NOT AFTER MIDNIGHT by Karen Storey (2nd place, Oct22)

Ellen slumped in the passenger seat of their motorhome, bare feet up on the dashboard.

Marcus glanced across. ‘I’ve told you before not to do that. If we have an accident your legs will be crushed into your chest.’

‘How are we going to have an accident this time of night? We’re the only people on the roads. I told you to update that satnav. We wouldn’t have ended up forty miles from the coast if you’d listened.’ She glanced out of the passenger window. ‘Marcus, look. That supermarket is open twenty-four hours. Pull over. Get me a bottle of red wine. Oh, and some loo roll.’

He slowed the motorhome and turned into the dark, empty parking lot. ‘I’m getting myself some beer too. That’s the other thing you left in that bag still sitting outside our front door.’

‘I said I was bringing the bread and cereal. I told you to take the bag on our doorstep. Get me some croissants for the morning.’

He pushed open his driver’s door and stepped down from the motorhome. ‘You don’t need croissants. You’re just greedy.’ He slammed the door behind him.

Ellen watched him disappear into the supermarket lights. Greedy? Never. She looked great for forty-two. She lifted her bare feet off the dashboard then lowered them to the floor. Picking up her handbag, she felt around inside until her fingers found the smooth edges of her phone. She pulled it out and checked her messages. Nothing from Richard. But of course, it was nearly one a.m.  He’d be in bed with Andrea. She’d leave a message for him for when he awoke. She quickly thumbed, ‘Miss you xxx’ and dropped the phone into her bag.

Marcus yanked open the driver’s door and stepped back up into his seat. He handed her a plastic bag. ‘Just beer and wine. No toilet paper.’

‘None at all?’

‘Well they have it. But they won’t sell it after midnight.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ She slid her feet into her flip flops then pushed the passenger door open to step down.

‘Ellen, leave it. We’ll come back tomorrow. The guy behind the till is obviously some weirdo.’

‘Weirdo or not, I’m not spending the night in the motorhome without loo roll, for God’s sake.’

She stomped into the supermarket and wandered through the aisles. Picking up a two-pack of cheap white quilted roll, she marched up to the till.

A man her age, stringy haired and bony thin, glared at her. ‘Not after midnight.’

‘The sign outside says twenty-four hours.’

‘We don’t sell that.’ He pointed a slim nicotine-stained finger at the toilet rolls. ‘Not after midnight.’

‘Why the hell not?’

The till man leant forward baring yellowed teeth. ‘Because we don’t.’

‘I’m not leaving here until you give me a bloody good reason.’

He leant back, pursing his chapped lips.

‘Tell me.’

The till man glanced towards the shop door then leant towards her again. ‘We have a problem in one of the villages.’

‘I’m sure you do if you won’t sell them toilet paper.’

‘Madam, someone’s been leaving anonymous loo rolls on people’s doorsteps in the early hours of the morning. It’s been worrying folks, opening their doors and seeing a loose roll of toilet paper sitting there.’

‘It’s probably teenagers playing a prank.’

‘No madam. It’s not every house that gets it. The ones that do though….’  He shook his greasy-haired head.

‘What happens?’

‘Someone close to them leaves.’

‘All because of a roll of toilet paper? You’re completely mad.’ She huffed then strode back outside towards the motorhome.

‘Come back at six a.m.,’ the till man called out. ‘You can buy it then.’

 

They drove to the small private campsite taking a detour through residential streets.

‘Marcus, stop the motorhome.’

‘Why?’

‘Just stop.’

He hit the brake.

Ellen pushed open the passenger door before tiptoeing towards a dark house. On the doorstep was a lone white roll of toilet paper. She picked it up and with a gleeful smile, ran down the steps. She spotted another white roll next door and skipped across the lawn to grab that one too.

Giggling, she jumped back into the passenger seat. ‘Well, whoever this prankster is, at least we’ve got loo roll.’

They reached the campsite and settled in for the night. Marcus downed his can of beer in silence. Ellen sipped her glass of wine before leaving half. Marcus grimaced, annoyed she’d wasted the drink.

The following morning, they trudged down the steep, winding roads towards the harbour, choosing an outdoor table at the café so Marcus could admire the boats. He smiled, gazing towards a red sailing dinghy bobbing on the water. ‘We should sell the motorhome one day, get ourselves a little boat instead.’

Ellen’s heart panged with guilt. Marcus still planned a future for them.

The waitress brought two frothy cappuccinos to the table. Ellen leant back, sighing. Did their marriage have a future? She caught the attractive curve of Marcus’ lips as he stared at the boats.

She sipped her coffee, allowing last night’s tension to dissipate, drifting off with the warm breeze and the wings of the gulls gliding overhead.

Marcus looked at her, raising his cup towards his mouth. ‘Tell me again what that till man said to you last night? About the loo roll?’

‘Someone’s playing a joke. They leave a single roll on the steps of some houses. Then according to Mr Creepy Till Man, you open the door to the rogue toilet paper and freak out because someone close to you leaves.’

Marcus chortled, spitting out his cappuccino.

Giggles bubbled up from Ellen’s chest.

Marcus’ eyes glistened. ‘And this after midnight prankster, they only do it to some houses? Maybe they’re leaving a hint they think the chosen ones are full of something?’

The giggles pushed through Ellen’s throat and she gasped.

Marcus put down his cappuccino cup and guffawed.

Oh my God, Ellen thought. When was the last time she and Marcus sat and laughed together?

Marcus stopped then stared at her in a way she’d forgotten. His eyes held a glimmer of mischief mixed with….yes, desire.

‘The question is,’ he said, ‘with you picking up the random toilet rolls from those doorsteps last night, did you invite the leaving curse onto us?’

Ellen stiffened.

He smiled.

She chuckled nervously. ‘I was doing a favour to the members of the community. Honestly, people getting freaked out over an innocent roll of toilet paper.’ Her giggles erupted again as she picked up her cappuccino and stared into the melting foam. When she looked up his eyes were earnest.

‘Are you going to leave me, Ellen?’

Her breath caught. He couldn’t know. Impossible. She carefully deleted every text.

Marcus reached out and touched the trembling fingers gripping her mug. ‘Don’t look so serious. It’s a joke, Ellen.’

Her mobile pinged. ‘I need to visit the ladies. I’ll be back in a second.’

She weaved her way through the tables towards the ladies’ room. Standing in front of a white basin she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed. She reached into her bag for her phone then opened Richard’s text.

‘Ellen, you sent that message in the middle of the night. Andrea was up first and saw it. It’s over.’

Her heart pounded. Oh my God. Breathe.

Maybe this was meant to happen. She and Marcus, a subtle shift had occurred this morning. Not quite seismic but they were laughing again. If they could do that, perhaps they could love again.

Share a future.

She’d allow Marcus to swap the motorhome for the boat.

Give him whatever else he wanted.

Running the cold tap, she patted her flushed cheeks with water. That crazy loo roll prankster. It wasn’t a curse. For her and Marcus, with the laughter it brought, it was a small step towards a new start. She pulled a paper towel from the dispenser, dabbed her face and made her way back to the tables by the harbour.

Marcus sat upright as he stared out towards the boats. His mobile in hand, he turned as she neared the table. ‘I’ve got a text from Andrea.’

Ellen swayed and grabbed the back of her chair.

He dropped his phone onto the table, the earlier mischief in his eyes replaced by a cold stare. ‘So, Richard’s broken it off with you? How long was it on with you?’

Her legs shook as she sat down. ‘I can explain. It was silly. We can work through this—’

‘Greedy,’ he muttered, then stood.

‘Wait-’

‘I’m leaving.’

‘But—’

‘But what? How will you get home? You’ll find a way.’ He stormed towards the pavement exit.

‘No, I meant—’

He stopped and turned. ‘You meant what will you do since you have neither me nor Richard?’ He forced his lips into a distorted smile. ‘Perhaps you shouldn’t have picked up two rolls of that toilet paper last night.’