Foxblood #1: A Brush with the Moon

  Chapter Two

  I COULDN’T REMEMBER being unconscious. I thought I’d been having a weird nightmare where I sank into an alternate world of spinning pictures and swirling colours. And I never found out whether my condition had been caused by an infection brought on by the fox’s bite or the cocktail of drugs being pumped into my arm to save me. All I could remember about that time was a kaleidoscope of images whirling around and blurring together: crumbling brick walls, the fox, screaming faces, snarling teeth, piercing turquoise eyes, endless blackness, and in the background, muffled voices that I couldn’t decipher.

  When normality returned, Mum told me I’d collapsed as I opened the front door, and she’d had to rush me to hospital. I’d been out for two days before surprising the doctors with a sudden recovery. They wanted to keep me in for observation and tried to get Mum to persuade me to stay, but I didn’t see the need.

  “I want to go home, Mum. Honestly, I’m fine,” I said, hoping the words coming out of my mouth were true. I felt great, yes, but there was something else, an uneasy feeling I couldn’t quite put my finger on. I pushed it to the back of my mind.

  “But there might be after-effects,” Mum said, trying to dissuade me. “You’ve had a traumatic experience, Sophie, not to mention all those drugs.”

  I swung my legs from under the covers. “Well, they obviously worked. I’ve never felt better.”

  “I really think you should take the doctor’s advice and stay a bit longer, love.”

  “Not a chance, Mum. Can you please ask them for the discharge papers? I’m going to uni in two days, and I’ve got packing to finish.”

  Leaving Brumpton was easy. I had no regrets. Mum had become even more protective of me after my hospital stay, but I couldn’t let my conscience prevent me from living my dream. She had to let me go sometime.

  She wasn’t able to wave me off at the station. Her scumbag boss wouldn’t give her the day off, so I had to drag my cases to the supermarket to say my goodbyes, where I found her in the chiller aisle busily pricing up the reduced items. As I watched the sticker gun spewing out the bright red sales labels, I vowed that one day things would be different. One day, I would take her away from her drudgery.

  She saw me coming, and at the sight of me surrounded by all my worldly possessions, she burst into tears. It took some time to prise out of her farewell bear hug, and I almost missed my train.

  It was a long and boring journey. I passed the time by staring out of the window imagining what might lie ahead for me, nervous and full of excitement for my new life, and absolutely dying to see Beth again.

  Beth and I had grown up together in Brumpton. We were total opposites. Mother Nature had blessed Beth with a bubbly, vivacious personality at birth, and consequently, she would have much rather partied than study, and she hated being alone. Me—I didn’t mind my own company, but I’ll admit I needed Beth to keep me from becoming a total recluse. That’s why I was so upset when Beth’s dad got a new job and she told me she was moving to the other end of the country. It was the first time I’d felt truly lonely. Of course we’d kept in touch by text and email, but it wasn’t the same. I really missed my best friend.

  The train pulled into a station, and I checked my map. Five down, twenty-six to go. I couldn’t get there soon enough.

  It had only been weeks since I’d last seen Beth, but it felt like years. I’d had to peel my jaw off the floor when I secured a placement at the same uni. Without it, I would have been stuck serving burgers at the local greasy spoon, or working behind a bar, fending off drunken advances, whilst attending our local graffiti-covered dump. I was so grateful to avoid that future. Being an energetic soul, Beth has chosen to study PE. For her, it was the obvious choice. I had never wanted to do anything other than art.

  Outside the train window, the fields grew greener, and my smile widened. The late afternoon sun gave the distant hills an orange glow, a warm sandwich filling between the cool bread slices of the sky and fields. I couldn’t wait to have some new scenery to discover. I loved it already. The pretty view couldn’t be more different from my dismal childhood surroundings.

  I had entered the world on a cold, grey day, with the wind howling and a thunderstorm threatening, the miserable weather setting a precedent for the early years of my existence. A grey little girl in a grey little world; that was who I was. The only colour I had ever had in my life lay on a canvas.

  Halfway through the journey, I fell asleep and dreamt of those eyes again.

  They watched over me as the devil held me in his grasp, laughing and inciting me to attack. I kept punching at his face, but he mocked my efforts and came back stronger every time. His grip was crushing, too strong for me to struggle against, and I knew that if I didn’t escape, I would be dead soon. I panicked and stuck my fingers down his throat. He heaved and retched. Blood-tainted sick spewed from his mouth, and he withered and melted down, becoming his own vomit.

  The train slowed down on its approach to Fosswell station, and the change of pace awoke me from my slumber, releasing me from Hell.

  I craned my neck toward the window to catch a glimpse of Beth…and spotted her. She was standing at the end of the platform holding one end of a banner, exactly as she’d said she would be doing. The other end of the banner was being held by a guy with curly, mousey blond hair, who was wearing a tight, pale-blue T-shirt with the sleeves cut off, shorts, and a sun visor. They spotted me and started jumping up and down, waving. I grabbed my belongings and hauled them towards the door as the train came to a stop.

  “Need a hand with those, Miss?” the guard asked.

  “No, I’m fine, thanks. My friends are right there.” I pointed as the doors opened, and Beth came rushing over.

  A hand brushed mine as it took hold of my case’s handle, and a hot electric rush pulsed through my body. “Let me get this one for you,” a voice said.

  I looked up, about to protest, and found myself staring into the most intoxicating eyes—bright turquoise green with a distinctive dark ring around the iris—the same eyes I’d just been dreaming about on the train; the same eyes that had been appearing to me in my dreams since I was a little girl. But before I could get a better look, they disappeared from view as their owner took my largest suitcase and stepped from the train. He dropped the case unceremoniously at Beth’s feet and headed towards the turnstile, and as I watched him weave through the crowd, an old man caught my eye.

  Stood in the middle of the platform, he was dressed in long johns, a string vest, yellow shorts, a long Mac, flippers, and a sou’wester. Over his shoulders hung a placard predicting the end of the world. Alighting passengers tried to give him a wide berth as he grabbed arms and coats, struggling to attract an audience.

  “Take no notice of him,” Beth said. “That’s Boatman John, homeless guy, mad as a flea, always rambling on about something or other.”

  “Is that all of them?” Beth’s friend asked, staring at my bags.

  “What? Oh…um, yes.” I stammered back to my senses, still thinking about those eyes. “Where’s your car, Beth?”

  “Having the brakes done. This is Justin, by the way,” Beth explained. “We met at the gym. He only goes there to check out the talent,” she sniggered to me behind her hand.

  Justin flexed his puny biceps. “I can’t deny it. Do I look as if I go there to work out?”

  I liked him immediately, and chuckled. “Hi.”

  “So, who was your knight in shining armour, then?” Beth asked, glancing over at my baseball-capped helper, now disappearing through the exit.

  I sighed, wishing I knew. “No idea.”

  The taxi pulled up outside a triple-fronted, black-painted shop in the centre of town. Fenton’s Funeral Parlour, said the gold lettering on the swinging sign outside.

  “Home,” said Beth.

  “Creepy,” said Justin, pulling a face.

  “That’ll be a fiver, love,” said the taxi driver, grinning at me through the rear-view mirror.
br />   The flat’s entrance was down the side alley and up a set of metal stairs leading to the floor above the shop. The stairs evened out to form a balcony platform outside the door. As I struggled to climb the stairway with my cases, I glanced down towards the back of the shop. There were no windows, only a sturdy metal door, also painted black. The yard was neatly paved with old flags, and a double-gated entrance opened out onto the backstreet.

  “That’s where they bring in the bodies,” Beth said as she unlocked the door, then she disappeared through it.

  I shivered, not wishing to dwell too much on that thought, and quickly followed her inside.

  Grateful to finally be here, I dropped my heavy case onto the bare floorboards, disturbing a cloud of dust, and looked around. “You could have cleaned up a bit,” I said.

  “I have. Well, I’ve made a start, but gimme a chance. I only got the keys yesterday,” Beth protested. “At least I got the essentials, though,” she added, pointing to a shiny new kettle. “Cup of tea?”

  The living area was huge and definitely had potential. In the wall facing me, there were six long windows which looked out onto the street below. To my left was a small kitchen area. There were no mod cons, just a few units, a cooker, a fridge, and a sink standing underneath a window with a dirty café-style net curtain across the bottom. Behind me, the back wall was one huge expanse of glass made up of small squares like something in an old factory, and there was an open fireplace on the end wall to my right, with a door to the left of it.

  “That leads to the bedrooms,” Beth explained, noticing my scrutiny. “Come and look,” she said, pulling me along by my arm.

  I followed her across the apartment and into a small hallway with three doors. “This is my room,” she said, opening the door ahead too briefly for me to see anything. “That’s the bathroom.” She pointed to a door on the right. “And this is your room,” she said, ushering me into the back bedroom. “Now, I realise it needs a bit of work and…um…a bed…but I know you’ll love it,” she called over her shoulder as she left me alone.

  So, this was it, then. My new pad. A room measuring about four metres square. In front of me, the wall was filled with old wooden fitted cupboards, and to my right, a window looked out over the backyard. The room was cold and uninviting, and I couldn’t see myself spending much time in it, so I exited quickly, closing the door behind me.

  Before returning to the main room, I checked out the bathroom. Not too bad; at least the suite was white—or it was supposed to be. Next, I snuck a peek into Beth’s room. Quite clearly, the cheeky cow had pinched the best room for herself. It was way bigger than mine was, and it had a bed. No wonder she hadn’t wanted me to see it.

  I walked over to her window and surveyed the scene below. On the opposite side of the street was a cute olde worlde style, wooden-fronted trio of shops, comprised of a newsagent’s and greengrocer’s, both painted in bottle green, and a butcher’s, painted white. Tagged onto the end of the row, and looking oddly out of place, was Despots Night Club, a dark building with blacked-out windows.

  As I watched, a Mercedes pulled up and a smart-suited man with black, slicked-back hair got out. He lit a cigarette and entered the club.

  “Justin’s just nipped out to collect the takeaway,” Beth said as I returned to join her. “And we’ve borrowed some sleeping bags for tonight. I thought it might be fun to have a girly sleepover style evening.” She giggled as she squeezed out a tea bag. “I hope you didn’t want sugar. I forgot to get some.”

  “She looks sweet enough to me.” Justin panted as he returned with the food. “God, those stairs are going to be the death of me,” he said, slamming the door shut with his foot.

  The weather was cool for the end of August, so we spent the evening curled up in our sleeping bags, eating Chinese food in front of a makeshift fire, chatting about the past, the future, boys, and how we were going to renovate the flat. Justin mentioned that there was a great second-hand shop around the corner, where we could probably get all the stuff we needed. I thought it sounded like a plan for the morning.

  I awoke with a start and gasped for air, feeling like all the breath had been drained from my body. With gleams of sweat beading on my forehead, I pushed the damp sleeping bag away. I’d had the dream again, slightly different this time, hands reaching and clawing at my thinly shrouded body. The eyes were turquoise green, the same as always. The eyes I’d seen at the station, but in my dream, they were huge, hovering over me, drawing me towards them, smothering me until I couldn’t breathe, while all the time a pure white fox skipped playfully around my supine body.

  I wondered what time it was and looked at my watch. 6:27. Hmm, still early. I slid on my slippers and wandered over to the kitchen to switch on the kettle. Beth and Justin were fast asleep and I didn’t want to disturb them, so I ventured into my bedroom, brew in hand, and drew back the moth-eaten curtains to sit on the windowsill. The panes hadn’t seen a cloth for years and were impossible to see out of, so I found myself contemplating my own reflection.

  I’d never thought of myself as good-looking. In fact, I had been a plain child with mousey brown, uncontrollable hair, a pale complexion with a few too many freckles, and a wide mouth with slightly protruding front teeth. Of course my mother had insisted I was beautiful and that my features would blossom with age, and I supposed she was right. Studying my face, I concluded that my teeth didn’t seem quite so big, and the sun-kissed auburn highlights in my hair quite suited my complexion.

  Steam rose from my cup and clouded the image. I took a sip of tea and turned to face the room.

  In the early morning light, I decided it wasn’t actually that bad. There was room to fit a double bed against the wall, and all the cupboard space meant buying a wardrobe would be unnecessary. A good clean, a copious amount of sandpaper, and a few tins of white paint would easily spruce everything up. Vowing to start as I meant to go on, I put down my tea, jumped off the sill, unhooked the curtains, and bundled them into a ball for the bin.

  When I returned to the living room, Beth groaned and began to stir. “Hmm, what time is it?” she asked, blinking open her eyes.

  “Nearly seven,” I said.

  “What? That’s practically the middle of the night,” she grumbled. “Come back to bed, Soph.”

  “Aw, come on. It’s a beautiful day, and we’ve loads to do if we want to get this place decent. Give him a nudge.” I nodded in Justin’s direction. “I’m just nipping down to the newsagent’s.”

  Fifteen minutes later I returned, armed with a bagful of cleaning products and some yummy chocolate croissants.

  “Breakfast?” I asked, debagging the croissants.

  “You know I shouldn’t. I was naughty enough last night, and they’ll go straight to my hips,” Beth complained before picking one up and taking a huge bite. “We can’t all be as lucky as you, you know.”

  Poor Beth had always had to battle with her weight—which was probably what had led her down the physical fitness road. She hated the fact that I could stuff my face with chocolate all day and not put on an ounce. I really shouldn’t tempt her, but she was so easily led.

  Justin ambled over to join us, one hand scratching his eye and the other adjusting his crotch. He yawned. “I’ll help you with those.”

  “Um…sure,” I said. “As long as you wash your hands first.”

  The morning was a success. Beth went to collect her car, safe in the knowledge that it was no longer a death trap, and I spent the morning browsing around the second-hand shop. Justin had been right; it did have practically everything I needed, and I hardly made a dent in my savings.

  The afternoon was spent scrubbing and sanding down my room. Beth had already cleaned hers, so she and Justin set to work on the living room.

  Sunday was painting day, and by the evening, I was ready to install my newly delivered white wrought-iron bed with matching bedside table and all my belongings.

  Monday morning brought rain. Large drops beat against
my bedroom window, and I could faintly see them trickling in rivers down the freshly cleaned panes behind my new muslin curtains. I reached out to silence Barbie and made a mental note to buy a more grown-up alarm clock. I should have been shattered after the weekend’s cleaning marathon, but I felt strangely invigorated, and I was looking forward to my first day at Fosswell University.

  The recently refurbished campus was spread out over sprawling, landscaped gardens and was comprised of four large buildings and a gymnasium. Situated in the adjacent field was a sports pitch encompassed by a running track. A couple of tennis courts to the rear abutted the surrounding woods.

  I couldn’t believe I’d made it. I was so happy. But as I walked through the gates on that first day, I had no idea what lay ahead.