The Dolocher (11 page)

The temperature in the small second floor room on Skippers Lane was pleasant and comforting for the three women who were there tonight. Kate, Mary and Sarah had their hay bags which served as mattresses to them, arranged close to the fire on the wall on the far side of the room from the window. It was a bitter night, and they were wrapped in sheets, blankets and had clothes on top of these to aid the warmth of their bodies. They were warmed inside by a vegetable stew Sarah had made earlier with the carcass of a chicken for stock, and weak tea Kate sometimes got from the brothel.

Though she had only taken these two women into her home to get help with paying for it, and she intended to have as little as possible to do with them, Kate found that she couldn’t help but like them. She was especially fond of Mary, who was making great progress with her injuries. She was going to be scarred for life, and sometimes Kate would cry for her when she saw caught sight of one of the marks on her body and she thought about what she had gone through, but she was moving around much better than before and she was getting stronger by the day.

Mary helped at the stalls for small pieces of vegetables which she brought home and shared with the others, and she was able to cover some of the potato selling once more. She wasn't able to bring in as much as the other two, but Sarah made up for the shortfall, so it suited Kate fine.

Sarah was honest and hardworking. She worked at the stalls in the market, and she would go about the gangplanks of the ships with armfuls of produce to sell to the sailors who docked each day. They had also come to an arrangement with Kate whereby Sarah would talk about Kate in glowing terms and then would point her out to the sailors as she ‘happened by.’ This resulted to quite a few on board trysts that might not have happened otherwise and as a result even with Mary’s diminished (but growing) earning potential they were living as comfortably as three as most others lived with five or more.

The fire flickered and reflected in their eyes and Kate wondered about what was going on in the brothel that night. It was bitterly cold out, and anyone who had to walk the streets this evening was to be pitied. Had it not been for five sailors on a Portuguese vessel at the docks today Kate herself would be out in it. She had to work hard to convince herself that she should not be out anyway, bringing a little more in-even if she went out for an hour, but she managed it and now she was happy and warm and well wrapped up and the dark world outside seemed like a long way away.

“I bet you’re glad you’re indoors now?” Sarah said when a howling wind whistled through the frames and rattled the glass panes.

“I am,” Kate smiled at her. Mary snuggled up a little more in her bed.

“That was a lovely stew Sarah,” she said.

“Certainly warmed my belly anyway,” Sarah replied.

“Well, I think it’s time we warmed our throats,” Kate laughed and she pulled a bottle of greenish liquid from under her coat and waved it for the others to see.

“What's this?” Sarah said taking it from her hands and peering into the glass bottle.

“Some kind of grog those sailors had today,” Kate replied.

Sarah handed it to Mary to look at, but she seemed reluctant to take it.

“It’s ok Mary, it’s only a drink,” Kate said, “Just have a sip, and if you don’t like it you don’t have to have any more.” Mary opened the bottle, the stopper making a funny noise as it came free, and she smelled it and recoiled from it.

“Never smell anything you’re going to put in your mouth,” Sarah laughed

“That’s my motto!” Kate said, and they all shrieked with laughter as though they were already drunk. Mary lifted the bottle and took a small sip with a look of disgust on her face which all of a sudden brightened into a sunnier disposition.

“It actually tastes alright,” she said with a smile. She handed the bottle to Kate, who took a longer pull on it.

“I’ve never had that before whatever it is, but it’s nice,” she agreed. Sarah drank next.

“That feels different to any drink I’ve ever had too.”

They passed the bottle from one to the other and soon they truly were all drunk. They spoke about their pasts and where they had lived before. During the early phase of intoxication they avoided asking Mary anything that might involve her talking about her aunt or worse still of what happened to her but later the conversation naturally drifted to darker things as the bravery of alcohol came over them and they felt they were ready to hear and tell of everything.

“How did your aunt know Olocher?” Kate asked. Sarah looked at her reproachfully, but she didn’t say anything and Kate knew she was as curious as she to find out. Mary looked into the fire as though she were concentrating on it with great intensity; it felt to Kate that the young girl might be trying to use the dancing flames and white hot embers to distract her eyes from what her memory was trying to show her.

“I never knew that,” she replied “One evening he was just coming up the stairs, and my aunt had this look of fear on her face that I will never forget.” Kate and Sarah looked at one another. “She made me get into the cupboard and told me not to make a sound. She shut the door, but it didn’t close properly, and I could see out through a small gap.”

Kate handed the bottle to her but still Mary didn’t look away from the fire. She just clasped the bottle and took the longest pull she had tonight before going on.

“He came in, and he was angry, he was saying something about her snitching on him, and my aunt was saying she had never said anything to anyone. He seemed to calm a little then and he put his hands on the table with his back to her; this was when I got a full clear glimpse of him head on, I was sure that he was able to see me but he didn’t indicate that he did,” again she paused, and the others could see the struggle to go on in her but they waited it out, both so engaged in her story now that they had to hear it to its grisly end. “Then he spun and smashed her across the face and sent her flying. I know I made a noise here as it frightened me so much, but my aunt falling made enough of a noise to cover mine. He jumped on top of her then and started hitting her. She was not making any noise, but she was trying to defend herself with her hands and arms, and then he had blades in his hands and now she was screaming and he was slashing about on top of her like someone having a fit or something like that,” there were tears in Mary’s eyes now, but she looked mesmerised and she seemed unable to stop talking. “I was frozen; I couldn’t do anything. Then he stopped, and I heard my aunt crying and him trying to get his breath back. She was trying to crawl away from him; I think her senses were probably gone by now, and he let her get a good distance from him. He stood there and didn’t make a sound for a while, and then he crept up and kneeled down on top of her and whispered something into her ear, and that’s when he cut her throat.”

“Could you hear what he said?” Kate asked.

Mary shook her head, but Kate got the sense that she had heard, but she was never going to repeat it to anyone ever again. At that moment, Kate understood how young this girl actually was; she was fifteen now, fourteen when that terrible thing had happened. She was still a child! And with this thought Kate began to cry as well. Sarah was crying too, but Kate hadn’t noticed when she had started, but she had been a friend of the women so horribly slain that any point of the story would have been an apposite time for her to cry.

When they had stopped and were silent for a while Sarah said to Mary,

“Do you mind if I ask you something about what happened to you?” and Mary nodded, looking at her this time. Sarah looked at Kate as though she didn’t know quite how to ask something, looking for support from her, but Kate had no idea what she wanted to know and so couldn’t help.

“Do you think it was him?” Sarah asked finally, and Kate looked intently at Mary to see what she would say.

“I don’t know if that’s how I felt at the time, but that’s how it feels now” Mary said and Kate noticed that the young girl was rubbing her arms and then her back where she had been savaged.

“They’ll catch him soon,” Kate said putting her hand on the child's shoulder. Sarah looked at her in the eyes as though she were trying to see if there was any truth in this.

“Any day now love,” she said.

The fire was down to dying embers now, and they had huddled their three beds in front of it, their heads feeling the heat and their feet towards the window. The bottle was empty, and they were dozing now. None was fully asleep; their bodies for whatever reason fighting the sleep they so needed, their chemical brains looking to keep on going.

When Sarah and Mary fell asleep they seemed to sleep the sleep of the dead. Kate listened to the wind outside as it rattled about and sang through every orifice of all the buildings nearby. The door rattled from time to time as though someone were trying to get in and each time it startled Kate into sitting up and still neither of the other two would budge at all. Each time she would lie back down and wonder why she was not falling asleep; she felt tired, but it would just not come.

As she lay there, she listened to the breathing of the two women for something to focus on. They were almost in unison, but Sarah took slightly shorter breaths than Mary. It was a soothing noise, and Kate began to try to get her own breaths in rhythm with the others. She got close, but it turned out that she took much longer breaths that them both; while she was awake anyway.

As she listened, she slowly became aware of another low noise. It was like another low breathing noise, and she wondered if one of the neighbours were breathing heavily in their room? She began to get nervous when it seemed to be getting louder. She looked around the room and told herself that it was the wind and that her mind was playing tricks on her.

There was a movement in Mary’s bed, and Kate turned to look at her. She was still lying in the same position as before. Then there was another movement and Kate saw it beneath her blankets, she thought it was just Mary’s arm or leg but then it seemed too big to be part of this small slip of a girl and Kate sat back in fear, still trying to convince herself that she was being silly, that what she saw was a shadow trick.

When the growling started Kate began to scream, and she jumped out of the bed and pinned her back to the wall. She had heard these same growls that night in the ‘Nunnery’ and they were unmistakable. She was so afraid that she wasn’t even trying to get to the door to escape; she was pushing back into the wall in the hope that it would somehow swallow her and take her somewhere safe.

The thing under the blankets grew larger and larger, and she could begin to see the outline of something monstrous inside there. Mary and Sarah had not even stirred a little and Kate screamed at them to get up that the monster was in their room, but there was no response. She could see the blankets lifting from Mary now as though this creature was wearing them as a cloak as it reared up huge in front of her. Mary’s exposed scars were swirling and changing shape, and they seemed to grow teeth and they smiled and snapped at her in malevolence. Still she screamed and still no one came to her aid and nor did she rouse her room mates. The cloaked creature began to come before her; much more slowly than she would have imagined it would ever move.

Kate turned and pounded on the wall calling out for help, no reply came, not even someone telling her to shut up, that people were trying to sleep. She turned to face the ‘Dolocher’ again, and she saw that her way to the door was blocked now that she had thought to try to use it. She looked around frantically, half thinking of escape and half of looking for a weapon to defend herself.

Finally, she saw what she had to do. She called out once more to try to rouse her fellow women and then just as the creature was upon her she bounded in the small space she had to the window and pushed herself shoulder first through it and plunged to the cobbled street below.

The children who lived in the lanes and roads off Ushers Quay were always jostling any adult who passed them by with requests for sweets, coins, stories or jokes. They rarely got anything more than a clip round the ear or a curt rebuff but when they did get any of the things they looked for they were over the moon. Though Mullins was the one who lived in their own area they knew they never got anything at all from him unless he had been drinking early in the day and was stumbling home before they had to be home themselves in the evening, but his friend Cleaves was someone they were always happy to see.

He was the type of man who though having none of his own (his wife died in childbirth when they were a year married-the child also passed away) he loved children and was always smiling when he saw them. When he came to call on Mullins the word would go out that he was in the area, and when he and Mullins left the house there would be a crowd of children waiting near the door for what he was going to offer. It was rarely sweets or coins but he often had a joke or a story that would have them squealing with delight or disgust - which is the same as delight in children, and then running to spread his words to anyone who had been unfortunate enough to miss them.

Mullins looked out his window to see Cleaves running into a game of football and tackling the children as they rallied around him, laughing and shouting for him to shoot at the goal their team were aiming at. Mullins was impressed with the dexterous movements of his friend, and he smiled at the excitement he caused amongst the children. Cleaves was laughing himself, as boys grabbed on to his coat trying to get the ball off him, and then he planted a shot at goal which missed by miles and he tumbled over onto the ground as he lost his balance taking a few running children with him. He got up laughing and dusted himself down.

“I think that was a goal,” he said and the children protested at how far away from the goal it was.

Mullins stepped out of the house and closed his door and turned to face Cleaves who had come over when he saw him come out.

“You ready to tear it up?” Cleaves said smiling.

“I’m aching for a drink at this point,” Mullins said.

The children had abandoned their game now and were gathering around Cleaves calling on him to tell them a joke or a story. Their voices were getting rowdier by the second, and it seemed even louder with the reverberations off the stone walls. Cleaves winked at Mullins and raised his hands to quieten the children. When they were silent he looked from one to the other with a serious look.

“I only know one story children, and it happened in this very place not very long ago at all,” he said waving his hand over their heads at the roads and buildings that surrounded them. They were all silent now, and their eyes glistened with eagerness to hear this tale. “The most handsome man in the world was walking down through Wormwood and all of a sudden what should he see?”

“A giant?”

“A monster?”

“A pretty lady?” the children called out guessing.

“A football match,” Cleaves said seriously, “And then he did something wonderful,” they were rapt now waiting to hear what he could have done, this handsome man, “he rushed onto the pitch took the ball and scored the greatest goal the world has ever seen!” he cried out, and he laughed heartily as the children realised that he was talking about himself and the miss he had just done only moments ago.

“Tell us a real one,” they said

“Tell us about the Dolocher,” one said and the sound of that name said by a child sent shivers down Mullins’ spine. He could only imagine what their young minds must have formed from what they had heard about the killings.

“There is no Dolocher,” Cleaves said as though the idea was ridiculous, “Listen I’ll tell you one, but you have to promise me you won’t tell your parents who told you because this one is so scary that you might have nightmares and then wet your beds!” They all laughed and promised that they would not tell and claimed that no story he could tell them would induce them to wet their beds.

“OK, Ok, this is how the story goes,” they all crowded in to listen.

“Not many people know this but under Trinity College, deep under the ground there are tunnels and passageways that lead to great crypts and tombs” Already Mullins could see the fear rise in some of the collected eyes “One day there was a funeral and the guard at the gate saw the widow and thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Only really important people can be buried there, and no one is allowed to visit the tombs once they have been filled. A few days after the funeral the widow came and asked the soldier to let her in to visit her husband's tomb but he told her that he was not allowed to let anyone in. She cried and cried and pleaded and pleaded with him and finally he said that he would let her in just once but that she would never be able to come in again. She agreed, and he brought her through the dark and scary tunnels until she came to her husband's tomb.

“A few days later she came again and again she pleaded to be let in but this time the soldier did not budge, and he wouldn’t let her in. She asked him if he could at least bring a small flower she had in her hair and place it on his tomb for her and that she would then never come to bother him again. The soldier agreed, and he went down into the tunnels alone. Just as he closed the crypt door of the woman’s husband he heard a scraping noise and he realised with fright that it was one of the old stone doors falling shut. He ran frantically as he knew if the door closed he would be trapped inside forever. Boom! The door closed.” The children jumped at the loud ‘boom’ and then stood looking at Cleaves for a time, waiting.

“Did he get out?” one asked finally tired of waiting.

“No, but that is not the scary part,” Cleaves went on. “The woman had let the door close because she was angry with the soldier for not letting her see her husband's tomb and she told the soldiers who came looking for him that he had run away with a purse of gold she wanted to put in her husband's tomb.

“A few months later there was another funeral and the day before it a couple of soldiers went into the tunnels to make sure that everything was alright and that the doors were open, and room made for the new arrival.

“They carried their fire torches deep inside until they came to a large closed door. This door wasn’t supposed to be closed so they knew they had to open it. They used all their strength to open and then on the other side they saw the most gruesome thing they had ever laid eyes on.”

“What was it?” they asked

“The skeleton of the soldier who had been locked in standing there with his pike in front of him and all around him there were the skeletons of the rats he had managed to kill before they had swarmed all over him and plucked all the meat from his bones. Some of the skeletons of rats were even stuck on his pike where he had poked right through them.

“Ewwwww” they all said in delight (though some were clearly unnerved by the story) and then Cleaves laughed to set their minds at ease.

“We have to go now so no more stories until the next time,” Mullins said and he nudged Cleaves to get him walking before he started to tell them another story.

“Those kids will be up all night,” Mullins laughed when they were far enough away from the children.

“One or two maybe but children love that type of thing,” Cleaved laughed back.

“What do you suppose they’ve heard about the Dolocher?” Mullins asked

“As much as you or me, maybe more than you or me.”

“Yeah, children can pick up a lot of things that adults miss.”

“Adults choose to miss a lot,” Cleaves said. Mullins nodded, but he wasn’t really focused on it.

“You be careful when you’re doing your deliveries,” he said to Cleaves

“I’ve been on the lookout since the first killing but I think they happen a lot earlier than when I go out delivering.”

“Where do you get all these stories anyway?” Mullins asked after a few more steps.

“A city lives or dies on its myths,” Cleaves said tapping the side of his nose and smiling broadly.