The Females of Wadi Ya Noh. Ch. 02

I had explained to the bank manager that I was a bit short of money these days, due to my being transferred to a less well-paid position at Jordan's Climate Control. The bank manager was easily able to check this information, by making a simple phone call to my boss, Miss Susan Smith. And, upon Miss Smith's duly verifying both my new, lower company status, as 'Office Boy', and my minimum wage pay grade, the bank manager finally accepted my explanation - albeit reluctantly, and with obvious reserve.

I did not, of course, tell the bank manager the real reasons for my pecuniary problems ... That I was being slowly bled dry, by the females of Wadi Ya Noh.

So I had managed to get my house re-mortgaged - for the second time in the same year. But, by then ... it was too little, too late.

* * *

Of all, of the day's out - or, "outings" - that we went on, there is one in particular, that will live long in my memory. In fact, I don't think I will ever forget it.

Just over a year had passed, and it was the same 5 visitors - who had visited us first, for the first, of their bi-annual, month-long visits - who were back with us again. And it was their third visit. They were: Fatima, Kandi, Neesha, Shami, and Saida.

One evening, Claudia and Meena and their visiting village sisters had been avidly watching a TV programme about the very popular English seaside resort, of Blackpool. They had ooh-ed and ah-ed, all the way through the hour-long programme. And Neesha, who, just like her village sisters was by now speaking quite good English, said excitedly, "Oh please, Claudia. Can we go to Blackpool? I'd love to go up Blackpool Tower. And on the Fairground!" she enthused. "Oh! Can we, Claudia? Can we?" she pleaded.

And Kandi, Shami, and Saida, who all wanted to go to Blackpool just as much as Neesha did, also tried, good-naturedly, to pester Claudia into submission.

Fatima simply looked on, indulgently. Fatima didn't seem to mind, whatever they did; wherever they went. She was already content. She was back in England again, in my house, for another month-long stay. Visiting Claudia and Meena - for the third time. And, for Fatima, that was enough - that, and to be able to return my 'hospitality', by making my life a living hell.

"You have heard the wishes of your Mistresses; where they would like to go for their next outing, David. This Sunday, you will take us all to Blackpool, in the Mercedes," decreed Claudia.

"Yes, Claudia," I replied compliantly. Well, it could have been worse. I had always quite liked Blackpool, myself. It was usually a fun day out. Usually ...

On Sunday morning, at about 9 a.m., I went outside to The Merc to check the oil and water levels, etc. After finding all in order, I slid open the side passengers' door, and waited; my passengers would be out in a moment.

While waiting, I detected a slight movement in my peripheral vision, and I saw my next door neighbours, Tony and Jan, looking out through their front window. They watched, as the 7 black burka clad females of Wadi Ya Noh left my house, shuffled to the people-carrier, and then got inside and seated themselves. Then I slid the door shut after them.

Before climbing into the driver's seat of The Merc, I gave Tony and Jan a sad salute; my familiar, signature, heart-just-not-in-it wave. But they didn't wave back; they didn't have the heart, either. They just glumly stared back at me. By now, of course, Tony and Jan knew all there was to know, about my wretched situation; understood all of the in's and outs of my appalling predicament. For I had long since fully apprised them both of all of the diabolical facts of the matter.

The sense of pride that I felt whenever I climbed into the driver's seat of The Merc, hadn't diminished one jot, since the day I had first driven it away from the Mercedes Dealership. And, driving The Merc was pretty much the only pleasure that was left to me now. The Dealership's salesman ('Slick', as I thought of him) had said: "Any problems ... bring her right back." But there had been no problems; never so much as a hint of one. I had 'her' routinely serviced, and 'she' never gave me any trouble. And I kept 'her' spotlessly clean (I would have done, anyway, but Claudia rigidly ensured that I did; often supervising my valeting of "The Mercedes," herself).

I started the engine and, after checking the dash lights - a general check, but also to ensure that all of my 7 passengers were wearing their seat belts (a red warning light glowed, if any of them weren't) - and finding all in order, I put The Merc in gear, and we were on our way to Blackpool.

Being a Sunday morning, the roads were quiet and we made good time, arriving at Blackpool at about 10:30 a.m. I parked The Merc in the North Shore car park, and I stuck the Pay and Display ticket in the windscreen. Now, the whole day lay ahead of us.

Small, raggedy clouds scurried across the sky, and there was a gusty wind blowing from offshore, that carried with it the salty tang of the sea. It was dry, and not too cold on that day in early Spring. But the females of Wadi Ya Noh hugged their black burkas to themselves tightly, as if afraid their burkas might blow away like kites snatched from complacent hands by the unpredictable wind, to reveal their ever-shrouded mysteries beneath.

I had suggested to Claudia that we visit Blackpool Tower first, while it was still relatively quiet, and so we wouldn't need to queue up to visit the world famous attraction. And then go on to the Fairground afterwards, when it would be livelier. Claudia approved of my idea, and she instructed me to proceed accordingly. And so we boarded one of the trams that run along the sea-front, to take us there.

The females of Wadi Ya Noh had been excitable all week, to say the least, at the prospect of going up in Blackpool Tower. Even I was excited about it - I had not been up in the famous Tower before.

But now, just when they were standing at the foot of the Tower, just when the occasion was actually upon them; just when they were actually faced with the astounding reality of the Tower, a structure so impossibly high, as beggared their belief, they were almost having second thoughts. As they stood there, having to crane their necks to gaze up in awe to see up to the top of the Tower, their excitement became tinged with trepidation.

But the females of Wadi Ya Noh don't scare easily, and they soon shrugged off their initial shock; soon cast aside their instinctive misgivings. And, once again I was getting my wallet out, to pay for our 8 tickets. We were going up in Blackpool Tower!

As we ascended, and were lifted ever higher and higher, the ululating of the females of Wadi Ya Noh became ever more excited - almost fearful - as they beheld the most fantastic, panoramic of views. We were able to see for miles and miles around. Out to sea, the shining sun was turning the choppy waves blue and sparkling. The females of Wadi Ya Noh had never before experienced anything even remotely like it. And, when they looked through the see-through floor, it frightened them half to death - and I thought that their high-pitched, ululating wailing could be heard in the Isle of Man, about 60 miles away across the Irish Sea.

Then came their eagerly-looked-forward-to visit to the Fairground. Neesha, Kandi, Shami, and Saida were so excited, they could hardly make their minds up about what to do first.

They all threw 3 badly-flighted and very blunt darts, at widely-spaced playing-cards that were pinned to a wall about a quarter of a mile away - hit 3 out of 3, and you win an exciting prize. They all shot 10 pellets, from ancient and very poorly-sighted air rifles, at violently bobbing little yellow plastic ducks - blow them all out of the water, and you win an exciting prize. And they all threw 3 almost-bald tennis balls, at extremely-difficult-to-dislodge, seemingly fixed-in-place coconuts - knock one over, and you win an exciting prize.

And, they all laughed with uninhibited merriment, and shrieked with unbridled glee and triumph at each and every accomplishment of their amazing - near miraculous - achievements. They all looked decidedly smug and extremely pleased with themselves, too. Not least, as the stall holders, with solemn ceremony (and obvious reluctance), awarded their fantastic prizes: Cuddly toys; strings of helium-inflated coloured balloons; T-shirts, with 'I Love Blackpool' emblazoned across the front ... the usual sort of tat.

And then we went on some of the so-called 'Fun' rides - me included. I didn't want to (I have no stomach for such things), but Claudia insisted. And once again, my wallet was out and being pitilessly ransacked, as I coughed up for a sackful of ride tokens.

What? 'All the fun of the Fair'? My God! It was awful. Terrible. Absolute torture.

I moaned and groaned wretchedly, as I listened to the delighted laughs and shrieks and the exhilarated howls and screams of the females of Wadi Ya Noh - including Claudia, Meena and Fatima - as we were all duly subjected to the most tremendous (and most horrendous!) G-force. It was certainly not my idea of 'Fun'!

What? Being violently flung and chucked about, this way, that way - every-which-way! - at warp factor speeds? Being horribly tipped and bucked and disoriented and discombobulated? Having such incredible stresses and strains inflicted, as tested both mind and body close to the very limits of their endurance? On the Big Dipper, the Cocks and Hens, the Roller Coaster - that, was supposed to be 'Fun'? ... Thank God I hadn't felt like eating any breakfast that morning!

But, as far as the females of Wadi Ya Noh were concerned, all of those other rides were lame - compared to the Ghost Train.

The Ghost Train had four, 8-seater carriages, and the females of Wadi Ya Noh and I were just in time to board the last of them, filling it up, before the Ghost Train departed the 'station' platform, at the long shriek of the 'guard's whistle.

Small children who were seated in the foremost carriages, looked back at us and, upon them setting their eyes upon the black burka clad females of Wadi Ya Noh, they held onto their parents a bit tighter than they already were ... Suddenly in need of even more comforting; even more reassurance, in facing the scary ride to come. Having said that, some of the parents didn't look too happy, either; looked as if they wanted to hold someones hand.

The Ghost Train moved off, trundling noisily, and we slowly headed towards the black hole of the tunnel. Then, upon entering the tunnel, we were suddenly engulfed in an impenetrable, tar-black darkness, and the females of Wadi Ya Noh ululated their great unease; their dire misgivings - their sudden dread. And the children whimpered. Though their concerns, weren't about the dark ...

And then lights glowed - but not in a nice way. Dull, low-wattage bulbs dimly illuminated the motley assortment of skulls and skeletons, that were 'laid to rest' in deep and shadowy recesses in the walls, as though we were in the crypt of some long-forgotten, underground burial chamber.

And when the females of Wadi Ya Noh shrilly ululated their superstitious fears, their panic was contagious. And the children became infected. The children: their over-imaginative, malleable minds, malignantly engaged; their young, fertile imaginations, running in overdrive, began to cry and bawl in earnest.

Almost invisible at first, in the dim lighting, but slowly becoming more and more discernible, as the Ghost Train drew closer and closer to it, was a skeleton. It was suspended above the tracks, right in front of us. Waiting for us - seemingly expecting us. And when we were almost upon the skeleton, bright lights suddenly illuminated it, bringing it into sharp detail. For a brief moment, a shocked and fascinated silence fell over the females of Wadi Ya Noh - until the bones of the skeleton were noisily clattering their way through everyone aboard the Ghost Train.

Outright bedlam broke out among the females of Wadi Ya Noh, as they futilely strove to avoid contact with the rattling bones of the skeleton (plastic - but they weren't to know that), and their hysterical ululations of fear and horror of the sinister spectre echoed back to them from the shadowy cavern walls - causing the hideously traumatised children to wail just as loudly and fearfully themselves.

And then the Ghost Train was suddenly emerging into the bright, 'exorcising' light of day, and finally jolting to a stop at the 'station' platform.

Thankfully, a semblance of calm was restored, as everyone was able to disembark from the Ghost Train; their harrowing ordeal, now thankfully behind them. Though, the parents; their nerves shredded, and looking almost as frightened and chalk-faced as their crying, whimpering, snot-nosed children, couldn't get away from the females of Wadi Ya Noh fast enough.

And then - as if I hadn't had enough excitement for one day - came the 'incident'.

It was 2 p.m. We had just left a sea-front cafe, having enjoyed a tasty meal of fish and chips, and the females of Wadi Ya Noh wanted to have a leisurely walk around Blackpool town for a couple of hours, before returning home in the people-carrier. I had been walking my customary, respectful 3 paces behind them, when they all suddenly stopped in their tracks, upon hearing Meena's gasp of sheer incredulity.

Meena was in a ferment of acute, uncontainable emotion as she animatedly pointed out to Claudia, a man who was just emerging from a pub.

It was with a sort of swaggering - almost staggering - arrogant insouciance, that he stood there. As though he had not a care in the world. Indeed, his self-assured, carefree demeanour seemed to suggest, to the world at large, that he took every care and precaution, to leave all of his troubles behind him - for, his carefree and careless ways suited him very nicely, thank you. Just his very stance, said all of these things about him; about the nature of his character. That he only cared about himself. That he only looked out for; looked after, Number One.

Meena, despite the elapse of 2 decades and more since she had last seen the man, nevertheless recognised both his face and his cocky, arrogant body language instantly, and with total conviction. "Vincent!" seethed Meena.

My God! I couldn't believe it - if it was true. I mean ... what were the chances of our running into Vincent, like this? On one of our "outings". It could have been a billion-to-one co-incidence ... Or it could have been destiny. Vincent's destiny.

Another man emerged from the pub. "I'll see you tonight then, Vinnie," said the man jovially, full of bonhomie, with a few pints circulating through his bloodstream.

"Not if I see you first!" returned Vincent jocularly, obviously inebriated too.

So, Meena was right - it was Vincent!

At the conclusion of a short, but urgent conference with her village sisters, Claudia turned to me, in triumphant exultancy.

”David ... the day that I live for, the day that I dream about, has finally arrived! That man, is my father! The faithless wretch, who spurned and abandoned my mother, as soon as she told him that she was carrying his child. Carrying me!" said Claudia hotly. "He is the mangy, flea-bitten cur that I have vowed to find. To make him pay for his crime - and pay dearly! Now ... bear witness, David - and never forget! - what happens to those who do wrong, to the females of Wadi Ya Noh!”

Walking my customary, respectful 3 paces behind the females of Wadi Ya Noh, it was in the grip of a horrified fascination that I watched the ensuing spectacle.

First, 2 of the black burka clad females overtook their totally unsuspecting quarry. And Vincent, who had been nonchalantly ambling along the street, abruptly stopped in apparent puzzlement, when the 2 black burka clad females impeded him by walking directly in front of him, and then slowing their pace.

The remaining 5 black burka attired females then closed up to Vincent, and then they swiftly and completely surrounded him. Vincent's initial exclamations, were of surprise, and query, followed by his beer-breathed expressions of mild annoyance ... he still hadn't realised that he had something to worry about.

But then Vincent's alcoholic haze began to clear, and he suddenly perceived of something actually being amiss here. And then he knew for a fact, that something was wrong. Very wrong. For the black burka clad figures were closing in tighter; pressing in, all around him. And his next sentiments gave away his rather more concerned feelings. Feelings of disquiet; alarm, and then the beginnings of fear. And then he was completely stopped in his tracks. And engulfed.

Vincent then emitted a high-pitched, inarticulate cry, as the brown hands of the black burka clad figures seized him, and began to do their terrible work.

And then, at last, the penny finally dropped ... This could only mean one thing. "Meena ...? Is that you, Meena? No! It - it can't be! It can't! It can't!" wailed a disbelieving, terror-struck Vincent.

"But, it is ... Father," said Claudia softly; her voice, dripping with pure malice, and instantly confirming Vincent's worst-case-scenario fears. Claudia's dark-toned voice was terrible to hear. For it was the voice of vengeance - of long-awaited retribution. "It is true: revenge is a dish that is best served cold. And now, Father, I shall feast. And you shall pay. At last, you will pay! For abandoning Meena! For abandoning me! Your daughter!"

I then heard the sounds that I will never forget. The blood-chilling sounds, of Vincent’s horrified, terrified, tortured shouts and howls. Followed by his muffled, agonised, strangled screams. And the blood-curdling sounds, of the shrilly ululating females of Wadi Ya Noh, as they mercilessly set upon their captured prey.

They were like a single-minded, dark organism. A seething, devouring black mass. Overwhelming, subduing, subsuming its helpless quarry, as Claudia finally fulfilled her solemn vow. As she achieved her long-cherished ambition. As she and Meena sated their lust for vengeance. As they slayed their dragon.

Upon hearing the dreadful commotion, pedestrians on the street stopped in mid-stride; or looked away from shop windows; or halted their conversations - whatever they had been doing, they had stopped doing it. For their attentions had been abruptly re-directed, and re-focused upon the incredible spectacle that was being played out before them. And, as the astounded pedestrians disbelievingly beheld the fantastical drama that was unfolding right in front of their eyes, the females of Wadi Ya Noh shrilly emitted their eerie, primitive-sounding, ululating wailing; a profoundly disturbing cacophony, that froze the blood just to hear it.

In the people-carrier, on our way home from Blackpool, I re-lived, over and over, the awful event of Vincent's date with destiny (for, that's what I believed it must have been). It was impossible, not to re-live the awful event, over and over - because of the almost incessant, triumphal ululating of the females of Wadi Ya Noh.

All in all, they'd had a very nice day out.

* * *

As the months passed, I got more and more into debt.

First to go, were my liquid assets - they had evaporated fast. And then, in trying to keep up with Claudia's relentless spending, I had borrowed more and more money ... until I was on borrowed time.

During the first year, whenever one of my debts finally became 'Actionable', by a bank or a credit card company, I simply paid it off - at the expense of my other debts. Until they became actionable, too. I had been robbing Peter to pay Paul. And Peter was none too happy about it.

But, eventually, and inevitably ...

It was surely something of a miracle, that I had managed to stave off the inevitable - keep the wolves from our door - for as long as I did. For almost 2 years - 21 months, to be exact - I had managed to keep their snarling snouts at bay. Now, though ...