–
“Mum, the TV’s gone funny.” My daughter Sally was at the door. Her hair was long and yellow, in braids, and she had braces on her teeth.
“The dogs need feeding, Honey,” I said, “those packets out in the garage by the Land Rover.”
“OK.” Sally pulled white socks up thin brown legs. “I wish it would rain.”
I smiled. “It doesn’t rain in the desert, Honey.”
Sally fidgeted with her braids. “It’s not the desert.”
“It’s as good as. Now, go and feed the dogs, there’s a good girl. Anyway, what’s up with the TV?”
Sally walked towards the door. “It changed the channel by itself. There was this weird couple.”
–
Outside, the first shining silver planet was visible in the indigo sky. Venus or Jupiter? I wasn’t sure. I heard barking, excitement at Sally taking the dogs their food, I assumed. I smelt the air. It was dry, permeated by the sweet odour of dust and sand, sand and scrub which lay around our little community, miles from anywhere. Nothing seemed to move. There was a stillness, a quiet solitude and peacefulness out there, out there in the middle of nowhere.
Suddenly, Martin appeared. He was the youngest, just seven. “Mum, I don’t like the people on TV.”
I sighed. “Well, change the channel.”
He chewed his thumb. “I did.”
“Well then, what’s the problem?”
Martin inspected his thumb. It was bleeding where he had just bitten a hangnail. “It changed back.”
Just then, Bruce appeared, my husband, a climatologist and a man who some thought hard-hearted and overly analytical. But he was a big softy under the camouflage.
“Darling,” I said, “go and see what the kids are complaining about, will you?”
Bruce sighed. “OK.” He raised his eyebrows. “They said on the news it might rain.”
I laughed, “After a year, that’d be just fine!”
Bruce took Martin’s hand and they headed back to the TV room.Well, seems there was this creepy couple. An old woman with a face that looked like it had been squashed in a vice. Another woman, who might well have been her daughter, a woman of about fifty, with black hair in a bun and a plain face with a dopey expression. A woman who always had dolls around her, often holding one like a baby.
One minute, the kids would be watching The Simpsons, the next minute the TV channel would change itself back to the oddball couple. Seems the kids had named them Crumple-face and Doll-woman. I decided to go and watch it for myself.
–
“I’m hungry,” said Crumple-face.
“So am I”
“What should we do?”
“I dunno, I suppose we could cook something.”
Doll-woman scratched her face. “But what would we cook?”
“I dunno.”
And so on.
The set was a dump of a living room with trash on the floor, clothes thrown around, and cups – no doubt half full of cold tea or coffee – littering the surfaces. There seemed to be no other actors if that’s what they were. It all seemed too inane for anyone to have actually scripted it.
“First thing, tomorrow,” Bruce said, “I’m taking that TV to the tip. Then we’ll drive into town and get a new one. The biggest screen they have!”
The kids cheered and I went to the fridge to get some minced lamb for our evening meal.
–
Later that evening, after dinner, Bruce and I had settled down in his study for a game of chess when Sally and Martin appeared. “Mum, Dad, those horrible people on the TV are back. They’re talking about us.”
Bruce blew out air. “Don’t be silly.”
“They are!” came in unison.
We trooped through to the TV room. Crumple-face and Doll-woman were both stood up, the latter pointing forwards, as if at us. “I don’t like Martin,” she said.
“He’s a little creep,” said Crumple-face.
Doll-woman started to pick her nose. “I don’t like that Sally, her braces look awful!”
Sally started to cry. “Mum, they’re so horrid.”
I stood, shocked. “What the hell’s going on?”
Bruce piped up, “I know how to fix this.”
“How?” I asked, but he’d gone. I stood watching in horror as the oddballs continued to bad-mouth my kids. I wanted to turn the TV off, but somehow I felt transfixed. I couldn’t seem to move. I don’t know how long we stood listening to their abuse when Bruce reappeared, carrying a pick axe. Seconds later we all screamed and there was an almighty shattering sound as he drove the axe into the TV. It imploded with a bang and glass shards covered the floor.
Bruce looked sheepish. “I’ll get the dustpan and brush.”
In the silence that followed, I noticed a sound, a drumming unfamiliar sound. Rhythmic, and insistent. Then I realised. Rain. It was raining!
Sally, Martin and me went outside, into the rain, breathing in warm moist air, smelling the intoxicating odour of wet sand and earth, and revelling in the feel of it on our skin.
Martin and Sally ran around, hollering and laughing, whilst I looked up at dark clouds against a canopy of bright silver stars. I didn’t know if the ghastly couple on TV was someone playing a bizarre joke on us, or if it was something worse, something evil, but I prayed to God, right there and then, that we’d seen the last of them.
