Silent Footfall Part 7

Silent Footfall Part 7

The phone charger fell out of Gina’s nerveless hands as Chalkie barked at the knock on the chalet door. She rushed into the living room and over to where the dog lay on the seating. “Oh Chalkie, Oh Chalkie, you’re alive, you’re alive!” The dog gave her a mournful stare.

The knocking started up again. If she ignored it long enough it would go away. It was a habit she had perfected as she grew up. If you didn’t acknowledge something it wasn’t real. And if it wasn’t real it didn’t need attention. After a while the knocking stopped.

She opened the small fridge and gulped from the carton of blueberry juice. Its coldness stung her throat making her gag a little. Small droplets escaped from the corners of her mouth and glided like blue teardrops down her front turning to cherry red spots on her white bra. Relief at finding Chalkie alive washed over her again and she knelt to stroke his head. “Sorry baby,” she murmured. “You know I would never harm you. Forgive me?” she asked.

She had coaxed Max to rescue Chalkie from the dog pound. There had been something about the mute silent appeal in Chalkie’s eyes that drew her to him. It tugged at her heartstrings. But there was something else. She felt a connection with him. As if he would die to protect her. She daren’t tell Max she thought the long white haired mongrel in the end cage was sending her silent messages. He’d say she was imagining things. He might even decide not to get her a dog for Christmas after all.

A dog for Christmas – something she had always wanted and never had. She frowned now. Max didn’t understand her need for something of her own to love; to see unconditional love reflected back at you. Yes, she knew Max loved her – but not, not like the way Chalkie promised to love her.

Her legs cramped and she stood up letting her thoughts stray to her parents. They had loved to dress me up in a way that reflected their standing in the town but they had no real interest in me, she mused. I was like an accessory to my mother. Something to brag about; to show off like you would a fancy pooch – Something that could be trained to perform on command.

The knocking started again. Through the opaque glass in the chalet door she made out the bulky shape of the manager. She remembered him from her holidays at the park. A small balding man with an oily smile and eyes that slide over her when he thought her parents weren’t watching. She used to watch him playing the amicable host to his campers and residents. Cooing at babies and pushing small kiddies on the swings.

She slid to the floor beneath the level of the windows and waited. There are wolves out there masqparading as good citizens. she repeatedly warned her class. She leaned her head against the cool panelling and hoped their parents were more observant than hers had been. “Father couldn’t leave the golf course long enough to see what was happening to his own daughter,” she muttered. “And mother was so engrossed in her work for charity she had no time to bother with an awkward adolescent, “with fanciful ideas, as she put it,” Gina said through gritted teeth.

The chalet door got a rattle. “You are right in there?”

“Go away you predatory bastard,” Gina whispered fiercely. She drew in a breath and steadied her voice. “Yes, fine, thank you,” she called back. He stood on the low step for a minute as if he expected her to open the door. Then, he took a step back.”I’m in the office if you need anything,” he called. “You only have to ask.” Gins felt the blackberry juice churn in her belly. She had an insane urge to fling open the chalet door and scream out “Paedophile, paedophile, at the top of her lungs.

She stood under the gushing shower head and turned it up as hot as she could bear it. After a while she felt calmer.”As soon as my phone charged I am ordering a taxi to take me to the bus terminal and I’m out of here,” she moaned stepping out of the streaming hot water. Pulling on a pair of leggings and a smock shirt she checked her phone. It was still showing red. She peeped in at Chalkie. He was still lying in the same position. She thought she could smell dog piss. A prickly sensation ran up and down her spine. That was odd. Chalkie was fastidiously clean. He hadn’t looked to get out. She checked her phone again. I could always go up to the games room and use the phone there, she thought. Yes, that’s what she’d do. Anger rose in her again. “And if it isn’t working I will march into that old fat pedo’s office and demand to use his bloody phone,” she growled. Hastily, she yanked her hair back into a loose ponytail. “Hold on,” you’ll soon get out on the grass,” she told the dog who appeared to be sleeping now.

She the place was teeming with children. A paedophile’s paradise, she thought. Mothers, gathered in small clichés, talking incessantly, with the odd cursory glance to check on their ofsprings. Father’s huddled around a seated area attention fixated on a card school in progress.

Gina’s scanned the vista of blue sea and honey coloured sandy beach that was separated from the holiday park by a few meters of grassy embankment; sun sparkled on the water and white fluffy clouds languished lazily overhead; a picture postcard perfect day – An idyllic spot for a family holiday. Gina shivered involuntarily remembering his words. You and Max are the only two left from the original group of kids from the holiday park, he had said.

Abruptly, she turned towards the games room and the phone and found herself looking straight into the manager’s office. He was there, looking out. Gina noticed he had a clear uninterrupted view of the play park. An icy finger touched her spine. Had the park manager been in on the ‘babes in the woods’ games? Her footfall faltered and dragged on the ground. Her eyes jumped from child to child. It would be the loners, the vulnerable ones, who’d be singled out; made to feel special. She felt the ground tilt and then right itself. Who would believe her? Her parents never had.

The smell of someone barbecuing drifted on the light breeze. Gina’s stomach growled and she realised she was ravenously hungry.

The on-site cafe promised delicious everything from coffee and cake to a full Irish fry up that was available all day. Waiting for her bacon, eggs and toast, she watch surreptitiously to try to find anything out of the ordinary. At the other end of the room a group of pre-adolescent girls giggled with two men. Where they their own daughters and their friends? She couldn’t tell. None of the girls seems vulnerable or an outsider.

From her seat she could see the manager socialising with the families; a smile here, a friendly pat on the arm there. Sly bastard winning over the trust of the parents’. Then, almost unnoticed he was in the centre of the play area amongst the children. Well practised in his ways, she fumed the bacon sticking in her gut.

Her scalp prickled. He had come in the cafe and was standing looking her way. Her coffee slopped into the saucer. Praying for composure she stabbed at it with a napkin. The phase ‘silent footfall’ crowded into her mind again. She hadn’t noticed him leaving the play area or heard him come in the cafe.

He dropped easily into the seat opposite her. His nearness and his obvious familiarity with her send red hot warnings to her brain. “Glad to see you again, Gina,” he smiled. “How are your folks keeping these days?”