Gary McMahon - The Concrete Grove

Hailey’s behaviour — along with the baggy clothes, the moodiness, the increasing secrecy –all made sense now, at last, in terms of this virgin birth. She had not been impregnated by some boy on the estate, but she had been filled with wonder. And now those wonders had been delivered into their care.

Her daughter, she now realised, was a being of contrasts: guardian and wet nurse; victim and criminal; strength and fragility; darkness and light.

The Slitten crawled up onto the bed, swarming over their birth-mother and obscuring her lower torso. One by one, they reached up and began to suckle, taking it in turns to slake a thirst born in darkness. Lana watched in awe. Her beautiful daughter was now a mother to monsters and for some reason the thought did not fill her with terror or repulsion. Instead, she felt a strong sense of purpose, and the potential solution to their problems began to take on a kind of clarity that she had not even dared to dream of.

Soon the Slitten were satisfied. They rolled off Hailey, slid from the bed, and gathered around Lana, their movements slow and heavy. They had taken their fill. Their hunger was sated, at least for now.

“Ask them,” said a tired voice from the bed, its owner lost in the growing shadows — shadows that had not been there even seconds before. “Ask them again. It’s why they’re here, to help us. Tell them what you want them to do.”

Lana looked at the resting entities, but only out of the corner of her eye. Then she reached out her hands and began to speak.

WHEN HAILEY GOT out of bed her whole body felt drained and empty, as if something vital had been siphoned from her during the night. She had a vague memory of her mother coming home in the early hours, and of them having some kind of heated conversation. But the details were fuzzy. Whenever she tried to think about what had been said, she drew a blank. It was as if the majority of her immediate memories had been scraped painlessly out of her brain.

She brushed her teeth, washed her face, and put on her school uniform. Her stomach ached, and the emptiness seemed to grow. She wasn’t hungry, but she felt the need to fill a gap inside her body that had not been there when she went to bed last night.

She remembered a dream. Something about a wood or a forest, and a creature (or creatures) that were important to her in some way. That was all; nothing else came when she tried to pinpoint the memory.

“How are you feeling?”

She turned around and saw her mother standing in the doorway, her face pale and drawn. She looked like she’d aged a decade overnight.

“A bit weird.”

“I’m not surprised.”

Hailey paused in tying her shoelaces. “What do you mean?”

Her mother shrugged her shoulders and pulled her dressing gown tighter. “Don’t you remember last night? When I came home?” She leaned against the doorframe.

Hailey shook her head. “The last thing I remember was Tessa’s mum coming round drunk and waking me up to give me that telly. She wouldn’t take no for an answer because she was so pissed. I think she was trying to make herself feel good by giving us some charity.”

Her mother smiled. “Who on earth is this Tessa? Have I met her?”

“She’s a friend from school — one of my only close ones. You remember, the girl with the big feet who keeps knocking stuff over.”

Mum smiled, but still she looked vaguely ill. “Ah, yes. The clumsy girl. She came round for dinner that time. Broke my bloody vase.”

Hailey laughed, which seemed to break the mood. “That’s her. She still feels bad about it.”

“You look tired, honey. Are you sure you want to go to school? You’ve had a… well, a rough time.”

Hailey stood up and approached the mirror above her dressing table. She combed her hair and tied it up in a loose ponytail. “What’s wrong with me? What happened last night? I’m so hungry I could eat a scabby horse, but if I did try to eat anything I know I’d be sick.”

“You really should have some breakfast. I’ve made toast. Just try and eat a slice. If you really insist on going to school, we’ll talk properly when you get home.” Her mother folded her arms across her chest. “There are still things we need to talk about.” She scanned the room, as if looking for something specific. “Have you been having strange dreams?”

Hailey watched her mother in the mirror. Nodded.

“Me too, baby. Scary ones. But I think they’re more than just dreams. Last night… things happened last night, when I left you here. Stuff we need to discuss.”

Hailey kept her eyes on her mother’s reflection in the mirror. “I’m ill, aren’t I? There’s something seriously wrong with me.” Did she have a brain tumour, was that it?

“I think there was something wrong,” said Mum. “But now I think you might be getting better.” The ghost of a smile crossed her face and then she turned away, heading back to the kitchen. “Come and have some toast.”

Hailey finished getting ready. She packed her school bag and made sure that she had all of her books and her pencil case. Giving herself one final glance in the mirror — she didn’t look too bad now that she’d made a bit of an effort — she left her room and went to the kitchen.

“Would you like some fruit juice? I could pop out and get some from the shop. Or maybe a cup of tea?”

Hailey sat down opposite her mum. “No. I’m fine. I’ll just try a bit of that toast.” She reached out and picked a slice off the serving plate. The butter had melted and the toast wilted. When she bit into the toast it was cold. The texture of the limp bread almost made her gag.

“Just a few bites,” said her mother, trying to smile and almost making it.

“Where were you last night?” said Hailey, once she’d swallowed the mouthful of bread. “I remember waking up. It was late. Or early. Was that when you got home?”

Her mother looked away. Her eyes roamed over the kitchen surfaces. “Yes, that was me. We had a little chat and I put you back to bed.”

“So. Where did you go?”

“I had to go out and see a friend. Nothing you need to know about, not really. Just an errand I had to run.”

Hailey chewed the toast. The more she had the more she got used to it. Her stomach still felt empty but it no longer ached. “You’re not getting involved in anything crazy, are you?” Her eyes began to sting. The kitchen lights were too bright and they made her head throb.

“No,” said her mother. “It’s nothing like you think. But this is one of those things we need to talk about. I made a big mistake and it’s going to affect us both.”

Hailey’s ears were ringing. The sound was distant yet incessant, like an alarm. “Okay, we’ll sit down and talk tonight, when I get home from school.”

Her mother shuffled in her chair. “I might have to go out again later, so it’ll probably be late. Will you be okay on your own again, just until I get back?” She paused, not really waiting for an answer. “I promise not to be too long. We can talk then.”

“That’s fine.” Hailey put down the remains of the toast: the soggy piece of crust, with melted butter smeared along its length. “I can watch the TV now, can’t I?”

“Yeah, I suppose you can.”

Hailey saw the tears sparkling in her mother’s eyes, and for a moment she felt like going over there and throwing her arms around her, telling her that she loved her more than anything in the world. But something held her back. She heard a faint skittering noise from the other end of the flat, coming from the direction of her bedroom. Her mind was filled with images of tattered, flyblown shapes falling in tandem from the ceiling. She felt her nipples stiffen and fluid leaked from their tips.