Mad Maddy.

Leaves were struggling to hold onto their trees, who bent over backwards as the storm swept in. Those that had helplessly let go were spiraling around the car park, hopelessly lost in the rain and wind. Their colour broke up a grey day. Grey clouds, grey car park, grey mood. Maddy was daydreaming out the window, watching their turmoil and empathising with them. She was supposed to be stocking aisle seven while the shop was lacking customers. That little voice in her head tells her to get moving, to start stacking, otherwise Chris will be over again to nag her. He’s not even her supervisor, yet he seems to think he’s entitled enough to act like it. Maddy just wants to be left alone, and she needs to move to avoid attention, but her body is stiff. It aches from the cold, from her job, and from the tension she holds. Her Doctor said she needs to find a way to relax so she can sleep better, which she unintentionally snorted at. I am relaxed Doctor, she said, at least as relaxed as one can be after recent events. I’m afraid a hot bubble bath isn’t quite doing it for me, not while the murder plays on my mind.

The doctor soon dropped her gaze, whispered something about prescribing some pills. No thank you, Maddy said, I’m only here because my husband made me come, not to get drugged up. 

I want to keep my mind clear, Maddy thought on the drive home. I want to feel the pain, because it keeps me angry. And while I’m angry, I can keep going. But no one else seems to understand that. How is getting upset going to help? She had shouted this at him, her husband, after he mentioned that it was okay to cry. I don’t need tears, I need answers. She had slammed the bedroom door then, but it wasn’t thick enough to hide the sound of him crying. For a moment, Maddy’s chest scrunched up as his pain bled into hers. She wanted to go back in, to hold him, to cry with him, to say sorry over and over. But she couldn’t. Not yet. Maddy was afraid that once she let herself do that, the anger would go and take with it her drive to find out what happened. She wasn’t ignorant, she knew that they may not catch the bastards, but it was far too soon to give up. It was too soon to say, ah well, let’s just let it go. No. Maddy was a stubborn old mule, self-confessed and accused. She would hold onto this fire for a while longer, until she felt all bridges had been crossed. Until there really was nothing else to do. Her family were mourning, and that was okay, Maddy wanted them to process this atrocious act. But they didn’t understand. They couldn’t see why Maddy wasn’t ready to cry with them. So, she kept them at arms length for now. Until she could finally let it go. Until she knew she had done everything she possibly could, because no one else had been there, and no one else could help find the murderer.

The wind pulled on the coats of women crossing the street. Maddy thought how stupid they were to be out walking with a storm coming. Life is so precious, don’t take foolish risks. She was only here because she was going to lose her job if she hadn’t come in. Maddy had taken time off at first, but then they stopped paying her, and then they threatened to let her go. Her husband was self-employed, but in no fit state to go out fixing broken boilers, so they needed her money. That was Maddy in a nutshell really, always doing what needed to be done. The thought broke her daydream spell, and she steadily began unpacking tins of baked beans. Not long now until home time at least. Maddy could stretch this out until her shift ended, she thought. Apart from Chris, the jobs-worth, no one wanted to approach her and kick up a fuss, which Maddy was taking full advantage of. That’s the strange thing about death and grief. We’ll all experience it at some point, yet none of us really know how to support someone else going through it. It makes us feel awkward. Terrified even, of saying the wrong thing. Do you ask how they are? Do you not? 

Maddy didn’t give a shit how they all felt. The only feelings that consumed her were guilt and rage. She had no space for their feelings. Anything spare was for her family, who she was neglecting, which fed the guilt. Perhaps it’s because seeing them only made her feel worse. Because Maddy had been the last of them to hear Charlotte alive, and at first, she didn’t believe it was her.

To have not even seen her Granddaughter tortured Maddy even more. To just hear her frightened voice down the telephone meant that Maddy now couldn’t answer the phone without hearing it again. Proof that they had her. Proof that it wasn’t a scam, which Maddy had accused them of. But her Granddaughter was really there, and Maddy often thought if she had acted quicker, she may be here now. The bastards wanted money, of course, their life savings to be exact. It was one of those moments which still felt unreal to any of them. Stuff like that only happens in the movies.

The memory replayed almost constantly in Maddy’s mind. When she was at work, at home, thinking about what else she could have said, who she could have told, how could she have saved her beautiful Granddaughter from being dumped on the side of the road like rubbish. She heard the caller’s voice in her dreams, though they said more than what the real monster had. The nightmare laughed at her. Mocked her. Now, awake and sane, Maddy heard it again.

No, it couldn’t be. Don’t be so silly Maddy, she thought, you’re just overtired and obsessed. There’s just no way. But why not? Another part of her said, smaller but clear. The chances are small, but there is still a chance. And that voice, that voice is so very familiar. Maybe I’m confusing it with someone I know, getting everything mixed up in my head, she thought. The person was speaking in the next aisle over, to Chris of course, who was trying to be helpful. So, Maddy put down the tins of baked beans, and popped over to have a look.

Maybe Maddy had finally gone mad. Mad Maddy, the papers would say, which she thought about as she abandoned the tin aisle. A sensible thought also piped up in her head, asking what she was hoping to achieve, she had only ever heard the killer down the phone, she never saw him. But, Maddy argued, if she did recognise the person, that would explain why now their voice was familiar. Maybe it wasn’t the voice of a mocking murderer she could hear, no, it was just a neighbour. Or a regular customer perhaps. Something as simple as that. She wasn’t mad, Maddy thought, just tired.

Being in her mid 60s and wearing an un-flattering yellow uniform, Maddy knew that she was practically invisible to the young men chatting. Yet, she still felt the need to hide in the shadows of the end aisle products. Leaning around the bottles of spirits, while avoiding the urge to crack one open, Maddy caught a glimpse of the person. He was young, which to Maddy these days meant anyone under 40, but she would place him in his 20s. He had blonde hair, white skin, and wore a long-sleeved top with some sort of logo on. There was nothing significant or intimidating about him. He seemed perfectly boring. Importantly, Maddy didn’t know him from Adam.

But that voice. Chris had been talking until now, over-explaining something Maddy imagined, as his obviously genius brain was wasted here. The stranger thanked him, said that he would go and take a look around to find it, whatever it was. Maddy crept back to her aisle and raked her brain. Maybe he was in radio? Did he go to school with Charlotte perhaps? No and no. Maddy was sure she didn’t know him. She needed to hear him speak again, more words, somewhere she could hear him properly.

She quickly shoved the rest of the tins on the shelf, and headed for the checkout. There was only one open, for the rare customer that had decided crips were essential to wait out the storm. Sweet, stupid, Julie, was on the till. Maddy mentally scolded herself immediately, Juile wasn’t stupid, just academically challenged. She was sweet and kind, which were far more important traits in Maddy’s eyes. It wasn’t hard to persuade her to swap places. Julie got bored sat on her own, and was far happier messing about on the shop floor, flirting with Chris no doubt. All Maddy had to say was that her knee was giving her jip, and lovely Julie would change places. With the self-checkout closed, that would mean this mystery man would have to come to Maddy to leave.

She had barely sat down when he started walking over. Maddy was giddy, which seemed ridiculous. Getting so worked up over nothing. He placed a large bottle of pop and nachos on the conveyor belt. Essentials, clearly. When he turned and looked her directly in the eye, Maddy’s heart jumped into her throat. She could feel her pulse beating in her neck. But she didn’t show it, instead, Maddy kept her composure and flashed a smile. He hadn’t been so smooth, something changed in him. He kept walking and fiddled with his wallet, stealing back his gaze. Time to get him talking.

“Hello, well done for making it to us in this weather. Did you come far?” Maddy asked with her best customer service voice.

“I know, it’s wild out there. I just couldn’t stay cooped up in the house any longer, needed some fresh air.”

“Well it doesn’t get fresher than that out there. Have you been ill?” Maddy was never normally this chatty, and it was tricky thinking of what to ask. She definitely had heard his voice before. It gave her chills.

“No, no, not ill. Just… Inside. Busy, I mean.” He didn’t seem to know how to answer that one. Now for the bigger question. He only had two items, she couldn’t stall him for much longer.

“I’m sorry, but I have to ask. Have we met before? You just seem so familier to me.”

Panic. That’s what Maddy saw in his eyes. Terrified panic. If only for a moment. It was all in the eyes, that had locked back onto hers, if only briefly before he beeped his card.

“No. Sorry. Bye.”

And like that, he was gone. Grabbed his snacks and walked away as fast as he could without running. Maddy was breathless as though she had been running too. There were only two words screaming in her mind.

It’s him.

It’s him.

It’s him.

Chris was saying something, something about everyone packing up to go home, that the shop was shutting. Maddy was on autopilot. She stood, logged out the till, went to the cloakroom, said her goodbyes. But all she could hear in her head was

It’s him.

Maddy thought he knew her too. That was why he looked so scared. He knew she might recognise his voice.

Mad Maddy, she heard echoed. What you gonna do Mad Maddy?

I’m not mad, Maddy whispered under breath as she marched out of the shop, still feeling under a spell. There were so many words rushing around her, she felt more and more like a leaf caught in a hurricane, being thrown about. She couldn’t think clearly. She could just hear a mixture of

It’s him.

Mad Maddy.

What you gonna do?

I’m not mad.

All of it exploding inside her head, getting louder and more violent, matching the rage of the storm. Matching Maddy’s rage.

Maddy became aware that she was sat in her car, in the driver’s seat, engine ready to go. Her hands were tingling on the steering wheel. Her head was thumping, bursting with the shouting of her mind.

It’s him.

What you gonna do?

I’m not mad.

Driving in autopilot, she began to make her way home. Maddy would later say she wasn’t thinking straight. She couldn’t even remember the journey. She hadn’t been sleeping. That’s what she would say to everyone.

Maddy drove into a large, dark, quiet tunnel. Her normal route home. The rage of the storm behind her, waiting on the other side. Then, she saw him. Him. It’s him. Walking on the path that lines the tunnel. It’s a high tunnel, but not a long one. It has a sharp bend before exiting. Lots of people underestimate the turn, Maddy thought. Her last thought before accelerating wickedly. At him, walking with no urgency.

Then their worlds collided. The stranger’s body was almost split in two when the Mini Cooper forced him into the concrete wall. She locked eyes with him one last time, made sure he saw her face. There it was again, recognition. She knew he knew her. It’s him, it’s got to be him. That voice had haunted her for months. Those seconds of looking at eachother lasted so much longer. They both lost consciousness thinking they were looking into the eyes of a murderer.

Maddy had been right. She did know that boy’s voice. And he did recognise her. He was afraid she knew him, too. But the boyfriend of Maddy’s Granddaughter had not killed her. Rupert was supposed to pick Charlotte up from work that day. He overslept, and was late getting there. When he couldn’t see her, he thought she had taken the bus home. When she didn’t answer his call, he presumed she was pissed off at him. Rupert had locked himself away since her death, as he felt awfully guilty. His Mum had persuaded him to pop to the shops, get some fresh air. It was only around the corner, and Rupert often went out walking in all-weathers, he liked taking pictures of it. He had even won awards for his photos. 

He had recognised Maddy at the tills, and felt so ashamed, so guilt-ridden, he even lied to her. On the walk home, he was thinking he should call her. Or send her a card, older people liked that kind of thing. Yes, Rupert had thought as he entered the tunnel, he’ll reach out to her and apologise for how he acted at the supermarket. That was the least she deserved.