Stories written for BBC Radio Kent Competitions (7)

As I drew back the curtains and looked across the fields, I felt sure something was different.  Even with the dusting of snow  it still didn't seem quite right.  I stood in the kitchen, coffee cup in hand, staring out like it was a puzzle like one of those funny pictures, for about a quarter of an hour, but still it alluded me.  So I put the untouched and lukewarm coffee down and out went in my slippers and dressing gown, determined I wouldn’t go to work with the mystery still at large. 

And that was how the end of my partner’s life began.  Looking back on it, I wish I had ignored the feeling, obviously, it’s just, I… I can’t help feel I never had a choice.  Did they know (whoever “they” are?) how curious I can be, how I can’t let anything go- whether it’s a creased duvet or an untidy room or even just a vague feeling?  Whatever, I went out there in the cold and wandered across the cold, hard ground glancing about me into the distance and at the ground, trying to spot the difference.  After failing to spot it from a simple scan, I took to scouring the furrowed ground to see if I’d subconsciously spotted something. 

I found it about 20 metres from the house, right in the bottom of a dip and surely out of view from the kitchen.  I thought nothing of it at the time, I was too intent on looking at it more closely and trying to figure out what it was.  And I was really cold.

The bureau in our office was usually uncluttered and right next to a radiator so I took it there to study.  I sat down on the chair, flipping up the roll-top as my bum made contact with the seat and placing my find onto the desk top before moving the chair soundlessly across the carpet so my legs were right under the desk, and closer to the beautifully warm radiator, where I could study it properly, whatever it was. 

I switched on the desk lamp to see it better, turning it around and around to introduce myself to its every side and its basic appearance.  Once done, I began to examine it more closely, using the magnifying glass I usually used for reading fine print, taking in its colour and textures, noticing the strange way it reflected light and the foreign text carved into it.  It was all so mystifying, though, that after half an hour I felt like I knew everything about its appearance but nothing about it, which was really infuriating.  I was getting hot and irritable, undid my dressing gown cord.  It was maddening.  I’ve already said how curious I can be.  Well, when that curiosity goes unsatisfied I can get quite nasty. I threw it down roughly, smashing it open, spilling the contents across my desk, mesmerising me with a simple beauty and elegance, like a perfect rose and a dew drop web.

When I touched it, it hurt. It didn’t burn me or cut me, it just hurt me somehow - right in the centre of my head, sharp as knives. I yelled in pain, holding my head in my hands and falling off my chair, skinning my knees a little as I skidded slightly on hitting the carpet. And then I was sick over my front and thighs and the pain went away suddenly just as Jenny entered the room wearing a look of concern and fear as I blacked out.

She was always much purer than me. Clearer skin, cleaner hair, prettier in every way and nicer too. Where I might fly off the handle, she would always stay calm. I don’t think I ever heard her say a bad word about anyone. She wouldn’t have thrown it down like I did, she’d have shown more patience and care, have carried on observing, maybe even got to the bottom of it or at least come up with a better solution.

I was woken by a man I employed to help in the fields.  He had seen me through the window, feared the worst and broken in. I asked him where Jenny was but he said he didn’t know. I stood and looked at the desk. It had been cleaned. “My turn to fear the worst,” I told him before passing out again from the general confusion and a headrush.

Note: other stories with the same start