Judgement Day

Shirley Emmet had three days left in this world and she was going to live it up at any cost. There were things that she needed to do and some old scores she had to settle. She was driven now that time was running out for her. A sense of exhileration swept over her as she prepared to enact her final ‘must do before the end’ activities.

She had known for some months that she would be leaving the world behind and had prepared for the best ending that money could buy. Shirley was a deeply religious woman and belonged to what Alan, her husband referred to as a ‘strange Christian sect’. Her almost obsessive attendance at her church had been the cause of many heated arguments and had alienated them from each other. Alan ran a successful small business in property letting. He was a mean spirited and abusive husband and kept Shirley financially dependent on him, but had allowed her access to the company credit card, with stringent demands that she ask before purchasing. This allowed him to maintain his profligate lifestyle and to flaunt in Shirley’s face, every new bit of skirt that chased his money. She had been so afraid of him that her spend on the card had matched his mean expectations. Now, she was ready for a revenge that she believed even God would allow her.

Before leaving for Dubai where she would live out her last three days on this earth in unbridled luxury, at her husband’s expense, Shirley had visited Ernest Jones in Kensington and purchased a Christian Dior Christal ladies' chronograph watch. Then it was off to Harrods. She would go out of the world in style. She knew exactly how she wished to look when the end came. She was determined to be found in the sexy Herve Leger Bandage Dress that Amy, Alan’s latest conquests had been wearing at the company award ceremony. Cheap little tart, Shirley thought. I’ll match her. Alan had admitted to Shirley after the ceremony that Amy’s sandals turned him on and that all he had wanted to do that night was suck her toes and have her on the office desk. So, Shirley danced off to the shoe department and swiftly bagged a pair of Giuseppe Zanotti Frank jewelled sandals. They would be better on her she thought; after all, they were more appropriate for her destination. Shirley’s mother had always warned her to wear nice underwear in case anything unexpected happened. So, knowing that the end was coming, a Robert Calvi Bra and matching Agent Provocateur briefs would fulfil her mother’s expectations. Not a bad combination in which to appear before God, she thought, determined to countdown the end with a sense of quality she had never been able to afford before today. Swirling out of the store with her designer carrier bags, she felt smug about the £8,500 she had spent in under an hour. I bet none of his tarts ever had that spent on them, she mused, as she hailed a taxi for Gatwick airport.

The Burj Al Arab in Dubai took her breath away. She had stayed in four star Hiltons on occasion with her husband when he wasn’t screwing one of his employees.  But this was opulence she had never imagined. It inspired in Shirley a sense of indulgence that bordered on the reckless. She didn’t care. She had the Company credit card and she had told Alan that she would be away taking care of her sick mother. By the time he discovered she was never coming back, the card would be maxed out.

Her plan was simple. Settle in and make as much use of the facilities as the Burj Al Arab had to offer. There were quite a few thousand pounds left on the card after she had settled her room bill in advance. She would spend it up to the last on meals and wine, that would not be hard in this £3,000 a night hotel. But before she celebrated, she had three calls to make in order to square some circles and set the final record straight.

Shirley’s mother struggled to breathe as she experienced a torrent of accusation from her daughter on the other end of the telephone. At 81 years of age, she felt she had done quite a good job of raising her only daughter. After all, she had turned out well, married a business man and was a regular church goer. Shirley twisted the knife as her mother’s breathing became laboured.

“And, here’s the bit you don’t know, Dad wasn’t faithful to you. He had another woman on the side, in fact several, when you weren’t looking. I learned from you how to put up with an abusive relationship and settle for shit…and for what…? a few pounds and a nice house? You DISGUST me!” Shirley’s tirade would have known no end had the phone not gone dead. Realising her mother had hung up, Shirley felt proud that at last she had put matters straight. She had told the truth. After all, that is what her church had encouraged her to do. Her relationship with her mother had been pleasant through her adult life, but now, at the end, she felt a sense of poetic justice as she spilled the beans. Now she despised her.

Alan and Shirley had only one child. He had been a surly and dark boy who showed little concern for anyone other than himself. Peter had not done well at school and opted out as soon as he could. Shirley didn’t like his friends and was worried that he would end up in a life of crime. Having squirreled away a large amount of money over the years that Alan was not aware of, she had bought a flat in a good end of town and let it to Peter for a peppercorn rent. It hadn’t had much effect on him. He continued to have one scrape after the other with the law and drained his mother of every spare penny she had. The truth was he never bothered with her except to hurl abuse at her and drain her of resources.

Shirley gloated as she listened to the ring tone on Peter’s mobile, an iPhone that she had bought for him out of her allowance from Alan.

“Hello," the surly and sly sounding voice intoned from the other side. Yes, this was her son.

“Hello Peter dear." she said with a supine sneer. She had never dared do any other than tremble when talking to him before. “It’s been a while since I have heard from you.”

“Look mum, I don’t need this. Unless you have something I need to hear, then this conversation is over.”

“Well sweetie, I thought you might like to know that I won’t be here in a few days and…”

“Don’t talk ridiculous,” Peter retorted angrily, “what do you mean you won’t be here?”

“I’m leaving…for good!”

“That’s good; it’s time you left that bastard of a dad of mine. Now, I’ve got to go, I have friends waiting.”

“I’m not leaving your dad…I’m going to God.”

“I don’t have time for all that religious crap okay! I’m off…”

“Just before you go I need you to know something.”

“What is it?” Peter barked angrily.

“I’ve sold the flat.”

“Whaaaat?” Peter growled with the rising tone of aggression that had usually made his mother back off.

“I’ve sold the flat to the Church for visitor accommodation.”

“You seriously deranged bitch, have you lost your mind!” Peter screamed down the phone.

“I think it is your mind that is gone Peter dear. My solicitors will contact you after I am gone.”

“You hypocritical old cow, you can’t do this…”

“I have… Goodbye.”

Hanging up the phone, Shirley basked in a glow of satisfied revenge. She felt almost god-like as she dispensed judgments that were long overdue.

“I’m all ready for the big off,” Shirley chirruped gladly as her oldest friend Emma answered the telephone in London. Shirley was slightly skew-whiff as she had been drinking the hotel’s best Champagne all afternoon. Normally a non-drinker, she was showing her lightweight tendencies as she talked animatedly to Emma.

“Are you okay?” Emma enquired, detecting the slurring speech and concerned that her friend was maybe not in control of her life at this moment.

“Okay?” I’ve never been better. Three days and all this misery will be over…and, I’ve put the record straight and taken what revenge I believe I should.”

“Don’t you think you have taken all this a bit too seriously…I mean….”

“Don’t even go there. The end is in three days and I am going to leave this world with a bang."

“Well, don’t you think you should act responsibly at this stage?” Emma enquired, concerned that her friend had somehow lost her sense of balance as she waited for the last.

“I am responsible now only to God. I’ll answer to him and no other...and...I’m not done yet. I’m off to the bar…and, if I get picked up, I’ll have my last piece of revenge on that good-for-nothing piece of slime they call my husband. I’m sure God will allow me these small indiscretions. God-knows, I am due them.”

“But…” Emma tried to protest but was stopped immediately by Shirley!

“No! I have a plan and that is it…the last three days! Bye Emma, it was good. You were the only one who ever listened to me and understood my thoughts about the end.”

The conversation ended abruptly. Shirley had a lifetime of living to do in around 72 hours. There was no time left for talking. The accounts were settled, the circles were squared and the past was closed…forever.

Rising unsteadily from the bed, Shirley wobbled towards the door of her princely suite, giggling like a silly schoolgirl. God won’t mind, she thought. I’ve lived a good life. I’ll be able to answer for a small discrepancy or two. Three days she thought, I'm going to have all the pleasure I can find.

She was found four days later in the early hours of the 22nd May 2011.  She lay dishevelled in the corner of the opulent lobby of the Burj Al Arab Hotel. Inebriated and looking every bit like one of Alan’s tarts after a long night, the Herve Leger dress, now wine-stained and crumpled, absorbed the tears that mingled with stale perfume and the dripping mascara. “He didn’t come…God didn’t come like they said he would.” The words seemed spoken from a state of dreamy unreality. Then… awakened to the real world as by the trumpet of the Last Day, she screamed, "My God, Now I really am in Hell."

©David McLoughlin - May 2011