Do You Remember?

‘What happened to feeding the pigeons at Trafalgar Square?’ asked John, settling on the sofa with a fresh glass of wine.

‘What?’ Annie was standing by the French windows staring wistfully across the garden. Not that John thought she was actually wistful about anything, she just liked to adopt the look occasionally to make it seem like there was more to her than there actually was. At least, that was his impression. He’d only known her a couple of weeks, but he’d certainly not unearthed any hidden depths. Annie was pretty much topsoil—quality topsoil with added nutrients, but definitely not deep.

She was pretty, with small features, apart from her eyes which were wide like an owl’s, perched either side of her pert nose. And her body was stupendous—young Kelly Brook stupendous — which was pretty incredible for a woman in her late thirties.

Their relationship since meeting at Tom’s house party had revolved around alcohol, food and sex. He had discovered during a brief post-sex chat, that she didn’t actually know Tom, that she’d just been passing his house and heard the music and decided to gate crash.

John had decided that this evening he’d give having a proper conversation a go. They’d downed three bottles of Pinot Grigio between them and only eaten half a pizza each, so John certainly felt relaxed and in the right mood for a rambling chat.

He patted the space next to him on the sofa and Annie came with a sigh, as if she’d intended to something more pressing, but could spare him a few minutes.

‘Feeding pigeons at Trafalgar Square; you must have done it when you were a kid. Everyone that went to London did. They even had a bloke in a hut selling bird food.’

Annie’s vacant expression faltered and, wonder of wonders, those bush baby eyes were suddenly occupied. ‘Yeah I did,’ she exclaimed, slopping wine from her glass as the memory seemed to jolt her to full consciousness.

She turned to face him. ‘My older sister, Janice, use to love it there. She’d always nag my mum to take us, every time we went to London. Mum would want to drag us around museums and art galleries, but Janice just wanted to feed those horrible birds. Mum hated pigeons, well not just pigeons, all birds. She said she had a phobia of them because one got into her bedroom when she was a kid and panicked, caused a real mess. She used to watch us from a safe distance on the steps of the National Gallery.’

‘What about your dad, did he like them?’ John didn’t really care if Annie’s dad had liked pigeons or not, but he thought he’d better ask something.

‘Dad didn’t come with us to London. He liked to do his own thing at home. You know what dads are like.’

‘White dog shit,’ said John.

‘What?’ Annie slopped more wine onto the sofa. John was glad he’d bought white wine, otherwise the couch would have resembled a savaged animal corpse by now.

‘White dog shit. Used to see it all the time, now never.’

‘Isn’t that because people clean up after their dogs now, most people anyway, so it just doesn’t hang around getting old and crusty?’

‘Maybe.’

Annie giggled. ‘The woman two doors down from me draws chalk circles round any dog’s mess near her driveway and writes ‘crime scene’ next to it. I’ve never seen her do it, but it always makes me feel a bit sick. She must have to get really close to it, breath in the smell of it, while she’s writing.’

‘Gross,’ said John.

‘Remember when you used to get your feet measured before you got new shoes?’ asked Annie, bobbing up and down as she embraced into the spirit of the conversation.

‘Of course I do—don’t they still do that for kids now?’

Annie shrugged. ‘They used to measure how wide they were too.’

‘I remember the measuring thing they used,’ said John. ‘I’ll have to ask my sister if they still do it. She’s got two kids, a boy and a girl. She’ll know.’

‘Ring her now.’

‘I can’t, the kids will be in bed. Remember knocking on the doors of local kids and asking if they wanted to come out and play?’

‘I wasn’t really allowed out on my own.’

‘I was out all the time. No-one

seemed to worry about paedophiles back then. I used to spend all day over the park with kids my age. Can’t remember any perverts talking to us.’

John refilled Annie’s glass, she was looking at a point somewhere over his shoulder.

‘I remember the first time I saw my dad change,’ she said. ‘Do you remember that with your dad?’

‘Change?’ John filled his own glass and returned the bottle to the table.

Annie lowered her glass to her lap, clasping it with two hands. ‘Yes, you know, change, like dads do. He used to go off to the room he called his study and mum would become all over-cheerful and take us out somewhere. He was always in pain afterwards. Sometimes blood would seep through his shirt for weeks...’

‘What are you talking about?’

Annie looked confused. ‘You must know what I’m talking about. Did you never see your dad do it? The first time I saw my dad change, mum was out shopping. I don’t think dad was expecting it. He just turned really moody all of a sudden and told us to go and play in the garden until mum got home, then he went upstairs to his study. Janice said she didn’t want to play outside, she wanted to watch something on TV. She told me to go and play on my own. I wish I had. I crept upstairs instead. Tiptoed across the landing to the door of his study and peered through the keyhole. If he’d left the key in the lock I wouldn’t have seen anything.’

‘What did you see?’

‘I saw him change. You know...’

John shook his head and frowned.

‘He was leaning back against his desk, facing the door, breathing hard and scratching. Then he started pulling his clothes off as if they were on fire. I knew I shouldn’t watch, but I couldn’t stop myself. You probably think I’m really weird.’

John didn’t have time to form an answer before she went on.

‘He looked like an ape or something, naked and scratching, his face all twisted. I was shaking but I kept watching. Sometimes, I lost sight of him, if he moved too far to one side because I could only see a little bit of the room through the keyhole. Every time he reappeared he was a bit more animal like. Eventually he dropped onto all fours and let out a scream, his eyes were blazing like a wild cat’s. At one point he stared straight at the door and I nearly screamed too, but he hadn’t seen me.’

John seriously considered making a run for it, but this was his flat.

‘And then his skin started to tear,’ Annie continued. ‘He was on his hands and knees, his left side facing me and this wound opened up just below his shoulder—it looked like a big pair of bloody lips. I saw what looked like raw meat and white muscle or bone, and then something started to sprout from the hole, pushing through the gore—it was a leg, but a long, hairy spider’s leg. It grew until it touched the floor, bending in the middle, twitching and cracking like...like twigs on a fire. And then another wound appeared just above his hip and another leg pushed through. I know it’s only natural, but this was the first time I’d seen it, and it was shocking to see my dad naked and in so much pain. I watched all six legs grow from his body, and saw the blood splatter across the wooden floor.

‘And then this tube-like thing sprouted from his mouth, red and fleshy and spewing out yellow gunk like puss. I closed my eyes for a second or two, and when I looked again he had disappeared. I could hear his new legs scuttling across the floor and then the sound of him whining and moaning and this hideous retching. I crept away from the door. My face was burning and my legs were wobbly and weightless. Janice asked me what was wrong but I ignored her. I just lay on the sofa and stared at the TV. I felt so guilty. Dads need their privacy too, right? Imagine if you had kids and they watched you change.’

Very slowly, John placed his glass on the coffee table, staring at Annie’s innocent face as she downed her wine in several long gulps. He laughed, a short, hollow laugh.

‘Oh,’ said Annie, ‘Do you remember those giant novelty pound notes that were always given away as prizes at fairs and fetes? They were huge, but they always had this is not legal currency written on them, like anybody would actually think they were.’

Annie giggled and held out her empty glass. ‘Could I have a top up?’