Sanctuary 12 (Fallen Gods Saga), page 8
‘You and your car,’ Grace remarked. She peered over the vehicle’s roof, flicking a section of blonde hair away from her eyes.
‘Cars are much easier to make sense of than people, Grace,’ Tom replied.
‘Have anyone in mind with that statement?’
‘God no. I was generalising. Quantum physics would be easier to fathom than that woman.’ He stopped kicking his wheel, satisfied it didn’t have a slow puncture.
‘That woman is our mother. Try not to lose your rag this time, please.’ Grace took a much sterner tone.
‘A tall order after driving all that way in heavy traffic.’ Tom pointed his black key-fob at the Honda, causing the lights to flash on and off and the door locks to shoot down with one click.
‘We can’t force her into anything, and we shouldn’t be able to either. She’s still of sound mind.’
‘That’s up for debate at the moment.’ Tom spoke under his breath.
Grace put a finger to her lips and fixed a look on him. ‘What a terrible thing to say. Careful what you wish for—for my sake as well as yours.’
‘Okay, okay. I’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean that. I’m just frustrated. Believe it or not, I want what’s best for her.’
‘Yes, well it’s important it comes across that way this time. So try and be patient, curb that bloody temper of yours.’ Grace made her move towards the house, Tom following behind like a scolded schoolboy. The ground was soft and moist under foot. The sun, which had been partially shielded by cloud, was now unveiled. The light blistered through every crack in the wooden panels of the tattered barn. The farm appeared beautiful and calm; so many memories from their childhood crept around each corner.
‘I know I should be thinking about all the happy times we had as kids, but the only thing this place does for me now is gives me the creeps,’ Grace said.
‘Do yourself a favour, sis, and just don’t take it in. Every time we come here, I just focus on mum and nothing else.’
‘Good advice. I’ll try it next time.’
‘There won’t be many more next times.’
‘Tom—’ her tone sent him another warning.
‘I know. I promise I’ll try and keep calm.’
Evelyn came to the door before they reached it. She smiled, making eye contact with both as they approached.
‘Mother,’ Tom said.
‘Son.’ She wrapped one arm around Tom’s neck, brushing his cheek with her dry lips. It disarmed him a little. He looked down at the floor.
‘Hi, mum.’ Grace spoke apologetically.
‘My sweetheart.’ Evelyn pinched the flesh on each of her daughter’s cheeks. ‘You know I’m always pleased to see you.’ Grace closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of her mother’s hand against her skin. All three made their way into the living room, taking up their usual seating positions; Tom and Grace sat together on the sofa, and Evelyn sank back into her armchair, still warm from before. On the table between them was a finely polished silver tray. It had been there for years, even when the children were still living on the farm. Swirling Victorian patterns were cut into all four of its edges. Tom gave Grace a quick smile when he saw that the teapot was sporting the old multi-coloured cosy. No one wanted to be the first to speak. The silence became more uncomfortable by the second.
‘How have you been?’ Tom said.
‘I’ve been fine, thank you, dear—just like on your last visit.’
‘Don’t be like that. It wasn’t an attack,’ Tom replied.
‘I’m sorry if it came across that way. It wasn’t meant to.’
Tom nodded. He seemed softer today, less desirous of control.
‘Mum, we aren’t going to beat around the bush. We’ve got another proposition for you,’ Grace cut in.
‘I understand what you’re trying to do for me, I really do. But I’m not coming to live with you. I’m a hippy mum, remember. It’s too twenty-first century, and I wouldn’t like to be a burden.’
‘Honestly, I don’t understand how you can assume that you coming to live with us would suddenly have this negative impact on our lives. If anything, I think it would be the opposite,’ Grace said.
‘Perhaps someday, when your daughter is your age, you will understand,’ Evelyn said.
‘Yeah, I get it. It’s about how you feel, and not us. But this time we’re proposing something different.’
Evelyn responded by shaking her head, slumping further into her armchair.
‘Listen to her, mum, please.’ A note of the usual Tom started to creep back into his voice. Or maybe it was what she wanted to hear because her defences were now up, and firmly set in place.
‘Let’s have it then,’ Evelyn said.
‘There’s a house up for sale, in the next street to ours,’ Grace continued.
‘It’s lovely, and it’s perfect—a practical little bungalow.’ She pulled a brown envelope from her bag, resting it on her lap.
‘I’m sure it’s wonderful, dear,’ Evelyn mumbled.
‘Don’t do that.’
‘Do what?’
‘What’s so terrible and threatening? Can’t you at least look at a few photos? A place of your own—more than in your price range—where you can get the proper help you need,’ Grace pleaded.
‘I have help. I have Doctor Fuller.’
‘No disrespect, but Doctor Fuller is a typical village GP. You need specialist care, mum. Care he can’t provide for you. All he can do is prescribe more pills to calm your nerves,’ Tom said.
‘I’ve told you, it’s getting better.’ Evelyn said the words as if she were trying to convince herself.
‘Oh right. That’s why that plastic sheet I put up is still stapled to the edge of the bloody porch. Dad built it so you could enjoy the fresh air in comfort, not so you could hide behind some tarpaulin,’ Tom said. He fidgeted on the sofa like he was about to throw her over his shoulder and carry her from the farm himself.
‘I know exactly why your father built it, thank you very much. I was here when he did. I watched him hammer every nail.’ Her bottom lip began to quiver, but she was not going to break in front of her kids.
‘Here we go again. You make all the excuses you want, but at the end of the day, the sole reason you’re digging your heels in is because of him, isn’t it? That crazy notion you got into your head the day he died,’ Tom said.
Evelyn could hardly contain her anger. ‘Have you any idea how much this farm meant to him? Have you?’
‘Have you any idea how much you meant to him?’ Tom returned her anger in equal measure. ‘Do you think if he saw you in this position, he wouldn’t wish you to leave this place and build a new life for yourself?’
Evelyn reined herself in, her eyes glazed over. ‘You don’t understand.’ She whispered it because she didn’t fully understand either.
‘You’re absolutely right on that one. I don’t understand—neither does Grace. I’ll tell you what I do understand, though. I understand that he wouldn’t want you to make the same mistakes he did. Clinging on to memories so painful, they gradually ate him away until his heart just couldn’t take it anymore.’ Tom’s eyes shone, as he pictured his father.
‘It was the pre-emptive cull policy, not his heart,’ Evelyn said.
‘I fail to see what difference that should make to your decision.’
She paused for a second to take a long look at them both. ‘It was his dying wish I remain here. We’ve already been through this, as you well know.’
‘Oh, Jesus Christ. There’s no way he’d expect you to do that—no way.’ Tom waved his hands out in front of him, trying to physically repel his mother’s theory.
‘He said stay. Has it ever crossed your mind he meant he wanted you to stay with him at that moment? Perhaps he knew it was too late, and he didn’t want you to run into the house to call an ambulance. Perhaps he wanted to spend what he knew were his final seconds with his wife, with the woman he loved,’ Grace said.
Evelyn let her guard down, leaning towards her daughter. ‘He gave me a message. I wish I could make you understand. I wish you could have looked into his eyes as I did.’
Grace wanted to believe her, but if their parents had taught them anything, it was to not dwell on memories, or allow them to dictate subsequent actions. She took three photographs from the envelope on her lap, placing them on the table. She pushed them over the finished wood to Evelyn’s side.
‘Just promise me you will look at them.’
‘I promise, I will look,’ she said.
‘We need to move fast, you understand,’ Tom said. It wasn’t the most tactful remark, but he felt it needed saying.
‘I said I would look at the photos. I can promise no more than that.’
‘Of course.’ Tom backed off, relaxing back into his seat. Silence followed. Evelyn glanced around the room, consumed by its bittersweet spell.
‘There are so many ghosts in this place. Even your father’s birds still hang around. In fact, I saw one of them before you arrived, when I was putting out the washing.’
‘Really?’ Grace smiled. She remembered quite vividly how much joy the birds brought to her father.
‘Yes, and it’s not the first time. It’s almost as if he is trying to communicate something to me’.
Tom rolled his eyes and looked at Grace, clearly disgruntled. ‘Don’t feed it,’ he whispered under his breath.
Grace scowled at him.
Evelyn smiled wearily. ‘Don’t worry, son. Your opinions of my current mental stability are no secret to me. After all, why wouldn’t I be disturbed? You remember what happened as well as anyone else—the men in chemical suits coming to the house, the smell from the funeral pyres, the look on your father’s face.’
‘Why go back there? Why do you always want to go back there, of all places?’ Tom couldn’t help but raise his voice.
‘Because part of me never left those places. Part of me is still there.’ No one said a word in reply. Both children knew exactly what she meant; to a lesser extent, it had happened to them too. Tom’s expression almost broke Evelyn’s heart. It was obvious he’d seen this as his last attempt. It wasn’t the uncompromising persona of the hotshot car salesman she was used to, but a vulnerable little boy, afraid for his mother.
‘Just look at the photographs, read the paper work and get back to us with your answer,’ he said.
‘Okay, Tom. I will.’ She smiled, trying to put him at ease.
They sat there for an hour, talking about the days of brightness, when the two children had been very young. There was no more talk of moving. No more talk of the fires and the soldiers. They were all content with what they’d communicated, both spoken and otherwise. When it was time for Tom and Grace to leave, Evelyn kissed them both. She knew where their responsibilities must lie. She was determined never to be a burden to them again. The deep dark hole of depression she fell into back then must have taken more than its toll on them, at a time when they needed her more than ever. They didn’t really need her now in order to be happy. She was sure of that.
Eternal Present
1
Walton, England
The new day over Walton started brightly enough. As soon as the morning ended, it became warmer—not friendly warmth, but the still kind, where the air is stagnant. A peculiar smell whispered its way through the streets and buildings. Most people detected it, and then dismissed it as something rising up from the drains. Next came the cloud—ominous formations that turned morning into the most unearthly twilight. Following their arrival, the huge chemical beasts lay still, hanging over the village like unrelenting watchers.
As Jerrico peered from the store window up into the sky, he saw the clouds as giant alien motherships taking their strategic positions, awaiting orders to launch a decisive assault. Part of him found the idea rather appealing. He thought that maybe it would give him the purpose that had eluded him before. He supposed wishing for this type of crisis is the kind of thing people do when they’ve hit rock bottom.
‘What the hell are you doing, J? You look like a perv pressed up against the window like that,’ Cylon said. His voice always seemed harsher at the beginning of the day.
‘I look like one, you are one,’ Jerrico replied, never taking his eyes from the window. ‘Weird, isn’t it?’
‘Ha ha. Touché my feathered friend, touché.’ Cylon bounced over to the delivery box, which had arrived at the end of the previous day and remained unopened.
Jerrico finally turned to look at him, frowning curiously. ‘Feathered?’ he asked. There was no answer from Cylon. He’d stumbled across something much more engaging than his solemn counterpart. Jerrico could hear the ripping of cardboard as he continued to examine the deep gassy forms overhead. The light created by the strange cloud cover transformed into a purple hue. Jerrico noticed it altered the colour of everything in his town. Shop signs, and clothing of passers-by changed—even skin complexions—nothing was left untouched. The hair of a passing woman seemed almost blue. The front window of the ladies department store opposite, usually so vibrant, looked dull and non-descript in the wake of this unusual event. Jerrico’s eyes tracked back across the huge panes of glass. He’d registered something subconsciously and searched meticulously past the many displays, finely dressed mannequins and posters alerting customers to the latest Super offers available. Then he saw it again. From behind a tall shoe stand peeped the toes of a bare foot. Jerrico pressed his forehead right up against the glass, straining his eyes, hoping they were playing tricks on him. They weren’t. There were five hairy toes, plain as day. He turned back into the store, wanting to call Cylon over, but he still had his head in the delivery box, and didn’t even notice when Jerrico moved from the window to step outside.
The town was not very busy at all; it was late afternoon. Even though there weren’t a great many shoppers walking by, Jerrico was so transfixed by the window up ahead, he managed to collide with one of them.
‘Watch it, prick.’ The man in his forties shouted out as Jerrico struck him shoulder to shoulder. He stood scowling at the back of Jerrico’s head. Jerrico hardly noticed their collision. He was feeling queasy. His eyes did not leave the shoe stand. The foot was no longer in view, and as he got right up close, it was obvious there was nothing behind the stand at all. It failed to put Jerrico at ease. He’d experienced an echo of his dreadful past, and even though it was just for a moment, it brought everything flooding back. He was starting to see how he used to see.
A customer stood just beyond the shoe stand, clearly disturbed by Jerrico’s sudden presence on the other side of the glass. She frowned at him before scuttling to another area of the store. Jerrico sunk into himself, his shoulders rounded. The flash of memory felt like a nightmare stored away in someone else’s mind.
‘It’s not going to happen again. It’s not going to happen again. It’s not go—’
‘Jerrico? Are you alright?’
He flinched at the sound of the voice, turning to a concerned-looking middle-aged man with grey hair. He didn’t look old enough to be grey, though it suited him, as did his business suit and clean-shaven jaw-line. Jerrico relaxed when he realised who it was.
‘Hello, Adam.’ He offered his hand, still trembling from his bizarre flashback. Adam shook it reluctantly.
‘What are you doing?’ Adam asked.
‘I was just looking for a pair of shoes for my girlfriend.’ Jerrico said the first thing that came into his head. He didn’t have a girlfriend, of course, hadn’t had one for over two years. His last girlfriend was the daughter of the man standing in front of him.
‘Oh right. Well, I hope things are going well for you,’ Adam said.
Jerrico’s mention of a girlfriend had knocked Adam from his train of thought for a second. It made Jerrico smile to himself. He guessed that Adam’s sudden appearance wasn’t a chance one. He was pretty sure he’d intended to come to see him at the store, but instead noticed him over the road. They never liked each other. Yet, Adam was Kate’s father, and anyone who was important to Kate was to some extent important to Jerrico too, whether he wanted them to be or not.
‘Yes, quite well, thanks. How’s Rachel—is she okay?’ Jerrico inquired after Kate’s mother. He’d always had a soft spot for her.
‘She’s well, thank you.’
‘That’s good.’
They both paused. Adam took a breath to speak. ‘Son, I’m going to be honest with you about why I’m here.’
‘Go ahead.’
‘I’m concerned by Kate’s behaviour recently, and it doesn’t take genius to work out why. Everyone gets sentimental over things that might have been when entering into something as significant as a marriage. I should know.’ He paused and smiled, acknowledging the fact that he wasn’t making a very good job of explaining his motives. ‘I know you two have stayed in contact, and I just don’t know what you’re both expecting to accomplish by it—especially when she is married. I mean, do you think it’s going to do either of you any good? And let’s not forget her future husband, either.’
‘You’ve no need to worry. We won’t stay in contact after the big event, I assure you.’
‘So you’ve discussed it with her then?’ Adam asked.
‘As far as I’m concerned, everything is as it should be. I know as well as you do, she would have never been happy with me. I’ve only ever wanted what was best for your daughter.’
‘Perhaps I’ve been unfair to you,’ Adam said. ‘I feel rather embarrassed now.’
‘Thanks…there is one thing that you’re way off about,’ Jerrico said.
‘What’s that?’
‘You flatter me by thinking I have any control over what Kate does. I never have. I’ve only ever encouraged her to think for herself.’
‘She still seems unable to let you go.’
‘I hope you’re not expecting me to give you an explanation for that. I’m afraid I’m not that clever.’
