A Rest Stop At The Red Post

What are you waiting for?

This is the fifth tale in my short story collection, You Want It Darker. Each tale is designed to be read alone, but recurring characters will pop up throughout the collection.

Mum started moaning in the backseat.

“Gotta go! Gotta go!”

Ben sighed. “There’s nowhere nearby,” he said, exasperated. “Can she hold it until the next village or something?”

I shook my head. “No,” I grumbled. “It’s either the roadside or your car seat. Hang on - what’s that?” I squinted through the windscreen. The weather had been sullen all day, culminating in a late afternoon fog that loitered across the road.

Looming up ahead was a red-painted post.

“Turn here!” I almost shouted.

“Really?”

Ben slowed down enough to see the inn emerge from the fog. He hastily spun the driver’s wheel, and the tyres squealed as we made a sharp turn across the road onto the side road.

I patted my chest and waited for my heart to slow down. Thank God there was no traffic coming the other way. Mum cackled in the back.

“More warning, next time, Jenny,” Ben grumbled. He carefully steered the car onto the forecourt and paused to gaze at the building. It was an odd amalgam of an old country cottage, roadhouse and stables. Right now, however, the lights were on, and there were people inside. That was good enough for me.

I helped Mum out of the car and into the roadhouse section. It was a single open room, with the bar at one end and a wood-fired stove at the other. Instead of an open fire, they had elected for a woodburning stove.

“We could be a while,” I whispered to Ben. “Grab a drink from the bar and some crisps for us.”

Mum was confused by the toilets and kept asking, “Are we going on holiday?” I agreed we were, and she rattled on about our trip to Norfolk while my heart broke a little more inside. We’d taken that holiday when I was nine.

“We could go to the lavender farms,” I suggested as we dried our hands. Mum shook her head. “Jen would never cope with the pollen,” she proclaimed confidently. I opened my mouth, then shut it again.

“OK,” I agreed. I had no idea who she thought I was. “Let’s get a drink, and then we can go to our campsite, yeah?”

I settled her at one of the pub tables near the stove and sidled up to Ben, who was leaning against the bar. Remarkable, he was staring at the barmaid instead of his phone. She was pretty enough in a pinched sort of way, with white hair and blue eyes, but something felt off. She smiled at me and placed a pint of cider on the tray before him, along with two glasses of wine and salted crisps.

“On the house,” she said to Ben.

Ben smiled back, then caught her hand and kissed it, bowing like a knight out of the stories. I stared open-mouthed.

“Thank you,” he said. He nodded at me as though nothing had happened and picked up the tray.

“What was that?” I asked him as we walked to Mum’s table.

“What was what?”

“That thing with the hand? And why are you drinking cider - you hate the stuff! Plus, you are driving.”

Ben shrugged. “One won’t hurt.”

“We’re going to Mulder’s Farm,” Mum informed us as we sat down. She leaned closer to Ben. “Don’t tell the kids,” she whispered, “but I’ve got surprise tickets for the lighthouse.”

Ben nodded, covering up his wince with a sip from his pint glass. “Sounds great,” he managed.

Mum grinned back. “We might be able to get some time together, too, Drew,” she said with a wink, raising her glass. I hastily intervened, clinking my wine to hers.

“To holidays,” I said a little loudly.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do this,” Ben announced, throwing his hands. He left our table, me tight-lipped, and Mum’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “What’s gotten into him?” she asked me.

“Stress,” I said firmly. “Give me a moment - would you like to play Candy Crush?” The game was my secret weapon to keep her in one spot whilst I did something else.
“Rots your brain, those games,” Mum retorted.
“Snake, then?”

That was acceptable, and I set it up on her phone before returning to the bar. A tall, clean-shaven man had replaced the barmaid. Ben was peering over his shoulder into the kitchen.

“She’s out the front,” the man said, wiping his hands on his serving apron. He gave me a wink.

“Oh, he’s my brother,” I said, flustered. “I’m Jenny.” I ignored Ben, who left the bar in a huff.

“Daniel,” the guy said. He leaned forward, and I realised he had gold flecks in his eyes, along with his smile. “Are you local?”

I leaned into him, ignoring that he was ten years younger than me. He smelled of woodsmoke and mint. “Not very. This was a quick stop on the way home.”

“Ah. In that case, I should warn you we’ve got some guests coming. You are welcome to stay, but don’t be surprised when they turn up. They are a bit…odd.”

I blinked. “Guests?” I tilted my head to one side. God, it had been so long since I last flirted. “Bikers, farmers or swingers?”

He laughed, then. “None of that! It’s not your average club. Look, I’m here as a favour for my friend. I’ve been around and seen a few things, and I’m even wary of this lot.” He patted my hand. “ I would go before it gets dark.” His eyes lifted from mine briefly to scan the room. “Your Mum needs you.”

I had a small stab of guilt. How’d I forgotten about her?

“Thanks,” I said, straightening up and summoning the last scraps of my dignity. Of course, he wouldn’t be interested. I’m just a carer with forehead lines and ragged fingernails.

I returned to the table. Mum was happily stabbing the phone, muttering to herself. I glanced at the screen, where the snake obediently followed her finger. Mum used to love Suduko and Chess, but her interest in them declined with her attention span.

I sipped at my wine. For those few minutes, I’d been free, untethered and selfish. I’d forgotten what that felt like.

The door flapped open as a new group entered. I looked up, hoping to see Ben and get the hell out of here. Instead, a quartet of strangers made their way to the bar: three men and one woman. They looked like they had come from a history fair. The woman wore a bright green cloak with a straw bonnet; the men had fitted knee-high trousers, linen shirts and long coats with shining pewter buttons. They were all unshaven, splashed with mud and had accents so thick I could not make out the words. Daniel nodded to them as he handed out pewter tankards. It looked like he had filled them up ahead of time.

“Weirdos”, Mum muttered. She extended her finger, and her voice rose: “Look! He’s forgotten ‘is socks!”

“Yeah, Mum,” I said, my cheeks flaming. I gently pushed her finger back down. Luckily, no one from the bar turned around. “Let’s find Ben and get out of here.”

The door flapped open, and two more men arrived; they looked like something from the Civil War, complete with wigs. A small girl rang in, barefoot with a dirty smock on. The rest of the crowd ignored her. She couldn’t have been more than five.

I bit my lip; why was she alone?

Besides me, Mum was hustling to her feet and huffing. I picked up my phone and tried to call Ben, but there was no reception. Quietly, I took her elbow and helped her navigate around the table.

“Wanna go home,” Mum muttered.
“Yeah, me too,” I agreed.

As we passed by the group at the bar, I stopped and squatted down to the girl’s level. She stared at me with deep brown eyes, sucking her thumb.

“Where’s your Mum?” I asked gently. “Are you lost?” She shook her head mutely. I reached out to touch her and winced at the chill from her clothing. It was like the cold off a freezer.

“Jenny - don’t!” Daniel yelled from above. Startled, I straightened up, and the girl disappeared, squeezing backwards into a thicket of legs.

Daniel's eyes were wide with alarm as he made the cutting gesture, waving his hand back and forth in front of his throat.

“What-?!” I muttered, astonished. Then, with a gut punch, I realised Mum had wandered off again. I couldn’t see her in the room; she must’ve gone outside.

“Oh, hell’s bells”, I moaned and darted to the doors. They opened slowly under protest, and the small part of me who was not panicking wondered how Mum had managed it. I had to throw my entire weight against the handle to get it to move. I didn’t recall Ben having this problem when we entered.

Daylight had given up entirely, and the fog had thickened to the point I couldn’t see the road a hundred metres away. Hell, I couldn’t see our car either.

“Mum!” I shouted. “Ben?”

“Over here!” a feminine voice called back, and I rounded the corner to find the white-haired girl, and Ben huddled under the smokers’ corner. The girl was smoking a roll-up, the scent rolling over me like a burned meadow. Ben had his patented scowl fixed, his eyebrows drawn together like a bull’s horns.

“Mum’s wandered off,” I said helplessly.

“Why’d you leave her alone?” Ben asked irritably.
”You left us!” I snapped back, stung by the injustice. “We were waiting for you to come back so we could go home.”

“A bit late for that,” the girl murmured, tapping the ash on the floor.

“Yeah, I know. We’ll have to go slow in this weather. Come on, Ben, we need to find Mum.”

Ben huffed and looked at the girl. “Duty calls, Celeste. Came we talk again?”

"Ben…” I half-yelled. “You can grab her number on the way out. Mum’s not good at night, and she could be anywhere.”

“She’ll be round the back, in the kitchen,” Celeste interrupted. She pinched off the top of the roll-up with a soft exhale, snuffing out the flame. “I’ll take you to her.”

“What makes you so sure?” I said, calmer now, but still truculently.

Her pale eyes met mine again. Despite her being shorter and slighter than myself, I felt a spike of danger. “I have a sense about these things. Besides, there’s nowhere else for her to go now.”

“Right,” I said, falling back on defensive sarcasm. “She wouldn’t have wandered into the road, down the lane or anywhere else.”

Ben frowned at me. “Her name’s Celeste,” he said a little aggressively. “She’s given us help, drink and shelter - you can at least be polite about it.”

I held my hands up and backed away. “Fine,” I spat. “I’ll find Mum and manage her whilst you play hooky like you’re fifteen with the barmaid. No offence,” I added to her.

Celeste’s lips twitched upwards as if she didn’t want to ruin her resting bitch-face. “It's immaterial. I am not the barmaid. I’m just waiting here like everyone else.”

“Oh. Right,” I said, confused. “So, who runs the place?”

Celeste shrugged. “A human, usually. Tonight’s different.”

I opened my mouth, but Ben interrupted me. “Who are you waiting for?” he asked. I saw his fingers move in his left-hand pocket and guessed he was pinching them together. It was a nervous habit from his childhood.

Celeste smiled and tugged his arm. “Not ‘who,” she said softly, leading us away from the shelter. “It’s ‘what.”

My brain finally caught up with my ears. “What d’you mean, ‘human?”

Celeste walked towards the side path leading to the kitchen's back door. “Your family and Daniel, of course,” she said as factual as an iron bar. “Everyone else is uncanny or dead.”

*

Mum was stirring a pot on the range stove, half-full of spaghetti. The open tin rolled underfoot, spilling out tomato sauce across the floor. Thankfully, the stove was not lit, but I could smell the gas escaping. Daniel stepped up to talk to her, discreetly shutting the flow off.

“The children need feeding,” Mum told me. She sniffed and rubbed a tear from her eye. “They’ll be home soon.”

“OK,” I said, rubbing her back to soothe her. “Ben can get them food - you can sit down whilst I make you some tea.” I cast a warning glance at my brother, who rolled his eyes.

Celeste stepped up, bright as a button. Mum glanced at her, then looked down at the floor. “Hello, Mrs Dyas - can I help?”

“S’ not time yet,” Mum muttered, pushing off Celeste’s hand. “Away with you.”

“She doesn’t mean to be rude,” I interjected. “She gets confused easily in the evenings.”

Celeste bent down until her eyes met Mum’s. “On the contrary,” she murmured. “Deborah Dyas knows exactly who I am. We first met on her grandmother’s death day.”

I felt the hairs stand up on my neck. Mum reared back, spitting at Celeste’s face. “You never said! Not for her or my sister!”

“It wasn’t my place to say, then,” Celeste said, unmoved. She straightened up and wiped away the clear dribble on her cheek. “But I’ll answer you now.”

Ben put down a mug of lukewarm water, the teabag bobbing in it. “Here you go,” he said with fake cheeriness. He carefully hustled Celeste away, just out of Mum’s sightline, his face dropping an octave into something closer to violence. “We’re going now. Please leave her alone.”

Celeste shook her head. “No.”

“No? You’re gonna keep us here? What did you mean by everyone is dead?”

Celeste motioned towards the double doors that led to the bar. “See for yourself.”

He hesitated and walked out. We waited. I found a teaspoon for Mum and checked my phone. There was no signal. Celeste helped herself to a glass of tap water.

Finally, Ben came back, pale-faced and followed by Daniel.

“The car’s gone,” he said, his throat squeaking at the last word. He licked his lips and stared at the barkeep. “Where did you put it?”

“Nowhere,” Daniel said. “It’s still in the car park. But you’re here in the Red Post, at the crossroads on the last moon of the year. I hoped you would be gone by now, but the place has caught you, too. Everyone who walks in tonight is waiting for something.”

“The bar’s full,” Ben told me. I rose to my feet, and he touched my arm. “Don’t go out there. I saw people with blackened necks and missing heads.”

“Yeah,” Daniel said quickly. “Best not to. The Red Post was a hangman’s stop for a long time. It had its fair share of travellers, prisoners, suicides and smugglers - lots of violent deaths. They’re all out there. It’s a good thing you didn’t touch them, Jenny.”

“Waiting for what?” I asked blankly.

Celeste shrugged. “Whatever’s keeping them here. Absolution, forgiveness or something else. I come by to see if they are ready to move on.”

Daniel saw my confusion. “She’s a banshee,” he explained. “A kind of death fairy.”

“We only came in to go to the loo,” I said, pleading really. “We’re not here to die!”

“I know,” Dan said reassuringly. “I’m not, either. Celeste thought I might help move some of the spirits on by jogging their memory. No luck, so far.”

“So how do we get out?” Ben asked. He glanced down at Mum, who was playing with the teabag. “Because we’re not waiting for anything.”

“That’s right,” I echoed him staunchly. “We just want to get home.”

*

It turned out that the Red Post had an honest-to-God smugglers room. Daniel led us to the unlit fireplace in the main house behind the bar and pointed to the metal rungs leading into the chimney. “It’s only a few steps up, and then there’s a door to a secret room. Light switch on the left. Stay there, and you should return to the normal world in a few hours.”

“Really?” Ben asked sceptically.

“Well, that’s the theory. Since it’s part of the crossroads lore, you should be protected from notice when our patrons return to their graves.”

“Won’t the smugglers look in here?” I asked nervously.

“Nah. They’re currently fighting over a thirteenth-century lass who died from the plague. Celeste says it’s like watching a very boring, very predictable movie. She was hoping to shake things up this time round.”

Ben climbed up the fireplace, and I heard him bang on the hollow door. Mum flinched at the sound. “Will you be OK?” I asked Daniel. “Since you are alive?”

“Yeah. I walked into fairyland a decade ago, and they won’t let me leave without saying goodbye first. I’m immune to this lot.”

“I’ve got so many questions,” I breathed.
Daniel grinned down at me. “We should get together when this is over,” he said.

I felt my smile curl up around my lips, like a flame at the edge of a paper.
“We should,” I agreed. “Want my number?”

Ben thumped down on the floor behind us, making me jump and Daniel laugh. “let’s go,” he said gruffly. “Weirdest night ever.”

There was just one problem.

Mum refused to walk into the chimney.

We tried begging, cajoling, bribing, and even lifting her to the room. She pushed back, dropping heavily to the floor and started to wail. Celeste appeared irritated.

“You’re attracting attention,” she hissed at Daniel, who held his palms up in an apology.

“She’s scared,” he said apologetically.

“Maybe she should stay,” Ben said unexpectedly from behind.

“Ben, no!” I hissed guilt and shame, twisting my stomach. Because there was a tiny part of me that agreed. It would be so easy to give up now. “You can’t say that.”

Ben stared down at the floor, like Mum had earlier in the kitchen. “What’s she got to look forward to, Jen? When was the last time she recognised us? She spends most of her life upset or scared, and it’s getting worse. Hell, she thought I was Dad tonight!”

I shook my head. “Maybe if you helped more, instead of leaving everything to me or the carers, we would have a chance.” My voice rose at the end of the sentence, punctuated by Mum’s wailing. I was losing it.

“A chance for what?” Ben asked me. “Sitting there in an adult nappy, trying to swallow food? Do you really think Mum would want an end like that?” His voice broke a bit. “She can’t be left alone, and I can’t keep doing this. Neither can you.”

I leaned back on the bar. “I can’t send her into a care home, Ben. She hated this weekend - the respite staff said she asked to go home the entire time.”

“Yeah,” Ben snorted. “But I’d bet, pennies to pounds; she was talking about our old family home in Marhamchurch, not the flat she has now.”

“So what if she was?” I snapped back.

Celeste held up a slim, white hand.

“Has anyone asked Deborah what she wants?” she said.

Ben shook his head. “She won’t understand.”

“Let me try,” Celeste said, smiling at him. “In return, if I do get an answer, will you abide by it?”

“Yes,” I said instantly. It was petty and childish, but I needed someone on my side for once. Mum was bound to say she wanted to go home, which might persuade Ben to help more. He was only with me today because I didn’t like driving in the dark.

Ben scowled at me and nodded at her.

Then, Celeste took Mum’s hand and sang snatches of songs, doggerel and nursery rhymes. Within ten minutes, Mum was calm again and half-singing back.

“Where do you want to go? Who do you want to see?” Celeste asked her in a beautiful soprano.

Mum wiped her eyes. “I want to go home,” she said.
I grinned.
“I want to see Mummy,” she added. “And have cocoa.”
I felt an icy pit open up in my stomach.
“She doesn’t mean that!” I protested. “She just wants comfort…”
“It’s her answer,” Celeste said, unmoving. “You said you would accept it.”
Ben stepped in and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “What will you do?” he asked shakily. “Will she be stuck here?”

Celeste sighed. “No. I swear by the three Fates that I will take her to see her mother.”

“Her mum’s dead,” Ben pointed out.

“So?”

I stepped forward to hug Mum. “Will I see you again?” I asked, staring into her eyes. Mum stared back at me - my mum, for a moment, unclouded by the dementia. “Of course, darling.” She squeezed my hands. “‘Always.”

There was a loud bang from outside the door, and Daniel cursed. “C’mon!” someone yelled outside. “Whist and more beer!”

“Get into the room,” Daniel half-yelled before he left to deal with the ghost. Ben circled his arms around Mum in a long, hard hug, and then we climbed into the chimney. The slim rungs bit into my palms, and the dusty room made me cough. It was a tiny space with a swinging light and a stack of cardboard boxes. When Ben investigated, it turned out to be receipts and old tax returns. “Ironic for a smuggler’s room,” he mumbled. He cuffed at his eyes for the fourth time.

“Do you think we did the right thing?” I asked. I didn’t bother to hide my tears. I felt like the world’s worst daughter.

From outside, I heard a distant cheer.

Ben inched down on the floor next to me. “I don’t know, Jen. I’m hoping I’ll wake up and this is just a bad dream.”

I felt the grit under my fingertips and my hot, frantic tears. “It’s not a dream,” I said. “She was real. It’s all real.”

*

We dozed in the small, stuffy room, which warmed rapidly thanks to our body heat. When the urge to pee got too strong, we shimmied down the ladder again—to the surprise of the current homeowner, who thought we were burglars.

“The bar was closed last night.” he kept telling us. “The entire campsite is shut down for refurbishment over the winter.”

We found our car, of course. There was no sign of Mum despite us looking. Instead, when I numbly rang the police to report her missing, they told me her body had been found sitting in the kitchen of her childhood home near Liverpool. They had no idea how she had got there or entered the house.

A cold cup of cocoa was on the table in front of her.