by Loui Downing
11:48 the imprinted time stated on the inside of Neville’s arm. He looked at the digits as if wishing to turn them into something less. Neville struggled to bond with his father and he was worried that there may be a row if he were to return back home for the evening, even though he was quite adult now. Joseph sometimes came down on Neville a bit hard, denting the confidence and creating a real sense of despise between the two relations. Neville headed for the bar door, fully contemplating what he was about to do.
CHAPTER TWO
The Means to Notate
‘Was that just my imagination’ thought George aloud, moving his lips slightly in thought. He could have been certain he saw a figure out on his garden a few moments ago. With the uncertainty in mind George shrugged off any doubts as it was getting rather late and the spirits had ascended into the bodies before him.
The Straw family headed for bed, George unfolded extra blankets for his mother and father-in-law. Henry and Mavis headed for their room, Cindy hopped in to bed to read a book titled ‘Flattery: the road to persuade’ a typical women’s book with anti-men regimes, elegance, glamour, all the ingredients that George refers to as ‘economically unfriendly’.
With the occasional whisper of wind heard from the window, it left to one’s imagination of the events outside. The curtains fluctuated rapidly in a short electric motion as Cindy’s eyes opened like an unveiling of a painting. She looked over to the curtains, switching the bedside lamp on unknowingly as she eyed up the surroundings. The lamp covered her bedroom poorly, only lighting around a foot’s radius from the light itself. Cindy stretched and turned, now unable to get back to sleep, so she reluctantly left the bed and swung the dressing gown over her in one swift motion knocking a glass to the floor as she left uncaringly. Cindy entered the blackened kitchen, where she saw the weather on the road presented along with the two cars slightly frosted over, the milkman’s buggy in the distance and cats retreating after a night of gallivanting.
Six softly, spoken, sweeping, somber voices all sang in synergy at the great hall in the Edinburgh theatre. A united around of applause was given instantaneously as the choir ended their session. The long draped red curtains swung across admitting a short interval for the audience. Crowds of ages heading for the green lights that led to the exit, through to rooms full of refreshments and gift shops. A young looking woman was struggling to carry some kind of instrument through the swarm, bumping into passersby’s on doing so. Entertainers on stilts and dancers in painted-on costumes with tassels were down the corridor to the left where a ring had formed around them for viewing.
Young Jack was fast asleep, twitching slightly when the noise level rose. Andrew his brother was munching his way through snacks whilst the family paraded through the crowds to refresh and to browse the stores. Andrew wondered ahead as he normally does, entering shops at will, asking Cindy and then George if he could have the particular item he was holding, all the time his parents rejected the idea. George was pushing Jack in the pram, a small blue pram that was passed on from a distant relative when Jack was born, containing a roof cover to shelter him from the rain and a squeaking wheel that drives George mad.
The loudspeaker system announced that the choir and plays would resume performance in five minutes. The crowds descended to their seats, clutching impulse-bys and drinks. The soft music erupted from what seemed the back of the hall, although it was an instrument played at the front, and linked to speakers situated at the rear. A short man came onto the stage and spoke in a croaky and perplexed fashion.
‘Resume you think, I walk alone, I talk alone, they call me mad, I mean no harm, you think I’m glad? Reveal your charm and drink!’ cried the man slowly getting higher in tone when implying questions.
‘A tale of two begins-part two ‘Vacant Expression’ said the short toad-like man, as the show got underway. Dancers scattered before the stage swirling mindlessly out of control waving colours of the world sheets as the pranced creating a real sense of delusion. Suddenly there was a thud…the dancers froze as the thud gradually presented itself as a giant boot the size of the hall. Cindy gasped and so did around a dozen around her. The old, laced boot grey and muddy walking along the stage, with a trouser attached. Someone spoke….
‘Ye down yonder pass me my plate, for I be filling this rumbling ache’ said a deep voice from above.
This voiced bellowed from a giant, of which only a boot and part of his leg can be seen. Andrew was rocking on his chair with an anticipating look on the events to come next. Jack however, was sound asleep, barely even moving at all. The play went on into the night, with screams, gasps and laughter delights. The family left, utterly pleased with the performance and headed home where they had a brief discussion about the character called biob, who was some sort of mystical creature, which Andrew seemed to dislike, as Cindy clapped the saliva against her upper mouth as the noise echoed off her teeth. She felt that sometimes Andrew really is hard to please. The family opted to bed shortly after a night drink, with Jack and Andrew off to bed first whom George and Cindy later followed.
Thud...thud! came from downstairs in the home of Henry’s.
Henry awoke wondering where he was, sat in a rather unusual position in his chair in the lounge of their bungalow. Yesterday’s newspaper shot into the air and landed feather-like on the floor and coffee table as Henry erected himself, obviously reading the news late and fell asleep last night. Henry stretched, yawned and wiped his eyes as his strolled casually to the front of the house. Henry was surprisingly cold for some reason, touching the radiator to confirm it was on, and it was. As he entered the room he noticed the pane of glass either side of the porch door had smashed.
A letter drifted towards him hitting his mixture of brown and grey slippers, it was noted
‘To find this note is purely for sight, numbers counting will reveal minds alike’
Henry, looking flabbergasted turned over the letter, only to be greeted by a blank piece of paper on the reverse. Henry was so tired and uncomfortable that he placed the note on the dining room table and headed for the bathroom to run a bath, as the note blew onto the floor and underneath the worktable. Henry reached for the battery powered radio and located the nossle to switch on.
‘Th…. r…. ee…. crackle…. crackle’ spoke the radio as he turned it on.
Henry ignored and closed the door, finding a suitable song to relax to.
Mavis woke up as she turned to her right to find an empty space where Henry usually is. She headed downstairs, ‘Morning’ said Mavis eagerly to Henry, who bore no reply, as she passed the landing to enter the kitchen and place some crumpets into the toaster. Mavis did her usual tidying up whilst humming some music from back in her time, and then she went to check on Henry, as his breakfast was nearly ready.
‘Henry, ye breakfast is nearly ready’ declared Mavis not fair from the bathroom door and went back into the kitchen to wash up a few pots and pans.
‘Arrrrraaaaah’ squelched Mavis loud enough for the street to here, making a few dogs bark in the distance.
The radio was no more. There was a red explosion that left an imprint as Mavis clutched her fists and crouched on the floor. It was all over. The fire alarm belled as the toaster was burning to a crisp the contents. The smoke wisped out of the mechanism through the back door and into the foggy morning up into high levels of the sky.
The telephone rang later that day, Cindy answered. George was putting Andrew and Edward to bed, until he heard a sobbing noise from the study. George quickly made the children go to sleep and kissed them goodnight and left quickly, leaving the door ajar.
As George entered the study he felt a cool whisper of silent anxiousness and sadness. Cindy was sat facing the window in the black leather swizzle chair. George turned it around and placed his hand on her shoulders.
‘Who was that my dear?’ said George with concern,
‘The St Jacklin’s Hospital, they have bad news…Mavis was found unconscious t
his morning…’ replied Cindy in slow motion, breaking into tears as she spoke of her mother and what had just been said to her on the telephone. George comforted Cindy as best he could, placing both arms around her, kissing her forehead and reassuring her that things will be ok.
‘I need to go and see Henry’ she said promptly leaving her seat.
‘I’ll come with you’ said George.
‘No…I…. I…think its best if just I go’ said Cindy nervously, as she reached for her handbag, keys and coat. ‘You look after the children; they wouldn’t want to see their grandparents in this way’ added Cindy.
‘Ok, see you later dear’ said George, closing the door behind her and watching her run to her car in the long strands of rain drops thudding the metallic of her car as she enters.
‘Hi I’ve come to see my mother, Mavis P Straw’ said Cindy to the skinny blonde nurse with glasses behind the counter at the hospital.
‘If you’d like to take a seat the doctor will be able to direct you shortly’ replied the receptionist/nurse who was weirdly tearful.
‘Mrs Straw?’ announced a tall Swedish doctor. ‘Come this way’ he added as he walked through multiple double doors, corridors, turning occasionally. Finally, we arrived at ward 13 bed four where her mother lay in front of her behind the glass window. Cindy marched right past the man and began opening the door, only to be restrained by the doctor.
‘I’m terribly sorry but until the police arrive to get underway with their investigation, we are strictly unable to allow anyone in the room, as she has been marked’ said the Swedish man restraining Cindy and placing her in a corridor seat whilst talking down to her as she cried into her sleeves.
‘What do you mean marked?’ asked Cindy remembering what the doctor had said previously. The doctor indicated on a hand drawn diagram of a human body the area of where she had been marked, he pointed to the lower neck region at the back, close to her right clavicle. Cindy eyed the diagram and looked back in haste at her mother; all she wanted to do is see if she was ok. The doctor placed his hand on her arm, she looked at him, quite tearful, ‘Sleep on it and you should be able to see her tomorrow. The police are doing their usual work and it should be all finished for visits tomorrow at noon’ instructed the doctor. Cindy walked away quietly to her car and started the engine. If only she had enough energy to drive, she felt so rundown with all this and her not seeing or talking to her mother made it seem ten times worse. The moonlight blue Vauxhall disappeared in the distance, the rear lights dimly visible through the fog.
The next morning Cindy stormed out of bed rushing to the wardrobe and placing any clothes that she could find on herself. She was half dressed and entered the bathroom where George was shaving, she acted as if he wasn’t there as he smiled to greet her she ignored and reached for the toothbrush, to many things running through her mind, she need to get to the hospital to see her mother.
On arriving to the hospital Cindy noticed an unusual sight, a man on a drip wondering across the zebra crossings, he looked directly at her. Cindy felt so intimidated she locked the doors and reversed down into the previous turn in for the car park. She entered the hospital, to see sheets off the beds and on the floor, the lights tinkering as if they have had a power cut in the night along with no staff at all to be found only a few patients making wild noises. Luckily she knew where she was located, so she rushed down the hall, spotting a map on the wall. As she looked for ward 13, bed four using her finger as navigation, she then proceeded to the elevators, where she waited and then finally took the stairs.
On approaching the ward, she cried out her mother’s name, only there was no reply and a sound as if a window had just been closed. She entered the ward with caution, looking through the window. Everything looked ok. She tried the door handle, it was locked so she then looked for something to smash the window with. There was a fire extinguisher on the wall down the corridor a bit from her. She ran to it, and threw it behind her back before launching it at the windowpane. After the fifth attempt she then began knocking the rest of the glass away to prevent injury. Cindy looked inside and clambered inside.
She ran over to her mother’s bed, and hugged her. Mavis was slightly awake although she looked a plaster pale and uniquely undernourished. Cindy tripped slightly and fell leaning into her mother’s arm, causing more pain by accidentally leaning on her wounds. Mavis rose inhumanly to the horror of Cindy. ’I found this…. g…o!’ Mavis said in a decaying groan handing Cindy a torn piece of paper, as she slumbered onto the hospital bed. Her head drifting to one side, leaving Cindy alone in the room making her saddened and even more scared than before. Cindy attempted to revive her, giving up after around five minutes, resulting in her hugging her mother’s diagonally in despair. Cindy eyed the paper, it looked like that of an important official document, only the address was taken, it was an English address.
‘Number 118 flight to England boarding in ten minutes, please go for gate 5 E’ announced a woman at New York airport as Rupert, Kerry and Francesca arrived with minutes to spare, both breaking into a small jog to the gate number to ensure they caught the flight. Once they had reached the flight ticket check area, they handed the air hostess their tickets and once checked by the tall Caribbean lady they were able to board the plane. Rupert located the seats and began stowing the hand luggage in the overhead compartment, leaving some items for them to use, as this was a long haul flight, so reading and watching TV would be the main activities on the agenda. A small woman with a trolley of refreshments, as she swayed down the isle of the plane, offering people if they require refreshments. There was a rumble of the engine and slight movement from the rear of the aircraft, ushering the plane forward. The air hostess spilt the tea into a saucer, the pale brown liquid glided onto the immaculate white curved tip saucer with a delicate splash and swish. Kerry despised plane journeys. The last time she was on a plane was a few years back in 1995, something about the journey brought memories back for her. She felt a deep inner pain as the thoughts came rushing back in a flash. Unclear images stirred around in her head as she tried to take her mind off things. The plane began to set off down the runway and take off, just as Kerry drifted into a state of tranquil transformation, her palms sweating, the blood escaping from her usual bubbly face.
Nine years old Kerry was playing quietly in her stately home garden in the upper east side of New York. Her mother Anna was working temporarily as an office worker in a small firm. Her father Tim works for‘NY Weekly’, where he writes a column in the newspaper, trying and analysing the latest technology.
A lovely summer’s afternoon was evident, just her, her thoughts and a few dolls dressed up and drawn on. The sunlight beamed down through the large birch tree, casting a hand shadow onto the perfectly trimmed effervescent grass. A drooping smell oozed gradually towards Kerry’s senses, turning around on impact. Her mother Anna was visible through the kitchen window, Kerry squinting to focus, avoiding the reflective sunrays shimmying on the glass panes of the window. Anna was baking as usual, they were having Kerry’s special dinner and pudding, roasted vegetables with a mushroom tart and ice cream and chocolate sauce, a vast amount of sauce anyway thought Kerry liking her lips. Anna worried about Kerry’s weight sometimes, as she is a vegetarian and looked substantially undernourished, sometimes barely eating a bite or having the energy to eat. Kerry’s friend Hannah and her mother Maggie, who lives next door, is also concerned for Kerry and her eating habits.
‘Kerry…dinner’ said Anna softly, watching Kerry leave her story with her dolls and walk eagerly to the back door. Their kitchen had four French doors that led out onto the garden, of which Kerry was entering through to attend dinner. The kitchen had a dining area attached to the work surfaces offering an area to eat maybe alone or at breakfast. Kerry located some items promptly, obviously having done this regularly at dinner. She picked up the sauces, spices and a loaf of freshly baked bread, straight from their oven this morning. They both sat at the dinner
table in the attached room, looking onto the garden and the distant hills. Anna placed the mats and other dinner items onto the wooden table along with knives and forks.
Anna is a well-educated individual, gaining a first class in Business law eventually at Harvard; soon after graduating she met Tim, a year younger journalist and author with routes from England, where they had Kerry. The family formed, and to ensure a good standard of living they stayed to New York to carry on with their careers, with the intention of moving to Illinois later in life to settle down. Tim had the idea of persuading Anna to try England, as he could see his family a bit more and basically he had always had a soft spot for England. However, Anna thought that England was a bit gloomy; although she did think the people were overly kind and generous.
Kerry twitched as she sat transfixed in the grey and blue seat of the aircraft. The surrounding passengers all attended to their food, magazines whilst connecting their music and video devices. She reached for her rampantly coloured blanket and gazed out of the vivid window, peering from above on all the miniature houses and ant-like people. Kerry felt a tinge of nausea as the aircraft began to turn on its side, shortly being replaced with a cool cast of calming complacency, enabling her to drift off into the past.
