by Peter Martin
By the time she’d reached the far end of the hallway she’d all but given up hope of finding a way outside. The last door, however, looked hopeful. Being slightly ajar, she quietly stepped into the room. Standing just inside the doorway she caught sight of a raging fire burning in the hearth. How strange, she thought, with the weather so warm. It was a traditionally furnished room with high-backed sofa and armchairs. On the walls were paintings depicting what appeared to be English country scenes of thatched cottages and rolling hillside. From the middle of the ceiling hung a cut glass chandelier, the light from which reflected dimly into the over-mantle mirror above the fireplace.
She quickly looked around to find the room deserted, but noticed double doors on the other side of the room. She guessed these would lead outside, knowing she was in a room at the end of the hallway.
She walked across the room and with one hand on the door handle stopped in her tracks sensing someone else in the room. She could have jumped out of her skin when a cultured male voice said, ‘Are you going somewhere, my dear?’
‘Sorry?’ Delia said jumping.
‘I said are you going somewhere, my dear?’ He repeated.
‘Oh, only for a breath of fresh air.’ She turned around to see an elderly gentleman sitting in one of the high-backed armchairs placed either side of the fire.
‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you – it gets frightfully cold at night in these parts. Why don’t you come and sit by the fire? I don’t get much company these days.’
Delia felt a little moved by his sad tone of voice. Reluctantly she moved closer to him and could see he looked to be in his mid-seventies. He wore a red velvet dressing gown, on top of light blue pyjamas, with a navy blue silk cravat tied neatly at the neckline. His large watery blue eyes peered over a pair of half-rimmed spectacles and he had a scraggly grey beard.
‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.’ Delia said as she watched the old man pick up a small tumbler containing an amber liquid, and taking a long drink.
‘Come here young lady… won’t you please come and sit with me. What’s the matter - you seem rather afraid?’ He sounded hurt. ‘No need to worry, I don’t bite.’
So against her better judgement, and feeling ill at ease, Delia sat down in the armchair opposite him. She could smell the sweet aroma of the large cigar which dangled from his right hand, the ash occasionally falling onto the carpet.
‘It makes a nice change to have someone to talk to, especially someone as pretty as you. So won’t you please join me in a drink, my dear?’ He cackled.
‘I don’t know about that, I ought to be getting back – somebody’s bound to miss me.’
‘Please, just a few minutes of your time. Let me get you a small drink, that won’t hurt, surely. Please, make a silly old man like myself happy for the first time in many years.’ He pleaded with her.
‘All right, just a small one.’ Her stomach turned over when his face turned into a smile and once again his sinister laugh filled the room.
Delia could never recall a time in her life when she’d felt so spooked. And yet, in reality, nothing had happened. But as he got out of his chair he seemed so incredibly tall, at the very least six feet five or six, and his shoulders too were broad, in all, even at this age, a formidable character.
He then tottered over to the drinks cabinet situated on the other side of the double doors, and it suddenly struck her that there was something familiar about him. His stance and the way he poured, what she took to be whisky, into a tumbler brought someone she knew to mind. His hand trembled as he handed her the tumbler, almost spilling the contents onto the floor.
‘Your good health, my dear,’ he said toasting her with his glass once he’d returned to his seat.
Delia took a sip of her drink, which admittedly tasted quite nice, before putting it down by the side of the armchair.
‘So who are you, my dear? Another one of Lena’s friends come to visit?’ He closed his eyes as he said those last few words.
‘No, I’m Garry’s wife,’ she revealed in all innocence, still concerned by the man’s strange behaviour.
‘Garry’s wife?’ He repeated looking puzzled. ‘And who is Garry?’
‘Garry is Lena’s son, the son she gave up for adoption forty years ago,’ she said, ‘Well to tell you the truth, we’ve just had a row, and I was looking for a way outside to get a breath of fresh air. That’s why…’ She stopped dead, seeing the reaction her words had provoked.
The old man went rigid in his seat, his eyes bulging with shock, mouth agape, as he struggled to breathe.
‘Have you any idea what that means to me, my dear?’ He said, getting up from his chair, tears trickling down his cheeks. ‘Dear God, this is truly a miracle, if ever there was one – he’s come back to me after all these years.’
Slowly he moved towards her, sheer joy on his face. What was going on? Delia thought. What had Garry being Lena’s son got to do with him, and why had it caused him to act so oddly?
Now shivering, she feared what the old gentleman would do next. As his towering figure stood in front of her, she clenched her teeth, hardly able to breathe. Then without warning, he sank to his knees, put the side of his head onto her lap, and sobbed profusely.
Delia froze, not knowing what to do – maybe call for somebody, but she feared this might alienate him even further. So instead she sat there doing nothing, trying her best to humour him and hope he’d go away. Sadly, he didn’t. He gripped her thighs tightly with both hands, making her silently gasp. Then shockingly moved his hands up until he was gripping her breasts.
For a split second, she was totally stunned. On impulse, she tried to push him off but he wouldn’t budge. Then as he gazed up and in almost a gurgle said, ‘You are so beautiful, daughter – no wonder a man like me can’t resist you.’
‘Get off me!’ She screamed.
‘That’s what I like,’ he grunted. ‘My little girl fighting me. Come on scratch, bite, kick, anything you like, my dear.’
He tightened his grip on her, causing her to wince in pain and revulsion. She struggled with all her might but was unable to break free. What frightened her most was his strength.
Then in disbelief and horror, she felt his knee between her knees. Rape had always been one of her innermost fears, and in an effort to stop the onslaught she grabbed first his beard and then his hair, but she was powerless to stop him doing whatever he wanted, and then perhaps kill her.
She screamed and screamed, as loudly as possible; in the hope, the whole of the house would hear her. But the old man carried on undeterred, trying to rip through her clothing.
Just when there seemed no way out of her ordeal, the room lit up and she was released from the pressure of the old man’s body. Three burly men did their best to grab hold of him and free her from her torment. He shrieked in protest, as they pulled him away yelling, again and again, ‘My daughter! My daughter!’
From her seat, Delia watched the pitiful sight of the old man being taken away, his screams sending a shiver down her spine. And much to her surprise, one of the men pulling her assailant from the room was Greg. Once the doors closed behind them she looked around the room and to her relief saw Lena. But no longer all smiles and pleasantries, with a face like thunder, and through gritted teeth she said, ‘What the hell are you playing at, creeping around in the middle of the night?’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Delia said, somewhat bewildered.
‘You think you’re so clever, don’t you? Meddling in things that don’t concern you. Well, you got more than you bargained for, didn’t you, young lady? Serves you right.’
Lost for words and seeing Lena in her true colours Delia was speechless.
‘You stupid fool interfering in something that’s none of your business. And now because of your own stupidity what happens now is your own fault.’
Lena grabbed hold of Delia’s arm and pulled her up, and although she tried her best to wriggle free, her efforts were futile. F
rom the look of anger on Lena’s face, yet again Delia feared what was in store for her. And who was this crazy old man? Who bore an uncanny resemblance to someone she knew! What had she stumbled on?
Whatever it was, it seemed Chris had been right all along - when he’d said, ‘If something’s too good to be true it usually is!’
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Garry woke with a blinding headache, looked at his watch to see it was almost three o’clock in the morning. Why he’d woken up so early, he didn’t know? And then in his fuddled head it came rushing back – he’d had an accident and argued with Delia about living on the island. She’d made it perfectly clear she had no intention of moving to the island, no matter what the new house was like. He’d been so infuriated he’d lost his temper, and consequently, she’d stormed out of their bedroom in a rage. Then to top it all off, from the way his head felt, he guessed he’d had one too many brandies.
Now lying on the bed trying to work it out, he reached across the bed, hoping to find her there fast asleep, but she wasn’t in the bed, and what’s more, her side of the bed hadn’t been slept in. Alarm bells suddenly rang. Three o’clock in the morning - where was she? She’d gone off in a huff but surely she’d be back by now. He’d have to find her, apologise, and try to make it up. He sat up and stroked the back of his head with his hand, he’d certainly got one hell of a hangover. She had to be with either Tom or Cassie. And if she was, had she told them about their row? She’d never involved the children before when they’d argued, and would never influence them into thinking her way. But this time, she’d been so incensed. He’d been much too hasty in telling Lena they’d move here – and in assuming Delia would fall in with what he wanted.
‘Damn,’ he mumbled to himself. ‘This is all my fault.’
Where had she gone? Perhaps she’d fallen asleep downstairs somewhere. No point waiting until the morning, he’d have to look for her now. She always went off in a strop after they’d had a disagreement. What he’d always dreaded most was that one day she’d leave him. His life would be nothing without her. She was his rock. If only he hadn’t said those stupid things, and if it came to a straight choice between staying here and going back home with Delia, it was no contest – Delia would win hands down. That was why he had to reconcile their differences.
Out on the landing, with the intention of going to Tom and Cassie’s rooms, he felt for the light switch, but once again flicking the switch nothing happened. Dear God, not again, he thought, another power cut. How bloody ridiculous. Just to make sure, he returned to the bedroom and tried the bedside lamp, but it didn’t light up.
Back on the landing, he had second thoughts about involving Tom and Cassie so late at night and decided instead to search the house alone even though it was dark. Unfortunately, his search was fruitless and was forced to return to bed in the hope she’d turn up by the morning.
Slipping into the bed, he lay wondering where his wife might be. He prayed nothing bad had happened to her, and that she was no longer angry with him. After tossing and turning for what seemed like an eternity he eventually dropped off again.
When he woke later that morning, Delia still hadn’t returned and looking at his watch saw it was nine o’clock. Sod it. I hate it when she’s in this mood. He said out loud. He hadn’t planned to sleep that long, so he quickly washed and dressed with the intention of going to his son and daughter’s rooms in the hope she might be there.
Then for an unknown reason, maybe sixth sense, he opened Delia’s wardrobe and found to his horror that all her belongings had gone. Something was very wrong. He had to sit down, his heart was in his mouth, in fact, every part of his body pounded to the beat of his heart. When had this happened? Before or after he woke in the night? How had she packed all her things without him knowing? He was frantic and needed to speak to Tom and Cassie at once.
He rushed out of the room and onto the landing, first knocking on Tom’s door, and then Cassie’s door.
They both came out almost straight away, but when asked if their mother was with them, to his astonishment they said no.
‘Why Dad? – isn’t she with you?’ Cassie asked.
‘No,’ Garry replied sheepishly. ‘We had a bit of a row late last night. She went out for a walk, but she never came back.’
‘I bet she’s downstairs already.’ Tom said. ‘Cooling off. Better tread carefully, eh Dad?’
‘Yes, I suppose…’ Garry agreed, although he wasn’t totally convinced. Hadn’t he already searched downstairs in the early hours? But when he thought about it, she had nowhere else to go.
‘So what were you arguing about, Dad?’ Cassie asked.
‘Oh, nothing important.’ Garry didn’t want to give anything away. ‘Come on, we’d better go downstairs. I want to make sure she’s there.’
Downstairs the three of them searched in vain for her, first in the house and then outside in the gardens. Full of concern they returned to the house to see Lena and Greg walking towards them lost in conversation.
‘You don’t happen to have seen Delia? It’s probably something and nothing, but I don’t know where she is?’
‘As a matter of fact, I have. I was just coming to find you,’ Lena said.
Garry breathed a little easier but needed to know more. ‘You’ve seen her?’
‘Please, let’s go into the dining room and I’ll explain everything to you.’ Lena walked leisurely into the room and they followed.
After sitting down the expression on Lena and Greg’s face suddenly became grave and serious.
‘I’m sorry to have to tell you, but she’s gone home,’ Lena told them.
‘Gone home? You’re got to be joking. But why? When? What’s all this about?’ Garry put his elbows on the table, his face down into his hands.
‘She came to see me late last night, told me you’d had a big argument about moving over here. Although you and everyone else want to stay, she said for her it wasn’t possible.’
‘Why does she think…’ Tom interrupted.
But Lena, speaking loudly carried on, ‘It’s understandable in one way because she’s very homesick for the town where she was born. I tried my hardest to persuade her to wait until morning, but she wouldn’t change her mind. She was adamant about leaving straight away, without any of you knowing because she knew you’d only try to stop her. Luckily it just happened there was a plane, leaving from Whitehaven heading for Hawaii and I managed to get her a place on board. Unluckily for you, the plane came to pick her up about three hours ago.
‘She got everything packed while you were asleep Garry, and was long gone by the time you woke. She’s sorry about how she went about this but said it’s for the best.
‘I had to do as she wished, even though right up until she actually got on the plane, I tried everything to convince her that her future was here with you guys. I am so sorry, and as you can imagine I’m extremely upset about this. Unfortunately, I couldn’t stop her.’ Lena wiped a tear away from the corner of her eyes with a finger.
Garry saw the pain and hurt in Lena’s eyes, convinced she was telling the truth.
He sighed. ‘Surely, she wouldn’t have gone without saying a word to any of us. All right, so we had a bit of a disagreement but I never imagined it was serious enough for her to take such drastic action.’
Lena totally ignored his words and turning to him said, ‘I haven’t got the answer for you Garry, but Delia expressly said she didn’t want to speak to any of you because of how upsetting it would be for everyone concerned. However, she told me to give you this, which I hope will explain everything in more detail and hopefully put your minds at rest.’
She held out a sealed envelope with two words printed on it ‘My Family’. Garry, quickly tore it open, unfolded the letter, and seeing it was addressed to all of them, decided to read it out aloud.
It began:
Dear Family,
I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, but I have decided to leave the island. Ever since I ca
me here, I’ve felt homesick, but I thought it best to keep it from you. I could never leave Dexford permanently; not even for the obvious attractions of this island.
Your father wants to stay, so rather than fight over it, it's best if we go our separate ways.
I’ve decided to go quietly without any fuss before any of you have a chance to try to stop me from leaving. I don’t want you to be influenced by what I’ve done, because if you look at it logically, to stay would be the most sensible thing to do. All I ask is that you don’t try to change my mind because you won’t succeed.
Be happy, I will love you always.
Ever yours Delia, Mum.
Garry scrutinised the letter carefully, to judge if it was genuine or not, and the writing certainly looked like Delia’s. Even the signature at the bottom appeared authentic. As to its content, she might have said some of those things, considering her state of mind, but he doubted she’d think her family would stay for financial security.
At last, he shook his head with disappointment. He’d keep his thoughts to himself for the time being. There was something about all this that he just couldn’t work out.
‘I was certain she was with me on this. I’ve got to admit, we didn’t discuss moving here and I’m sure I pushed her into leaving, by assuming she wanted to stay and my own pig-headedness. I wish I hadn’t lost my temper.’ Garry began to experience panic in his chest.
‘From what she says in her letter, she thinks we’re all prepared to live here permanently. Is that what you think Dad? Because Jane and I haven’t made that decision yet. But that aside, to leave in this way is so out of character.’
‘Yes, that’s more or less how I see it, Tom. I’d like to know why mum thought we all wanted to live here permanently. Chris and I definitely haven’t given anyone that impression,’ Cassie said angrily.
With guilt written across his face Garry said, ‘Well, as I’ve already said, this is my fault. I kind of jumped the gun, took it for granted your mother would like to move here.’
