No Heaven, No Hell

by J. T. Brindle

  ‘The old magic is still there,’ he muttered. ‘She’s still a looker… and she still sets me trembling. But don’t flatter yourself, Mike old son. A lot of water’s gone under the bridge since you and Rosie rolled in the hay.’ His expression became grim. ‘Put it behind you,’ he told himself sternly. ‘For all your sakes.’

  Chasing from one end of the bar to the other, the landlord was at his wits’ end. ‘I’ll be with you in a minute,’ he told Mike. ‘It’s like bedlam in here!’ In his hurry to be rid of one customer he spilled a pint of beer over him. ‘Sorry, mate,’ he said, and got a mouthful of abuse for his trouble.

  Looking over his shoulder, Mike saw that Rosie had gone to supervise the boys’ game. For a long moment he watched, wondering about her, trying to guess how she had come to be here, in this area, so far away from where they had grown up – and so close to where he had chosen to settle down.

  Feeling the need for a breath of fresh air, and realising he might not get served for some time yet, Mike went outside.

  The wind seemed to be settling and the sun was once again trying to struggle through. He walked along the side of the inn and down towards the gardens at the back.

  At first he couldn’t quite make out what the sounds were. Gruff, breathless sounds, almost like those of an animal in distress. Concerned, he looked about. The sounds were coming from the spinney. Quickly, he made his way there, peering between the trees as he went.

  The sounds got louder – behind him now. He swung round, and there, only yards away, he saw them. Spreadeagled in the undergrowth, the young couple were blissfully unaware that he could see them.

  Outstretched on the ground, her hair matted with leaves and debris, the girl’s long legs were tightly wrapped round the young man’s thighs, her arms about his body, keeping him there, trapping him to her. The young man, body low and head high, thrust in and out of her with brutal force.

  The sounds Mike had heard were cries of pleasure, and pain. Being so close and seeing them together like this, his own heart beat faster. ‘Jesus!’ Into his mind came an image of himself and Rosie. It was almost more than he could bear.

  Much as he wanted to tear himself away, his curiosity kept him rooted to the spot. He watched them clawing at each other, and recalled how it was when you were that young. He wondered why Kerry had never given herself in the same way Rosie had; why she always seemed to hold back at the crucial point. Now, shamelessly watching these kids, he felt the need for that kind of love again.

  Filled with regrets, he hurried away and returned to a quieter bar. He remembered how it had been between himself and Rosie. She was like that girl out there in the shrubbery, exciting and demanding, insatiable. But not his Kerry. She was different.

  But he wouldn’t blame her for that. No two women were the same, thank God. Kerry was a lady, while Rosie had been a wild thing. He had been wild too, as he recalled. But that was when they were young and rebellious. Now, he was a family man, older and wiser. He had other things to occupy his mind – bills to pay, responsibilities that came with growing up. He had a beautiful wife and two adorable children. When he and Kerry made love it was always good, and he wouldn’t change her for the world.

  He told himself all these things, and still could not rid himself of a nagging feeling that he was missing out.

  He made his way back to the table, where Rosie and the boys, who’d finished with the table football, were waiting. ‘I was beginning to think you’d run out on me,’ she said, her bright eyes twinkling. ‘We’ve eaten most of the sandwiches.’

  ‘The weather seems to have changed for the better,’ Mike said. ‘Jack and I should be making our way home.’ He offered to give her and Luke a lift back and was greatly relieved when she declined.

  ‘No need, thanks all the same,’ she said. ‘But I would like to see you again. We’ve had so little time to talk.’

  Mike was wary. ‘I don’t have much free time,’ he said. ‘But if ever I do, you’ll find me and Jack picnicking down by the river.’ He wanted to say he thought it better if they never saw each other again, but some sixth sense warned him to humour her. So, against his better judgement, he unwisely encouraged her.

  She smiled at him. ‘I’ll look forward to that.’

  Jack was ready to leave. ‘I don’t like that game,’ he said sulkily. ‘It’s no good.’

  Luke grinned. ‘That’s because I beat you every time.’

  Luke’s triumphant smirk turned to a scowl when Rosie remarked, ‘Jack seems to have got the hang of it now, so don’t count on winning next time.’ Glancing at Mike, she murmured, ‘You won’t forget me, will you? When you have that moment of free time?’

  Smiling, he made no reply. Somehow he thought it wiser. Not because of her, but because of the overwhelming feelings rising inside himself. Feelings of want… lust. Feelings that had lain dormant all this time – until she had appeared. It was disturbing.

  Outside, she kissed him. ‘Remember how it was between us?’ she whispered. ‘Shame it had to end.’ Her fingers wandered to his thigh, tenderly touching him. Sending shivers down his spine.

  He drew away. ‘It was good seeing you, and if we don’t meet again, take care of yourself.’

  They went their separate ways; Rosie and her son headed back towards the river, while Mike and Jack walked towards the car.

  ‘Will we see them again?’ Jack wanted to know.

  Opening the car door, Mike ushered him inside. ‘I don’t think so, son.’ Rosie was dangerous. She got inside him like no other woman ever could.

  They had gone only a short way when the rain started again. ‘Is the storm coming back, Daddy?’ Jack was nervous.

  Mike peered through the rain-spattered window. ‘Let’s hope not.’ Switching on the windscreen wipers, he settled back in his seat. ‘I think the worst is over,’ Instinctively, his hand went to his mouth. Rosie’s kiss still burned his lips. ‘We’ll soon be home, son. Just sit tight.’

  The journey was a nightmare. The rain defied the wipers and blurred his vision. ‘I’ll have to pull over for a while,’ he told Jack. ‘I know this lane like the back of my hand but I can’t see a damned thing now.’ Sighing, he leaned against the steering wheel, his mind ticking over, wondering what to do for the best. ‘But don’t you worry,’ he assured the frightened boy. ‘We’ll be all right.’ All the same, he had a feeling the worst was yet to come.

  Just as he feared, the storm came back with a vengeance. Howling wind rocked the car and dark clouds turned day into night. Rain fell in torrents, battering the car and pummelling the ground until the grass verges became slithering mud banks.

  When the car began sliding towards the ditch, Mike knew it was time to get out of there.

  He scrambled out of the car and dragged Jack after him. ‘Hold on tight, son,’ he told him. ‘We’ll have to go back.’ Reasoning that the inn would be the safest place, he headed back down the lane, battling against the wind and carrying Jack in his arms. ‘Don’t be frightened!’ He had to shout to be heard. ‘We’ll be all right, don’t worry!’

  If the lines were not down, he intended calling Kerry from the inn. He didn’t want her to worry. And Rosie, he thought, was she all right? Did she and Luke get home before the storm returned?

  Cursing himself for bringing Rosie to mind, he hugged Jack close to him, wrapping his arms tighter about the small, shivering frame. ‘We can’t be too far away.’ But, to tell the truth, he had lost all sense of direction and had no idea which way he was headed.

  Jack’s voice invaded his thoughts. ‘Daddy! Look!’ Holding on to his father, the boy pointed towards the field.

  At first, Mike couldn’t see anything, then, peering through the blinding rain, he saw the shadowy figures. It was the young couple. ‘Hey!’ Relieved when he realised his sense of direction had not deserted him altogether, he yelled again, ‘Hey, you two!’ The wind carried his voice away.

  They didn’t hear him. Instead they kept going, hand in hand across the fie
ld and up towards the top of the hill. ‘You’d do best to stick to the road!’ he yelled out again, but still they appeared not to have heard. ‘I hope they know what they’re doing,’ he muttered.

  The wind was buffeting so fiercely he could hardly keep a foothold; branches were cracking from the trees and falling all around them. Then, with a suddenness that sent him stumbling forwards, the wind fell and the rain eased off. He could breathe again. ‘Thank God!’ But where were they? Nothing around them seemed familiar.

  Something was very wrong.

  After the noise and confusion, the silence was awesome. The air was unbelievably cloying; Mike felt as if he was choking. ‘What the hell’s going on?’ He was no coward but now, caught up in this strange experience, he was afraid.

  Jack sensed it. ‘Daddy, what’s happening?’

  ‘I think it’s over,’ he murmured, but deep down he knew it wasn’t.

  He looked up to see the clouds clearing to reveal wide, amazing skies of brilliant blue. From some way behind, a solitary sheet of lightning daggered to the ground, splitting a tree wide open, where only minutes before he had trodden.

  Following on the heels of that one came a second, nearer strike. The impact shook them both, making Mike cry out. ‘Jesus!’ The ripple of air became a terrifying force, throwing them to the ground. And, as they fell, with debris crashing all around, Mike wondered if it was the end of the world.

  Trapped beneath the branches of a tree, Jack was sobbing, his arms reaching out to his father. ‘Hold on, son!’ Pitting his strength against the weight of the tree and the strange force of the air, Mike managed to grab the boy’s arms before he himself was pinned by the legs. ‘I’ll get you out, son,’ he promised but, without help, he knew it would be no easy thing.

  Suddenly he felt the undercurrent sucking at his body, tugging at Jack, pulling him out of his grasp. Terrified, the boy stared up at him, his small fingers groping to hold on. Again, the eerie silence descended, striking new horror into Mike’s heart; with all his strength, he clutched at Jack’s wrists, his scream shattering the silence, ‘Don’t let go! For God’s sake… don’t let go!’ Something bad was happening, and they were right in the eye of it.

  The undercurrent grew stronger: loose branches, enormous in size, were tossed about like matchsticks, spinning through the air as if some huge hand had snatched them up and sent them at unbelievable speed across the field, towards the young couple… into the soft, shivering light.

  Mike felt weightless, helpless in the face of what was happening, but still he would not let go of Jack, not even if his arms were torn from their sockets.

  While the wind screamed and the heavens shifted, Mike quietly prayed. He could feel himself losing the fight; the mighty tree which held them was beginning to lift, freeing them – to what?

  Dear God above, he was losing Jack… ‘Noooo…’ His cry stretched through the air. He tightened his grip, holding on, even while the two of them were dragged out, skin and sinew torn as their helpless bodies scraped along the rough bark; shoes and socks were stripped away, clothing and hope shredded as they were drawn, inch by inch, from their sanctuary.

  Suddenly, a terrible coldness enveloped them, and the quietness after such fury fell about them like a blessing. With the weight of the tree lifted from them, Mike found he could move. But his limbs were numb and stiff, wet with his own blood and Jack’s. Jack was lying face up, his stricken eyes staring out towards the field.

  Mike followed his gaze.

  He could see the young couple standing hand in hand, unsure, hesitating. Then they began to run, first one way, then another. It was as if an invisible wall held them trapped.

  The air was bitter-cold now, deathly quiet with a strange kind of beauty. Mike knew instinctively it was life-threatening. The power that had destroyed was still there, quieter now, beneath the surface, sharing the very air he breathed,

  ‘Daddy, I’m frightened.’ White-faced and trembling, Jack clung on.

  Mike kept his eyes on the couple, who were still in his sights. Hopelessly disorientated, they continued to run about, confused and frightened. ‘Make your way back here!’ Mike called out, but his voice was thin and empty, almost as though he didn’t exist.

  In that moment of incredible calm, he saw the youths driven apart; arms outstretched and calling to each other, they were carried away. Terrified, yet strangely intrigued, Mike watched as they were raised above the earth, spinning, gently at first, and then so fast he could not make them out at all. But he heard their screams; awful, shocking screams that made him tremble.

  Like a great moving canvas, the sky seemed to roll back and take them into itself. One minute they were there, and then they were gone.

  Mike had seen it with his own eyes but he couldn’t believe it. The sky had swallowed them up!

  Silent and disbelieving, Mike and Jack held on to each other, fearing that if they were seen to move, they, too, would be sucked into oblivion.

  Some hours later, mercifully unconscious, they were found. ‘God Almighty, they’re lucky to be alive!’ Hacking them free, the firemen stood back for the medical team to do its job.

  As they were lifted into the waiting ambulance, somebody remarked, ‘The poor devils look as if they’ve been through hell and back.’

  Only Mike and Jack knew the truth of that.

  2

  Seated on the steps of the camper van, Rosie lifted her gaze towards the seafront. From the high vantage point, she could just make out the shape of West Bay harbour as a ring of lights and, further down, the many colourful boats bobbing on the water. ‘It’s lovely here,’ she sighed. ‘I think I could settle here.’

  Lying in his bunk, Luke heard her sigh and turned his head. For a long moment, he stared at his mother, thinking how beautiful she was, with the moonlight playing on her long auburn hair and those pretty green eyes that could light the world with a smile. But they weren’t smiling now. Instead they were sad and faraway. He hated it when she was like that.

  ‘Why are we here?’ His intrusive voice startled her. Clambering off his bunk, he pushed past her down the steps. ‘I never wanted to come here,’ he complained. ‘Neither did Eddie. It was you. Eddie brought you here, and now you don’t want to go. I heard what you said just now, about settling here.’

  ‘It’s not polite to eavesdrop.’

  Incensed, he stood before her, legs astride, deliberately blocking her view of the harbour. ‘It was to see him, wasn’t it? You made Eddie bring you here just so you could see that Peterson bloke.’

  Rosie didn’t look up. ‘He’s an old friend.’

  ‘Hmh! An old lover, you mean.’

  ‘All right, an old lover.’

  ‘I thought you said it was all a long time ago.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘So why did you want to see him?’

  ‘None of your business.’

  ‘What if I was to tell Eddie?’

  ‘Tell him if that’s what you want,’ she said with false bravado. Eddie had a vicious temper.

  ‘Why is Peterson so important?’

  Looking up, Rosie took stock of her son. Tall and gangly, he bore little resemblance to Mike, except for the unkempt brown hair that no comb could tame. But in many ways he reminded her of Mike – when he smiled, that swinging, easy way he walked. He had the same square chin too. Oh, yes, he was his father’s son, in more ways than one. But she didn’t want to tell him, not yet. The time wasn’t right.

  ‘What makes you think he’s important?’

  Answering one question with another was a coward’s way but she had no choice.

  Luke shrugged impatiently. ‘If he isn’t, why can’t we leave?’

  ‘We will.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘When I’m good and ready.’ She had things to do here. Important things that had waited too long.

  ‘Eddie doesn’t want to stay either.’

  ‘He can go when he likes. And so can you!’ Angry, she tossed her
head, eyes blazing up at him. ‘You’ve two strong arms and you can find work at the drop of a hat, so you’ve no need of me.’ No sooner were the words out than she regretted them. ‘I’m sorry, son.’ Opening her arms, she invited him to sit beside her. ‘It’s the Irish temper.’ Laughing, she hugged him close. ‘Sometimes my tongue runs away with my head.’

  Distressed, he sat on the step beside her. ‘I know I can earn a wage and I could manage if I had to. But you wouldn’t really want me to go away, would you?’

  ‘You know I wouldn’t.’ She gave him a stern glance. ‘But I do love it here and I’m not ready to go yet.’

  ‘OK, Mum.’ Everything was all right again. He had stepped over the mark and meant never to do it again.

  ‘So you’ll stop going on about me leaving – for a while anyway?’

  ‘I won’t say another word, honest.’

  She flicked his hair back from his forehead, the way she used to when he was a child. ‘I’m sorry, Luke. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. Only I don’t want you nagging me.’ Just then her gaze fell on a lone figure making its way towards them. In a low, sorry voice she added, ‘I get enough aggravation from him!’

  Luke’s mood darkened. ‘I’m going for a walk,’ he said, and before she could reply, he was gone, making his way down the other path, away from the approaching man, towards the open fields.

  ‘Don’t go too far!’ she called after him. ‘You never know who’s lurking about.’

  ‘Leave him alone. The boy’s old enough to take care of himself,’ growled Eddie Johnson. He and Rosie had been partners for some years now, sometimes loving, sometimes hating. Lately, their relationship was strained to the point of breaking. He didn’t want to lose her but Rosie did not care one way or the other.

  Springing up, she stood on the lower step so he would not tower above her. ‘You’ve been drinking again.’ She eyed him with contempt.

  ‘Been celebrating.’ A squarely built man, with fair hair and close-set dark eyes, he had a high opinion of himself. ‘The harbourmaster’s taken me on as lookout.’