When I was a child, my sisters used to ask me to tell them a story at bedtime -- a made-up story, sometimes using elements they chose. A few years back my sister Esme asked me to write one for her. The woman in the story had to be called Maud and it had to include some elements of a nightmare Esme had had. It became Marrying Maud. I hope you like it.
Marrying Maud
Twilight picked out blue forget-me-nots straggling the downward path. The rockery took on a sombre air and evensong absolved the day. Maud and her shadow, both of them grey, swept ghostlike towards the water’s edge where she stooped to lay flowers, picked along the way. This was where he’d proposed: her first husband. Mist covered the water and mallards settled onto the bank, their familiar calls like laughter. She thought she saw a rippling of the water, heard a faint plash but there was no breath of wind. It had been a long while since she’d taken the boat out on the lake. Well, not tonight. Dear Spencer… He’d never really understood her.
Summer always reminded her of Frederic–the most gracious host. There were post holes where the marquee had stood, first, for their wedding, then for anniversaries, birthdays, parties… Their last, according to Frederic, had been the best–a hundred guests, champagne, sparkling music, salmon, ices, strawberries… How Frederic had celebrated life! Maud had retired early with a headache but could hear laughter and music and ducks, protesting at the invasion of their territory. Later he’d come making conjugal demands. She’d suggested taking the boat out for a romantic view of dawn. She’d warned him to be careful. The rockery steps were treacherous enough when sober. Any little trip up could result in a tumble. She’d held a memorial in the marquee, had worn black that day. It would have pleased him–at least a hundred guests. Later, alone by the lake, she thought she saw someone waving across the water. It was just an illusion of the gathering fog.
The shed among the oaks was not a favourite spot for Maud but it had come in handy more than once. Saws were stored there, spades, hoes, sacking. There were… unpleasant associations. Maud had had a row with William here -- about money, as ever. The upkeep of the house and garden were enormous. She’d been quick to point out that it was her house and that the expensive furnishings and artworks were heirlooms but there was no reasoning with him. He knew a good dealer who would give them top price. She knew how to wield a pickaxe. She sawed off his head and buried it with the others by the lake. Then she rowed out to the middle and heaved the weighty sack overboard.
Maud looked up at the house. The rockery somewhat overgrown was still impressive. The bulbs she’d just planted would cheer things up in spring. She washed the dirt from her hands and contemplated the steep path from the lake. Maud’s trim figure belied her age. Her grey hair swept into a bun at the back was streaked with white. She had never used to think about that climb. Now she sighed. Something sighed back, the wind. She observed the trees. There was no wind. Out on the lake a miasma grew… the plash of an oar. Someone was out there. She saw an arm, a torso.
Quack ack ack ack ack. An arrow of mallards trailed a black slick across the surface of the lake. The ducks were green–green, jellied and putrefying, laughing as they came. Maud stumbled back from the water’s edge and felt a searing pain snap her ankle. She fell onto the burials of her three husbands’ heads. Spencer had that hurt look, always wanting love. Frederic’s convivial smile sickened her. William who’d married her for money only to discover that she’d married him for his, still looked disappointed. Their faces rose from the soil towards hers. Black daffodils grew from their eye sockets. Their hands reached for her across the oily black water. The high, sickly smell of decaying flesh was all around and the gelatinous horrors that approached laughed no more. She could not escape.
Maud looked up at her only true love but the house was shrouded from view. Her assailants drew close. She had corrupted all and corruption would have its retribution.
Copyright: © 2008 Oonah V Joslin
