Swansong Dave Denton
The knocking woke Val from her familiar dreams of waves and lights. She blinked a few times, before the scene took shape. Queeny howled and jumped on the spot, hackles raised, her remaining teeth bared. She peered through gluey eyes at the clock on the far wall. Two in the morning. Who was knocking on her door at two in the bastard morning? Kate, Maybe? No. She and Kate had exchanged barely two words in over a year now. Police? No. Val knew a copper’s knock when she heard it. This knocking was quiet, restrained even, but with a quiet insistence that suggested that the visitor was prepared to rap at the wood until either it or their knuckles had been worn away. She levered herself off the sofa, manoeuvred around empty gin bottles and peered up the hallway. Through the glass in the front door she could see a black shape mosaicked against the street lights. Instinctively, she looked over to Daniel’s armchair for reassurance, but there was only Queeny, gummy and half-blind. She shuffled up the hallway, fastened the safety chain and opened the door. A man shivered outside. He hunched against the drizzle, one arm crossed over his stomach. The rain plastered his shirt to his body, cruelly exposing his thinness. The glow of the street lamps hollowed out his eyes and gave an odd, diseased tone to his skin. ‘Can I help you?’ she asked from behind the door, leaning down to shush Queeny. ‘You Missus Stutterman?’ The man’s voice was thick and phlegmy. ‘Miss Stutterman, and who wants to know?’ ‘Can I come in?’ Val’s mouth moved silently, until she found her voice. ‘I don’t bloody think so. Don’t know you from Adam. What you after?’ ‘Please,’ said the man. He leant heavily against the door frame. His hand, covered in blood, reached up. ‘Let me in.’ She screamed and slammed the door in his face. Pressing her weight against the wood she struggled to control her breathing. The knocking started again. ‘Miss Stutterman? You there?’ Her conscience hissed at her; she had shut a man, wounded and in need of help, out of her house. Heart in mouth, she removed the safety chain and opened the door. The man’s legs had given way and he knelt on the ground in front of her. ‘I’m sorry pet, I’m so sorry,’ said Val. ‘I saw the blood and got scared. I didn’t know. I am so sorry. Get inside. I’ll call ambulance.’ 26