered her thoughts. Her voice was soft but there was steel in it.
Benjamin’s face turned pale as a sheet. That couldn’t happen, he couldn’t let it happen! He knew it in his gut – those two old ghosts would never let him see Arthur, as long as he lived. They’d only met once, but the condescension and disdain he’d seen in their eyes stuck with him to this day.
“They’ve disowned you both! Do you really think they’ll take you two in, Jane, after what happened? They wouldn’t piss on us if we were on fire, you know it as well as I do!” He shouted, biting hard on the tip of his tongue. The taste of iron filled his mouth.
He heard her taking a deep, long breath.
“No, they will. I’ll bow and scrape and plead until they do.” She said hoarsely. It stung, having to admit she was wrong. She’d wasted so many years trying to make it work and for what, to be betrayed? And Arthur – she’d let him suffer, all because of her own foolishness. He had to do without, and it was her fault. If only she hadn’t been such a stubborn, love-stricken fool.
“I’m their only daughter and he their only grandson. They have no choice but to take him in.” She said, swallowing the lump in her throat.
Benjamin thumped his head against the wall, his helplessness and frustration only growing. “You’re a fool. If you really think it’ll be that easy-…” He started, only for a sudden outburst from Jane to interrupt him.
“No, you don’t understand! You don’t, Benjamin…!” She yelled, only to deflate a moment later. She sniffed before continuing in a thin, weak voice. “…if the man I fell in love with ten years ago was here, he’d understand.”
Choking on her tears, she delivered her final statement. “…I’ll sell everything. The two of us will leave. You can say your goodbyes, but after that I want you gone.”
As she spoke, Benjamin had sunk down until he was sitting on the floor. He started weeping silently with his head in his hands.
“…w-will I see you a-again?” He stuttered, doing his best to speak through the tears.
It took a while for Jane to reply.
“If Arthur wants to see you after he’s grown, then I won’t deprive him of it. But you and me, we’re over.” she said. The words conveyed a sense of fatalism, like the shutting of a crypt door. “If you have any decency left, you’ll let us leave.”
Benjamin gave a choked sob. “Jesus, what do think of me? You think I’d harm my family?”
The response he received was merciless. A round, silver object was tossed through the doorway. He watched as its rolling came to a stop, clinking against the stone floor. It was the ring he’d given her when he proposed.
“We’re not family anymore, Benjamin. You saw to that yourself.”
He heard Jane standing up, followed by the sound of footsteps. A few moments later, a door slammed closed. She’d locked herself in their bedroom.
It took a long while until Benjamin had regained strength enough to stand. Like a member of the walking dead, he dragged his feet over to where it lay – the once-symbol of their love. He took it in trembling fingers and slipped it into his pocket. He drew an unstable breath and looked toward the front door. He’d return to them, some day; when he’d fixed himself, when he had money, when he…
Some time later, the front door opened and closed.
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It was around five-o-clock when the soot-stained apartment finally saw its third inhabitant. Arthur stilled when he came through the entrance, seeing the enormous mess on the inside. Debris was scattered all over the floor and the small living-room’s wall was indented. More than anything else, it was the smears of red covering the white paint that drew his attention.
The papers he’d been carrying hit the floor, sending sheets flying in all directions. He rushed into the kitchen, but there was no-one there. With growing panic, he crossed the distance to his parents’ room and started banging on the door. He’d rattled the doorknob, but it wouldn’t open!
“Mom, are you in there? Mom! Mom?!”
Relief washed over him when he heard her voice coming from inside.
“Arthur? Hold on, I’ll be right there.” She said, sounding groggy.
He heard the lock turning before the door was pulled open. Jane stood in the doorway, looking like she’d seen better days. Her hair was a bird’s nest and her eyes were red and puffy. It was clear she’d been crying.
Arthur stepped forward and grabbed her wrist. He stood on his tip-toes and scanned her from top to bottom, looking for any injuries. He didn’t see any.
“What happened-…?” He started, wanting to get to the bottom of what exactly was going on here. Before he could say anything else, Jane stretched out a hand and pinched his lips together.
“Hush.”
When he did, she took a deep breath before letting it out. She took her son by the arm and guided him into their little kitchen before sitting down. She motioned for him to do the same. When he’d sat, she steepled her fingers, pressing her thumbs into her forehead.
“How was your day?” She asked, unsure of how to broach the topic. A feeling of resentment welled in her heart --- ten-year-old boy shouldn’t have to deal with any of this.
Arthur sat with his hands on his knees, looking shellshocked. “Huh? It was alright, I guess.”
Jane gave him a weak smile. “I’m glad. Have you-…?” She started, only to stop when she saw something sticking out of his pocket. The table was small enough that she could reach over and snatch it, so she did. She opened the drawstring pouch – there was money inside: some coins and a few notes. Her lower lip trembled. She looked like she was about to start crying again.
“For god’s sake, Arthur, I told you to stop working!” She sniffed and grabbed his hand before stuffing the pouch back into his palm. “Since you earned it, it’s yours. Buy some sweets and toys with it.”
He put his small hand on top of hers in a comforting manner. “I was going to.” He said, looking like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.
Jane didn’t believe him. She wouldn’t take money from him and never had, but it didn’t matter. Arthur had always done what he wanted. Whenever things appeared in their house that neither her nor… that man had bought, she knew where it’d come from.
She’d muscled a confession out of Arthur some time ago, worried about where he was getting the money; it turned out he’d been running errands for his teachers. She’d told him to stop. She wanted him to play, to skip classes, to make friends – to just be a child. He clearly hadn’t listened.
She ran her hands through her hair, feeling her eyes becoming wet. As his mother, she’d utterly failed him. What kind of parent required their child to care for them? It was shameful.
She couldn’t let this state of affairs continue. She had to swallow her pride and return home. The maids and butlers she’d known during her youth, the ones raised alongside her, had better childhoods than her own son – the knowledge galled her, no, it made her want to vomit.
“…we’re leaving, Arthur.” She said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.
The boy frowned. She still hadn’t told him what’d happened, but he had his suspicions. “What do you mean, mom…?”
Jane gathered her son’s hands and held them in hers. She stared imploringly at him over the little table. “We’re going to England.” she said.
Arthur opened and closed his mouth. He didn’t know how to react to that sudden revelation. “We’re going to… England?”
Jane nodded. “Your grandparents live there, my… my parents. They… over there…” She started and restarted her sentence before halting. She didn’t want to lie to him – it wasn’t guaranteed that they’d be taken in, but now that Benjamin had spent the last of their savings and they were without income, it was their only option.
She swallowed. “We can have a better life.” she said, squeezing his small hands in hers.
Arthur returned her squeeze. “Mom, I don’t mind-…” he started before feeling his palms being pinched painfully. He quickly shut his mouth.
“Arthur, don’t even…” Jane said, her eyes gaining a dangerous glint. “It’s good to be humble, but a man needs to have ambition. You can’t while away the rest of your life here – I know you don’t care, but as your mother, I worry about your future.” she sighed and started stroking his thumbs. “Besides, we won’t be able to find you a nice girl among these people.”
Arthur rolled his eyes, but inwardly he couldn’t help but smile. The obsession with marriage was foreign to him, but to his mother it was a topic of utmost seriousness.
Jane eyed her son. Despite his outward irritation, she could sense his amusement. She reached across the table and dug her fingers into his ribs.
Unable to hold it in, Arthur burst into laughter. He tried to pull her hands away, but it was futile; his childish body didn’t have the strength to resist. A dozen-or-so seconds later, she finally let him go and he sagged in his seat, sore and tired from all the tickling.
Silence stretched between the two of them as Arthur struggled to catch his breath. When he did, his face became serious and he looked at his mother. “Dad did something, didn’t he?” He asked. His tone was dry and slightly hoarse.
Sighing, Jane stretched out a hand and twirled her son’s blonde, curly hair around her fingers. “It isn’t something you need to worry about. I’ll take care of everything – you just need to be ready to leave.”
He sat obediently under her ministrations while collecting his thoughts. He didn’t have any attachments to this city; he’d casually made a few friends at school, but only for the purpose of fitting in. He’d be happy to leave without saying goodbye – in fact, he’d prefer it. Exchanging farewells, pretending to be sad, promising to meet again… it sounded like a lot of work.
“They’ve been clamoring to knock down these houses – it shouldn’t be hard for us to make a deal with the municipality. And I know Margaret has been eying my crockery, what’s left of it, at least…” Jane said under her breath, rambling in the way of someone talking to themselves. “It’ll be enough to pay for our tickets, and to tide us over for a while.”
It was unfortunate, but the house itself wasn’t worth much. Property had plummeted in value during the depression; they’d bought it when times were better and their purse-strings hadn’t been so tight. Jane’s countenance became downcast, and she rubbed her sore eyes. “…and I’ll have to send a letter in advance, to let them know we’re coming.”
Arthur felt a bit of curiosity. He’d not heard anything about his mother’s family – she’d never talked about them. He decided to ask her. “Will they be able to care for the two of us? Wouldn’t we be adding to their burden?”
Jane hesitated. “…your grandfather he’s, well...” She sighed, unsure what exactly it was that was giving her so much trouble; perhaps it was the fact that they’d parted on bad terms, or perhaps it was that old fear of her father that was rearing its head. After she’d gathered her wits, she continued. “...Grimm, Schafer & Sons is an old company – after the Anglo-Boer war and the great war after that, the Shafer’s last few heirs passed away. Now that everything belongs to the Grimms…” Jane said, her eyes foggy as she recalled memories from days past “…they have enough and to spare.”
Arthur chewed on her words. From the sound of it, it seemed these relatives of his were rather wealthy. “Grimm – is that your maiden name, mom?” He asked curiously. To his knowledge, it was German in origin.
Jane confirmed it with a nod. “That’s right.”
He stared thoughtfully into his mother’s eyes. He could tell there was a story there – it seemed there was some bad blood between her and his grandparents. Well, it wouldn’t do to pry. She’d tell him on her own if she wanted to.
He put his chin on his palm and gazed at the ceiling. It was grey and worn out, and it was covered in stains. He remembered his mother trying to scrub them out when they’d just gotten the place, but she hadn’t succeeded.
He looked at her. “Is it really that bad? Is there no way you can fix things with dad?” he asked. While his father had his shortcomings, he’d always done right by him – to his knowledge, at least.
Jane’s face was stony. “Arthur, there are some things a woman should never tolerate. He’s trampled over my dignity for the last time. I would rather die than continue this charade…” she ranted. Towards the end, she seemed to realize that she’d said some unsettling things in front of her son. She couldn’t help it; sometimes, talking to Arthur was like talking to another adult.
That told the boy almost everything he needed to know. It seemed his father had been engaged in certain ‘activities’ without his mother’s consent. He sighed before standing up and walking around the table. Wrapping his arms around his mother’s back, he put his head on her shoulder.
“I’m sorry, mom.” He said, whispering close to her ear. Ever since he could remember, she’d done her best for him. He couldn’t help but be touched.
Jane returned his hug with ferocity. “Don’t be sorry, and don’t worry -- I’ll take care of everything. Say your goodbyes tomorrow. I want us to be out of this city before the end of the week.” She said, stroking his shoulders in a comforting fashion.
Arthur murmured his agreement; it seemed his life was about to undergo a drastic change. He’d thought he was satisfied with what he had. Now that it’d come to this, he didn’t know how to feel.
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