Mark Dunn - Under the Harrow

“I don’t come from a pretermundane place, Miss DeLove. I come from just over that ridge. Dingley Dell. It is the valley just behind those mountains. Dinglians don’t come from Mars.”

“Then why do you look the way you do? Why do you ask me what every other word I say means? Is this a crazy place — this Dingley Dell? Is it full of crazy people?”

“I’m afraid, Miss DeLove, that I can’t tell you anything about my home that you would understand, for the same reason that I am slowly coming to only a very limited understanding of the world you live in.”

Annette DeLove laughed ruefully and sneezed again and then shook her head. “It doesn’t take long for a person to understand my world. This is it. These four walls you see around you. I don’t leave this house. Just like you people don’t leave your valley — at least as a rule. We’re alike in that one big way.”

“It takes courage for us to leave our home. None of us really knows what to expect out here.”

“I guess you didn’t expect an agoraphobic cripple with a head cold waving her gun at you and forcing you to watch a ‘Home Hunters’ marathon, did you?”

“I cannot say that I did.”

“Would you like another macadamia nut cookie?”

Gus shook his head. He glanced at the television window. A significant exchange between a young house-hunting woman and a young househunting man was transpiring as follows:

YOUNG WOMAN: I hate that colour. What is it — magenta?

YOUNG MAN: We can always paint over it.

YOUNG WOMAN: I like the crown moulding, though.

YOUNG MAN: The crown moulding is nice.

YOUNG WOMAN: I think it’s fuchsia. That colour. It gags me. The older woman who is escorting the couple through the house now interposes.

OLDER WOMAN: Would you like to see the bonus room?

Gus had become so engaged in the house-hunting adventures of this particular couple, each of whom had a pleasant voice and spoke in a softer and less nasally accent than did the woman sitting next to him (better to assist him in devising an unobtrusive accent for himself that would make it easier for him to fit in), that he didn’t hear the older woman— Mama or Mrs. DeLove — enter the room from the back of the house.

“I don’t have time to make lunch,” she said, slightly winded. “Gloria just called me on my cell. Aunt Lucille’s taken a turn for the worse. I have to go to Harrisburg, if I want to see her before—” Mrs. DeLove couldn’t bring herself to finish her sentence. “I’m going to pack my overnight bag, because I probably won’t be back until to-morrow. I’ll get Bill Corley from down the road to drive over and tend to the — Annette, are you even listening to me?”

Annette’s own eyes had not left off staring into the windowed television box. Even as Gus was able to pull his own gaze away and look upon his older hostess, Annette’s eyes remained deliberately fixed on the glass.

“What is wrong with you, Annette? Your Great Aunt Lucille is dying and you won’t even give me a minute’s worth of your attention?”

“I heard every word you said, Mama,” replied Annette sourly. “You’ve been in the barn for over two hours. Have you not noticed that Mr. Trimmers is still here?”

Mrs. DeLove sucked in a great amount of air and then blew it all out. “What of it?”

“You give me no credit, no credit at all, Mama . I’m not a pariah. There are some people like Mr. Trimmers who come here and actually stay and have a good time with me.”

“I have no time for this nonsense. I have to pack.”

Mrs. DeLove betook herself to her own chambers and could be heard for the next twenty minutes rustling and clattering about and talking to herself in angry tones. She emerged at just the moment that a new couple in a brand new play were talking about how important it was to have a large kitchen for the purpose of entertaining. Gus wondered how Outlanders entertained themselves in a kitchen. Did they juggle saucepans and baking dishes?

“I’m going now, Annette. You’ll be all right while I’m gone?”

“You’ve left me by myself before.”

“Will Mr. Trimmers be leaving soon?”

“I don’t know. He might be staying for dinner.”

“The last two of those Marie Callender Salisbury steak dinners are in the freezer.” Mrs. DeLove walked over and touched her daughter on the head in an understatement of affection. Then she walked out the front door with a valise-like bag in hand. A few moments later there came the sound of the woman’s horseless carriage chugging away.

Gus started. “What is that sound?”

“It’s the car. You know cars. You’ve seen cars on TV. What do you Digglians use to get around?”

“Dinglians. Not Digglians. We walk, for the most part. There are horses and hansoms for those who can afford them. The very rich have their own phaetons and cabriolets. I cannot stay for dinner. I must commence my search for my son.”

Annette’s expression hardened. She rubbed a tissue against her rubicund nose. “I thought we’d agree that you weren’t leaving until to-night.”

“But you had said that I could leave when your mother retired for the evening. And now she has left altogether to be with her aunt. This nullifies the original agreement.”

“Look, buddy, I’m not letting you run off and leave me here alone. You have to stay until Mama comes back.”

“That would be impossible. I must look for my boy.”

“Your boy is dead , you alien moron! They don’t let people like you wander around after you’ve left that valley. They pick you up. I’ve seen it. I’ve seen them picking up Digglians right here on this very road. I’m the only thing keeping you alive right now, so I’m actually doing you a favour by holding you here.”

Gus had been so caught up in Mrs. DeLove’s departure and the chance that he too might at last be permitted to leave, and was so distracted by an advertisement coming forth from inside the magic television box for something called Depend undergarments (which were reputedly successful at absorbing a copious amount of blue water), that he was not aware of Annette’s furtive retrieving of the steel manacles and her deftly snapping one of the cuffs round her left wrist with a click. Then there was a second click. Of this one, Gus was quite aware.

He stared down at the handcuffs that now banded him to this most assuredly disturbed young woman. A wave of hopeless despair engulfed him. “ Why ? Why have you done this to me?”

“You won’t believe me, but I’ll tell you anyway. It’s because I like you.” Annette DeLove shrugged and grinned like a bashful schoolgirl. “And because I’ll bet you that after a while you’ll come to see that I’m not such a bad person either and that we can actually have a pretty nice time together.”

Terror suddenly struck at Gus’s heart. “But I’ve already spent time with you — more time than I ever intended. I don’t believe that my boy is dead. It’s merely something you’re saying to keep me here. I know little of your world, Miss DeLove, but I have a very strong sense that you’re not being truthful with me. I beseech you to let me go.”

Annette shook her head. “Let’s find out what this couple plans to do with that hideous popcorn ceiling. Then you can come and help me make lunch. Do you like pimento cheese?”

Phillips was driving Ruth Wolf ’s horseless carriage. Ruth Wolf sat next to him. Seated behind the two was Newman. Ruth turned her head to address Newman over her shoulder.

“It won’t be long now before we reach the place where we can start our climb up to the top of the ridge. I have a key that unlocks all the wickets.