Posted in Flash Fiction

Six Weeks In Majorca

With all this unexpected warm weather we’ve been experiencing, I decided to revamp a story I wrote some time ago.

Six Weeks In Majorca

I didn’t mean to kill her. Well, no, that’s not quite true. What I mean is, I hadn’t planned it. If I had, I know I would never have had the courage to carry it out.

It all happened quite unexpectedly. I had been up since six o’clock doing the weekly wash, ironing her clothes, cleaning the outside of the windows, upstairs and down. Then at 10 o’clock when she had deigned to get up, claiming that the noise I’d made cleaning the bedroom window  made it impossible for her to lie in, she had insisted on a full English breakfast. She then proceeded to complain that the eggs were not to her liking and that her copy of the Times had been wrinkled by the paper boy when he put it through our letter box. So, of course, I was expected to nip down to the local shop for some fresh eggs and another copy of the Times, which I ironed, just to be on the safe side.

As soon as breakfast was over she gave me one of her lists. This one was the week’s shopping. As I was about to leave the house she said she didn’t want me going to our local supermarket. She’d heard that the new one, just opened outside Marksham, had some special offers on. I was to go there. I momentarily thought of telling her that it was over 40 miles away but I could tell from the look on her face that she knew that, so I said nothing.

By the time I arrived home, laden with shopping, it was mid-afternoon. It was a lovely July afternoon and the temperature was up in the 80’s. Most men would have been out in the garden with a beer, or by the side of a quiet lake fishing. No chance of that for me. I knew when I got in, there would be other jobs waiting for me to do. I guessed that she would be having her afternoon nap so I crept into the house quietly. I was exhausted and desperately in need of a drink, no chance of it being alcoholic as she kept all of that under lock and key, but a nice cup of tea would go down a treat. To be on the safe side I decided to creep upstairs and make sure that she was really asleep. I shuddered when I thought of the last time she caught me drinking tea when I should have been working.

I found her lying on the bed, fast asleep. She looked so relaxed, contented, almost normal. For a fleeting moment I was taken back to that day 20 years ago when I first met her. She had been beautiful back then, witty and so very kind. My skin crawled when I thought about how I had let myself be fooled. The few friends we had, or should I say, she had, saw her as a lovely women. I’ve lost count of how many times they told me what a lucky man I was. Of course they didn’t know the real Angela, the foul-mouthed, vindictive bully that I lived with. The woman who made every minute of my life a living hell.

I know some of you will be wondering why I stayed. If life had been so bad why hadn’t I just got up and left? It’s a question I’ve asked myself many times. To be fair I did nearly leave twice. In fact the second time I’d actually got as far as buying a ticket to Majorca. Of course she found out, don’t ask me how, the witch just had this knack of knowing everything I did. Anyway the tongue lashing and ridicule I got from her would have made your toes curl. Within minutes the plane ticket was in her handbag, she later used it herself for a week’s holiday, on her own, and I was back where she believed I belonged, well and truly under her thumb.

All this was going through my mind when I noticed the cushion on the chair in the corner of the room. There was nothing special about it and it had been sitting on that chair for years. But something inside me seemed to snap. Before I could give it a second thought I was holding it over Angela’s face. She must have woken up almost immediately because I was aware of her arms and legs flailing around. At the same time there were these muffled sounds coming from beneath the cushion.  I couldn’t hear the words but I knew that she would be screaming at me, demanding to know what the bloody hell I thought I was doing. I knew that if I loosened my grip and those words became intelligible I would be lost, she would have me back under her control in seconds.

So it was a mixture of fear and hatred that made me press down even harder. I’ve no idea how long this all went on for but it seemed like an age. Then I slowly became aware that the legs and arms were no longer moving and the muffled had stopped. I removed the cushion from her face, half expecting her to sit up and scream at me for interrupting her afternoon nap, she didn’t move.

Within an hour I was packed and waiting for the taxi. I was amazed at how calm I was, I’d even had time to make myself that cup of tea. I phoned the newsagent and cancelled our papers for a month, telling him  we were of on a surprise luxury cruise. I even popped next door and told them the same tale. I saw her looking at my solitary case and without a second thought, had made up a convincing story about Angela having gone on a day early.

I reckon that no one will worry about Angela for at least the next month. Then hopefully her body won’t be discovered for another week. By the time they’ve found out where I am then, hopefully, that’s another week. After that who knows what is going to happen. For now though I’m just looking forward to my six weeks in Majorca, lounging on the beach, drinking as much beer as I want and not having to look over my shoulder to see where Angela is.  Bliss!

 MikeJackson©2012

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Author:

Now that I'm retired I have more time to devote to writing my blog and creating short stories.

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