Caught Out

It had been over an hour since the fight, but he was still wound up. Every time he thought he was cooling down a little, another memory of something else she said inflamed him.

How dare she even suggest he did nothing around the house? Sure, she did more than him, but only because she got to the sink first. He had every intention of doing the dishes, just not straight away. She manipulated the truth to control him. He wasn´t old school like his old man, who shamelessly did nothing to help around the house. He cooked all the time, cleaned, went shopping, took the damned bins out nearly every Monday night, but still, it was never enough for her. She always found a way to put him down, even without words sometimes. That look, just like her mother. He shuddered. The thought of his mother-in-law and how beaten down her husband was, chilled him to the bone.

He kicked the ball, just missing the dog´s nose. It bounced down the path, the dog gave chase. The poor dog only seemed to go out for long walks when he was pissed off. That was another thing. She never took it out and picked the shit up, even though it was her who insisted they buy the damn thing in the first place. A month’s wages for a hound that needed special food and medicine. She had scoffed when he suggested getting a rescue dog which would have eaten normal dog food and scraps, and wouldn't have been so highly strung.

It came trotting back, it´s tail held stiffly in the air, a look of triumph in it´s eyes with the ball clenched tightly between it´s teeth, it´s fucking jowls wrapped around it covering the thing with sticky slather. It shied away when he bent to grab the ball. He swore underneath his breath and snapped at it to drop the ball. It did, about eight feet away. It stood over it, panting with anticipation, daring him to grab for it. The fucking thing was as provocative as her.

He stamped his feet as he ran over and snatched the ball away. The dog yelped and jumped in the air, snapping at his hand. He swore again, disgusted by the gunk covering the ball. He wound his arm back to throw and felt a drip of saliva roll down his wrist and slide inside his sleeve.

“You want it!? Huh!?” he asked the dog, barking like a moron as it bounced. “You want it puppy?” he smiled through gritted teeth before hurling it as hard as he could. It soared through the air, over towards the trees bordering the park and the housing estate beyond.

He watched with grim satisfaction as the soggy ball bounced once on the grass and disappeared into the thick bushes around the tree trunks.

“You want it, you find it.” he called out. The dog rushed headlong into the undergrowth. Twigs snapped and leaves scattered in its path. He watched the bushes shake with grim satisfaction.

It was getting darker by the second. The sound of kids laughing over by the swings carried to him on the wind. They weren´t the ankle-biters who went to play during the day with their yummy mummies. These were thugs, smoking and swigging from a bottle of cheap booze. The type of kids who, to his shame, intimidated him, despite being less than half his age. Kids from the estate with no respect for anyone, not least themselves. He hated that he feared them. He was a man after all, his days of being bullied long behind him... until he got married of course.

He turned his attention back to the bushes at the edge of the park. Where was that damned dog? It was taking too long. He needed to grab it and head off, away from the tribe of teenage troublemakers who by now were all watching him.

That bloody, fucking dog. He could hear it rustling around in the undergrowth. Why hadn´t it got the ball yet. Surely it must have found it with its pedigree sense of smell. That´s what hounds were known for wasn´t it. Stupid bloody dog, desensitised by living the easy life, slobbering on its scented beanbag while she stuffed expensive treats in its face.

He whistled, then called its name. It didn´t listen. It never did. He cursed as he stamped towards the bushes. He would have to find the ball, just like always, or she’d shout at him again for losing it. He cursed himself for throwing it so far. He should have thrown it along the path so the useless little shit could find it.

Fucking animal.

He stopped at the edge of the bushes and called again. He could hear it sniffing around like an old gimmer. It was damp and muddy under there, the leaves had started falling already. They´d be stuck to its fur, which meant she´d be angry at him when the precious little furball trailed dirt across the carpet. Bloody useless thing.

He glanced over towards the play park and was mortified to realise a couple of the youths were pointing in his direction. Shit!

He turned back and pushed through the sharp twigs of the shoulder high bushes. They snagged his jacket and scraped the skin on his hands. One twig, hanging down from the big old sycamore tree stabbed him in the cheek. It was only an inch from his eye. He cursed again, pushed the branch away. “Re-wilding”, the council called it. “Lazy bastards” he called them. All these bushes used to be trimmed regularly when he was a kid, and now look at the state of them.

He pushed through the foliage emerged onto a thin strip of mud and sparse grass next to a waist-high, stone wall marking the boundary of the housing estate. The houses at this end of the estate were desirable properties when they were new, but were now showing their age, run-down and scruffy. A spate of burglaries in the last few years had made them even more unpopular. Crooks entered through the park, broke in and made off with the swag before anybody knew they were even there. The old man with the chocolate lab swore he met a guy once, walking through the park with a large, flat-screen TV tucked under his arm without a care in the world.

The houses were old semis, built in the thirties with white-washed walls and steep, tiled roofs. Large windows on the first floor peeked out like eyes from the orange slates under pitched eyebrows. They would have looked out on to the park when they were built, but the trees had grown to block the view. The ground floors had patio doors which led outside, kitchen windows next to them looked over the back gardens. The one directly over the wall had a white UPVC conservatory extension, completely out of keeping with the uniform aesthetic of the other houses. The faux-leaded windows were dark. A light from an upstairs room cast a glow over the tidy lawn stretching from the conservatory to the wall. There were no flower beds, no plants, just a flat expanse of well-trimmed grass.

The dog appeared away to his right. He called its name as sweetly as he could and made a grab for its collar when it came close, but it ducked back into the bushes out of reach.

“C´mon you little shit. Forget the bloody ball.” He stood up and sucked a strong breath between his teeth, exasperated, cold and uncomfortable. Suddenly the trees around him lit up. He whirled around. Bright white lights came on in the conservatory across the lawn. He ducked down out of sight, putting his hand down to steady himself. He cursed as it plunged into a pile of soggy leaves and wet mud. He hoped it was only mud.

“I don´t believe this! Come here!” he hissed at the hound wiping the gunk from his hand on the stone wall. The dog moved further away. “You useless…” A painful cramp shot up his leg. “OW!Mother…” He struggled to stand upright, the tightness in his cramping calf muscle burned to the bone. He bent over and started rubbing it furiously. He dug his fingers into the meat of the muscle to get to the iron-hard tendons. Gradually the numbing pain began to ease off. Standing upright eased it a little more. Soon he was able to roll his foot around and put some weight onto his leg.

Cursing the dog, his wife, his mother-in-law and God, he turned, swung the ailing leg onto the top of the wall and massaged the muscle some more. He noticed figures in the conservatory. He froze. They must have been able to see him caught in the bright light pouring from the windows.

There was a man and woman dressed in matching grey sweatshirts, big bold letters spelled “NASA” across their chests. They were both in their early thirties, attractive with perfectly coiffured hair, clean features and athletic builds. The man stood with his hands on his hips looking at something out of sight against the wall of the conservatory. His lips moved, causing the woman to lift her hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh. The man carried on talking, a mischievous smile playing across his wide, handsome face. The woman laughed out loud. She hit the man playfully on his shoulder. He adopted an exaggerated pained expression. He rubbed his shoulder before saying something else. The woman´s face contorted. Her lips pouted in mock sympathy.

“Poor baby.” Her mouth was so expressive.

“It really hurts.” The man´s eyebrows raised.

“Do you want me to kiss it better?”

He nodded. She turned to face him and put one hand on his waist, the other reached up to smooth the hair away from his forehead. They kissed.

At the wall, the pain in his leg forgotten, the man stared, watching the gentleness with a feeling of intense sadness, tinged with envy. The days when he and the wife enjoyed such tender intimacy were long gone.

The woman began to tug at the man´s shirt as their kissing became more passionate. They broke apart, ripped off their sweatshirts then locked lips again. The man´s large hands moved up the woman´s back, his fingers fumbled with the fastenings of her bra.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!” The man at the wall turned away. He knew he shouldn´t be watching. “Bonehead! Come here!” he hissed at a rustling in the bushes about six feet away. He stole a quick glance back at the conservatory windows. The bra was off, the woman turning around to face the window. The man´s hand cupped one of her breasts and nuzzled his chin into her shoulder, his other hand ran over her stomach and began undoing the button on her faded jeans.

“He´s in here!” called out a voice from the other side of the bushes. The dog stopped rummaging through the leaves and began barking. “C´mon, hurry up! We´ve got him cornered!”

Several figures started pushing through the foliage towards him. The dog scurried back and pressed itself up against his legs, barking at the approaching figures.

“Now you come back!” the man spat, bending down to grab the dog by the collar. He pulled the leash from his pocket and clipped it on to the ring on the collar. He lifted his head as four youths broke into the clearing.

“You dirty fucking nonce.” One of them said through gritted teeth, the top of his face hidden inside the hood of a dark, over-sized hoodie.

“What´s happening?” one of the others asked.

“We´ve caught ourselves a dirty old bastard having a wank!”

“No I am not!” the man snapped back angrily. He felt the dog twisting on the end of the lead, wrapping itself around his legs, whimpering.

“Having a good look are you?” the youth asked, pointing at the conservatory where the couple were well into their stride, oblivious to the trouble boiling over at the foot of the garden. “You dirty fucking nonce.”

The Youth´s hand shot out and slapped the man around the face. It stung. The kid was strong.

“What the… I just came to find my dog.” he said, rubbing at the sore spot on his cheek. He winced as the youth raised his hand to strike again.

“You´ve got the dog you dirty old prick.” said another of the youths crowding closer. “Have you trained it to lick your balls while you´re tossing off?”

He felt a heavy blow to the back of his head. He staggered forward, bent over, straight into a knee which drove into his jaw, knocking him sideways into the wall. He tried to put out a leg to steady himself, but the dog lead was wrapped around his ankles. He crashed to the ground landing in a pool of mud and rotten leaves.

Kicks and punches began raining down from all sides. He could do nothing but curl into a ball and wrap his arms around his head, but every inch of his body was being pounded on. The dog was tugging at the lead, whimpering loudly before one of the youths kicked it in the chest. He heard the blow, felt the dog´s body jerk through the lead wrapped around his legs. And then something hard struck his kneecap. He heard a loud crack, couldn´t be sure if it was a stick snapping or bones breaking.

It was the last sound he heard before he blacked out.

The youths continued to kick at his inert body until the conservatory door opened at the other end of the garden.

“What´s going on? What do you want?” the man called, fastening his trousers as his bare feet stepped out onto the cold, wet lawn.

“We caught this nonce watching you!” shouted the youth in the hoodie.

“What nonce?”

“He´s down here. You should call the police. Get the dirty fucker locked up.”

“What is it?” the woman poked her head out from the conservatory door, pulling her sweatshirt down to cover her body.

“Get back inside, call the police.” The man turned to push her back into the house. “Do it now!” he urged. She bolted for the kitchen door. The man watched her go before stepping back outside.

The kids had all disappeared.

It was a long time before the dog went out for another walk.