soulsinger's blog: "Short stories"

DEEDS OF AN ANGEL Alex winced as sharp bursts of pain pierced his eyes; a third car in a row failing to dip its headlights. His contact lenses were scraping like sand with every turn of his eyeballs, the air conditioning system making them dryer by the minute. His cheeks were wet with salty moisture and his nose had begun to run. He looked once more at the dashboard but failed to find the air-con controls. That was the problem with these modern cars. The cockpits were more like those found in fighter planes. Not that he was behind the times. He just found the rapid changes rather bemusing. He shook his head as the GPS system pinged for the fourth time that minute. “Your next turn is in fifty yards on the left” the polite american lady told him. “There isn’t any bloody turn.” He shouted. He was regarding the nice american lady with more and more disdain. Worse, as he had never even planned a route, didn’t know how to and even more annoyingly, couldn’t switch the damn thing off. He would take his brand new car back to the showroom on Monday. It was smooth, though. This bright shiny Mercedes. And it seemed to sweep through the pelting rain like a dolphin. That was another thing. The weather these days. There was never this much rain in the good old days. And summer was summer, falling between July and September as it should. No heat-waves, no flash floods, no freak tornadoes and definitely never this driving, bullet sharp rain. But the Mercedes kept the rain off. The country road was ill looked after. Tarmac was worn away, the hedgerow was ill kept and the hazard lines in the middle of the road were faded, if not invisible. He blinked to moisten his eyes a little. This did little to ease the discomfort. He would have to take them out if the pain didn’t subsist soon. And that would not be good, not on these winding road and not in this weather. Typical, he thought. His life had fallen into a deep valley of malaise ever since the death of his wife four years ago. He could not even call it a life anymore. Existence? Barely. He had no real friends. He quickly realised that ‘his’ friends had really been those of his wife’s and they lost interest in his moroseness soon after she died. He had always been a bit of a Victor Meldrew but became unbearable. He did have family but they could not longer be relied upon for company. His youngest daughter had followed the older out to Australia for a life of sun and barbeques. Somewhere in his heart he knew that people had to live their lives and move on. But he was so bitter. His wife had abandoned him and so had his family. He was so alone. The air-con blew a cold snap at him, pulling him out of the daydream. A sharp pain pierced his left eye as the contact lens stuck against his cornea. He grabbed at his face – the pain nearly overpowering him – and pressed his hand against his eye – trying to stop it from moving. If he could just keep it still maybe the pain would stop. The Mercedes lurched to the left, wheels slipping momentarily on the rain soaked verge. He grabbed the wheel again with both hands and pulled the car right, back onto the road. He blinked ferociously in an attempt to see through the stinging tears but all he could see was a dark foggy blur. He slowed to a stop, pinched the burning lens out with forefinger and thumb and popped it into his mouth. An old habit, one which his wife had told him to stop. But it was practical and convenient. “Shove it up your arse”, he said (tongue in cheek of course), yet the resultant punch on the arm shocked him so much, he swallowed the lens. He could still remember how it felt as the sharp edges of the hard plastic disk etched a hot groove all the way to his stomach. “Serves you right, you great pilloc”, she had said. “And don’t you expect me to go looking for it”. She had had a great sense of humour. Alex almost smiled as he remembered the happy days. Till the darkness came. He thumped the dashboard in bitterness. The radio clicked on, playing a cheesily jovial christmas song – bells, children singing, anthemic guitar chords in the background. He hated christmas now. At least, that was what he decided since his first daughter had left england two years ago. This christmas would be the first christmas in 66 years that he would spend alone. He pulled the Mercedes back onto the road. Nearly home, he thought, although that was little comfort now. The five-bedroom house still echoed with the sounds of happier times. The many ornaments placed on expensive cabinets were thick with dust. He couldn’t bear to face the photographs. “I could really do with some company” he whispered aloud and right on cue, the american lady politely advised him that he was approaching a roundabout. In a fit of temper, he hit the dashboard and miraculously, the air conditioning snapped off. The radio also changed channel. “What the bloody hell…”. That was another thing. He hated these talk radio stations the proliferated the air waves. Full of patronising presenters, evasive politicians and the eternally cliched football managers. “…extremely dangerous and we will be furthering our investigations to our best abilities. If anyone has seen anything of note, anything at all, no matter how insignificant, we would appreciate a call...”, the chief investigator repeated once more the description of a suspect the were looking for. “,,,and is there any advice you would give to our listeners?” The presenter cajolled. “Yes there is. We would suggest that people take extra care when travelling at night. We at the Yorkshire Police will do their utmost to protect the public but unfortunately we can’t be everywhere.” “You’ve got that right”, Alex sneered, “Bloody useless, you lot.” “Yes”, the presenter sneered “And I would like to mention once more that if there is anything and anyone suspicious, please don’t hesitate to call the help-line number. Thank-you, Inspector. And now to Parliament where Mr Blair is announcing a new initiative…” “Bloody Blair”, he spat, almost losing his contact lens to the Mercedes floor. Politicians were not what they used to be, either. It wouldn’t be too long before he arrived back home in Harrogate, weather (and vision) permitting. The bright neon blue clock flashed 12am. His eyes drooped and he breathed a tired sigh, partially with tiredness and partially with in resignation to life. He slipped into a shallow daydream, imagining his end – an empty room, a solitary bed, crisp white sheets and no cards or flowers to give him hope. He felt a lump rise in his throat. A heavy tear rolled down his cheek. He reached for a tissue box on the passenger seat and carefully wiped his eye. He checked the straight road ahead then looked down as he placed the offending lens into another piece of tissue. There was a bang and a thump. The car jolted, then swerved onto the rain-saturated verge. He slammed on his brakes and the ABS took over. The Mercedes came to an abrupt halt, two feet from a signpost. Alex sat still, stunned, sweat prickling his brow. He looked in his rear view mirror and squinted. He couldn’t see much detail with only one eye. He couldn’t make anything out. He turned on the hazard lights and switched off the engine and opened the driver’s door. The high pitched squeal told him he had left his lights on. He stepped out into the rain, crouching, as if that would protect him from the torrent. He slammed the door shut and edged towards the back of the car. He could still see nothing. He reached the rear break lights which shone their red illumination twenty feet, showing the ridges in the muddy verge where the Mercedes wheels had gouged their path. He could still see nothing. Or was that…he picked out a small dark bundle by the edge of the road forty or fifty yards back. He squinted. A badger maybe? He knew he ought to go and look. Just in case it was a …No. It didn’t bear thinking about. He pulled the collar of his jacket about his neck and ducked, like a turtle seeking shelter. He slipped and slid his way towards the bundle. It was a hold-all. One of those small hiker’s bags made of canvass. Shit, he thought. A bag. That might mean…he still couldn’t face the possibility. Maybe look in the hedgerow? He covered his eyes from the rain and bent towards the hedge. He could see nothing. Was there a rustling from inside the…no. Just a mouse or a shrew. He was beginning to feel uneasy. There was a chill running down his back to accompany the cold of the winter rain. He looked back to the car. What should he do? Call the police? He scrambled back to the car with that in mind. He reached for the car door, opened it to the accompaniement of the shrill warning tone, and dropped himself into the front seat. “Did you get my bleedin’ bag then?” “WHAT?” Alex jumped, adrenalin rushing to his limbs, his heart leaping. He banged his head on the car ceiling. “My bag.” Alex stared quietly at the bedraggled girl sitting in the passenger seat. His heart was thumping in time with the hazard lights and probably louder. “Huh?” “Well, you did bleedin’ run it over, didn’tcha” Alex relaxed, slightly. “Well, that’s a relief, at least.” “Watcha mean? “I thought I might have, you know, run over a person.” “You bleedin’ might do, goin’ all over the road like that. I didn’t think old codgers like you were allowed to driver, anyhow.” “I’m only sixty.” Insolence. He hated the modern day kids. No respect. “Sixty? That’s practically dead.” He shook his head. Although he did ocassionally wish that. “Are you goin’ to get my bag, then?” Where did she get that attitude from? He’d never met such a brash girl before. Seen and not heard. That’s how it was in his day. “Well?” He looked at her with disdain. Shook his head once more, and opened the door, The squeal reminded him to turn his lights off. This time he did. He stepped one foot outside and was about to jog back down the road, when, with a seconf thought, he reached bback in and pulled the keys out of the ignition. “Wassa matter? Don’tcha trust me, or sumffink?” he didn’t answer, and began the short jog to the bag. He picked it up like an england rugby back and sprinted back to the car. He jumped back in. “You run good for an old codger, you know.” “Thanks,” he said quietly and pulled the seatbelt across himself, and clicked it in to the catch. “So, where are ya takin’ me then?” “Don’t you have anywhere to go?” He turned the ignition and swung the car back onto the road. “Na,” she looked incredulous, “I’ve run away from ‘ome, ain’t I” It was like talking to a female artful dodger. She had something about her. “Well, I bet your parents are worried about you. Where do they live?” “You’re jokin’ ain’tcha? They don’t give a toss about me. I’m better on me own.” “Yeah but, you’re only…fifteen?” “Sixteen next week. I’m practically an adult. I can do anyfink I want, then. Know what I mean?” “Yes, I do.” “Yeah, maybe I’ll bum around a bit. I might, ya know, travel around. See stuff, you know? Like, that big wall in India…” “China.” “…whatever…and start me own business and be a millionaire and marry a footbballer and…” “What about school?” “Well, you just said you never went. You’ve not done bad, ‘ave ya?” It was true. He had worked hard, been successful and born the fruits of his labour in his forties. “So, where are ya takin’ me?” “I don’t know.” He suddenly realised he didn’t know anything about this girl. He had been too shaken to question anything, let alone someone so forceful. He should try to gain control of the situation. “So, what’s your name, young lady?” “Lady? Ain’t never been called that before. Michelle. Howdya do.” “I’m Alex.” “Howdya do Alex. Nice car this. Could do with a clean though. Look at that.” She pointed at the mud soaked floor and the dashed of soil and grass on the seats. It was true. One minute on the verge had destroyed the freshness of the Mercedes. “Well, if you hadn’t been walking alone…” “Whatdya mean? You were swervin’mister. You shoulda been lookin’ where you were goin’” “But all the way out here? You’re miles from anywhere. You could have been killed.” “I can take care of meself Mr.” “Really? A young girl like you? There’s a killer at large. Did you know that?” “I said, I can take care of meself. Don’t ‘ave a cow man.” “That’s just typical of kids these days. No idea of consequences. No comprehension of danger.” “Yeah, whatever. I bet you were a right choirboy, weren’t ya?” Another fair point. He remembered one day, shortly after his tenth birthday. A blistering summer and his two older brothers had got their hands on the chemical process for making Gelignite. They made a bucket of the stuff that afternoon. A bucket! He tried not to smile as he recalled throwing stones at this bucket, trying to ignite it. Luckily, he mused, his brothers were incompetent chemists, otherwise they would have blown up the garden, the house and anything else within a hundred yard radius. “Whatcha laughin’ at?” “Nothing” “Tell us, go on” “No. It’s personal. I don’t know anything about you.” The Mercedes swept past a signpost ‘Harrogate, 5miles’. “Ah, not long now.” “Oo,” the girl mocked. “Harrogate? La de da.” “It’s okay.” “Okay? It’s like Buckingham Palace in Harrogate. All the rich people live there, wearing Gucci and Armani and stuff, and diamonds and nice cars. Be nice to live somewhere posh.” “I don’t think you can…” “Listen, Mr. You nearly run me over. The least you can do is put me up.” He felt guilty about that. “I’m not sure.” “Come on, Mr” “Let me think.” “Well, tell me before you die, wontcha?” He smiled. Just slightly. She reminded him, in a weird way, of his wife. She had had that direct sense of humour. She would tell a joke like beating you round the head with a saucepan and you couldn’t help but laugh. Considering the day he had had, he was suddenly feeling almost human. “Well,” he deliberated, “Alright. But I insist you tell your parents when we get there. Or I’ll call the police. It’s safer that way.” “The pigs? Whatcha wanna do that for? I ain’t done nuffing wrong.” “No, I mean, so they know you’re not missing.” “I told ya, my parents don’t care. Probably don’t even know I’m not there.” “Why? How long have been away?” “Well, I reckon about three months.” “Three months?” He blared. “It’s okay. I told ya, I can look after myself. I have been, most of my life. AND I was lookin’ after my brother. He’s only four.” She drooped her head, “Or at least he was, until…” “What?” “Don’t wanna talk about it.” She looked at him, her eyes daring him through matted damp hair. “Anyway, it was an accident. I didn’t mean to do it.” Silence. She was lost in her own thoughts for the moment. Another signpost ‘Harrogate 2 miles’. She snapped back into life. “So, are we nearly there yet?” “Yes. Nearly. You know, I don’t know anything about you. Anything at all. I should know you before I let you in my house.” “Gawd. You’ve known me for ages. What? Fifteen minutes. We’re hardly strangers now, are we?” Before he could answer, she began her interrogation. “So, big your house, is it?” “I guess it is, yes. Six bedrooms.” “Six bedrooms?” She sat dumbstruck. “Six? That’s like, a palace or something. You got a wife?” “Yes, I, well, no. She’s past away a couple of years ago.” “What about kids? I bet you had loads, you and her.” “No, they’ve all left me.” Slip of the tongue. “I mean, they’ve all left. For Australia.” “Wow. OZ! I’m gonna go there. Live with the pigmies and eat lobster and catch sharks with my teeth.” She gnashed her teeth together. He wondered how many days she actually spent at school. Not many. She pulled a soggy packet out of her bag. Cigarettes! She placed one in her mouth and lit it deftly with a brass zippo. “Hey. What are you doing?” “What? I’m just havin’ a fag. Alright?” “No. This car’s brand new. I don’t have smoking in my car. Ever.” “Well, you do now, mister.” She continued to puff, a look of relaxation swept across her face, her eyes half closed. Before he could say anything, she said… “So, you must be pretty lonely, now, in that big house on your own.” The weight of that question fell on Alex. He felt old as he ever could. Old enough to give up. To take the eternal sleep. His shouldered drooped. His stiff upper lip loosened. His eyes moistened. “Did you love ‘er? Your wife, I mean?” “I’m not sure I can talk to you about this.” “Go on mister, It ‘elps. That’s what my councillor said to me.” He took a deep breath. “Yes, I loved her. More than I can ever say. I could talk for hours about how much I loved her and it still would not be enough. I loved her more than she knew. I loved her like a rose in the desert, or a wild flower in a barren field. She was the only good thing in the world. The one good thing. I ache with loneliness, sometimes. I feel so desperate, just to see her again. Just once. I would be happy.” “That’s nice, mister, really..” She was listening earnestly. “You would have loved her. She made you feel special. She looked into your eyes and your heart would flutter. She was so kind, so beautiful. She was the part of me that was good and decent and worthwhile. She made me a real person. And I let her go.” “It’s okay to cry, mister.” Her voice had softened. “It can help. Stops your heart from burstin’. Know what I mean?” He slowed the car to a walking pace, then pulled over by the side of the road. The signpost said ‘Harrogate ½ mile’. As the car came to a stop, he fell into heavy sobbing. All the emotion swept out, all the anger, pain, misery, confusion. His heart let it all go. “Mister? Alex? Don’t worry, mister. You’re nearly home, mister. Nearly home.” He looked up at the girl, Michelle, and saw two bright young eyes, full of hope and compassion. “Thank you,” he said, through ebbing sobs. “Thank you so much.” “What for, mister?” He wasn’t sure, really. This had been the first time since she died that he had expressed any real emotion, other than anger. He had skirted the subject, so had his family and friends. He hadn’t faced the loss. The young, direct, down to earth girl had, somehow, penetrated his defences. And now he was a deflating balloon. He felt he had a long way to go but knew he could make it. Redeem himself. Now he could face his demons and carry on his life. How could he explain that to a girl? “I’ve not done anything, yet, mister.” “Huh?” There was a glint in her eye. “Bobby?” She called, looking into space, at nothing in particular. Alex was frowning now. He was struggling to contain his feelings and she was adding to his confusion. “Bobby? I need you Bobby.” “Who’s Bobby?” “Ssshh. You might frighten him off.” He sat still and silently watched, looking about the car for something to happen. He could see nothing. “There he is,” she whispered softly. “Bobby. Hiya mate.” “I can’t see…” “Ssshh…Yeah. Come her. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.” She stepped out of the car and stood in the road. Alex followed suit and watched. His heart struggling to keep up with the emotions swinging from one extreme to another. He waited for something to happen, but nothing did. He was waiting for some magical epiphany, some bright light. Could he see…just outside the car? Was it a trick of the light? Just his bad eye forming patterns from the dark blur? He squinted. Then he saw it as if a light had suddenly switched on.. A shadow? The rain was bouncing off a patch of air, like a bubble. No. It was a boy. Maybe four years old. His blond hair waving in a non-existent wind. He was shining with happiness. His plump little face creased in a wide smile, his deep brown eyes shining softly. He came close to the car and beamed at Alex. “Hi, Bobby,” said the girl. “I need your help.” The little boy smiled again and nodded. “What? What are you going to do?” “It’s okay, mister. We can help you. You’re not so sad anymore and you can move on now. You can move on. You’re nearly home. Nearly home.” As he watched, the little boy shone with a greater and more beautiful light. The rain stopped, or at least, none was falling on this part of the world. It couldn’t rain here. He smiled at Alex again and turned his head, reaching out his hand. Then, out of the darkness walked Marjorie, his wife. She was glowing silver and radiating love. She took the little boy’s hand, bent down, and gave him a huge cuddle. He chuckled at her and then nodded towards Alex. She looked up and saw Alex for the first time. Their eyes met. This was that moment, the electricity, the fluttering heart. She moved closer and he was blanketed in warmth that he had not felt since she had left. “I’m so sorry,” he said. She looked quizzical. She didn’t have to speak. “I let you go.” NO, her thoughts appeared in his head. I HAD TO LEAVE. I HAD NO CHOICE. “Why? I loved you so much.” SOMETIMES, IT IS JUST OUR TIME TO GO. IT IS PART OF THE PLAN “Who did this? I want you back!” NO. YOU ARE OVER ME NOW. JUST KNOW THAT I LOVE YOU AND ALWAYS WILL. TILL YOUR TIME COMES. “I want to come with you, please” he begged. YOU HAVE LESSONS TO LEARN. AND MORE LOVE TO GIVE. I LOVE YOU. “Please. Stay here, with me.” She turned slowly, her eyes still fixed on his, then turned fully away. Bobby stretched out his hand once more and Marjorie grasped it. They looked at each other and nodded. Bobby waved, Michelle waved back. Marjorie smiled one last time and then the light faded. The rain renewed its venom and pelted the two left standing there, the sound rushing back into their consciousness. Alex stood a while then turned back to the car. The cold seeped back into his bones but the warmth that Marjorie had given him, remained. “Come on then, mister. Let’s get going.” He looked at the girl. His little angel. He knew things would be better, now. They both got back in the car. Alex turned to her and smiled. “Okay. Let’s go. We’re nearly home.”