The neighbourhood has changed, I didn’t see too many familiar faces on the roads. The young still living in the town have grown old and their children do not know about the incident that had made headlines more than three decades ago. Many people have relocated to other places, they have not kept in touch with the old folks- at least I hope so. Many houses have made way for multi- storied buildings, some have been maintained impeccably obscuring any mark of the passage of time, while others have just been short of crumbling and falling apart- some still being occupied by impoverished families despite their precarious state. My house still stands in the wilderness, somewhat in the middle of nowhere, exactly as it had been thirty-two years ago. I had settled for the isolated house because it was economical- the advantage of being close to the burial ground which the living avoided like plague.

“We will go for this one,” Jenny my wife had said.

“But isn’t it too secluded? You will hardly have neighbours to talk with.” I had replied remembering my wife’s vivaciousness.

“Considering the money we can spare, it’s a good bargain.”

I did not try to dissuade Jenny; she had always had her way and I had followed her to arrive at each station in life where I wanted to be. My job as a sales officer required me to travel and stay away from my family for days; sometimes even for weeks. Jenny stayed alone, keeping herself busy with baking cakes and cookies for the local confectionary shop. They sold like hot cakes- she had told me in the rare weekends when I was home- a brief spell of homecoming between two tours.

“Are you making more money from home than me travelling all across the country?” I had joked.  

“Seems like,” she had answered playfully.

I did not enquire beyond what she told me; I was not the inquisitive type- this is something that I regret now.  

She told me many things to help me catch up with her life at home and in the neighbourhood – I wish I had paid more attention to them.

“Simon, do you know what Mr. Smith calls me?”

“Mr. Smith who?”

“Mr. Smith runs ‘Tasty Bites’, the other confectionary store in the town. There are just two of us worth the name.”

Why she said “us” I do not know, could be because she considered herself to be a part and parcel of ‘Delightful Delicacy’, the shop where she supplied cakes and cookies and manned alongside the kind- hearted widowed owner.

“What does Mr. Smith say?”

“Calls me a bewitching bitch.”

I had looked up from my files and noticed her eyes twinkling with mischief. She did not seem to mind; I did not bother to probe either.

“He is losing business to us, poor chap.” Jenny had laughed heartily. I had continued to work on my papers.

“Bill is a good man, he loses his cool when people call me names. The other day, he almost came to blows with a customer who was rude to me. I pacified him, made a lemonade to cool him down.” Jenny had said in a soft, dreamy voice. I didn’t miss the tone of affection though I was busy sorting my travel bills.  

“Do you know what the customer did?”

“What?”

“He followed me.”

“Did he?” I had been startled.

“Yes, till the burial ground. Didn’t walk through the cemetery to reach our house. The mouse ran away.”  Jenny had giggled.

“Oh!” I had replied and carried on with my packing for the next tour.

“Darling, can we go out for dinner? I have many more interesting stories in stock. They are hilarious.” Jenny had often suggested.

I had either been too tired or too busy to go out with her. I wish I had given her the chance to narrate the interesting stories. Once she had mistakenly called me Bill while cajoling me to go out to watch a film. The slip did not escape my attention but it did not seem to register with Jenny. I had not reacted because it was understandable, after all she spent most part of the day with Bill at the shop.

She remained as attractive as ever during her pregnancy and even after Derrik, our son was born. Nothing changed in my family life barring that I was a father and spent even less time at home. My promotion came at a price; instead of weeks, I had to spend months touring across the country. Though I saw less of Jenny, it was obvious that she, the stay- at-home mother, had become irritable. I hated to return home because she picked up fights and we could be heard bickering whenever we were together. It became so frequent that even the townspeople noticed it.

“The relationship was acrimonious.”  All the witnesses had agreed to the statement of the prosecutor. I had failed to convince them that I dearly loved my wife and regular marital discord could never be the sole motive in committing a gruesome murder. Alas! There were too many evidences against me.

The kitchen had been badly burnt due to the explosion; the bodies of Jenny and Derrik were charred beyond recognition- they had almost turned into ashes.

I had opened the knob of the gas cylinder; Jenny had a bad cold which had blocked her nose- there was no doubt about it- the doctor had testified in the court that she had visited him the previous day. Jenny had tried to turn the gas on and the kitchen had exploded setting fire to the stack of coal which had been kept at the corner of the larder. I had deliberately stacked the coal; it was a well- planned, cold- blooded murder; the prosecutor had summed it up.  No one believed me when I said that the bag of coal had been left outside my house on the day I left for the tour. We had to bring it in because it was raining heavily and the porch was not good enough to shelter it. The greengrocer having arrived early that morning, had seen me dragging it inside the house – one of the many testimonies which sealed my fate. The gas, the coal, kerosene stored in cans and the wooden furniture colluded to burn down a good part of my house along with my family. The remains of the bodies were difficult, almost impossible to trace.

I remember sitting outside the burnt house in a state of daze. The police had pulled me up by my collar, handcuffed me and dumped me in the lockup. The whole town descended the following day to catch a glimpse of the man who had murdered his family- burned them to ashes.

I screamed, pleaded and cried in the courtroom repeating again and again that I had returned to my house that day because of two phone calls. A woman had called to report that my family was in danger and I must return immediately. Her voice was very feeble, I was not able to catch most of what she said. The woman hung up before I could ask any questions. Five minutes later, one more call was received- the line crackled a lot, the woman on the other side laughed and said, “Darling, did I scare you? Please buy two big suitcases from the market and bring them home. And come soon.” I tried to call home but could not get through. I guessed it was Jenny playing a prank but something in me prodded me to act. I walked out my office without informing anyone, boarded a train, travelled back to my hometown, purchased two suitcases, hired a taxi and disembarked near the cemetery. I was angry with Jenny; I hated the way she was manipulating me; I needed to compose myself before going home. I sat down under the Banyan tree, a part of me wishing I could run away and escape from this… forever. I do not remember how long I sat there; it was the deafening noise of the explosion which brough me back to my senses.

The police had arrested me from the scene of crime; there were too many witnesses who had seen me in the town that day. The prosecutor argued that I had purchased the suitcases to transport the bodies. I never found out if they ever tried to trace the phone calls. The people were baying for my blood and the court pronounced me guilty sentencing me to thirty years in prison. The case was solved in record time.

I am a healer now; I had quietly arrived in my hometown after my release from the prison. My town resembles a city where no one cares about anyone. Urban indifference has infused into its rusticity making it cold and distant. I consider this a blessing as I was able to get a house on rent without having to answer too many questions. I run a club where people drop some money into a box, sit in a dark room, confess their secrets and walk away. No questions are asked, no one sees their faces, they arrive and leave in the dark. Listening to people’s pain helps me to heal my own wound. I have named my club ‘Closure’. People are very helpless these days, they no longer like to go to the church; hence they come to me for their closure.

He walked into the dark room after having dropped some money into the box.

“Sit down my friend and speak your heart.” It was the only communication I made with my clients. I prepared myself to listen to one more unsettling story. I could hear the heavy breathing of the man.

“I have a quick confession to make, who knows I might just pop off anytime.” I did not say anything, I never did, I was meant to be just the listener.  

“That woman, so many years ago, I still remember her, bewitching she was, ruined the business of one man, broke the heart of another, insulted many more… quite a nuisance, had to get rid of her. It was planned well, the gullible husband brought into the scene just in time to be arrested. Ah! Wish I had allowed the child to die too. But I could not- why not is another story. I just scooped out a dead baby from the grave and brought it into the kitchen before opening the knob. The little boy was securely tied to the tree in the garden. I took him away and left the scene before anyone could arrive.”

I broke out in a cold sweat and sat transfixed on my chair.

“Derrik and I have lived as a family for years. He calls me father and will be able to identify me from old photographs and that’s what I am terrified of. To be uncovered after so many years and that too when my terminal illness is waiting to claim me any day. I don’t want to go to the jail, so I decided to flee, simply disappear to escape from him. But he is looking for me everywhere, out of love and concern; I know it in my heart of hearts. I had come to visit the ruined house one last time, and on my way back, saw the board of ‘Closure’ offering peace through confession. Thus I walked in, but I must leave now.”

The stranger grabbed his hat and quickly walked out from the back door. It took me a while to lift myself from the chair and walk to the door in my wobbly feet. I could see no one, he had vanished into the darkness of the night.