End of the Road

By Rosemary Gemmell

End of the Road is a collection of twelve quirky short stories of mixed genre, from the light crime in The Shopping Bag, and End of the Road, to fantasy in Mars Calling Venus, and The Seventh Sin, and black humour in Burial. It also includes the spooky Halloween story Samhain.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rosemary Gemmell
• Release date: Jan 6, 2023
• ISBN: 9781739858551

Book preview

End of the Road

and other stories

––––––––

Rosemary Gemmell

Updated 2023 © Rosemary Gemmell

www.rosemarygemmell.co.uk

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form, or by any means electronic, mechanical or photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner.

End of the Road and other stories is a collection of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Contents

Catnap

Burial

Compensation

Samhain

Mars Calling Venus

Emmeline and Bella

The Seventh Sin

Daylight Robbery

The Puppeteer

The Shopping Bag

Unhealthy Obsession

End of the Road

Catnap

Jake Mackenzie hated cats, but he hadn’t meant to kill the first one. He reckoned it wasn’t his fault the neighbour’s moggy had lived up to the species’ reputation. He hadn’t even known about the cat-sized gap in the foundations of the new extension he was helping to build, but agreed it had lain half-completed far too long.

By the time they’d finished, the overly nosy cat had found a way in. Only trouble was it hadn’t found its way out again in time. Jake thought he heard a cat mewing off and on as they finished the job but assumed it came from one of the gardens and ignored it. He and cats didn’t get on.

A few months later, the smell alerted the proud owners of the extension to a major problem, as well as the bluebottles escaping through a gap beside the pipes. When Jake and his builder mate called to investigate they found the remains of the problem and liberally covered it with lime. Jake decided that curiosity had indeed killed the cat.

After that incident, he became even more wary of cats, imagining every one he came across was staring accusingly at him. He’d never been one for fanciful notions so tried to ignore it, but it gave him the creeps whenever he saw a cat look his way.

That was how he came to kill the second one. He was driving along minding his own business when a black and white cat stepped straight into his path. He nearly jammed the brakes on in time but the cat stared right at him, daring him to go another inch, and Jake’s foot moved from the brake to accelerator of its own free will. He couldn’t believe he’d actually hit the animal, but the shout from a passer-by confirmed it. He was all remorse and sympathy when he pulled in to the side of the road.

The cat ran from the pavement so fast I didn’t have time to react in time, he explained.

He wasn’t unduly concerned; hardly his fault the stupid animal had stood in his way, instead of beating a hasty retreat when it had the chance. But after that incident, he noticed even more cats: around the garden, in his way when he put the rubbish out, sitting on the garden wall staring at his house, walking down the road behind him.

He imagined they had some feline radar that allowed them to communicate with each other. And they were targeting him. Then he laughed at his own stupidity. They were only cats for heaven’s sake, and expendable going by the number of strays around.

Jake couldn’t believe he actually had to live with one of the dratted animals. He especially hated his wife’s sleek Siamese, refusing to acknowledge it had a name. Cat was good enough for it, mostly ‘damned cat’ or ‘ruddy cat’, though he was careful not to let his wife hear these endearments. She knew he didn’t care for it, but the cat was a stand-in for the child he hadn’t been able to give her, so he’d learned to put up with it in case she ever felt forced to choose between them. Not much competition if it came to it. He deeply resented the attention she lavished on it but the cat lapped it up as its right.

Who’s mummy’s good girl? His wife would say, as she cuddled the cat with excessive warmth.

It was more than he got these days. There was no contest for his wife’s meagre attention; the cat won every time. He was surprised the animal let her show such affection. Cats were supposed to be disdainful and independent, yet the Siamese would sit on his wife’s scrawny lap and rub its head against her arm, purring in seeming ecstasy. Sometimes he thought his wife was purring in return, as though they had their own way of communicating with each other. It creeped him out and if the cat caught him watching, it stared unblinkingly until he looked away in disgust. Like a bleedin’ witch and her familiar!

It didn’t stop him teasing the cat at every opportunity. It was the only way he could exact some revenge on its haughty manner. Sometimes he took great delight in wafting the aroma of an open tin of tuna under the cat’s nose.

Get a whiff of that, cat, he said, before eating it all, laughing at the animal as it patiently watched. The cat’s disinterest angered him even more; as though it pitied his puerile attempts to goad it and was secure in its own importance.

You’re freaking me out, you are, and one of these days you’ll pay, big time.

He couldn’t believe he was talking to the ruddy thing now and had the distinct impression the cat knew and understood every word he said. Sometimes he’d get that weird impression that the cat was trying to make him feel uncomfortable. Each time he glanced at the animal, the blue eyes stared unwaveringly back and eventually its statue-like stillness unnerved him.

It was like one of those ancient Egyptian cats he’d seen in a book in the library. He’d gone one day when bored with everything else. The book