by Loui Downing
The museum was a grand building with mosaics, statues and monuments situated evenly around the grounds. The British flag waved in the light drizzle on the roof of the building, as the family looked up in unison. As the family entered and made a donation to the guard and old worker, they slowly wondered down to the right where there was the war section. In the vertically surprising room tanks, planes and guns and all kinds of gadgetry that dated back into the 18th century. The area that caught Jessica’s eye was that of the 20th century, the basic robotic wartime surveillance and normal hand pistols from the 19th century.
‘Daddy, these look very complicated, what are they?’ asked Jessica in an desire to uncover there usage.
‘Some of veze are going past my time so I cannot say. Let’s have a look at the information of zis board’ said Eric feeling slightly out of his depths unable to assist his daughter. As Eric and Jessica looked closely and read on of the signs for the board about World War One Lensa took Alexandra to the seating area where there were pamphlets and books regarding the wars, crime and violence of the last 300 years.
‘It says here zat zhe British vere bombed repeatedly in a number of terrorist attacks from 1991 to 2007, protests about vars in Iraq and disagreements about America invading Afghanistan. I can vemember zis as if it vas yesterday, seeing zhe news clips’ said Eric with a saddened look as he viewed the pictures and it bought back horrible memories for him.
‘Really, I didn’t think you would have seen that daddy?’ said Jessica inquisitively.
‘I’m not zat old you know!’ cried Eric with a smile pitched across his face. The family look around the museum casually, picking up leaflets as they see something of interest. Eric was a big fan of prehistoric animals and creatures around millions of years back, such as land mammals and pterodactyls, his favourite being a tyrannosaurus. Eric looked for this on the coloured map he had been handed at the start of the visit.
There was a loud thud, as if something had flown into the building. Eric looked to his family as they turned in curiosity. Before he could say a word the room was filled with darkness. The shutters on the windows have all been locked down.
‘Vat is going on?’ said Eric fully aware his family didn’t have the answer. The family managed to see slightly their outline of each other, so they huddled against one another checking to see if none of them were injured. There was a second thud, and then a thin thread of light beamed behind the closed double doors, which have a torch or latten. Out there for all of them to witness was a man attaching something to a wall, soon after the figure retreating downstairs in a flash.
Liona jolted as she received a silent bleep from the inside of her left leg, it was an input message from Joseph. Liona raised herself from the airborne dust and soil as she attempted to read the device, wiping away the residue as she stared patiently. The rectangular clip-on L.E.M.O.N.D (Longitudinal Electronic Mapping of Neurological Data) device displayed that of her health status on one side, the time and her location, along with a phone and messaging service worldwide. Liona was in Johannesburg, South Africa on a missionary project of construction, design and flood prevention for a small town on the outskirts that for legal reasons Liona has to keep it quiet. She eyed the device and in blue letters it stated: 003476338821103-Hi, how are you? Are you coming home soon, Ed is growing fast and Neville needs a clip around the ear, Hope your well, Jo. 3342’. As she read the message a small revealing smile etched from the corner of her mouth as she began thinking of the birth of Edward and the good times when they were all together along with a deep sense of regret for leaving Joseph.
Liona eyed the device, feeling her heart race emphatically as she was concerned for Edward’s health, due to him having problems in previous years.
Edward was perched in the garden of the worn-out converted farmhouse in the countryside, playing with Neville a game he thought of just for fun as Edward was too little to understand and spent most of the time staring at the world or sitting listening quietly. Joseph is organising documents in the study at the top rear room of the house, which was an extension on the dilapidated building he remembered purchasing just three months after finding out Liona was pregnant with Neville. Joseph looked out of the study window clocking the high hills and low clouds first then his children playing happily by themselves on the gloriously green grass.
The telephone outrageously echoed around the study, making Joseph stumble with his piles of books, folders and jotted notes flying off the top drifting to the floor like a feather seeking the air. He rushed to place the things on the desk in front of the window; all piled with computers, antennas, radios and scatter details of African origin, paper-cuttings and usual writing equipment. As he dashed to away from the desk to the third ring of the telephone he caught knocked a few books onto the green-carpeted floor, making a lazy thudding sound, opening at a random page on doing so. He was expecting a call back from Liona and answered the rectangular thin receiver as quickly as he could. Even though him and Liona have gone their separate ways now, Joseph still feels the same way hid did the very moment their eyes laid upon each other, that she was full of enthusiasm and credence. The feelings she made him feel seemed to leap onto him, although feeling in a state of regret and desire for the very feeling she used to give him. Now he felt that this had all eluded him and that his intentions were all directed towards his children’s upbringing, to make her proud. The telephone piece began making a rhythmic consistent beeping to be replaced seconds after by a voice.
‘Hello there would you like to accept a call from South Africa sir?’ suggested the old lady in a deep southern African accent on the other end of the receiver.
‘Yes, certainly’ exclaimed Joseph wishing to speak with her right away. As the woman informed him to hold for a moment whilst she connected them, he knew that her voice would fill him with utter tranquillity and personal longing for her back in his arms.
‘Hey darling, how are you? I received your message. Is everything all right?’ said Liona sweetly, her voice so tender it could be listened to for an eternity.
‘Hi, yeah everything is going well. Edward and Neville are playing at the moment, do you want to speak to Neville?’ enquired Joseph in a sombre delivery, as he really wanted to talk but found the conversation awkward.
‘Yeah sure put him on’ replied Liona eagerly. Joseph left the telephone device and set off to find Neville in the garden, shouting his name through the tiny gap in between the French doors. Joseph broke into a jog as he opened the doors whilst informing Neville his mother was on the phone. As Neville began walking through the house Joseph attended to Edward, making faces and generally keeping him entertained as good as his brother does. Neville picked up the receiver and place to the ear and mouthpiece. Neville is quite a plump boy with small legs, on picking up the device it was identified just how small he was due to the telephone device receding his head and chin. Neville initiated in a monosyllabic conversation with his mother for around two minutes, until she asked how school was going for him, resulting in Neville clamping up and declaring that it is all going well even though he visualised his books nestled on his duvet in his bedroom with unchecked work set out by his tutor Mrs Artoi, his French stand-in tutor for Miss Bomiere. She is a lot nicer to him, or either an easier person for Neville to get away with his pranks and late or stolen homework.
‘Well, I hope you’re not lying to me Neville, otherwise I will have to come home and sort you out!’ ended Liona ferociously in a joking informal manner, although Neville didn’t think so, and was planning on urgently starting his homework as soon as the call had ended. Neville peered as Joseph approached from the study to the patio where Neville was leaning next to the mossy damp blood red bricks of the house. The crusty deceased leaves gushing towards his feet made him feel cold inside, sending a shivered to the very deepest nerve. Joseph watched intriguingly upon Neville as his eyes deserted the call to be placed high in the sky eying the clumpy white fluff drift gradually, parti
ng to reveal a crystal pure blue sky. Joseph crept slowly from onto the patio to retreat to the conversation with Liona.
Liona carried on talking briefly before returning her device to the holster on her short denim jeans, only patches of blue revealed, the rest covered with mud, grass and other stains that turn the stomach. Looking around her she found acres of wilderness, only to be surrounded by her deep red unwashed 4x4 to her right. The ground beneath her was a light brown colour with a hint of grey. All dusty and alone, the heat pounding her neck from the ball of fire positioned to on tip of her car roof, shimmying of the bonnet and mirrors, making it difficult to see. As she looked directly at the rays unintentionally she spotted a dark intrusion in the distance where it seemed that the world ended. The waves of heat coming of the object in the distance made her feel even more hot, enticing her to wipe a collection of sizzling sweat from her forehead instantaneously. She looked again even though it was agonising to do so and she decided to head for her vehicle to some water in the trunk. Her boots made a creaking sound on every step as if they were to break and had turned into cardboard from the suns infectious beaming. She located opened the passenger door and lifted her rucksack from underneath the storage compartment and placed on the faded seat to begin looking for refreshments. Scurrying in her bag she noticed a prolonged humming noise. She left the bag and took a step back to look above her for a helicopter or plane from which the sound would be coming from. As Liona looked around the sky she found that it wasn’t in the sky and continued her search for water.
‘There you are’ shouted Liona to herself, realising that she was shouting and on her own. Nevertheless, she carried on and unscrewed the bottle and placed the water to her lips, where she gulped the water, feeling the liquid energise every passage in her body, making her more alive and feeling greatly fulfilled. As she screwed the cap back on and placed the bottle into her bag she noticed a blackening in the smallest corner of her eye. The object spotted previously was substantially larger and it appeared to be heading straight for her…
Liona remained still, her eyes transfixed on the dark object in vision. Gunfire shots sounded that made her jump out of her skin and slightly into the air. Unaware to where it was coming from, who it was and what they wanted she looked around, now crouched down level with the car tyre, peering over the gear stick and seats frantically to identify the culprits.
All of a sudden there was silence and in Liona’s heart she knew that there was something wrong and felt as though she was in terrible danger.
‘Ou ar you and wad are you doing on our property’ aimed a voice at Liona predominantly Afro-Caribbean. Liona turned back to look at who it was. The turn seemed to last forever, when she was greatly surprised as jerked back from her car as she eyed a tall black man leaning into her car aiming a weapon at her abdominal region. As she scrambled on the ground, creating a band of dust as she scuffed the dust she noticed a few more men behind her. This made her retreat to the car and on doing so she was surrounded. Liona began piecing it all together in her mind. She had been alone for weeks on this project of researching the lands suitability for residence and now to be threatened by people she had almost forgot how to talk face-to-face. An image came into her mind when she looked at what could be the leader as he nudged his AK47 at her in order for her to respond. Andrew Menn, her missionary coordinator told her to be aware of some civil conflict on the southwest borders and religious subsidence, his face miming what he had told her, repeating over in her mind as she stared blankly.
Joseph picked up a small piece of lined paper and read the contents. The writing was spaced out and in his usual scruffy manner that even he found difficult to read.
‘‘Dr Evanan Russio-Fitzroy, London 16th January 2015 3pm’
Underneath this it stated another name‘Eloisa’ which reminded him of an article on a particular patient of Dr Russio’s who was suffering from severe hallucinations and suicide. He had arranged to meet with the doctor and discuss the girl in more detail for his article next week.
Joseph entered the downstairs dining room and picked up the telephone and began punching in the keys written down on an address book next to the phone covered with rings of tea. A similar but feminine voice answered the phone on the fifth ring.
‘853201-The Hampton residence speaking’ claimed the voice proudly, as if said a hundred times already.
‘Hi mum, I really wish you wouldn’t give your details out, I could be anyone’ followed Joseph with a drowning inevitability about him.
‘Oh don’t be like that Joey’ said Gill recognising her sons voice a mile away.
‘Anyway how are you? How are things? Is Liona well in Al…erm Af…wherever she’s gone I can’t think for the life of me’ added Gill making Joseph roll his eyes on the other end of the phone and speak impatiently.
‘Africa. Yeah she is fine. I was wondering if you could look after the boys this weekend, its just I have to go to London to meet the doctor of the Eloisa case’ replied Joseph quickly before he lost his mother’s attention to her animals or something profoundly distractive.
‘Oh right, I’ll just check with your father’ said Gill as she left the phone in the hall as she waddled off into the kitchen to extract her husband from the great outdoors. Their garden or rather field stretched for around half a mile and is just over the width of the house itself. Being very yokel people, they grew their own vegetables, herbs and fruit along with their own socks at times due to the long periods that Eric dedicates to his work of art. Gill often wishes he would spend time indoors, although she is glad to see all the lovely food homegrown on her plate, so she refrains from commenting. The very top end of the garden was full mainly covered with the odd dotted high birch trees. On the left hand side was an old oak tree next to a few yucca plants that had a seat-like divot just up from the ground within the bark of the tree, where Gill often sees Eric sitting lonesome looking into the distant meadows and farms. This was accompanied by a worn stretch of yucky yellow yam-like repulsive rope, attached to a subdued sodden timelessness tyre. As the tyre swings forwards with the gush of clean air the silhouette of Eric submerged from the undergrowth as Gill had been waiting for his presence to then shout for his attention. As Gill tried to attract Eric’s attention she soon found out that it would be better to just go and get him. She went back to the phone and asked her son to wait a short while whilst she traipsed across the soggy wet grass in her unworn Wellingtons from the storage cupboard attached to the kitchen. The squelching sound rose up the outside of her gigantic green boots, turning them into a pure brown. The wind was picking up now as Gill noticed on the updraft of the next batch of wind approaching, reaching for her cardigan and wrapping tightly around her upper body to shelter herself. Eric loved the elements and you could tell from the sight of him that he did. He turned to face Gill with a casual grin, absolutely caked in flaky soil that made Gills nose twinkle at the very sight as she really didn’t know how he could stand the trouble. Eric turned and faced her, taking off his woolly hat at the same time.
‘Everything ok duck?’ asked Eric is his deeply east Midlands accent.
‘Its Joseph on the phone, I was just checking to see if we could look after the boys this weekend?’ informed Eric as she was cold and wanted a straightforward answer so she could quickly return to the house away from the nasty gnawing wind. Eric nodded and placed his hat back on his patchy haired head. Gill tiptoed quickly across the lawn as fast as she could to the house, slipping occasionally on route. Gill opened the white doors after wiping her feet on the rusty mat with feet pictures on them, spraying mud and water against the doors and onto the faded pink patio. Gill dried herself and informed Joseph who was now listening to the radio in the kitchen whilst making a drink until he heard his mother’s faint voice calling from the receiver on the cutting board.
‘I thought you had gone off to build them a new house mum!’ cried Joseph funnily, although his smile was soon ripped from his face when his mother replied ‘Not in the
mood Joey, your fathers traipsing around the garden and I’m covered now. It’s fine for the children to stay, when did you want to bring them over?’ said Gill unhappily, still freezing from her trip.
‘Is 7 o’clock ok tonight?’ said Joseph seriously.
‘Yeah that’s fine, see you then…bye’ ended Gill unaware that Joseph had not said his goodbye as she pressed the receiver to end the conversation and headed upstairs to wash off the damage caused by the elements.
As night was approaching, the Hampton family ate their dinner in front of the small television in the dining room. Joseph had to cook, wash and basically do all the chores around the house, with the occasional unappreciated contribution from Neville unwillingly. The three sat around the round table, Edward was in a small rocking chair on one of the bigger chairs, covered with food all over his lips, bib and chair.
