The Journal

by John R McKay

  Pounding.

  Pounding.

  Another whistle from the approaching train.

  I looked. No-one. Not a soul. Nothing.

  I turned back and carried on but the feeling of being watched immediately returned.

  The train, louder now.

  Louder.

  Louder meant closer.

  I looked up but still couldn’t see it.

  I knew it was there but could not see it. Just like I could not see whoever was behind me.

  Watching me.

  This carried on for some time. Occasionally I would turn, to see no-one, yet I knew someone was there. Watching.

  The sound of the train began to get louder still, filling my ears, combining with my now thunderous heartbeat. I felt I could stand it no more, yet still I dug, fearing the invisible presence behind me more than the possibility of my heart and head exploding.

  Eventually the train came into focus in the near distance to my right. I could see no tracks ahead of it. The focus was hazy, almost invisible, yet it was there, moving at a pace. Getting clearer with the passing of every second. .It was going to pass ahead of me.

  I stopped digging and looked on as the apparition, for that is what it was, glided by.

  Suddenly it slowed and I was able to see into the carriages. It was filled with khaki clad soldiers, their uniforms in tatters, their helmets rusted and rotted. Their skeletal faces facing forward not looking out at me as I stood there transfixed, watching them go by.

  It slowed further and it was as though time was slowing down to allow me to bear witness. As the train slowed, so did the pounding in my head, my heartbeat now slowing with it.

  One of the soldiers turned to look out of the window of his carriage. His was the only one whose features were clear, although he looked newly dead. He stared deep into my eyes and smiled. It was not the smile of joy or friendship, but the smile of evil, the gap in his front teeth a focal point for my gaze.

  And then he laughed.

  An evil laugh, mocking me. It bored into my very soul, my very being.

  My heart seemed to stop.

  The train then continued on its journey as time accelerated back to its normal pace and again I was filled with an overwhelming sense of being watched.

  I turned.

  Stood before me was the same soldier who had just mocked me from the train. I dropped the spade and stepped back.

  Stepped back into the hole I had been digging. I went backwards, unable to prevent myself from falling.

  Falling.

  Falling.

  Down I went, continually down.

  All the way down to the bowels of the earth, the sound of the gap-toothed soldier’s laughter following me as I fell.

  PART TWO

  CHAPTER FOUR

  September 2012 - Northern England

  The funeral had gone as well as could be expected. The crematorium had not been large enough for the amount of mourners who had turned up and some had been forced to stand outside in the drizzle, listening to the service via the personal address system from beneath coat hoods and umbrellas. Lucy had been a popular girl that was for sure. Now the function room at the Drake Inn was just as full, filled with the same people, their wet coats draped over the backs of chairs. Those who only an hour or so earlier had seemed inconsolable were now chatting, drinking and laughing as though none of it had actually taken place.

  At least that is how Danny saw it. He sat at the table alone, nursing a pint of Guinness that Lucy’s father had bought for him a few minutes earlier. He had only taken a couple of mouthfuls but could not face the rest. Someone, he was not sure who, patted him on the shoulder as they walked past, offering a small token of sympathy amongst the many he had received over the past week. He ran his fingers through his short dark hair and then down his face and sighed. Feeling the stubble against his hand he realised he had not shaved for a number of days but then his appearance was the last thing on his mind right now.

  Danny could not believe it had only been a week since it had happened. It was weird he thought. Even though the time had gone quickly it also seemed to have passed so slowly, as though it was all a bad dream and it hadn’t really happened. Or that it had happened to someone else. The police still had to speak to him and he had put that off for as long as he could because he did not want to have to live through it again. What had happened filled his every waking thought and invaded his dreams. He felt that if he did not speak about it out loud then it would remain as a dream and would not be true; Lucy would walk through the door at any minute and ask for him to go to the bar and get her a drink. It had only been a week but he missed her massively and the pain in his stomach would not go away, no matter how much alcohol he poured into it. But then he did not want the pain to leave him. He wanted it to stay as a constant reminder of her.

  Lucy’s parents had been coping with it all very well, or at least that’s how they were showing it. They had a big family and Lucy was the third child out of five and her siblings had rallied together and were being very strong and supportive for him and her parents despite their own grief. None of them, they had said, blamed Danny for what had happened but that did not stop him from blaming himself. Even though in his heart he knew that there was nothing he could have done to prevent it, it did not stop him from thinking that maybe he could have done more. If he had just been on the other side of her then he would have been the one hit and not her. It would have been his mother in mourning now and not Bill and Margaret.

  He took another sip of the beer he did not want and was joined at the table by Mike, Lucy’s older brother, who sat down at the side of him.

  ‘How’s it going Danny boy?’ he asked, taking a swig out of a bottle of lager and resting his hand on Danny’s shoulder.

  ‘Shit,’ replied Danny, not looking up.

  ‘I know mate,’ sighed Mike. ‘It’s all bollocks.’ He looked around the room. ‘Look at them all,’ he said, ‘An afternoon off work with booze and a free buffet. Some people will do anything for a free chicken drumstick.’

  Danny smiled and looked up but did not reply. Mike continued: ‘Maybe that’s a bit unfair, but I can’t stand funerals. They do my head in.’

  Danny turned back to him and said, ‘You know what Mike, I think I’m going to go. I’ll get my mum to take me home if that’s OK. I don’t want to make a fool of myself and end up blubbering again.’

  ‘OK mate I understand,’ said Mike taking his hand away. ‘Just have a quick word with my mum and dad before you shoot off, will you. They’d appreciate that. And if you need anything then just let me know.’ Mike stood up and walked away.

  Danny’s phone started to vibrate in his pocket. He took it out and saw that it was Dave, his boss from work. Danny ignored it and put the phone back into his pocket. He had received a text that morning from Dave telling him to take off all the time he needed and to only come back to work when he thought he was up to it. Work was the last thing on his mind right now and he didn’t want to even start to think about it.

  He rose from the chair and raised himself onto his toes, stretching to see over the heads of the people in the room in search of Bill and Margaret. Sometimes he wished he was slightly taller than his five feet eight inches.

  Seeing another of Lucy’s brothers standing near a table in the corner of the room he set off in that direction. As he walked through the crowded room he felt the odd pat on the back. He tried to avoid making eye contact with anyone, but when he did, he received the same sympathetic smile he had been receiving off people all week and it was starting to irritate him. He just needed to be left alone. He did not need people right now, despite their best intentions.

  Passing Lucy’s younger brother, he found them in the corner with one of her uncles who he couldn’t quite remember the name of. He thought it might be Bob or Frank but he was not sure.

  As he approached, they looked up. ‘I think I’m going to go,’ he said to the group.

  ‘OK son,
’ said Bill. ‘I understand. I’ll give you a ring later.’

  Danny shook his hand and then kissed Margaret.

  He found his mother, Grace, by the bar sitting on her own. She had been remarkable and had been the one person keeping him sane. He adored his mother. She herself had been through enough heartbreak in her life and she was able to offer him the right amount of sympathy and understanding and more importantly right now, the space he needed to start to come to terms with what had taken place last Friday night. She always knew the right thing to say and when to say it.

  She smiled as Danny approached and gave him a knowing look. A look that said, ‘you don’t need all this right now do you? You just need to be on your own for the rest of the day and to get some sleep.’

  ‘Come on son,’ she said. ‘Let’s get you home.’

  #

  Danny lay on the bed staring at the ceiling. He was not sure how long he had been lying there but he knew it had been a long time. He had arrived home and gone straight upstairs, leaving his mother to drive the two miles back to her house alone. She had asked if he wanted to stay the night at her house but he just wanted the solitude that the home he once shared with Lucy would now provide.

  He had not taken off his coat or his shoes and had Lucy been there she would have given him a piece of her mind regarding hygiene and putting his dirty shoes on the bedclothes.

  The thought of her made the pain in his stomach return and he turned onto his side doubling up, bringing his knees up to his chest and letting out a low moan. He had thought that there were no more tears left in his body to shed but they began to flow once more and he could not stop them. He did not want to stop them. He remained like this for a number of minutes before sleep took hold and before he knew it he could hear birdsong outside the bedroom window and the first rays of the morning sun were beginning to filter through the cracks in the curtains. He realised he must have slept for hours, the first proper sleep he had had in days.

  He looked over to the bedside table and picked up his phone. It had barely any charge left and he could see that there were a number of text messages and a couple of missed calls. He put it down and decided he would view them later.

  He got off the bed and undressed, throwing his clothes in a heap on the bedroom floor and got back into the bed and pulled the duvet over himself. He could still smell her perfume on the bedclothes and her pillow and the tears started again. After a few minutes, unable to get back to sleep, he decided to get up.

  Enough was enough, he thought. He could not do this all day. He had a shower and got dressed then went downstairs to make some breakfast. He put his phone on charge and sat in the conservatory with a cup of tea. The telephone in the living room rang but he ignored it allowing the answer machine to kick in and take the call. However the caller hung up before passing a message. Danny chose to look at the birds searching for worms in the garden instead. Peace and quiet suited him right now. For the first time in a week he was able to let his mind go blank and to just enjoy the autumnal morning view from the window. The garden had been overhauled in the summer and both he and Lucy had been very pleased with the results. Bird tables, potted plants and a gravel path leading to a new patio and barbecue area at the bottom of the garden, which would be a good sun trap in the summer months. Wasted money now, he thought.

  He would be selling the house.

  The phone rang again and once more he ignored it. This time the caller was leaving a message on the machine but he could not make out who it was or what they were saying. He waited until all was quiet again and then decided that it was probably now a good idea to answer some texts and to clear down his voicemail and answer machine messages.

  He made another cup of tea and then collected his mobile phone from the kitchen where he had left it.

  Sixteen new text messages. He quickly flicked through them. Messages of condolence from some of his friends; his mother telling him to call her. Nothing that needed an immediate response. He decided he would put a post on Facebook later in the day thanking people for their kind words and support.

  He checked his voicemail and there were five new messages. He had not checked it for a while and the first message was from the previous Friday afternoon. It was a familiar voice:

  ‘Hiya you,’ said Lucy, her voice hitting him like a freight train in the chest. The shock of hearing her again made him physically take a step back and he almost dropped the phone. ‘Do you fancy a take away for tea tonight, before we go out? It’ll give you something to line your stomach. Pick something up on your way home. Anything will do. See you later and love you loads.’ He then remembered her having a go at him that evening when he got in from work as he had not listened to the message and subsequently not bought any food. Instead they had ordered a delivery which came late and meant that they were then late meeting up with Mark and Jane. She had not been too pleased.

  He was given the option to delete the message but he could not bring himself to press the number three on the keypad. Instead he hit the number one button and saved it so he could listen to it again and again later.

  The next message was from Grace asking him to get in touch as soon as he got the message. He hit the number three button. The third was silent and so he cleared that too.

  The fourth message was from the policewoman he had spoken to last Friday night after the accident. The message was from three days previously: ‘Hi Mr Cooke. It’s DC Julie Green here. Could you please contact me as soon as possible please? We need you to make the statement about what happened last week. I know you’re going through a hard time but it’s very important that we get your statement. My number is...’ Number three. Deleted.

  The fifth message was another from his mother and had been left the previous night when he had been in bed. He deleted this without listening to it.

  He sat down. The shock of hearing Lucy’s voice again had taken him off guard. Up to that point he thought he was having a good morning and was coping well. He replayed the message twice more before forcing himself to stop. He could not bring himself to delete it and at that moment doubted that he ever would.

  He walked into the living room and picked up the house phone. He pressed the playback number on the answer-phone and listened to the messages. There weren’t too many and Danny was thankful for the advent of text messaging, where people could now converse without speaking to each other. In situations like this it made it easier for them to express their concerns and offer sympathy without the awkwardness of actually speaking to the person who was bereaved.

  The first was from the same policewoman, Detective Constable Julie Green, asking him to contact her and leaving a number. The next was from Bill from a couple of days ago asking him to ring followed by a call from someone he didn’t know talking about wills, ‘Hello Mister Cooke. My name is Clive Brown, I’d like to talk to you about a will…’ Danny deleted the message without listening any further. If it’s not double glazing it’s something else, he thought.

  He then dialled Grace’s number and she answered on the second ring.

  ‘Hello Danny,’ she said. ‘How are you feeling this morning? Did you sleep well?’

  ‘Fine mum,’ he replied. ‘Slept OK for the first time in ages, to be honest.’

  ‘Well that’s something. I’m coming round this evening and cooking your tea for you. I won’t take no for an answer so don’t even try to stop me.’

  ‘I couldn’t if I tried,’ said Danny, smiling. ‘Listen mum. The police are still pestering for this statement and I don’t think I can put it off any longer. I’m going to have some lunch then I’m going down to the police station. I don’t want them in here to be honest.’

  ‘OK son, it’s probably a good idea to get it out of the way.’

  ‘Mum,’ said Danny after a pause.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I heard her voice this morning. On voicemail. She was telling me to get a takeaway. It was on the day she died.’

  ‘Have you deleted it?
’

  ‘No,’ he replied. ‘I can’t. I don’t think I want to’.

  Grace paused, then said: ‘I think you need to Danny. It’ll drive you mad.’

  ‘I’ll think about it,’ said Danny. ‘See you later mum.’ He hung up.

  #

  Detective Constable Green was not on duty but her colleague, Detective Sergeant Jim Lea was. Danny recognised him from the previous week as one of the two detectives who had tried to interview him at the hospital, but as Danny had been in no state to talk to them they had left him and agreed to do it at a later date.

  DS Lea had found a room where they could sit without being interrupted and had brought in with him two cups of coffee. Placing one in front of Danny he sat down opposite him. The room was normally used for interviewing suspects and criminals and a tape machine sat in the middle of the table between them.

  ‘We don’t have to do this in here Mr Cooke,’ said Lea nodding towards the equipment. ‘If this room is going to intimidate you in any way we can arrange to come to your house if you like. All the conference rooms are booked up today, some kind of course going on for the big cheeses. It’s not usually this busy on a Saturday to be honest.’

  ‘It’s OK,’ said Danny. ‘It’s fine, honestly, Detective.’

  ‘OK, no problems. And please call me Jim.’

  DS Lea took a pen from the inside pocket of his jacket and, leaning forward, continued. ‘OK Danny,’ he said. ‘I know this is going to be hard for you. If at any point you need a break or want to stop then please let me know and we can continue later. I’m going to write down what you say and then you can read it back later and make any amendments if you need to. So in your own words, tell me what happened last Friday.’

  ‘Fine. Where do you want me to start?’ asked Danny.

  ‘From when you arrived at the George and Dragon might be a good point.’

  ‘OK. We got there about nine o’clock. We were due to meet our friends Mark and Jane at half eight but because I hadn’t picked up any food on the way home from work we had to wait for a takeaway, which came late.’