The Long Way Home by Phillip Overton
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Across the street, the Bradley’s had heard the argument start up as they sat down in front of the television to watch Sale of the Century. At first they had simply turned the volume up on the TV, but after a few minutes that no longer worked. The sound of fighting came into their home, so loud that they could make out some of the words. It was going to be one of those nights again.
Jim and Laura Bradley were a retired couple in their sixties. They had lived in this house for fifteen years, a white weatherboard house similar in design to every other house in the street, including the Smalls. Three years ago Doug and Rowena had introduced themselves when they had bought the house opposite. They seemed like any nice young couple wanting to start a family. She was already pregnant when they moved in. Within a week of bringing the newborn home, the fighting began. At first it was just the odd squabble here and there, raised voices, the usual stuff any couple adjusting to changes might experience. Then it developed into the screaming fits, slamming doors, arguments spilling out onto the front lawn so that the whole street could hear, until finally this. Twice in the last six months they had called the police, and Jim was getting sick of it. Sure, the police could file a domestic disturbance report, but as neighbours, that only made it more difficult for each of them to pass in the street.
The last time the police were called out, Doug had stopped by the next day and pleaded with Jim to let them know first if things were getting a little too loud. He was very apologetic, explained that they were just having some relationship problems and that it wouldn’t happen again, which was wrong. It had happened again, and each time only made Jim more apprehensive to do anything.
“Laura, I’m going to go over,” he finally spoke up when it appeared futile to pretend for a moment longer that they couldn’t hear anything.
“Are you sure that’s what you want to do Jim?”
“No. However, it is what he wanted us to do next time and it’s the third big argument they’ve had this month. We can’t just go on pretending we don’t hear them. I’ve had about enough of it.”
“Do be careful Jim.”
“Of course. And if that doesn’t work, I’ll call out the constable myself.” With that, he got up out of his chair and walked over to the front door to slip on his shoes. Laura got up also and followed him.
“Jim,” she called after him. “Shouldn’t we just phone the police anyway? No good will come out of getting involved.”
By now he already had his shoes on and swung the front door open. The sound of plates smashing could be heard from across the street. They were screaming hysterically at each other in the foulest language imaginable. The commotion had also brought other residents into the street Jim noticed as he stepped out into the night.
“Jim,” Laura spoke more firmly this time, a sense of fear creeping into her voice as she stood in the open doorway behind him. He stopped and turned to look at her, wrapped up in a lemon flannelette dressing gown. Her short brown hair parted neatly atop a face that was now a pale white, wide blue eyes, mouth drawn open in concern for her husband. “Don’t go over there.”
“Hey Jim,” someone called from his front yard. Jim turned to recognize Laurie walking towards him across the front lawn.
“Hi Laurie.”
“Just came over to see if you’d like to pay a visit on our neighbours with me.” He said firmly. Laurie was a broad man in his late forties, graying black hair and leathery tanned skin. He worked over at Sterling Brothers timber yard in West Gosford.
“Yeah sure,” he turned reassuringly to speak to Laura at the same time. “See love it’s all right now, I’ll go over with Laurie. It’s just a visit to make sure everything is all right, that’s all.”
“More a visit to tell ‘em to shut up I think,” Laurie slipped in. “C’mon Jim I want this over before Cop Shop starts on TV or we’ll get the real cops out here to deal with this.”
That brought a smile to Laura’s face and she stepped back inside the doorway and watched her husband stroll across the lawn alongside Laurie who was twice his size. Laurie was still dressed in his worn denim jeans, sweatshirt and work boots, while Jim wore brown corduroys, a plaid shirt and slip on loafers. Others had gathered on the street in front of their house, perhaps in a show of support, but more likely out of sheer curiosity. While across the road the sound of plates smashing from inside reached fever pitch.
Jim and Laurie walked across the front lawn of the Small’s house, the screaming from inside was almost deafening. Jim swallowed hard. If he didn’t have Laurie beside him now, he probably would have taken Laura’s advice and turned around right then and there, gone home and left it to the police to handle. But Laurie was here with him. Everyone in the street knew and liked Laurie. If there was a problem of any kind, he wanted to be the first to know. The truth was Laurie was never home. Everyone knew he liked his drink. It was no secret that the pub was his second home and to go and get him when something like this happened would have meant a walk into town to the nearest hotel.
Inside she was swearing at him hysterically and he was yelling back at her with all his might. Although now that they were nearing their front porch, they could distinguish by his yells that it sounded like he was hurt. The front window breaking stopped them both dead in their tracks. The sound of shattering glass filled the street, and then there was silence for about five seconds. Even the baby that had been screaming for the last half hour stopped crying. It didn’t take a genius to figure that something had been thrown through the window.
“Good Lord,” Jim muttered as a horrible thought entered his mind. They hadn’t thrown the baby through the window had they? Then the baby screamed aloud once more as on cue the front door swung wide open and Doug stumbled out through the doorway, bleeding profusely from his mouth and a cut above his left eye. Tripping over the front door mat he lurched forward awkwardly, stumbled on the front porch and fell head first over the edge, landing face down on the wet grass. Jim and Laurie both rushed forward to his side and rolled him over on to his back.
“Please tell me he’s okay?” Jim exclaimed as the front porch light revealed a nasty gash over his left eye. His upper lip was cut badly, two teeth had been knocked out of his mouth and he was bleeding profusely as he lay in a groggy, motionless state. The extent of his injuries caused Jim’s throat to knot. Turning towards the onlookers who had gathered in the street he shouted, “Somebody call an ambulance. Quickly, he needs help.”
“I’m on to it.” Immediately one of the men turned and ran back up the street to make the call.
“Keep his head sideways,” Laurie instructed and put his finger in Doug’s mouth, gently brushing away another two loose teeth. “We don’t want them getting stuck in his windpipe.”
Doug laid sprawled out on the front lawn, aware only that there were people around him in his half-conscious state. His head throbbed with pain from the inch long gash above his left eye. He recalled sheltering behind the dining room doorway while being pelted with the entire contents of the kitchen. He never saw what struck him in the mouth but remembered dropping to his knees and spitting out two of his front teeth onto the dining room carpet, watching as they disappeared in a pool of red blood before staggering to his feet and stumbling outside onto the front lawn.
“Doug?”
Jim and Laurie both turned as one to see Rowena standing on the front porch, she was quiet and subdued despite the screams of her son still filling the house behind her. Sobbing and trying to catch her breath, strands of long black hair clung to her tear streaked face as she tried to speak.
“Doug. Are you all right? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Doug. Please be all right.”
“You stay away from him do you hear?” Laurie boomed at her. He spoke with authority. “You’ve done enough to him lady, you leave him alone.”
“But Doug I’m sorry. Doug I didn’t mean it I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She let the tears flow, sobbing uncontrollably as her mournful wail filled the
“Is he dead?” One of the onlookers dared to ask.
“No he’s not,” Laurie barked back.
The man who had raced off to phone for an ambulance returned and ran over to Laurie’s side. “Geez, what a mess. Ambulance is on its way. Anything else I can do?”
“Yeah, better get everyone well back.” Laurie directed. By now, he had taken off his sweatshirt and placed it carefully under Doug’s head. Partly to keep his head off the cold damp ground but mostly to try and stop the blood flow from his mouth and head. “Tell ‘em to go back to their homes, give the ambos’ some room when they get here.”
Laurie turned to face Rowena who had now made her way closer to where her husband lay semi-conscious on the front lawn. Speaking in a lowered voice so that the onlookers couldn’t hear what he was about to say, he grumbled menacingly at her. “Lady, I suggest you go back inside to that baby of yours we’ve all heard crying for goodness knows how long and see what you can do to calm it down. You’ll also want to pray that the welfare people don’t have the commonsense to take it away from you and place it in proper care. Do you understand where I’m coming from?”
There was no reply, just an understanding tearful nod and Rowena turned and left the small crowd of onlookers to go back inside.
Laurie turned to Jim. “Better call the police mate, they’re going to want to hear all about this.”
“I don’t think we need to,” he replied turning to look back up the street. Laurie followed the direction of his stare to the patrol car that was slowly making its way along the street. The lights flashed on at the last minute and it gave a quick sound of the siren as it pulled up in front of the house. In the distance, they could hear another siren wailing as an ambulance raced toward the scene.
“Hang on mate,” Laurie spoke softly to Doug. “It’s going to be all right.”