Pest Control-12

Read part 11 - here

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Service Apartments 

a signboard outside the bastard’s house had cheerfully read, or would have had the Govt. notice not been boldly stuck on its face.

Uma stood in what felt like a squatters colony where the dregs of society held their weekly convention. 

It wasn’t just filthy and stained where the bedsheets were pockmarked with holes and the floor sticky with questionable matter it was the stench that clung to every moment of this house like a formidable vice of ashtray excrescence and stale alcohol fumes on the verge of madness.

Uma felt violently ill and stepped out of the door to breath. She saw that all the windows in the house were barred bearing the same Govt. notice that stuck to the signboards and wouldn’t open when she tried to pull them. She walked around the entire perimeter of the service apartments and saw one window that wasn’t locked. She peered through the small window pane which and saw a kitchen.

Tying her scarf over her mouth Uma braved another look-see inside the house.

Were she unbiased about this situation and had she been asked to give an opinion from an entire neutral view she’d have thought the service apartment so called, rather nice. 

It was spacious. There were no rooms, the door opened to a big lounge which served as the dining, living and sleeping area with two narrow corridors one opening into a kitchenette and the other to a bathroom.

Uma didn’t dare go over to the bathroom to check, though she’d ascertained from outside that it too had a window that was barred, she did, however, go to the kitchen. Space was cluttered with basic kitchen things along with an uninterested colony of roaches that spilt out of food packets and half-eaten pizza boxes. 

It must have been lying for weeks almost, judging by the fungal greenery that had spread to spot certain areas on the kitchen platform as well.

There were candles all over the house. Some almost burnt to a stub, some halfway through their life and many relatively new.

Dust caked wax drippings that had turned grey with a greasy patina of dirt stippled most raised platforms and tables and flicking on a light switch explained the reason for such admirable collection of candles.

There was no electricity.

Guided with that observation Uma scrutinized the house once more and saw battery powered fans, emergency lights and half a dozen torches. There were batteries punctuating the landscape along with wax, empty alcohol bottles, cigarette stubs, ash and the place looked like content misery. 

Uma found herself back into the kitchen staring at a brand new gas stove, feasible seeing how an electric hot plate would be most useless she fiddled with the rarely used knobs and heard the unmistakable hissing sound of gas.

She stood atop the kitchen platform, opened the window and smiled. 

Carefully leaving the corruption undefiled she exited, pushing the keys back under the withered pot.

It was a busy day.

The elderly couple had taken a new route which intrigued the bastard and he found himself walking more than he’d bargained for.

They weren’t going to a park but for a long stroll along the blocks and this he didn’t like a bit because there were no benches on the sidewalks and there were dogs about out on their evening stroll and he wasn’t much popular among the canine fold.

They always barked at him, sometimes even chasing after him and this drew attention which he didn’t want and so he returned to his car almost getting run over by a speeding hybrid.

The bastard threw his hip flask at the vehicle, missing it by several yards and then followed this act by shrieking in the middle of the road, screaming uncouth curses and finally rolling about like a fat child throwing ungodly tantrums on the zebra crossing thus momentarily stopping the traffic while basking in colorful language, so much for keeping attention away from him.

Uma looked back at the bastard who was still creating a scene and mused at her reluctance to run him over.

‘We have no pests.’ Uma’s mother in law claimed during dinner. ‘This is an extremely clean,’ and she held back any more compliments ‘clean house, so why have you called pest control this weekend?’ she quizzed Uma.

‘There are many mice on the ground floor and they sometimes climb up into our house. I saw a couple yesterday in the guest room.’ Uma lied.

Her father in law looked perturbed. ‘We ought to zip up our bags from now on’ he told his petrified wife who hated mice with nearly as much zeal as Uma reserved for maggots.

‘Pest control is a good idea.’ she immediately replied and Manu studied Uma’s unreadable face.

‘I know why you’re doing this.’ tenderly he spoke later that night, running his fingers through Uma’s hair. ‘I know we’ve not had much time together and maybe this weekend we could have a sort of getaway at the hotel. Just you and I and uh..my parents during lunchtime’

Uma smiled at his innocence and ignorance and hoped to keep it that way between them forever. ‘Yes’ she replied.