Sides
Denis Vaughan
Published by Denis Vaughan at Smashwords
Copyright 2011 Denis Vaughan
ISBN: 978-1-4580-9999-0
Smashwords Edition, License Notes Thank you for downloading this free ebook. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.
Acknowledgements
Thanks to all those who have read and commented on my blog where these stories were originally posted - http://inshin.wordpress.com/
Thanks also to Chris Nash & Debra Snider (the original readers and givers of encouragement) and also Donna Carrick who has given great advice through her Twitter comments.
Dedicated to
Auntie Kathleen
Sides
There are different sides to human nature and what happens to us in life. Some are sad & dramatic, some are humorous. This collection takes seven stories from our more dramatic side and seven from our humours side. I hope you enjoy.
Table of Contents
From This Side
Wow, the sky, blue with puffy balloons of white cloud look amazing when you’re lying on the ground looking up.
It’s an incredible site, and completely dismisses the pain.
I wish I’d done this more before I was on the ground easing my history in a red signature across the fresh early grass.
I suppose what was the biggest shock wasn’t being downed, it was how and by whom. I was always sharp, I knew exactly who was close and who was to be watched.
When I put the barrel right between the eyes of my so-called friend as he whimpered in a saliva’d attempt to say “I didn’t do it”, I didn’t blink as I squeezed, and that was that problem sorted. See, I always knew.
But it seems things change, and the older you get, well maybe.
I broke my own rules I suppose. Maybe age has that effect. But he was a young and somewhat reckless hood, and could have gone wrong at any time. I decided to guide him, help him in the ways of damnation. He learned well. He knew the time, he knew the place, he knew the words. Words I had taught him, words that signalled the end.
Everything was silent now. It was like the explosion of the shot had frightened everything and everyone into hiding. That would be the way, into hiding. That’s how it worked. When you did a job, you didn’t do it quietly or sneakily, you made sure you were seen, made sure you were heard, then no one talked.
Only this guy had gone the other way. He had decided that my departure should be ‘quiet, concealed, hidden’, that was his mistake. You can be a hero in this world when you take out a big name, but only if everyone knows. I told him that, don’t do something you won’t get credit for. It wasn’t that I wanted to be a celebrity for the jobs I did, no, it was much more basic. When people knew the job you did, you were safer. Now he’d have to face the fact that he’d done the job, but no-one except the customer, would know. For a guy like him, a death sentence.
Don’t worry, I’m not dead yet. With a poor shot, it takes a while. It’s not that he was normally a poor shot, he just found this one difficult. I kind of find that somewhat comforting. Worry, it’s not a word I actually use that often, but it’s on my mind now. I worry that I didn’t give him the right guidance, or even just information. He’s not ready to handle the fallout of what he’s just done, and the customer knew that. If I had only had a bit more time. I don’t blame him, I just thought I would be able to get it right, in a wrong sort of way I suppose. But worry it is. When he knelt beside me whimpering like a small child saying how sorry he was and how much I meant to him, I just knew how much I had failed. It was all I could do to try to set him straight when I wrapped my hand around the back of his neck and gurgled, “Fuck off you wimp!”
He still didn’t get it and I knew he’d be dead by the end of the day. Clever, that lousy ass had used him to get me, and I fell for it. The kid stood up and walked away, then he walked toward me again, and then away. Not good. You do the job, you finish it, and you get out. He’d barely done the job, hadn’t finished and was still here, total fail.
Well as great as this sky looked, I felt I had to try to straighten things out. I knew I was starting to get a bit dizzy as the blood levels were dropping, but I tried to pull myself up a bit. I could see him on his hunkers. He had his head in his hands.
I opened my mouth and said, well, nothing. I had no voice. I could feel moisture in my mouth, but I knew the taste, it wasn’t going to help. I gathered all my energy and spat out the previously valuable but now useless fluid. I could feel air and knew it was my chance.
“Kid” I shouted. It seemed it was more a weak call, but got his attention. He looked around suddenly and then stood up and started to walk towards me.
I watched him, his tears had stopped and an almost angry look had crossed his face. He still held the gun in his hand. When he reached me he stopped.
I took a reaching cough as much as I could muster and spat out some of the little life that was left.
“Kid, get out of here and all that’s to do with it.”
“Awh”, I felt a mixture of relief and exhaustion as I lay my head back down, the job done.
The kid came close to me and watched me. He looked me straight in the eyes, he still had tears in his.
“I know what I’ve got to do, you told me, the job has to be finished.”
He nodded as he stood above me and pointed his gun towards my face.
“That’s fine son” I managed to breath out, “but get away, go, you’re dead” I tried to explain but somehow knew it meant nothing.
I watched as he gathered his strength, despite his tremors, and gripped the gun tighter.
I wondered as he pulled the final trigger he should have pulled before now, as I’d shown him, did he think my words of warning were some last-minute hopeless threat? I’d heard many before myself as a dying man tried to struggle for avoidance. I hoped not. It wasn’t that someone would avenge my death on him, it was simply a case that his customer would always have factored it in, that I knew.
Through His Eyes
When you can only look straight ahead, it’s probably desirable that the view is enjoyable and somewhat dynamic. A wall or a closed curtain has limited appeal. But of course that can really only be solved if people know that you can see and recognise what’s in front of you. Surely if they understood, they’d make sure you would have a different view every few hours.
Frankie looked forward to the arrival of Nurse Catherine. He had now worked out her schedule, within reason, and enjoyed waiting and finally seeing her, when she crossed in front of him of course. But there was something different about Nurse Catherine. She actually started talking to him as she entered the door in a cheerful and often matter of fact sort of way.
“Well Frankie, how are things today?” she might start as she moved into view across to pull the curtains.
“Watch those eyes now, it’s a bright and beautiful one out!”
The only thing disappointing about a fabulous morning like those one’s, was that it briefly blocked his view of her as the light streamed towards him and temporarily blinded him.
She would move around the bed making sure everything was in order, which it always was as when there’s no movement, nothing gets disrupted, still she always made sure the bed was presented well. She would then gently raise him up further and ensure his head was comfortably angled on the pillow. That was a highlight of Frankie’s day as her perfume or body spray, or whatever, always cast him into a flurry of memories. But he did feel that she genuinely spent extra time talking to him and ensuring all was well before moving on to the next room, which he was sure wasn’t easy when there was never a response. After she had left, he would focus on the memories of things gone by.
When he had first arrived there, over two years now, he had felt very strange. There was fear and some frustration, but not what he would have expected, not that he thought about being in this predicament before.
Probably the worst thing was the number of people, family & friends, who in both distress and curiosity would stick their face in front of his and ask,
“Do you think he can hear us Doctor, or understand us?”
This was always addressed to some white coated individual who gave the same collection of expertise answers depending on the weather.
“There is a possibility, of course we have no indication as he really is unable to respond in any way.”
“You may have to come to terms with the possibility that he really is completely unaware of anything around him.”
“I think it is a good idea to talk to him, tell him what’s happening, maybe play some music he liked.”
Or the other classic that his lovely niece kept insisting on,
“We should get in touch with a big celebrity that he liked and get them to come here. There’s been loads of cases where that’s helped people like Uncle Frankie wake up!”
Inside he smiled. Everything that was once physical was now done ‘inside’. He often thought to himself, “why haven’t I gone mad?” It would seem that whatever way the mind and body worked, when such a catastrophic failure of the system occurred, the mind closed out that part of it that would cause the immense frustration and torment that should have been felt. Still, it did sadden him when his mother would slowly start to whimper as she was half way through reading out the newspaper headlines of the day. It was hard for her to do this every day since.
There were times when he really wished he could let them know how much he appreciated the visits, the news, pictures and music they kept bringing him. His mother, sister, nephews and nieces, maybe a little less now than in the beginning, but they still came sometimes. If only he could show them something. After two years, the doctors were pretty much saying he was unaware of anything going on around him. How wrong they were. He had no control over any movement at all. He blinked when necessary, closed his eyes when tired and opened them when awake, but he couldn’t tell his eyes or eyelids to move when he wanted them to.
But someone knew he was there. Once a week Nurse Catherine would come in after her shift, sit down at the end of the bed where he could see her, and read from her book of short stories. Well at this stage mini-library, as she seemed to have a new book every time a collection was complete. Always short stories, great, as he didn’t have to wait for a ‘next instalment’. She must have known. She must have wondered or even guessed what life was like through his eyes.
He really wasn’t aware of what happened on that last morning. Normally his brain would tell his eyes that it was time to open around seven. Light or darkness didn’t matter, they just opened. But it happened before then. He did wake, but his eyes would not open. He felt a pressure on his breathing he hadn’t in years, and then a dizzy sensation, again, just like in his memories, and it was over. He was gone.
There was great sadness at Frankie’s passing. All the family rallied as when the accident had happened. But it was even sadder this time.
Everyone sympathized with his mother. She had ensured the daily visits to the hospital and finally it had just been too much to take. She had arrived early on the morning, probably six. She looked with watery eyes at her Frankie, kissed him on the forward and then gently placed the pillow across his face. She didn’t need any great pressure and held it there for nearly twenty minutes. Without movement, it was impossible to tell when it was over so she wanted to make sure he was gone.
The courts were lenient and she received a sentence that was primarily treatment in nature.
Frankie’s grave continued to receive visits for many years, and each year, a new waterproof bag containing a book of short stories could be found.
Could have been us, could it?
Martin stood at the bedroom window staring out, his hands supporting him on the window sill. It was a glorious morning, the sun was heating his bare chest through the glass and making his eyes stay half-open. From here he could see the length of his medium size garden and the lower half of next door’s.
Next door, he thought. Mary and Joe. They were about the same age as them. They had arrived two years after Martin and Helen had bought their house. Nice couple, they hit it off straight away. Martin and Joe would go for a drink the odd time, a bit of golf, Mary and Helen would meet up probably every day for coffee and chats. Neither couple had children yet. Things had been great, Martin had a very good job in the IT world, and Joe had taken over his father’s construction company. There was a lot of money around, no limits.
Martin heard movement in the bed behind him, and then silence again. He remembered the parties and both couples had spoken about going on holidays, always the next year. But next year never came, or each made their own plans, probably just as well. The good days were great!
But suddenly it had changed, much quicker than anyone had expected. Within six months of the gloom talk, Martin’s job looked shaky, and he was delighted when the result was simply a 20% pay-cut, that was good fortune suddenly. They had to adjust a few things, but only the cosmetic excesses, the real things were still safe and they were just re-adjusting to a way that had once been fine. Things had not been so lucky for Joe and Mary. Within a year Joe’s manner had changed as the stress of debt in the business had started to show. He would frequently lose his temper and had even started to go grey. The casual drinks out vanished and the golf was never spoken of.
After a while the fights between Joe and Mary grew worse. In the evening it was often possible to hear them through the walls, and if windows were open it was terrible. Doors would bang, sometimes things would break and if Joe stormed off into the Garden, Mary had stopped trying to be discreet and would shout at him from the back door. The business was collapsing and there seemed nothing that could be done to save it.
Helen moved again in the bed behind him.
“Did you hear it last night? It was worse than ever and went on so long,” she strained.
“Yep, I heard it. Was still going on at 4am.”
“You’re going to have to talk to him,” she suggested delicately.
“I already have, there’s no point, he’s just not aware of anything now.”
“Yep, I bumped into him in the shop at lunch time, the smell of drink off him was terrible.”
“They took the car yesterday, I think it was the final straw,” announced Martin.
He kept staring out the window. What did it feel like for your whole world to suddenly collapse and disappear in a matter of a year. He didn’t really want to know. Every time he turned on the radio there was more gloom, more reason to feel somewhat hopeless.
“When is this going to end?” he asked the sun.
“We’re ok, aren’t we?”
He hadn’t moved in ten minutes. His back was hurting him from the tension he had felt as he stood staring out the window. It eased a bit now, his shoulders slowly lowered.
“We’re fine, there’s even talk of things starting to improve,” he said as he slowly turned and faced her, leaning against the window and letting the sun warm his back.
“You seem so sad, if things are going to improve then we’ve made it and we’re lucky. On a day like this, you should be happy.”
She had pulled herself up and gradually turned until she was kneeling on the bed. She tried to look either side of him to appreciate the bright day, but he gently moved the same way and kept the view blocked.
She laughed a bit.
“We’re in one of those moods are we?” she smiled.
For once Martin didn’t smile back as he normally would. He slowly looked over his shoulder and then back again. She was puzzled.
“You’re being very mysterious, what’s up? Have you bought me something nice for the garden? Been a long time since I had a surprise!”
He looked down towards the floor.
“No,” he paused, “we are good, we’re better than good, and no matter what happens we’ll be fine, as long as we don’t turn on each other.”
Helen nodded, “I know, I hear them every night, it’s so sad. I don’t understand how people can be so awful to each other. I know things are bad but they were so good together. Helen won’t even call in now.”
Martin nodded, “they’ve lost everything, and so quickly.”
There was silence in the room now and a stray light cloud passed over the sun casting a shadow across the gardens behind Martin.
“Helen,” started Martin.
“Yes?”
“You need to call the police.”
“What? Why? Look, you talk to Joe and I’ll talk to Mary, we’ll try to get them see sense.”
“No, it’s too late, you need to call the police.”
Helen started to look worried.
“What’s wrong?”
“Joe, and Mary, they’re,” he paused and seemed to swallow as if trying to stop the words coming out, “they’re both hanging from the tree at the end of their garden.”
As the last word left Martin ‘s lips tears started to roll down his cheeks. Helen put both her hands to her mouth and was soon in a blubbering and trembling state. He reached across and picked up the phone, still trying to block the view, although he knew where she was it was unlikely she could see.
He dialled the number and murmured a few comments before hanging up.
“Could have been us, could it?” he asked in a whisper.
“Never,” she sobbed.
He slowly sat on the bed and cradled her as she wept.
The Window
That tingling feeling was in his stomach now. People were already standing up and starting to pull at their luggage on the racks. He just leaned harder against the window watching as the platform appeared. He could feel the brakes fighting the train wheels as people started to lurch forward trying to balance bags and avoid hitting each other. Finally the train stopped, throwing a few inexperienced passengers around.
He waited a moment as the aisle cleared and then jumped up, grabbed his bag and headed out to the door. Once there he stood looking both ways at the old station, paint peeling off the wooden pillars that stood to attention supporting the winter leaking shelter. At least he was here in summer. His eyes stopped on the mid-sized, well built (or maybe now a little stout) and hair receded guy that was his brother. He gave a wave and his brother gave the traditional slow upward nod in reply, but he smiled.
“How’s she goin?” the brother said as Conor approached.
“Everything’s fine Sean, good to see you.” He couldn’t help laughing inside. ‘She’ was used to refer to everything in life, except women. ‘She’ meant the car, the tractor, pretty much everything in life that was essential to surviving, essential. For women, ‘yer one’ was the more common phrase.
There was no handshake or hug, but Sean did grab the handle of Conor’s bag and struggle, finally yanking it from his grip as if to indicate that it was his job, he was looking after his brother now. Conor smiled.
“Any news?” asked Conor.
“Oh the usual. Bust the fuel pump on the 165 yesterday and there’s still ten acres of silage to be done,” Sean gave a slight glance towards Conor as if to say his driving duties for drawing the silage was already assigned
“Great, we’ll be busy then,” he responded. He suddenly felt a great urge to be sitting on a tractor, rushing under pressure to get as much done while there was light.
The drive to the village wasn’t long and as before on the train, Conor stared out the window, watching every hedge, gate, stone wall and finally the small cottages of the village as his eyes darted back and forth taking it all in. But there was one house, one window in particularly he longed to see. They were approaching ‘The Meadows’ now. A wonderfully old two story house at the end of the main street. He felt that tingle again now.
“How long you staying?” asked Sean suddenly.
“Eh, not sure,” responded Conor a little irritated.
The entrance to the house was somewhat concealed with a wonderfully tall leylandii hedge, only broken in the middle by a small pedestrian archway filled with a light blue painted gate. The hedge completely obscured the lower part of the house but the upstairs was sitting above it and he looked hard at the last window, small, with a cross hair wooden frame, painted white. He smiled. There she was, sitting inside on the deep windowsill they had often both shared. She had been reading as usual, he guessed, but as they passed she looked out and the most beautiful white smile rushed forward through a frame of red curls and he gasped.
“What?” asked Sean.
She tilted her head as the car went by and he strained to look back.
“Do you have to drive so fast?” he asked Sean.
“Fast? My Honda 50 can go faster than this heap of junk, I’m struggling to do 40.”
“Is this thing taxed and insured?” Conor suddenly started to look around inside the car.
“We don’t use it much, da’s gone to town so I had to take this.”
Conor frowned, “I don’t think not using it much counts.”
“Sure the Sergeant knows the run-arounds, there’s no issue.”
After bumping up the narrow lane-way, they were finally in the farm yard and before he knew it Sean had already left the car and was walking to the house with his bag. He sat there for a while looking at the old house, he loved it.
Their mother was standing at the door with her hands to her mouth in prayer-like shape and a big tearful smile on her face. He got out and went to her.
“Thank God you’re here, it’s wonderful.”
“Great to be back for a while Mam.”
Over the tea table the questions were being fired.
“How are you now? Is all Ok? What did the doctors say? Your employers are great, aren’t they?”
“Look, I’m fine. They say it was just a bit too much stress.”
Conor felt the eyes to heaven gesture from Sean, stress.
“And yes, the company is good, I can go back when ready.”
“Not for a while, it’s been five years since you’ve been home!” said mother.
“I know, I want to go down the village soon, see a few things, I’ve missed the place really badly, missed quite a few people!”
His mother looked to Sean, “Do you hear him. Suppose you didn’t tell him about his duties what with the cut and all?”
“I know about the silage, and I’ll do my bit looking forward to it! Just want to go see a few things, people?”
He smiled and shook his head at his mother. She frowned a little and looked towards Sean again.
“You didn’t think I was going to come here and not want to head off and pay a visit to Kirwans?”
“Well maybe in a day or so, there’s things to be done,” replied his mother.
“A day or so? She’ll kill me. Sure she saw me driving by, if I don’t go down and say hello there’ll be war!”
“What? She saw you? When?”
“As we went by ‘The Meadows’, She was in the window as always.”
Sean looked at his mother.
“Conor, you know that’s not true. Rachel’s gone. The accident. You know, she didn’t survive.”
Tears started coming to Conor’s eyes. In the hospital they had talked about this. Five years previously as they left the village together that wet windy night the car had left the road, a flash flood.
“But I saw her, she was smiling.”
“You’re tired, the doctors said this would be the way. Come now, time to lie down and I have to sort these pills out,” he heard his mother say and as he drifted into a distant place he felt a soft young hand take his gently.
A tear came to Sean’s eye as he watched his big brother being led away.
“You’re home now son, everything will be ok,” his mother said.
Come to say Hello
Micheal was staring at the wooden plank. He could still hear all the sounds around him, but stared. He was afraid of heights but two or three feet wasnt really an issue.
“Are you coming to see the horses or not?” asked Sarah
“I can see them from here,” he replied.
She grunted, punched fists in the air and walked away.
It was a ditch, small trickle of water running beneath and a plank of wood across it. He’d been down to watch the horses for the past two months since they arrived. Of any, he deserved to be there beside them. Looking at the others he knew they were spooking them, he could tell. The grey one stayed high in the field and seemed to be staring at him as if he’d brought this on.
“You look sad,” she said.
“What?” he hadn’t seen her standing there.
“Don’t you like horses?”
“Of course, it was me that said we should come and see them.”
“You look sad.”
“Em, I’m not sad. Anyway who are you with, what’s your name?”
“Em, I mean Emma, but people call me Em!”
“Right, you wanna go into the field?”
“No, I’m happy here.”
“The horses, they look good ye?”
“I’m hungry.”
“Oh, right, bar-b-que is due to be fired up soon!”
“Do you like it here?” she asked.
“Of course, that’s why I moved here. Where do you live?”
“I like the fact that you have loads of grass behind the house, I mean fields, space, and right across to the hill!”
“Yep, that’s one of the things that drew me here.”
“Over there,” she pointed, “thats where you could put a small play area, swings, slide, you know?”
He followed her gaze.
“Well yes, that would work, I mean there is the space of course.”
There was silence. She seemed to be staring at the house and garden, planning how things could look. He watched her eyes, wishing he could see what she saw and what the thoughts were behind them.
“Sarah,” she said suddenly.
“What?”
“You asked me who I was with, Sarah.”
“Oh, yes of course I forgot.”
She smiled, she seemed very young, much younger than anyone else who had arrived. He didn’t remember children being on the list. He felt awkward. But he sensed good things from her. She had wonderful hair, long, with a slightly red hue. Her eyes absorbed every scene that was great around him and she tapped her sandled foot left and right in time with her sideways nods as if she was content to stay there for the whole day.
“Not sure Sarah mentioned you’d be here, who else did you come with?”
“Why do you like horses?” she asked.
He stepped back as if someone had cut across him.
“Em, don’t know. They come here every year, they just look so majestic, the colours, and when they gallop, what can you say?”
“I love the way you say my name.”
He looked at her. She had an amazing smile and her eyes seemed to hold him. Even if he wanted to try and change the topic he couldn’t. He could hear the horses getting unsettled behind him, but just couldn’t take his eyes off her.
She reached out and turned her hand so it was open, palm up. He felt nervous, suddenly he could feel the heat on his neck and his legs felt a little like jelly. He raised his hand and reached out towards her, gently placing his palm on hers.
It was like he had touched an open power line. Heat rushed up his arm, across his shoulder and through his neck, he smiled.
“I know you!” he said.
She smiled, “Of course. And you’ll be great, I promise. ”
“Michael! Michael! Hello!” he heard the shouts from behind him.
He turned and looked across the ditch.
“Come on, I want you here,” shouted Sarah.
He suddenly felt a massive need to be with her and quickly crossed the ditch.
“Wow, that’s the fastest I’ve seen you move in a while!!”
“Is everything ok?”
“Yes, of course, I just wanted to talk to you, to tell you something, here, in this field, where your beloved horses are!”
“I wish they were mine.”
“I know, but we can pretend!”
He smiled. Suddenly he thought about Emma. “Em.”
“What?”
“Eh, someone who knows you, I was just talking to her by the ditch, totally forgot and just ran off! How rude.”
“Em who? I don’t know anyone called Em?”
“She said she was with you, Emma obviously.”
“Nope, don’t know an Emma, although nice name!”
“Nice name? Strange, what do you mean by that?”
“Nice name for a girl!”
“Yes, it is a girl’s name, bad deal if it was given to a boy!”
“But if it was a girl?”
Michael stared at her.
“You know what, I’ve completely lost where the conversation was.”
“Wouldn’t it be a lovely name if it was a girl?”
“She was a girl.”
“If it was our girl?”
“Our girl? We don’t have a girl.”
“Not yet!” she smiled.
He watched her carefully. Her eyes were dancing fuller than he had ever seen. Her ears were higher, and her smile was reaching the skies in ways that made him want to jump up, catch it and hold it forever.
“Pregnant?”
She nodded.
“A baby? Us?”
Tears slowly rolled down her beautiful face, “Us.”
He gently placed his hands on her shoulders and drew her closer.
“I can’t believe it.”
“Believe it, and get ready, there’s going to be changes!”
“I know. We can have a small play area, swings, slide whatever, just over there,” he said pointing across to the garden.
“Wow, slow down, there’s a bit to go before that!” she laughed.
“I know, but, that’s where it’ll be, that’s where she wants it!”
Sarah looked at him as he stared across to the garden, “Men.”
The Cell
She gently rubbed her hand along her bare foot feeling the sooty dust between her fingers and her heel. It didn’t bother her anymore, she wondered when she stopped caring. At first the smell and the chill damp feeling of the room horrified her, now, she was used to it. During the day, it became unbearably warm. Now as she was sitting on the ground in the corner, slightly leaning against the side wall, she had worked out that moving less during the warm times and walking when the cool night came in was the best way to handle it. Time didn’t matter, she only knew it was night when the temperature started to drop.
There had been no visits now for some time. A small locker in the far corner contained a few bottles of water and some packaged food. It had been stocked a while ago, maybe a few days. That was a sign that there would be no visits, no fresh food. She didn’t care, it was better than the visits.
There was no sound here, nothing. She remembered times she had hoped for peace, quietness and time to herself, so often. Now she wanted to be in a crowded room, a bar maybe, where the music was way too loud and people had to shout to communicate.
She felt an itch suddenly. Quickly she scratched and slapped the area. Even in the dark her look of disgust sent out its message.
Then she was thinking again about how things were and should be. She would never have gone out unless she looked immaculate. Different outfit for every occasion, and a range of shoes that were like little children to her. Shoes, she thought. The ones she had worn last were now clearly completely impractical for the situation she found herself in, but then, she never thought. She didn’t know where they were now anyway, they weren’t with her by the time she got here. She knew the red short cocktail dress she had been wearing was now stained and covered in black gritty patches. It was torn too.
She slowly pulled herself up from the ground and stood for a moment, a little dizzy. It’s strange, with no light you lose track of the times to eat. This was a sign she hadn’t eaten in a while. Her back ached, the last visit had been particularly unpleasant, a going away present. She made her way to the locker by following the wall to the end and along the other side. She knew where the locker was but sometimes an obstacle might have been left in the way. The water was tempting but without food she would get pains in her stomach very quickly and that meant other problems she just hated to think of. The food was always sealed well so if there were any other scavengers about they didn’t get at it, she was grateful for that.
The cooler box was getting lighter now as she pulled it out. Inside she felt for the cooked slices of meat and slowly chewed on them. Eating too fast wasn’t good. She thought of the Marcus Key Restaurant, low light, candles, sparkling wine to start, and three hours to enjoy the finest of food and wine. In her head she heard the familiar Beep Beep of a text and wondered how many messages and texts had now gone unanswered. She took a sip of water and started to feel a bit better. The pain in her back hadn’t eased much and she was concerned that maybe there was more damage than just bruising. She felt around the shelf and found the apples. As she went to bite a thought crossed her mind, but she couldn’t see the apple so what was the point. At home she had always been so careful about food hygiene, maybe too careful. She closed her eyes and started eating. Suddenly she laughed. The thought of closing her eyes in the dark so she wouldn’t see the apple was just insane, everything was insane. She took some more water and then packed away the near empty box. On the first few occasions she had taken too much food too soon and ran out. She had learned now how to ration, and also what it meant when it was running low.
She pushed the cooler box into the locker. As she drew her hand back she felt a sharp pain along her arm. The pain cleared any thoughts of her back and as she gently moved her fingers across it she could feel the sticky wet liquid that was keeping her alive slowly ooze into the darkness that her life had become. Sharp, she thought. What was sharp? She reached slowly back into the locker and gently felt the edges. Then her fingers saw it. A small thin strip of the inside of the locker had been pulled away from the side and had a sharp edge. She pulled at it and it slowly started to bend. Then she pushed it back. Pulling and pushing she could feel the metal moving easier and finally it snapped. She took it out. The metal strip was about four inches long, sharp, but very flexible.
She slowly followed the wall until she reached what she felt was half way. From here she could walk straight ahead and find the mattress in the centre. Once there she sat down, her yoga style, and took a rest from what seemed to be a huge effort. She caressed the piece of metal. It was the first time she felt that she might have a chance of being in control again. But of what? The metal was so soft it would be useless as a knife. It would just bend if you thrust it at someone. You could wave it and slash things but what good would that do.
Suddenly she heard movement beyond the door. There was some banging and footsteps. A visit, she thought. Tears rolled down her face as she rubbed her finger along the metal.
After a few minutes there was loud bangs at the door. Finally it burst open and two men with torches stared into the room.
“We’ve got her!” shouted one. “Quick, down here! Medics now”
As the policeman moved in and shone the torch on the ground his face went pale. He saw the woman laid back on the mattress, her throat with a long wide dark gash and blood flowing freely. Near her hand he could see the thin strip of metal.
“Ah Jesus, no.”
Crystal
She felt warm as she lay there holding Crystal, and even though she was somewhat older than made sense, she could still get that fresh baby smell and she smiled. She gently passed her hand across the back of her head and down her long hair feeling the silky smooth wonder that was so soft.
“I like that,” said Crystal.
“So do I,” she responded.
She continued to move her hand gently from top to bottom and for a while remembered her mother doing the same.
“I want to stay here doing this forever,” she said in a low gentle voice.
“Mam,” replied Crystal, “tell me what Heaven’s like.”
“Why?” she answered.
“Cause I like when you tell me a story, and I wonder what heaven is like.”
She paused for a while as she thought how best to answer. Then she smiled as she felt a warm feeling come over her, just like when she was with her mum.
“It’s wonderful. There’s everything there, everything you’d want, I mean, everything anyone would want.”
Crystal had pulled away slightly from the embrace and was looking straight into her face, smiling.
“Remember the fun park just off the beach we went to, that’s there, or like it, and the parties with your cousins, there are loads of them as well, and remember that ride in the amusement park that daddy was so afraid of and you loved, that’s there too!”
A worried look came over Crystal’s face.
“Only if you want it love, these things are always what you want, that’s what Heaven is like!”
Crystal smiled.
“And will I see people I know, or how will I make friends, will I be alone?”
“Of course not baby, you will see Granddad and Granny, and loads more people you mightn’t even know, but they will have known you, and they’ll be so happy to see you!”
“So why are people so sad when other people go to Heaven?” she asked.
“Well baby, maybe they want to spend more time with them.”
“But Heaven sounds so great, why wouldn’t we just go straight there?”
She started to laugh as she caressed Crystal’s back. She was trying to think of some answer that would make sense and at the same time not frighten her.
“You know, you are such a clever girl! You ask all the right questions and really put me on the spot!”
Crystal smiled, “But Mam, you always know the answer.”
She looked at Crystal as she tried to figure out what to say. Even though she was nervous, she decided to ask.
“What do you think Heaven is like?”
“Well,” Crystal thought, “It’s like you said, everything I ever wanted. The park, the beach, the sun, the time that Lucy went mad at the party house and everyone laughed, and also when Granddad fell over the ball cause he was too slow to ‘dribble’ and wouldn’t admit it,” she nodded and smiled, “and Dad burst the balloons as he was trying to blow them up and kept getting angry !!! That’d be fun, that’d be Heaven.”
She found herself smiling as she watched the excitement in Crystal’s eyes.
“You can do anything there then!” Crystal continued.
“Yes I suppose so. But there’s no need to be worrying about that!”
“I’m not worried Mum, sounds fun, sounds like wow!!!”
She pulled Crystal closer and almost felt like she was squeezing the life from her and then relaxed.
“Are you happy?” she asked.
“It’s brilliant Mum, everything’s great, are you? It’s all just as you said.”
She thought a while as she held Crystal. All her life she had longed to hold a daughter or son of her own, and it made her so happy. When it seemed that they might not have a child, they had both become so low and sad, Crystal had made their lives, made their marriage.
“Mam,” Crystal suddenly pushed herself up.
“Daddy’s very sad these days.”
She struggled to hold the tears back as she didn’t want Crystal to see.
“Don’t worry love, he’ll be fine, everything will be fine.”
Crystal smiled and leaned back down across her moving so she had her lips close to her ear. She whispered while she caressed her mother’s face gently and tears gradually formed across her mother’s face. Then Crystal lifted herself up again and gently kissed her mother on the lips.
“I love you Mammy,” she said.
“I love you too Crystal,” she replied.
She stared at that beautiful smile she had seen so many times before and thought to herself how blessed she was. The tugging at her side became more regular now and she found herself being forced to turn over.
He was looking straight at her as she opened her eyes, and he had his usual look of worry. She smiled.
“Did you dream of her again?” he asked nervously.
“Yes,” she replied, “she’s in Heaven and she’s very happy.”
He looked at her for a while and then sighed, lying back in the bed.
“Please, you have to let this go,” he said.
“No,” she said, “She asked me to say something to you.”
He froze in the bed and waited.
“She told me to say to you ‘tell Daddy he can cry now’”
She watched him lying on his back and saw the tears well in his eyes.
“She’s happy, let her go!” She said.
The tears rolled down both side of his face and she wrapped her arms around him.
“She’s gone, but I know she’s happy, I know,” she said as he shook and whimpered in her arms.
One Last Christmas Job
“Jayzuz, Johnnie, pull in quick!”
“What?”
“Come-on, quick pull in!”
Johnnie pulled the car over to the side of the road.
“Mick, we’re gonna be late for the flight.”
“Johnnie, we’re goin home, how much have you got?”
“Look we’ve been through this, we agreed it wasn’t worth bringing, that’s why my bleeding head is running a kango with no brakes.”
“Ye exactly, and you and I both know that when the women find out there’ll be murder.”
Johnnie looked at Mick and put his hands out as if he was raising a desperate prayer to heaven.
“Work is scarce, we’ve tried everything.”
“Save it for yer one, what if we were to bring a few hundred home?”
“And how’s that gonna happen? There’s six days to Christmas, there’s no job gonna happen now and anyway I’m in the season mood.”
“You get off that plane in Dublin with a fiver in your pocket after six months and I’ll tell you what that mood will be like.”
Johnnie looked at the steering wheel, he knew it didn’t just go straight and he felt like turning around.
“I have a solution.”
Johnnie slowly looked back at Mick.
“You, You have a solution?”
“Look, we’ve made a good bit of money out of the painting jobs right?”
“Ye, with the builders gone, the jobs still have to be finished but they’re all done now.”
Mick smiled and pointed out the window.
“What’d ye think?”
Johnnie followed his finger.
“What the hell is that?”
“Ye, exactly. A big old grey building, needs a good lift ye?”
“Look at the size of it, who’s gonna give us a job to paint that just before Christmas? The government probably own it anyway.”
“No-way, that’s one of those old wrecks of a building, the government don’t bother with that stuff anymore. They’re only into big flashy glass buildings. It’s probably some local group looking after it sure it’s in bits!”
“And how are we to find out who that is?”
Mick put his head in his hands.
“Johnnie, you have to think outside the box!”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“You don’t have to find who’s looking after it, they’ll find you!”
”Mick, there’s twenty pints of Guinness and half a bottle of vodka doing an impression of Niagara falls against my forehead, I don’t have the energy to work out you’re stupid schemes.”
“We’ve a load of that stuff from the last job in the back, what’s the best way to get work, show how good you are!”
Johnnie looked to the back of the van, inside there was a stack of paint tubs.
“You want to paint the grey building?”
“Don’t be stupid, without getting paid? Look, that’s a fierce dead looking place, the way to do it is to paint a bit, show them how good it will look and the job is ours!! We can get it done before the big day!”
Johnnie looked at the grey building.
“There’s six pillars and it’s big.”
“Relax, look, with your skills with the auld abseiling, we can get two pillars done tonight, that’ll get the message across and then once we get the job, we can do the front and the side wall for a good price and finish it in the new year”
Johnnie sat thinking for a few minutes.
“It looks like some sort of palace.”
“No, it’s not a palace, it just looks like, I d’know, it’s just a big block, anyway there’s no flags.”
“Well, if we did two pillars, then what?”
“They’ll see it and give us the gig. We’ll agree the price, cash up front, and we’ll be hero’s when we get home! Delay the flight ‘till Christmas eve, the brother will get us on the flight!”
Johnnie was nodding his head.
“Might work, and we’d get the finish job work in January! We might get more work when people see it!”
“Come-on man, let’s go !!!”
<————12 hrs later————>
Johnnie hit Mick in the arm.
“Ow, dead arm man.”
“I told you it was a palace.”
“It’s not a bleedin palace, some eejit build a pyramid in Leeds.”
“She didn’t say it was a pyramid, she said it was a Temple!”
“Well whatever, she said some Egyptians built it.”
“Are you stupid or what? She said it was like an Egyptian Temple, not that Egyptians built it. Why do I ever listen to you?”
“Right lads, are you comfortable in there,” said the officer.
Johnnie looked out the window and saw the caretaker in tears pointing at the two blue pillars.
“What’s the big deal, why is she so upset, I did a good job on those pillars.”
Mick looked at the lady in tears being consoled by the lady police officer.
“You did a great job Johnnie, sometimes people just don’t appreciate a good job. It’s art, you’re an artist did you know?”
“I think we’ll move on when we come back after Christmas. What about Newcastle? I like Newcastle.”
“Newcastle? They got demoted last year, why do you want to go there?”
“I’ve twenty on them getting back up – I think I’m gonna win that one. Anyway, there’s lots of grey buildings, I’m just thinking about that now and I know there’s work there.”
“Fair enough. Yer man with the funny hat says they’ll let us out tomorrow so we should still be able to get a flight home.”
“Ye, what about the fine?”
“We won’t say anything about that at home, the usual story, slow pay money due, ye know!”
“We could have said that yesterday!”
“Over a hundred and sixty years !!!” the woman shouted at them as the car pulled away.
“You were right then Mick, over a hundred and sixty years and no-one had even finished the job. Maybe summer time would have been better. We should keep it in mind.”
Cuddles
Peter was standing very still. He was starting to get cold now. The water was lovely and warm when he first got in but since he hadn’t moved in nearly ten minutes, a slight shiver had started to kick in.
He was watching the Doberman chew on his swimming shorts about five feet away on the grass verge. Every now & then the dog would stop, look at him as if to say “don’t even think about it,” and then continue to chew.
Peter was still puzzled how skilfully the dog had scooped out his shorts following the frantic sprint and dive that had made them available in the first place. His instincts, when the silence had been shattered by the deep growl and barking that led to the chase, had been to get somewhere the dog wouldn’t continue his pursuit.
He slowly glanced around, always conscious that the dog was indicating he wished the shorts were actually Peter. It was all quiet. Of course Peter forgot that his father-in-law always let Cuddles out when the family were away for the day. Clearly they forgot that he wasn’t joining them on the shopping excursion.
Originally he had felt sorry for the dog having been inflicted with such an unsuitable name, now he just remembered how much he hated guard dog style breeds.
Suddenly the side gate started to bang and Cuddles sprung into action. Peter seized his moment and, a little slower than he had hoped as his blood started to circulate again, he plunged for the far side of the pool and leaped out. Leaped might be an overstatement, he tended to do that.
Cuddles had secured the other distraction and was conscious that the main task in hand was now on the loose. He came bounding back, halting for a moment as Peters milk white naked body startled him somewhat, demonstrated a strange human like expression that seemed to suggest, “boy, what does she see in you?” and then proceeded to pursue.
Peter made it to the monkey tree in the corner and climbed up. This was better he thought, it was a lovely sunny afternoon and he was starting to warm up as he dried. He decided to show Cuddles two fingers in celebration and proceeded to do some strange primitive wiggling dance among the branches that seemed like a good idea at the time.
He was somewhat puzzled by the look Cuddles was giving him and almost sensed a smile. It was at that point he realised that he wasn’t the only one gasping after his energetic sprint and dance routine. Next door to the in-laws was a convent, and the monkey tree overlooked the allotment.
He laughed nervously as he slowly waived to the nuns who had stopped working.
“Lovely day isn’t it sisters?
They promptly dropped their gardening utensils and scurried off towards the main building. Peter did notice one kept looking back and seemed slower than the rest. He smiled and waved.
“Sister Michael, come in at once,” called one of the other nuns, as the slower nun seemed to wave a mobile phone frantically in his direction.
“Well, this is interesting!” said his father-in-law from the base of the tree. “Not sure they’ve seen that display since Cathy’s second boyfriend and Cuddles’ mother was around!”
Peter nodded slowly wondering how long more he had to endure this.
“Cathy just wanted me to check and see if you definitely didn’t want to come with us?”
“Actually I might take you up on that,” replied Peter.
“Ok, we’ll be waiting in the car outside, come on Cuddles, go on quick dip in the pool first!”
And with that Cuddles leapt into the pool, swam a length and jumped out the far end. Peter watched and was certain Cuddles looked back and gave one of those smiles again!
“Oh, he can climb too, when he’s in the mood” said his father-in-law.
Peter laughed nervously.
Once they’d gone he gingerly climbed down and made his way back to the house, glancing at the shreds that were once his shorts.
“Sister Michael!” he heard from over the wall, “get down from that ladder immediately.
Peter opened the back door, stepped in, closed it and with his back to it, sighed deeply. When he opened his eyes he was still smiling at the whole incident.
“I just came back in to get an extra shopping bag,” said his mother-in-law, “we recycle when we can you know.” She gave a nervous laugh as she quickly scanned him.
“I was very hot,” he said. With this he stood up straight, nodded, walked passed his mother-in-law as if marching to attention, and walked out of the kitchen.
As he entered the hall he passed his wife who was standing with her mouth wide open.
“Ah, Cathy my dear if you’re looking for your mother she’s in the kitchen, shopping’s off, I’m going upstairs to stand at the bedroom window for Sister Michael!”
The Devine Office
“Father?”
The old short woman said politely and waited.
“Father?” this time a little louder. Her folded arms tensing a little.
“Father!” she shouted, brow furrowed, lips now pursed concealing clenched teeth.
“What?, what? what’s wrong?” the priest jumped to his feet knocking over the pew he was kneeling at.
“I’ve been calling you Father Macken, the Butler’s here to see you.”
“Oh Mrs Sullivan, em, I was in the middle of my Divine Office”
The old lady looked at him, then slowly moved her head to the left and her eyes even further, then back.
“We’re in the Church, Father.”
“My Devine Office, part of my daily prayers. It’s a time, several times a day, when I have solitude and can pray direct to God. Didn’t Father Cullen perform Devine Office during the day?”
She shrugged her shoulders and started to turn away.
“Hhhm!, We were lucky if Father Cullen managed to perform Mass,” she said as she started to move back towards the sacristy.
“What was it you wanted?” called Father Macken.
“The Butler’s here, he wants you. He’s outside the back door of the sacristy, better off there too.”
He looked puzzled and made his way behind the altar and through the narrow wooden door. As he reached the end of the corridor he glanced through the small window to the side of the back door and saw an elderly man wearing what looked like a suit from a wedding some years back and never cleaned.
“That’s Mr Callaghan, isn’t it?”
“The Butler, he’ll be looking for something, he always is. I’m off now Father, have to pick up my grandchildren.”
“Very good Mrs Sullivan, you can show Mr Callaghan in on the way thanks.”
“He knows how to open the door,” she said as she left.
The Butler was already pushing himself passed her. She tipped her nose skyward for more than one reason and rushed off down the side exit to the main street.
“Ah, Father, how are you, welcome to the parish,” said the Butler.
“Mr Callaghan, thank you, come in, come in.”
“Butler, Butler, that’s what they call me here.”
“Yes of course, so many people seem to have nick-names, hard to keep track.”
“Ah well, it’s easier that way. I mean there’s me, then there’s Shayme Callaghan, then Seamus Callaghan, Shay Callaghan, the other Shayme, Seamus and Jimmy.”
Father Macken nodded slowly, “I see, and what’s your first name then?”
“Peter.”
“Oh, ok then, Butler, what can I do for you?”
“Well it’s the other way around Father. You see I used to do a few odd jobs around the sacristy for Father Cullen. You know, when he’d be getting ready for the Mass and that, I’d make sure all the silver stuff was nice and shiny and I’d get the cloths together for him and then when it was time I’d get the wine from, well, over there where it was kept locked. He was normally saying his prayers and that so he found me a big help you know.”
“I see. Interesting, I didn’t think he said Devine Office.”
“The wine office? It’s over here,” said Butler pointing to the small door in the corner.
“No, no, his prayers.”
“Oh yes, Father Cullen, his prayers, very important, always praying. Used to sit there with his eyes closed, head tilted back toward heaven for hours.”
Father Macken looked puzzled, “Wine Office?” he looked toward the small door.
“Anyway, I’ll set to work then Father will I?”
“Well, there isn’t really much to do, I think Mrs Sullivan has polished the chalices.”
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