WRITERS ABROAD MAGAZINE : THE THIRD SPACE
Dead Man Sitting
By Alyson Hilbourne
Someone is sitting in my favourite chair . The cosy one by the fireplace that over the years has moulded to my shape so it ’ s uncomfortable for anyone else . It is dented where I sit , has greasy marks on the armrest and my book is still tucked down the side .
I stare . An icy shiver runs down my spine . There is a familiarity to the brown cord trousers , worn at the knees , the collarless shirt and threadbare tartan slippers . One ankle is crossed over the other displaying a scrawny , white shank . I don ’ t like the thinning hair , the heavy jowls , the wrinkles around the eyes , or the slack jaw look . But the closer I peer , the more undeniable the realisation . I ’ m looking at a pale , stiff , unblinking parody of myself . I hear Lottie . She ’ s talking to Harriet from next door . Lottie ’ ll sort this out . She appears in the doorway , gasps and gratifyingly rushes over to my body . ‘ Frank !’ She slaps my face and reels back staring at her hand . Then she clasps her cheeks . ‘ Ohhhhhhhh !’ That ’ s not me ! I want to yell , but something catches in my throat . Harriet steps over and takes her arm . ‘ Lottie ! I ’ m so sorry . He wouldn ’ t have known anything …’ ‘ He ’ d hate it .’ Lottie shakes her head . ‘ He liked to be in control .’ What is she talking about ? ‘ Well , you can be in control from now on .’ Harriet puts an arm round her shoulder . I frown . What ? Lottie gives a brief nod . ‘ That apartment you ’ ve talked about ?’ Harriet says . What ? Lottie never mentioned a flat ! What ’ s wrong with this house ? We ’ ve lived here for forty-five years . Why would she want to leave ?
‘ Yes .’ Lottie sighs . ‘ He couldn ’ t see how run down this place is . He wouldn ’ t consider a new oven or kitchen cupboards . Oh , and a bed that doesn ’ t sag in the middle ! An apartment would be half the work .’ ‘ And a holiday , some new clothes ?’ Harriet asks . Huh ! If she thinks Lottie wants to go on holiday , she ’ s dreaming . Lottie has always been a home-loving bird . It ’ s one of the things that attracted me to her . And clothes ? Lottie isn ’ t worried about fashion . ‘ Mmm . Italy ? Greece ? Would you come with me , Harriet ? We could shop first ?’ Harriet pulls Lottie to her . ‘ Of course . I ’ d love too . It was criminal the way he treated you .’ I stamp my foot . Really , what is this ? Have they gone mad ? A puff of dust rises in the air rather than the resonating of solid floorboards that I had hoped for .
Lottie looks around . ‘ This place is a mess . Look at the dust . I suppose I should call the doctor and the undertaker . I wonder what sort of funeral Frank wanted . We never discussed it . I ’ m sure he thought he was immortal .’
I clench my fists as anger fizzes through me . Is this some trick ? I want to scream , but all I can do is stare , mute and helpless , at the dead person sitting in my favourite chair .
7 | May 2016