Stephen Barnard is a suspense / horror writer from the north west of England. He’s been indie publishing titles for a number of years, and has a range of novels and short story collections in the genre. His latest novel, ‘No One Is Leaving’, involves a group of old friends on a reunion weekend, snowed into their accommodation with a vampire-like plus-one.
He has also published YA books, sports non-fiction and a science fantasy trilogy. He’s taught high school English for nearly 30 years and has two sons studying at university. When he’s not writing he’s binge-watching horror movies. His wife is very understanding.
LOVE HEARTS
by
STEPHEN BARNARD
The Love Heart on Mindy’s desk said HEY YOU. Pink, two centimetres across, the message raised in block capitals and pure sugar. Love Hearts; they called them that here. Back home the candies were known as Sweethearts and she’d always hated their taste. She wasn’t going to eat one now, Valentine’s Day or not. She gazed around the office at the dozen or so occupied desks. Most were on calls, some were typing on laptops. No one looking her way. She picked up the chalky disc and flicked it into her wastepaper bin. If someone was having fun with her, she’d put an end to it immediately.
She’d only been there a month and although they’d been welcoming, she’d yet to make any real friends. She knew no one in England, but when the company asked for volunteers from the East Coast branches to transfer 3500 miles to London, she thought why not? Seeing as an aggressive cancer had taken her husband from her last summer, she had nothing to stay for. His final words to her were be happy, and that wasn’t happening for her in Connecticut.
But it was taking its time here too. She had no one, hadn’t even spoke of her late husband. A clean break, yes, but she wasn’t healing. She knew that, deep down.
She got up and walked to the water cooler, keeping half an eye on the office floor to see if anyone was looking to her for a reaction. Not a glance, or even a smirk. If this was a trick, they were playing the long game.
She didn’t get water. There was another Love Heart on the dispenser. HERE 4 U. Probably not intended for her; this was a communal space. Still, she felt targeted. Back at her desk she picked up her purse. It was an unfashionable habit these days, but she was due a cigarette break.
There was another candy in her bag, amongst the detritus. WAITING. She looked up and spoke. ‘Who’s…’
The words stopped short; she felt ridiculous. A couple of people glanced at her. Gemma Hallwood gave a limp wave. Then everyone was embroiled in work. No one was invested in her heart-shaped trail.
She left the office, unnoticed. One flight of stairs and then she was in the foyer. A wide desk. Visitors signing in. A delivery. A wall-mounted clock told her it was 11am. Time for her fix. There was a small shelter outside for the purpose, with overflowing trays for the cigarette stubs. She headed for the doors.
There was a crunch underfoot. She lifted her shoe: another candy. This one now in fractured pieces, crushed against tile. She could still read the message though: FRONT DESK. At first she thought this impossible. A confectioner wouldn’t use such a legend; her tread must’ve mangled the original words. She crouched. It was there: it couldn’t say anything else.
So that’s where she went. The gentleman behind the counter was portly; his brown uniform taut. Mindy introduced herself. ‘I wonder if…’ She didn’t really know what else to say, but then her thoughts took a sidestep when she saw a Love Heart pinned to his chest. ‘…if I could see your button?’
He looked down at his uniform. ‘What?’ Then he realised. ‘Oh, the badge! Sure! My wife gave it me this morning, you know, for Valentine’s?’ He leaned closer. It was circular, tin, larger than the regular candy. Same design, and pastel green. It read: BAD HABIT.
‘Bad habit? That’s what she wants to say to you?’
He frowned and looked down, creating an extra chin. He plucked at the tight shirt. ‘What? This thing should say MY HONEY. That’s what she calls me.’ He started to undo it, but Mindy turned away: she’d got the message.
She took a few steps and rooted around in her purse for her Malboro Reds. Sure enough, when she opened the pack, there was a Love Heart wedged between the cardboard and the cancer sticks.
STAY AWAY. From the smokes? The candy was an odd, nicotine yellow, not something you would put in your mouth. She tossed it immediately.
His cancer had been brain, not lung.
Surely brands didn’t have to put warning messages inside the pack now as well as on the outside? No, this had to be someone’s stupid game. Had to be.
She looked towards the entrance, large glass doors that opened out into the car park. The office was outside the city, so had the luxury of space. The smokers’ shelter was just to the left, like a bus stop for pariahs. It had a handful of elevenses occupants, puffing away. She pulled out a cigarette and raised it towards her mouth as she crossed the floor.
The weirdest thing. When she parted her lips, they closed on something else entirely. She felt the different sensation in her fingers, and noted the absence of a white cylindrical protrusion when she glanced down.
She spat the Love Heart into her palm and flipped it. LOOK OUT.
Her eyes shot up, back to the daylight, the car park, the shelter.
An eighteen-wheeler truck was careening over at high speed, ignoring the recognised lanes yet somehow missing parked cars. Mindy took a hurried step back, fearing it might crash through the glass front of the building.
Instead it ploughed straight into the shelter. The screams were metallic: the people inside didn’t have a chance to offer anything. The truck took everything with it and pounded, out of sight, into the building wall. It felt like an earthquake and there was a shower of dust around her. Now screams abounded, and people ran towards the tragedy outside.
Mindy flopped to the floor, and sat, cross-legged. In the hammock made by her skirt, a new Love Heart.
BE HAPPY. She took a sharp intake of breath. And for the first time on these shores, she said her husband’s name out loud.