The Kept Man

John packed his suitcase carefully, quietly, conscious of every small noise he made.

His wife of eighteen years and his two sons sat downstairs. He could hear the TV babbling loudly. Sweat gathered on his brow as he eased around their small bedroom, only packing those clothes that he knew would not be missed.

He wanted to give no sign that he was leaving for the last time tonight. He felt pleased at the idea of his wife’s tears at his departure. He was sorry he wouldn’t be around to see that.

The past month had blurred in his mind. Things happened so fast.

He had met Alice in the pharmacy where he worked. She had been job hunting and they talked. His first thought was that she wasn’t a looker but her body was good enough. He told her he could offer her nothing and thought no more of it.

Later that evening, quite by chance, he had met her again in the local bar, The Five Nines. The pub was busy for a weeknight, not unexpected in the weeks before Christmas. 

He was there after another row with his wife. Over money or kids most likely. He couldn’t even recall the topic of that falling out, there were so many, but he had left her in tears to get some peace in his own company. 

Instead, Alice had walked in. Following an unsuccessful day, she had come to the bar to commiserate also. She had scrubbed up well from that morning. “Maybe” thought John. He’d caught her eye whilst she stood at the bar. She raised a hand of recognition.

She came over and they talked. And then somehow it was closing time and they were walking on the beach and still talking. 

John prided himself on his mastery of women. Like most women, in John’s experience, Alice liked to talk. She chatted away and he didn’t pay much attention. But still, there was just something captivating about Alice that compelled him to want to spend time with her. 

John had lived his entire life in the seaside town of Ballyshand, on the Irish coast, a lifeless hole of a place as he would describe it to anyone who would listen. By the time he left the bar, he had decided that a ‘no strings’ fling was just what he needed to bring some spice back into his life. 

Alice, didn’t live in the town. She was born on a small farm some distance inland. 

She led a solitary life on the farm, with only her brother for company, both parents now dead. The farm had been in her family for generations. Her brother, Francis, was her main motivation for finding work. From how Alice described him, he was a brute of a man. 

He treated her like his housekeeper , demanding dinner on the table when he finished for the day, taking away her phone when he thought she had abused the privilege. He even dictated what she could watch on TV and read. This has worsened since her father had died.

John didn’t necessarily see a problem with any of those things. He was a firm believer that women needed boundaries but they also needed something to look forward to. 

Yes. John was most definitely an advocate of the carrot and stick approach to women. Perhaps more stick than carrot sometimes but nothing that was undeserved.

After that first night, they had met at least every other day in the weeks before Christmas. John chose busy pubs far outside the town where he wasn’t known. He didn’t like this skulking around. He was a better man than this, he deserved better.

He couldn’t remember who had first suggested they run away together but soon it was all they would talk about. This suited John. He realised that all he had ever needed was a reason to leave and Alice was good enough, for the time being.

So they planned. 

They wanted to spend Chrstmas day together, they were sure of that. They didn’t care where, as long as they were together.

Money was a regular topic of discussion. Alice had none of course. John had some meagre savings but not enough to start a new life. Then Alice mentioned her brother's money. 

Like many farmers, Francis wasn’t a fan of banks, never trusting them. He saved all his cash in the house, stacked in a safe in his large back bedroom. Alice thought there might be thousands. It was perhaps this that excited John most. He’d always dreamt of being wealthy, a man with no need to work or toil, a kept man.

They agreed to leave on Xmas Eve, to give themselves enough time to prepare.

Alice booked a room for them both at a fancy hotel in Dublin, far enough away to get lost. 

As the time grew near however, Alice seemed to be getting more nervous. Her brother was becoming suspicious with her many trips away from the farm. Always under the guise of job hunting. He was now asking questions.

Alice was frightened of her brother, although she never said those words out loud. He knew that without his gentle push she would not be brave enough to leave.

Just last night, they had met on the outskirts of town. He could tell that she had been crying when he arrived, her face drawn out and tired.

She denied it at first but he pressed her. He knew that sometimes with women, you had to take charge.

“My brother knows,” she said eventually.

John took a deep breath and emphasised each word. “What does he know, Alice?”

“I've been careful John,” she said defensively. “I’m sure he doesn’t know much. But he knows something is up”.

John nodded. “OK, well let’s think this through. What if he does know, what does it matter?”

Alice’s head dipped and she sighed heavily. “I’ve not told you everything John”

John let the silence hang, waited for her to speak.

“My brother is…...controlling. He’s a vindictive man, he won’t let me leave. He’ll try to stop me. He’ll come after us, after you if he knows.” Over the next hour the full truth came out, Alice described a petty, small minded man and how he lived only to intimidate his sister. 

It was Alice who first suggested they kill her brother. She later admitted this had been at the back of her mind for some time. And it was certainly John who came up with the method - a cocktail of prescription and over the counter drugs that was a relaxant in smaller doses but when combined was lethal in a larger dose.

John had stayed late at work today, mixing the cocktail. The drugs would be missed but not until the staff returned after Chrstmas. By that time, he and Alice would be gone. 

The vial of white powder was nestled in his shirt pocket. Standing in the bedroom, he touched it again to make sure it was still there.

The drive to the farm was shorter than he had expected. He found it easily enough, even in the dark. Alice was waiting in the yard when he pulled in, running up to the car window as he parked.

“Did you get away OK, does anyone suspect?” said Alice. She seemed even more nervous than yesterday. John smiled. “Relax Alice. No one knows. I’ve got the drugs”. He tapped his shirt pocket.

Alice smiled too now. She leant forward and kissed him gently on the lips. “This is really happening, isn’t it” she said, her eyes bright with excitement. John nodded, his smile broadened. “Yes, my love, yes it is.”

They walked hand in hand to the farmhouse.

They entered the kitchen through the back door. It was the heat that struck him first. 

The kitchen was small, a single bright bulb for light. A large fire stood in the corner. It was dying down now but the room still retained its warmth.

John looked toward the hall. “Is he in?” he whispered to Alice.

Alice shook her head “No” she replied. “He’ll still be doing his evening rounds. He should be back soon though”.

John nodded. “And the safe?” 

“Yes” she replied “I checked. It’s unlocked, waiting for us”.

John sat at the table and took the small container from his pocket. He placed it between them.

“Remember Alice, put all of this in his coffee” John said “I can’t be sure on the specific dosage he’ll need but there's enough to kill a horse there. Just give him everything to be sure. Don’t worry, he won’t taste it in the coffee”.

Alice nodded “because less will only...what was the word you used?”

John smiled, finding her simplicity adorable. “Incapacitate him” he replied. He pronounced each syllable as though speaking to a child.

Alice smiled and nodded eagerly. “That’s it. You’re so clever John.”

Her foot rubbed against him under the table as she pocketed the vial. She had slipped her foot out of her shoe and was rubbing his leg gently, slowing working up his thigh.

Suddenly, the back door opened heavily, noisily. A large man filled the frame and stood in it with the door open.

Alice was on her feet quickly, one last reassuring smile at John.

“Francis” she said “I was wondering where you had got to”.

Her brother said nothing in reply. He stared at her. “This is John, from the town” she continued. “He’s here to talk about the job I mentioned”.

Her brother remained mute. His unwelcoming gaze now fell on John.

“Come in, come in Francis, you’ll let all the heat out”. His sister bustled toward the door, gently shooting him into the room.

“Here”, Alice said “Let me get that coat off you. Go on, sit at the table, get warm by the fire”. Alice helped him shake his coat off. She carried it out to the hall to hang up.

Francis sat down heavily, opposite John.

In the bright light of the kitchen, John could see the man properly now. His face and hands told the story of many hard days and rough winter nights. The chair seemed too small for him. He sat stiffly upright, staring at John.

“A job offer is it” Francis said. “Tell me about that”. His accent was thick, each word a slow drawl. 

“Just a part-time job initially” John said “at the pharmacy - working behind the counter and such”. He had anticipated the question and practised a response in the car.

Francis nodded absentmindedly. “Good of you to drive all the way out here on Christmas Eve. Away from your family.” His words were flat but John felt, as much as heard, a sinister edge to them.

“Well, good to get these things sorted before Chrstmas. Get a fresh start for the New Year”. He said. He looked to Alice standing by the sink, as he spoke, smiling over Francis’s shoulder.

“You have a family then, a wife in the town?” Francis continued.

“Yes” John answered “Two kiddies as well, young boys”.

Francis nodded again. “I see” he said with a tone that suggested the conversation was ending. He turned his attention to the fire. He poked the ashes and then sat quietly staring into the embers, now dancing to life.

After a few moments, John looked to Alice, a questioning look on his face, not sure if the conversation had ended or not.

She stepped forward and placed a hand gently on her brother’s shoulder.

“Francis,” she said. He voice almost had a sing-song quality to it, light and flitting, measured so as not to offend.

“Shall I make some coffee for us all?”

Francis looked from Alice to John and back again. He paused for what must only have been a second or two but felt longer to John.

“If you must”. The words were quietly spoken by Francis but laden with his disgust. He was not happy John was in his kitchen and wanted him gone as quickly as possible.

Alice moved swiftly, switching on the old kettle. She busied herself making the coffee.

Francis’s eyes turned back to the fire whilst they waited. 

John’s dislike of this man was growing with each passing moment.

Allice placed a steaming mug in front of John who drank it eagerly. She returned with drinks for her brother and herself. She sat between them both, smiling as she did so.

Francis had not yet touched his coffee.

“How was the farm today Francis, any problems?” Alice asked.  

“Nothing that won’t keep until the frost breaks” he replied.”I’ve brought some veg back from the plot for the special lunch tomorrow.” he continued.

Alice nodded “ Good, good, good” she said. John could tell she was nervous, her words tumbling out. They shared a tense look, waiting for Francis to drink his coffee.

John felt himself beginning to sweat next to the heat of the fire.

“Drink up Francis, it’ll get cold” Alice said.

Francis glanced at her and picked up the mug. He took a long slurp of the hot liquid and placed it heavily back on the table. 

Both John and Alice smiled widely. They continued to sip their own coffee, encouraging him to drink more.

John felt the tension in the room ease. 

He shook off his own heavy winter coat as he relaxed. The heat from the fire seemed to be growing with the fresh flames.

“Nice is it?” Alice asked. Another grunt from Francis, another gulp of the coffee.

John’s mind was now thinking to the future. Working out how soon they could leave. How would he spend his first Christmas day of freedom?

Both Francis and Alice were now staring at him. He smiled but he felt it falter on his lips as the light from the solitary kitchen bulb seemed to blare in his vision. He could feel pricks of sweat forming on his brow. He touched his hand to his shirt and it felt damp. Sodden.

He looked toward his chest then back to Alice. It felt like he was moving through a thick, black treacle.  

Almost before he realised it, he was standing. “I need some air” he said, the words trailing off as he spoke them. 

Opposite him, Francis stood as well, starting to raise a restraining hand. He looked at Alice, the fear on his face now evident.

Alice ignored him and turned to John. Everything seemed to be moving so slowly. “What’s wrong John” she said “Are you OK?”. The words sounded hollow as she said them.

“I don’t know” John whispered, each word an effort of will. “The heat…..” he felt his legs buckle and he sat back down in the chair. 

“I’m very tired,” John mumbled. The words were barely audible now. “Maybe...just...rest”

Alice nodded. “Maybe that’s for the best John” she said.

John swayed for a moment. His head drifted toward the table, coming to rest on the hard table. It felt reassuring against his cheek and he nuzzled into it. He revelled in the certainty of it, his mind clung to it.

 He heard Francis speak above his head. “Is that enough Alice?” he asked. 

“You did well Francis. Good boy” he heard her whisper. 

John’s limbs felt heavy. He could not move them now, even if he had the will to try.

“John? Alice asked. John thought Alice was speaking now but he couldn’t be sure. “Know this John...Your sacrifice will sustain us for the next year. You will be our saviour. I promise we will enjoy one another until the day we part.”

Jon heard the words but it felt like the conversation was flowing around him, through him. He knew the words were there but he could not fathom his relationship to them.

John heard a chair scrape back. 

“Finish your coffee Francis” Alice said “and then take him downstairs.”

He heard Francis slowly slipping his coffee for a time, he couldn’t tell how long.

And then blackness.

Francis sat at the old wooden breakfast table. Alice was standing by the sink, busying herself with washing their coffee mugs. It was still dark outside.

The clock on the way chimed for midnight as she turned.

“Merry Christmas Francis” she said to her brother.

“Merry Christmas sister” Francis replied. His tone was flat. Joyless.

“We cut it close this year” Alice said “but the Lord provides”.

Francis turned to meet her eyes. She stared back at him coldy, until he lowered his gaze back to the table.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were bringing another one?” her brother asked, still staring at the table.

“Because you would have stopped me brother” Alice replied. “And you know this has to be done. It was my father's way. And grandfathers. Feasting on the living sacrifice is the only true and proper worship. The good book tells us that”.

“This isn’t right Alice”. Francis barely mumbled the words

In two steps Alice was across the kitchen floor and slapped her brother hard across the face. She banged the table. “I say what’s right!” she screamed. Her brother flinched at the explosion of temper cowering beneath her words.

Her tone softened just as abruptly “Don’t worry brother” she purred “They’ll look for him but not here. He hid his tracks, I made sure of that. And I chose him well. He is a lonely man with no friends to confide his dirty secrets in”

Alice sat now, placing her hands on her brothers. “Christmas dinner will be extra special this year because of John's gift. He will sustain our faith for the entire year.”

Francis’s head snapped towards the basement door.

There were muffled screams and shouts coming up from below, heavy chains being strained and tested.

Alice patted Francis’s hand tenderly. “Don’t fret brother,” she said “He’ll quieten down in a day or two.” 

“They always do”.