The Honeymooners - Part 1/2 | From the Stovetop Issue #5

Oct 4

The village of Dunswolt looks like a tray of petit fours on a cliff top table. Its pastel buildings bask in the afternoon sun. The deep blue sea behind the village sparkles. June is almost convinced that this is a dream. She rolls down the window of the old Fiat 500 to be sure. The air tastes of sea salt.

Marc gives her knee a gentle squeeze. She grins at him. Oh, how her cheeks ache. It is as if all she has done for the last few days is grin.

Practising in the mirror, at the rehearsal dinner, at the altar, and the photographer, all through the reception too. Nobody warns you about the peril one’s cheeks endure when you marry. Everyone around you is smiling, and so you must too. She thinks of her mother’s weepy smile, and her father’s proud one. She thinks of her new mother-in-law smiling too. She isn’t used to that and wonders how long that will last. They eventually snarl, so her friends say.

And the pins! Nobody mentions that either.

So many pins had been scraped against her skull before she walked down the aisle. That night, she sat on the edge of the claw foot bathtub in their wedding suite, half-awake in her unbuttoned dress, as her new husband pried them from her head. Even now, her hair hurts.

She glances at him, the saviour of her scalp. Somehow, he has already achieved a sun-kissed glow across the bridge of his nose. He’s wearing round sunglasses, a chocolate brown linen shirt, cream shorts and Italian loafers. It is a stark comparison to the man sitting in her living room last week, eating a bowl of cereal with milk dribbling down his chin. He squeezes her knee again, as if to tell her he can feel her staring.

June sinks into the passenger seat and enjoys the view. The village has begun to fall away into small cottages with wild gardens and stately homes on large pristine blocks.

Soon, there’s nothing but the forget-me-not sky and the sprawling sea to the left. To their right, the cliff top is covered with tall grass and wild flowers. A thick treeline runs parallel to it, like one big foreboding fence that chases the cliffs.

Their accommodation begins to appear. Its grey pitched roof sticks into the sky like a beak. Stark white weather boards and a large, twisting oak tree come into view next. The dense forest curls itself around the property. From afar, it looks like the forest is tenderly holding the building in its palm.

Marc steers the Fiat into the half-moon driveway and parks on its bend. Through the windshield, June notices a curtain of wisteria hanging from the wrought iron porch, shifting with the breeze. This is even better than she’d hoped.

‘Let the honeymoon begin,’ Marc flashes a bright smile.

June smiles back. The ache of her cheeks is tender like a bruise.

Marc climbs out and starts to untie their luggage from the roof.

‘Shall I go check us in?’ June shuts her door behind her.

A black curl flops against his forehead as he struggles with a knot.

He nods, ‘I might be a moment.’

‘No worries,’ she pecks him on the cheek and heads for the building’s French doors. Oh! And look, there’s stained glass birds on them! This place couldn’t be more perfect, she thinks.

The doors squeak as she lets herself inside. June approaches the empty reception desk and rings the brass bell. It echoes through the large old house. There’s a faint smell of cinnamon and something else. Candied ginger, perhaps. Dishes clatter sound behind the door beyond the desk that reads Employees Only. June notes the looping curls of cursive on the sign.

The door bursts open. A short older woman with wiry hair bustles out.

‘Hello there!’ she calls, not looking up.

‘Hello,’ smiles June.

The woman shuffles some things around, then clambers up a stepping stool. White strands of hair dance with each step. When she reaches the top she plonks a half eaten sandwich on the reception desk between them and meet’s June’s gaze.

‘How can I help you?’

‘I have a reservation for Hull.’

The woman grasps a pair of purple framed glasses dangling from her neck and slides them up her nose. Their thick lenses have doubled the size of her eyes. She blinks at June, unfurls a wrinkly smile then heaves out an enormous reservation book from behind the desk. She groans as she flops it open and starts furiously flicking through its pages. June can’t help but notice that every passing page is empty. The woman at the desk takes a decisive lick to her finger and flips the page to today’s date. Her finger traces down the page to Hull, party of 2.

She taps her finger then looks at June. Her brows furrow.

‘Where’s your other party?’

Before June can answer, the woman gasps. A necklace with an amethyst pendant bobbles against her chest.

‘Oh! You weren’t left at the altar were you? Lord, no. Don’t tell me!’

She sticks her hand out towards June. It is all knuckles, adorned with silver rings that all clink with her movements.

‘He’s met an untimely death! Lost at sea. No! Crushed! Crushed by the weight of the proverbial boulder he was cursed to push uphill!’

As if on cue, the French doors swing open. The woman’s eyes widen, she recoils. Marc lugs their suitcases inside in his hands and under his arms. He looks at them both, suddenly confused. June stifles her laughter.

‘Actually, he was just getting the luggage.’

The woman exhales and sets her hands on the desk.

‘Well, thank heavens for that.’

She grabs a long stick from behind the desk, climbs down and takes three steps to a wall with keys hanging from it. The stick in her hand has a hook attached to the end. She masterfully swipes the key for room six with her stick, tosses it back up on the counter and shoots out from behind the desk.

‘This way!’ She orders, not looking back.

June grabs her suitcases from Marc and smirks. They hastily follow their host down the hall.

‘My name’s Hildy. Not Hilda, not Hillary. Just Hildy. I’ll be your host here at The Wildflower Bed & Breakfast. Breakfast is served at 8 o’clock in here.’

She gestures to a large room to their right. A mahogany table takes up almost the entire space.

‘If you must, you can eat dinner in here too. All I ask is that you use the coasters and don’t leave your rubbish. I’m a host, not a housemaid. There’s a bin in the corner.’

They pass a sitting room with some pinstripe chairs and a chaise lounge inside then round a corner. Hildy nimbly starts climbing a flight of stairs. There is a black and white cat, dozing halfway up.

‘This is Norm. He won’t be much bother. But give him space in the morning. He’s a bit of a grump early in the day.’

June nods at Norm as they pass. He looks bored.

They reach the first floor of the house.

Hildy points to a large armoire in the corner of the room, ‘There’s extra blankets and towels in there if you need them. Pillows too.’

She thrusts the key into the lock and shuffles inside with the speed and grace of a rhinoceros. She flings open the windows, fluffs the pillows and fans out a musty smell that she swears will clear out in an hour or two, all in the time it takes June and Marc to lug their bags onto the foot of the bed.

The room is just like June pictured. Dainty floral wallpaper, a white iron frame bed, a nice little wooden desk by the window and a glistening sea view.

When Hildy is done fussing, she drops the key in June’s hand.

‘I imagine you’ll want to get settled then do some exploring.’

She points to the bedside table.

‘There’s a map over there of all the walking paths and local attractions.’

Hildy’s arms wave in an X formation, ‘Don’t get the fish pie from the local pub or the curry from the fish and chippery. Trust an old and wise local on that one.’

Next, she points to the dresser, ‘There’s a pamphlet over there about the local beaches. You’ll want to avoid Stony Point if you want a nice view of the sunset. Nothing but bums and litter out there.’

Finally she points towards the stairs, ‘If you need anything, I’ll be downstairs. Just holler.’

Hildy exhales hard. June wonders if she’s only used one breath to say everything.

Marc flashes his most charming smile at her.

‘Thank you, Hildy.’

She nods at him, unfazed and rushes out. The room shakes as she closes the door behind her.

Marc picks up the map. He takes a seat on the bed. Its springs squeal. He shoots a worried look at his wife.

‘Do you suppose Hildy is hard of hearing?’

June approaches the bed and rests her hand on one of its posts.

‘I expect nothing gets past her.’

The Hulls spend the rest of the day wandering about town, enjoying all the little boutiques and cafes, as one is supposed to when they’re somewhere new. They’ve advised Hildy they’ll try their luck at the pub for tea. They have solemnly noted her warning about the fish pie.

Dunswolt is abuzz. The restaurants and townhouse balconies seem to be filled with people dressed in linen and sundresses, clinking glasses of wine and laughing. There are families with rosy-cheeked children, clutching cones of ice cream melting over chubby fingers, meandering about. Elderly couples contemplate the view, holding hands and resting their heads on each other’s shoulders. It is a sickly sweet sort of summer evening.

When June and Marc eventually wander back to The Wildflower, the reception desk is empty. They had just finished the last of their wine at the pub and admired the sunset along the walking path back. The crickets and cicadas sang into the dusk, pausing as they passed. Now, they tiptoe to their room in the hopes they will not disrupt their host in the same way. There is no sign of her.

When they reach their floor, they find Norm sitting beside their door. He blinks at them, like he’s been waiting for hours.

June fumbles to find the room key in her bag. Marc pats Norm on the head. He seems uninterested in the attention. When the door opens, Norm tries to follow them inside. He yowls when Marc shoos him out.

‘Bloody thing,’ he mutters under his breath.

The room is dark, and the window is still open. Marc bumbles over to the bedside and flicks on the lamp. Warm light floods the room as June heads for the window. She catches a glimpse of herself in the reflection. Sunshine has splashed across the bridge of her nose and cheeks too. She giggles. Marc is sauntering towards her in the reflection. She pulls the window shut, then the curtains.

He wraps his arms around her.

‘You’re very beautiful.’

June laughs and leans into him. ‘So are you.’

At this Marc gasps. He points at himself as if to say, Who? Me? June laughs again. Marc smiles and stoops towards her face.

Scratch scratch scratch.

June turns her head. His kiss lands against her ear.

‘Aw,’ Marc pouts.

‘Shh!’

‘It’s probably just the cat.’

June presses her fingers against his lips. He bites at them playfully.

The sound is louder this time. A low growl follows. It is inside the room.

Marc stops nuzzling. His arms have loosened around June’s waist.

She points to the bed, ‘I think it’s under there.’

The growl grows louder and deeper.

She can feel Marc slipping away from her.

‘Where are you—’

‘I’m going to get Hildy!’

Her husband bounds across the room and flings the door open. Norm curiously watches him go, then slinks inside.

The squeal of the door’s hinges causes the thing under the bed to screech defensively.

Norm stalks the bed, his eyes glued to whatever it is that’s under there.

June can’t decide whether it is the wine or her curiosity that has gotten the better of her. She lowers herself on to her knees and braces her hands against the rug.

Beneath the shadows of the bed she can make out a lumpy figure. The reception bell frantically dings downstairs.

The creature shifts forward. Norm pads slowly around the bed, eyes fixed on it.

June can see it’s rich, amber eyes staring back at her. Waxy skin, thick folds of flesh and pointed, goblin-like ears. When the creature bares its teeth, the folds in its neck reveal a certain necklace amethyst pendant, wedged against its toad-like skin.

Sweat slicks June’s palms. She suspects Marc will have no luck finding Hildy. The empty pages of the hotel reservation book come back to her.

Norm hisses. The creature snarls.

Marc’s hurried footfall rushes back up the stairs. The creature glances at the door and emits a guttural cry. It leans into its haunches. When Marc crosses the threshold, the strange little beast launches its first attack with the ferocity of a rage-filled Pomeranian.

Marc is clutching his ankle, hopping in the furthest possible corner of the room.

‘What the hell was that?’ He yelps.

June is holding Norm in her arms. After the creature attacked her husband, he was quick to leap into the action. She couldn’t decide who screamed the loudest, Marc or the creature. The only one of them that had any composure seemed to be Norm. There is no doubt in June’s mind that he has done this before.

The cat stares at the bed. The creature has been grumbling to itself since retreating.

‘I think it’s some kind of toad,’ says June.

At this, the creature screeches.

‘Or maybe some kind of goblin?’

It goes back to its grumbling, seemingly appeased.

June lowers her voice to a whisper, ‘I think it’s Hildy.’

Marc balances on one foot. His eyes are shut tight as he peels back his fingers from his ankle, one finger at a time. He opens one eye and dares to look. Miraculously, his ankle remains intact. His greenish veins are safely tucked behind tanned flesh. Although there are impressions of a few jagged teeth marks.

He blinks at his wife. Her words have finally reached his ears.

‘Hildy?’ He barks.

The creature shrieks and begins to shake so much that the bed is rattling.

Norm wriggles under her grip. June tries to soothe him by patting his head. He twists away, eyes still locked to the bottom of the bed,

‘I have a plan,’ she whispers, ‘follow me.’

Staying close to the wall, June heads towards the bedroom door. When they are directly across from the bed, she begins to kneel.

‘What on earth are you—’

‘Trust me!’ She hisses.

Marc frowns but obeys.

The creature has started to growl on repeat. Norm attempts to press forward. June keeps her arms tight around him.

Feeling like she is running out of time, June puts on her best teacher voice.

‘Is that you, Hildy?’

The creature gawps briefly, then looks to Norm. It begins to hiss and whine, then recommences its growling.

‘It’s alright, I’ve got him. I promise, no harm will come to you.’

The creature looks to Marc.

‘You’ve given him a fright, that’s all. Why don’t you come out?’

The creature looks back at her. It swallows, then takes one hop forward.

‘There you go, it’s okay.’

The creature hops again. Its glistening teeth catch the lamplight.

‘Do you remember us, Hildy? You checked us in this afternoon? June and Marc. The Hulls, remember?’

The creature hops forward three more times. It stops to linger by the leg of the bed frame. The pendant is clearly in view.

Beside her, June can feel Marc move.

The creature is watching him too.

‘What are you doing?’

He begins to rise to his feet. Its ears point towards him.

‘It’s okay…I think I can…’

He pushes off the wall and leaps at it. The creature launches itself at him, snarling. Norm thrashes in her arms, desperate to get involved.

The flurry of movement before her is swift. They crash into the bed; feathers burst from furnishings and books clatter from the bedside.

Marc has caught the creature tightly around the abdomen, but his victory is short-lived. It chomps at his wrist. Marc cries out and drops the creature. It scurries towards June and Norm, who is hissing and scratching in the creature’s general direction. Marc grabs the crook of her elbow and pulls them out the bedroom door. He slams it shut behind them with mere moments to spare. The creature thumps against the door. It shrieks and screeches. Marc keeps his hands tight around the doorknob. June drops Norm from her arms.

‘Why did you do that?’ She shoves her husband.

His hands remain closed on the doorknob. His eyes are shut tight again.

‘This isn’t real. This isn’t real.’

The creature beats against the door.

‘It is real. You’ve just locked our host in our room.’

Marc’s eyes grow wide.

‘I forgot the key! I’m going to be stuck here all night!’ he wails.

June finds herself rolling her eyes. She stalks across the room and grabs a chair from beside the armoire. She wedges it beneath the doorknob. Marc releases his grip and rubs his freshly bitten wrist.

His bottom lip puckers. June feels the urge to smack him.

She marches back to the armoire and begins pulling out supplies.

He follows. June pushes a set of sheets and pillows into his chest.

‘Go put these on the chaise lounge in the sitting room downstairs, I’ll be right behind you.’

Marc does what she says. Norm watches him go from his seat by their door.

She fishes out a woollen blanket and finds a box marked Pillow Mints behind it. Suddenly, she has an idea.

She grabs the box and heads back towards the door. It is still rattling, but with less enthusiasm.

‘It’s okay, Hildy, it’s only me. I have something for you.’

The rattling stops. Norm eyes her.

June glances back at the stairwell. It is empty.

She unwraps a pillow mint and slips it under the door. There is an instant sound of lip smacking.

Sharp, long nails attached to waxy, lumpy fingers curl under the door and make the universal gesture for ‘more.’

June unwraps another three and hands them over. The slender fingers are quick to swipe them. She begins working on unwrapping more as the creature wolfs them down.

The hand returns. This time, June slides fifteen pillow mints under the door. The creature squeals with delight and gobbles them up. Then, there is a large burp. June is still unwrapping more when it begins to snore. She slides ten more under, just in case, and gets back on her feet. Norm vigilantly watches the underside of the door, but nothing happens. As June pulls the chair away, she notices he has curled up. His eyes begin to slow-blink into tired submission. She takes her blanket and retreats to the sitting room.

When she reaches the chaise lounge, Marc is already snoring. She drops the blanket on his head.

He sits bolt upright with a start. When he realises it was her he scoots over.

‘Tomorrow, we’re finding somewhere else to stay. This is not what we signed up for.’

June adjusts her pillow and thinks about how much she suddenly misses her toothbrush, held captive in their room. Despite this, she’s enjoying their stay so far. Marc is already snoring before she can tell him so.

The twitter of strange birds wakes June the next morning. It is early, she surmises. The light outside is still pale and soft. Dappled light filters in through the oak tree outside. Through bleary eyes, she takes in her surroundings.

The walls of the sitting room are burgundy, with crown moulding and a modest chandelier above. Flecks of light through the oak tree catch its beading.

Marc shifts beside her. The small of her back feels like it has slept on a fist. She wriggles, it has. Wedged beneath her is Marc’s hand. He stirs and retrieves it from under her.

‘G’morning,’ his voice is hoarse. He flexes and tightens his hand into a fist repeatedly.

‘Morning.’

June rubs her eyes again. Marc makes a long, gasping sound. It is not what she would call a flattering yawn. A little more dramatic today than usual, though. When she pulls her hands away from her eyes, she notices he is staring past her. June turns around.

Curled up on the cream carpet next to them, fast asleep, is the goblin-like creature. Norm watches it from one of the pinstripe armchairs like it earns him a wage.

‘I thought I dreamt it,’ whispers Marc.

‘Nope.’

A spot of sunlight filters through the oak tree and touches the creature. It begins to stir. Marc tenses beside her. June puts her hand on his forearm and points.

‘Look.’

As the creature wriggles, its body stretches and changes.

Waxy, bumpy skin turns pale and wrinkled. Tufts of white hair begin to sprout from its head. Big amber eyes fling open and turn to a soft shade of green. The amethyst pendant swings around the neck with her movements.

Suddenly, before them is a very confused, and very nude, Hildy.

She frowns at the sight of them on the chaise.

‘Was the room not to your liking?’ She asks.