Protekt by Winthrop Murray
2 February 2022 { Horror }
Introducing ProTekt
Meadows Lane was a typical suburban street with identical houses and neatly pruned gardens. At the side of each driveway was either a lamp post or a telegraph pole; the latter oozing thick black tar on hot days; the former adorned with numerous missing cat posters and adverts for Zumba classes.
I had lived at number six Meadows Lane for two years though I rarely got the opportunity to spend time in my own home, it was only this enforced break that had given me the chance to do so. You see, I'd broken a small bone in my foot and I had to wear an enormous white boot to immobilise the ankle until the bones knitted together. Going to work was out of the question. It had all started with a ridiculous accident. I was hoeing the weeds in the front garden when I nearly chopped a frog in half, it let out a terrible squeal and I jumped backwards, tripped over the wheel barrow and went over on my ankle, breaking at least one small bone.
After that day I got to meet quite a few of my neighbours for the first time, especially when the sun came out and I could sit on the bench under the wisteria. I learned all about the lady opposite; Mrs Irene Brady who had lived in the same house since getting married in 1960. She’d moved in with her late husband Derek straight after their weekend honeymoon in Abergele. At first they had no furniture and slept on the floor but over the years they'd worked hard and scrimped and saved until the house was fully furnished.
Now though Irene was on her own. Sadly Derek died a few years ago in a croquet accident and her daughter Constance had taken up with a cutlery salesman from Collyhurst and then emigrated to Australia. She'd told me it was a small funeral for Derek with just a few very close family attending. His work colleagues and local friends had been a bit miffed at not being able to give him a decent send off but as she said at the time 'It's what he wanted'.
Mrs Brady was tiny; she always wore knitted jumpers and a mid length plaid skirt. Her legs were very wide set as if they came right from the very edge of her body like in a child's drawing, there was plenty of room for another leg in the middle but alas Mother Nature hadn't obliged. She was a very tidy lady and her garden and house were immaculate; all the neighbours appeared to be fond of her.
Mrs Brady had worked in a local school and when she retired from there she took a part time job at a children's nursery called Little Sweethearts, or Little Buggers as the locals renamed it. She just worked a few hours in the evening with the children whose parents worked late or had forgotten to pick them up. One evening they'd all been playing cowboys and Indians and the children had tied her up, dancing around her for hours whilst ululating. Unfortunately in the excitement of going home time no-one had noticed that Mrs Brady was still tied up in the back room. She wasn't discovered until the following Monday. This distressing event meant that she finally gave up work completely and was now spending her twilight years keeping her house and garden spick and span.
I’d lived opposite her for two years but was so busy working I'd only managed the odd hello as I dashed by, late for some meeting or other. In my state of reduced mobility it had been nice to chat to her and learn a bit more about her life. Her husband had been a government scientist and worked in the laboratories until his untimely death. Derek had been a bit of a workaholic by all accounts. He'd always been involved in the area of Industrial coatings and for his last few years he’d been on the team researching a new paint which both preserved and protected a whole range of surfaces. It was a silicon varnish incorporating carnauba wax and a natural substance called moissanite, which came close to diamond on the hardness scale. The trade name of this paint was 'ProTekt' and it was useful in protecting and preserving all manner of things. Sadly though it eventually turned out to be very slightly carcinogenic and the product was quietly dropped. However, Derek had brought home two industrial sized canisters of ProTekt which he’d made good use of. Mrs Brady had continued to use it after his death, in fact she became quite evangelical about it. People often commented on the neatness of her house and garden which wasn't surprising as she used ProTekt on nearly everything; her fence panels, the driveway, the bricks and ornamental tiles on the front of her house and her magnificent wooden garage doors.
One day I saw her preparing to do some work in her drive so I hobbled over to have a chat.
"Hello Mrs Brady, what are you ProTekting today?"
"Hello John, well it's just my two little Buddha statues either side of the front door, I jet washed them yesterday and I'm going to paint them today so they'll be all shiny and flawless, just how I like them."
"Ah, yes they'll look really good."
She rolled up her sleeves, knelt on a cushion and began to paint with enthusiasm. As she did this, a gust of wind blew across the front of the house and a sheet of tarpaulin on the house next door shook in the wind.
"I keep meaning to ask, Mrs B why haven't they finished next door's extension? It's been like that for a year or so and progress seems to have stalled."
"Ah well, it's a bit of a long story. They built it half a metre too close to my house, I mentioned it to Mr and Mrs Smith and they ended up having a huge row with the builders who then walked out on the job. It was a shame because they were two lovely young men, they came up from London and would stay in digs locally, they even stayed with me if the digs were full. Anyway, they just cleared off home it was all a bit unprofessional really. I think the Smiths had to get new architect's drawings done which took ages and they've not managed to get any builders to complete the work yet.”
"Oh I see, that's a shame because it's going to look really nice"
"Yes it will do." Putting down her paint brushes she said "Would you like to come in for a cup of tea?"
"That's very kind of you Mrs B, it was a bit hot sitting in the sun this afternoon and I'm parched."
I went inside; it was equally tidy there, every surface shining in the light from the window. As she prepared the drinks in the kitchen I looked around the living room. There was a large photo frame on a perfectly polished and ProTekted sideboard which I presume was her husband Derek and their daughter Constance, I could see the family resemblance. She came in with a tray of tea and biscuits all neatly set out on little doilies. She sat down in her recliner chair and I took a big gulp of tea. I almost spat it out as it was so bitter, ‘I bet she's put ProTekt in it’ I thought and smiled to myself. Luckily the phone rang and she went into the hall to answer it. I looked around and spotted a rather dry looking aspidistra in a garish pottery pot and managed to tip most of the tea in; luckily it quickly soaked away.
Moments later she came back and we chatted again, all about her neighbours, the Smiths and some of the other characters in the street.
"More tea?" she said.
"No thanks, I think I'd better get back, I've got to put a lasagne in the oven." I stood up rather too quickly and felt a little wobbly,
"Are you alright John?"
"Oh yes I'm fine I think it's these painkillers I'm taking, they keep sending me a bit dizzy."
She tried to persuade me to stay and have another tea but I thanked her and left. I limped slowly over the road and into the house where I sat on the settee feeling quite unwell, 'stupid tablets' I thought and fell into a deep sleep.
I woke up about three hours later with a headache and a very dry mouth. After drinking copious amounts of water I sat down for a while collecting my thoughts and decided I needed to put the car on the drive. It had been parked on the road since my accident and I was worried one of the big delivery vans might clip it as they drove past. I knew it was going to be difficult with an enormous white support boot on, but I decided that as it was an automatic car I should be able to manage with just one foot. I climbed into the car, lifted my booted foot up in the air and pressed the peddle with my good foot. I carefully drove forwards turning almost onto Mrs Brady's drive, then put it in what I thought was reverse gear to back up onto my drive. Unfortunately the weight proved too much and I dropped my big boot onto the accelerator. There was a screech of spinning tyres and I shot forward right into Mrs B's shiny garage doors; crashing right through them. I panicked, slammed into reverse and drove backwards dragging the huge garage doors off their hinges in the process. The doors fell forward and slammed onto the floor with a loud crash giving out a brick dust cloud. I was mortified.
I tried to climb out of the car but my ridiculous boot got trapped behind the steering wheel; half the street heard the noise and came running out of their houses to see if I was alright. They helped me out of the car, brushed me down and then we all looked around at the scene of destruction, I felt a right idiot. The huge wooden doors lay on the ground and the contents of the garage were now on full view to everyone. There was a bit of murmuring and a few gasps then a loud scream.
"Oh my God, look" shouted one of the neighbours. There inside the garage looking like a very odd Nativity scene was a collection of figures, all shiny and obviously ProTekted. On the left of the garage I instantly recognised Mrs Brady's husband Derek, her daughter Constance and I man I presumed was the cutlery salesman. There were also about eight perfectly preserved cats, one of them immediately recognisable from the missing cat posters, also two dogs, three chickens and a miniature horse. On the right hand side there were two young men in their working clothes which Mrs Smith recognised as her two missing builders, before she fainted clear away. Two people tended to Mrs Smith and the rest of us just stood there shocked and open mouthed, nobody said a word.
The police were called and the crowd of onlookers grew larger. After an hour or so Mrs Brady was lead out of her house in handcuffs, there was a lot of flashing cameras and attempted selfies as she made her way towards the police car. Smiling regally at all the neighbours she just said "I don't know what all the fuss is about, I was just protecting my lovely things."
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