The Secret Life of Mrs. Penny Roberts

CW: Kidnapping, murder

Thump thump. Her concentration broke from the book she was reading. Looking around, Penny set down her book. Nothing out of sorts in the dark front yard. “What could that be?”

She grumbled to herself. The clock on the wall read eleven. “Oh my,” she said to herself as she slipped her reading glasses off. The time had gotten away from her. 

Thump. Thump.

“What on earth is that noise?” To the bedroom she went, checking out the window that faced the backyard. Again, nothing out of the ordinary. My word. It’s probably nothing, you old fool. Rubbing her eyes, she walked into the kitchen and set the kettle on the stove. A cup of tea would do wonders for her right now. 

Since her husband, Harold, passed away a month ago, she has slept little. Perhaps around two she would fall asleep, sitting up in her chair, book still in her lap. Nights were lonely but were better when accompanied by her fictional friends.

Thump. Oh dear, that sounds like it is in the house. Penny stopped at the kitchen doorway, peering down the hallway in both directions. Thump. That sounded as if it was upstairs. Penny eyed the stairs, dread forming in her stomach. No, I won’t go up there. I haven’t been up there since Harold left me. 

The kettle whistled, and Penny made herself busy preparing her tea. Thump. “No. It’s nothing. I won’t go upstairs, damn it.”

Harold would have gone right up and checked. Nothing disturbed the man. Even strangers arriving unexpectedly.

A young man knocked on the door one afternoon. Harold opened the door. “Why, hello young man!”

The salesperson reached out, shaking Harold’s hand enthusiastically. He had joined the couple at dinner. Fried chicken and blueberry pie. It was dark when he tried to leave. Thump, thump went his tires as he tried to pull away. All four tires were flat. They offered him the use of their upstairs bedroom. The man was asleep before they closed the door. The couple smiled at each other knowingly.

Penny sipped her tea, returning to her chair. What a nice young man, she thought to herself, smiling at the memory. Few people show up uninvited anymore. Traveling salesmen belonged to the past. Harold loved when they came; he always made a new friend. 

“Penny,” Harold then snapped his fingers. “Penny, dear. It seems you’ve missed a spot.” He says, pointing at the bathtub. The smell of bleach hung in the air. “I’ll open this window and air it out.”

“Yes, you’re right.” Penny said as she scrubbed at a coppery-colored stain on the tub wall.

Thump, crash. “Oh my,” she looked at the ceiling; dust rained down. What exactly is happening up there?

“It’s just the cat.” She shrugged; I’ll clean up the mess tomorrow. These old legs are tired tonight. She settled into her chair, picked up her book, and began reading again. Thump. Frustrated, she set the book down. The cat was really disturbing. Perhaps the television would be better. Then at least she could drown out the noise upstairs. She turned on the television, staring at the screen. She and Harold had been married for forty years. At night, the quiet of the house unnerved her. Life was so much more fun before Harold passed away. Now it was always one meaningless task after another.

“Ooh, boy. We’re having fun tonight, Penny, aren’t we, dear?” Music played in the darkened room. An overhead light swung in circles. Harold’s eyes had that wild look in them. The kind that made Penny lose control of her normal modesty. She felt it rising. “Yeah, sugar. Loads of fun.”

She pulled him close, kissing him deeply. 

Penny sighed, blotting her eyes with a tissue. Harold knew how to make the time pass. In this house, without him, there was nothing. There was another loud thud from upstairs, jarring the photos on the wall. Shaking her head, she got up. She grumbled as she walked to the staircase. That damn cat. These damn old legs. She gripped the railing as she slowly made her way up the stairs. She would get no peace if she didn’t check now.

What is that annoying cat doing up here causing such a racket? With a huff, she climbed the final stair. She listened for the sound again but heard nothing. She walked into her bedroom, turning the light on. There was nothing out of place. The bed lay made, pillows neatly at the top, just as she left them the morning Harold passed away. She saw Harold’s pants folded on top of the chest at the end of the bed. With a heavy sigh, she closed the door. THUMP. The spare bedroom. 

Something low in her stomach pulled taut. She did not want to enter that room. THUMP. The sound was louder now that she was upstairs. She stood in front of the door, her hand shaking. Oh. Oh my. The cat died two years ago…

Another crash sounded from behind the door. Penny’s shaking hand twisted the doorknob, opening the door. She felt around on the wall, searching for the light switch. With a flick of her hand, she filled the room with light. There was nothing to see. Hearing soft moans from the far side of the room, she peered over the side of the bed.

There lay a man with his hands bound behind his back and his feet bound. He jerked around, his eyes frantically moving around the room. “Oh dear. I forgot all about you.”

Penny smiled and sat on the bed, staring at the man on the floor. “Just what do I do with you now?”

Pitiful moans muffled through the scarf tied over his mouth. When did I last come up here? Her fingers tapped on her leg as she searched her mind. Two weeks after Harold’s funeral. He was selling a new phone service. Her famous blueberry pie did the job it was always supposed to do. Only Harold wasn’t here anymore.