Fear Has Long Fingers
River View Series, Book Three
Jeanette Taylor Ford
Copyright © Jeanette Taylor Ford 2018.
No part of this book may copied in any way except by prior consent from the author
This is a work of fiction. The characters came from my imagination and any similarity to anyone, living or dead, is entirely accidental, (mostly!)
As always my sincere thanks to my wonderful editor, Angela. I appreciate her hard work making my work presentable.
Also to Adam Rigby for his advice on police procedures and order of the police hierarchy, and to Lofty Wiseman (author of SAS Survival Guide) and author extraordinaire, Seumas Gallacher for their advice.
Once again, thank you to my awesome cover designer, Dave Slaney
When you look into my eyes,
Can you see the real me?
Can you probe through my disguise?
Please tell me what you see.
Who knew those tendrils of fear
Would find me from the past?
Will you wipe away my tear,
And your love hold me fast?
Cold fingers, long and creeping,
Squeeze around my heart,
To ruin my life they’re seeking,
They aim to break us apart.
When once before I escaped my fate,
Now it’s found me again,
Will your love be able to expel the hate,
And free me from my pain?
J.T.F. 2018
Fear Has Long Fingers
Chapter 1
Harry’s heart beat rapidly when he caught sight of the foam in the river that announced he was in for a bumpy ride. His dad had given in to Rowena’s pleadings: he insisted that Harry would enjoy canoeing down the River Wye.
“It’s a great river for canoeing, lad, and I’ll be right with you.” His dad had slapped the boy on his back.
“Oh, George! Are you sure you’re doing the right thing? You know Harry doesn’t like water. Ever since he got swept off his feet by the sea when he was little, the lad has been afraid of water, except in the shower.”
“Time he got over it, Netta! A river is different to the sea; there’s no tides, no waves. He’ll be fine. I’ll be with him.”
The family were holidaying in Hay on Wye, staying in a house that belonged to a ‘friend of a friend’ of theirs who had let them have it for a week while the owners were away on their own holiday. Part of the bargain was they would look after the two cats, a canary and the pony that belonged to the family. It wasn’t really the kind of holiday that Netta and George wanted but since George had been made redundant they could not afford their usual trip abroad. This was a cheap holiday and they had to make the best of it. Harry’s sister, Rowena, was quite happy; she loved Hay-on-Wye with its dusty book shops and all its history. Not only did she get excited about reading, she also loved water sports and had been begging her dad to take them canoeing.
Harry was happy with all kinds of other sports but not anything involving water.
He panicked as his canoe bumped and twisted and he tried in vain to control it. As he tipped over the edge of a four-foot waterfall, he could barely breathe; his heart seemed to rise up to his throat and he felt the downward rush of his canoe. The canoe toppled over and even though he was wearing a life jacket, his head went under the water. He tried in vain to remember how to turn his boat as it was swept along by the force of the river. The rains that had fallen over the past couple of days had swollen the river as it rushed down from the mountains; it was not a good environment for a young man’s first canoeing trip. Harry totally lost control in the rapids, and suddenly, he knew he was going to die. The canoe fell again on its side. There was a grating sound and Harry felt a crunch, a severe pain in his neck and he lost consciousness.
*****
Clarry raced ahead of Lucy as she walked along the river path to the house where her mother-in-law lived. The little dog suddenly stopped, pricked up her ears and then rushed off, barking.
“Clarry! Clarry, come here!” Lucy shouted. The dog raced backwards and forwards, barking non-stop.
“What’s up girl? Show me.”
Lucy followed the little white bundle down the path to the weeping willow and the seat where Kenny had proposed to her. Clarry bounced up and down as she barked on the river bank. Something in the water, in the roots of the tree, caught her eye. She hurriedly opened her mobile.
“Kenny! Quick! There’s someone in the river, caught up under the willow. Bring help!”
She knew her husband would be there in moments. Then she dialled 999 and gave rapid instructions for an ambulance. As she stopped speaking to them, two men joined her, out of breath. It was her husband Kenny and Joe from the nurseries. Quickly, Kenny tied one end of a rope around the tree and the other end around his waist, and stepped into the water. He reached the object, a canoe, lying on its side, and the unconscious lad. It might be dangerous to move the boy, but it was worse to leave him in the water, so he grabbed the lad’s torso and pulled but he didn’t move. Joe, seeing his predicament, tried to get hold of the canoe from the end stuck in the bank but he had no luck either.
“Phone the nursery for more help!” shouted Ken as he held the boy’s head above the water. “Tell them to bring more ropes. Be quick!”
It seemed an eternity but was actually only just over five minutes when Roger and Patrick appeared, both carrying ropes. Joe rapidly wrapped a rope around the tree and his waist and stepped into the river. Roger followed suit. Between them the three men managed to haul the canoe and the boy out of the water and up the bank. They laid him on the grass and Kenny proceeded to give him mouth to mouth resuscitation.
Paramedics appeared; Lucy had run to the end of the path to show them where to go. Just as Kenny was in despair that the boy would not revive, he coughed, spluttered and took a big breath. Everyone heaved a sigh of relief.
Lucy became aware that two more figures were on the river in a canoe, a man and a girl. They were struggling to control their canoe to watch the proceedings but obviously were helpless to land, the current being so strong.
“Idiots,” remarked Patrick. “Fancy being out in the river in this condition. If that’s their dad, he wants his head looking at.”
Although everyone agreed, Lucy felt she had to do something. She cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted with all her might:
“We’ve got him. He’s alright. They’re taking him to Hereford hospital.”
The man waved and nodded and stopped trying to keep the canoe still, but allowed the current to sweep them on.
Two ambulance men arrived with a stretcher on a trolley. The paramedics had examined the boy and he’d managed to tell them his name, ‘Harry’.
“Well, Harry, you’re going to be alright, son. We’re going to take you to hospital and get you checked over properly. Your dad knows, okay?”
“Yes.”
With his neck immobilised, they laid him on the stretcher and carried him up the steps to the upper path and along to the ambulance parked on the road in front of River View farmhouse, the closest road point they could reach. Moments later, the siren sounded, getting fainter as the ambulance sped through the village. The group dispersed; the paramedics to their car and the three men who had gone into the river came to River View to dry off. Patrick returned to the nursery.
Lucy brewed a pot of tea while they showered. Ken gave his men some of his own dry clothes and they sat at the kitchen table, grateful for the drink and a moment to relax after their heroics.
Clarry was petted and made a fuss of.
“She was a hero once before and now she is again,” laughed Lucy. “If it
hadn’t been for her, Harry might not be alive now.”
Chapter 2
Rowen’a mum, Netta, was furious.
“I told you Harry shouldn’t go canoeing! And to take him on the river when it was so swollen with rain – of course it would be bad. What were you thinking of, George?”
“I thought he’d enjoy it once he got going.”
“Enjoy it! Couldn’t you see the boy was terrified? But you won’t listen, will you? Well, one thing for sure, he won’t do it again! You’ve just made his phobia worse, haven’t you?”
“Well, I wasn’t to know, was I?”
“You didn’t know? How can you say you didn’t know? You must have known the river was dangerous after so much rain. My poor boy – you could have killed him!”
“But he isn’t dead is he?”
“No thanks to you!”
“Mu-um…” Rowena began.
“No! Don’t you ‘Mum’ me! You’re as bad as your father; you knew your brother was afraid. But you didn’t care, did you? You had to have what you wanted, never mind what he felt.”
Rowena hung her head. It was true, she did go on and on about canoeing and, like her dad, she thought Harry would like it once he got started. She loved it; loved the drama and the speed. He was a boy, how could he not like it?
Rowena was a tomboy; she should have been a boy. Her dad would have been much happier to have had her as the boy. Instead, there was Harry. A gentle lad, who was kind to his mother and his sister, who was artistic and talented; fairly good at sport but hated water sports. Come to think of it, what was wrong with that? The one thing he had a phobia about and Dad thought it was a weakness, that it stopped Harry from ‘being a man’. Rowena had a moment of enlightenment; she suddenly understood her brother. It was okay to not like doing something – it didn’t make him less than anyone else.
She got up and went over to her mother. She put her hand on her mum’s arm.
“Mum, I’m really sorry. Please don’t hate me.”
Her mother looked at her and all the anger went out of her.
“I don’t hate you, my love. I’m just upset about your brother, that’s all.”
Mother and daughter put their arms around each other and hugged. George watched, looking defeated and left out.
*****
Harry lay in the hospital bed. His head hurt and he was so tired. His neck was immobilised in the collar and he couldn’t feel comfortable enough to sleep. However, he didn’t want to sleep, he found that his mind just kept playing over and over the terrifying ordeal he had just been through. Except that he couldn’t remember anything from going over the four-foot drop until he came to under the willow tree. Even after that he floated in and out of consciousness.
What a way to end his holiday! Because it was nearly over; there were only two days before they had to return home. School started again next week. It would be his last year and he had to decide what he was going to do with his life. He sighed, for he knew that whatever he thought he might do, his dad would disapprove. It seemed that whatever he did these days wasn’t good enough for his father. His mates all said that their parents got on their nerves but Harry wasn’t like that. He’d always had a good relationship with both his parents but a few months ago his dad had seemed to change. Now he had time to think about it, Harry realised it must be the strain of being out of work was telling on his father.
He had become moody and seemed to pick on Harry when it wasn’t necessary. Harry couldn’t work out why it upset his father so much to know that his son couldn’t stand water. It had actually been his fault that as a small boy he had found himself being swept away by the large wave that had crashed on the beach in Devon. He had been afraid of going in too far and his dad had pulled him further in, saying ‘It’s fun, it won’t hurt you. I’ve got you.’ But his father had stumbled on a hidden rock under the water at the same time a huge wave broke over them. George had slipped and let go of his little son, who had been rapidly swept up and pulled backwards into the sea. Harry had tried to catch his breath but every time he opened his mouth the seawater came in and no sound came out. Terrified, he’d thought he was going to be swept away into the huge expanse of water and never be seen again.
His father had recovered and swam out strongly and caught him, by then as lifeless as he’d been yesterday in the river.
His dad had revived him, having done first aid training with St. John’s Ambulance and he had recovered quickly. But ever since then, he’d been terrified of large expanses of water. Even the school swimming pool filled him with dread but he’d been made to get in and learn to swim, bullied by the teacher. The only time he swam was in school, and now he was in sixth form he didn’t have to do it any longer and that suited him just fine.
A nurse came to his bed, interrupting his train of thought.
“Hello there, young man, how are you feeling?”
Harry managed to give her a weak smile.
“I’m getting there. Got a massive headache though.”
“That’s natural after such an accident. Good thing you were wearing a helmet.”
“We have to, health and safety and all that.”
“I should think so! I’ll give you something for the pain and something to help you sleep.”
He smiled again. He did want to sleep; he needed to sleep. If only the bad dreams would stay away. He also contained a niggling worry about something he hadn’t yet mentioned to anyone.
*****
“What do you mean, his legs are paralyzed?” Netta’s eyes widened in fear as she gazed at the white-coated doctor.
“Try not to concern yourself too much, Mrs Thompson. It could be temporary. Your lad had a nasty accident you know and his spine took a lot of the strain. His nervous system has been seriously jarred. This can cause temporary paralysis. It can last a day or a month or more, depending on how bad the damage is. We will know more when we’ve done some tests.”
“Oh, George, what shall we do?” She turned to her husband, who put his arm around her.
“We will deal with it, dear. The doctor says it’s likely Harry will recover.”
Netta laid her head on his shoulder for a moment, then she straightened up.
“Get your arm off me! This is all your fault, I’ll never forgive you for this, never!”
She hurried out of the room, allowing the door to slam shut behind her. George looked at the doctor, who appeared embarrassed and concerned at the same time.
“Sorry, doctor, she’s a bit overwrought at the moment.”
“I can understand that, Mr Thompson, don’t worry. I’m sorry, but I need to get on now. We will of course keep you informed.”
“Thank you.”
The doctor left the room.
Rowena, standing in one corner, observing the scene, wondered what to do. She was upset for her mother but also for her father. He hadn’t meant Harry to get hurt, she knew. She stepped forward and took his hand.
“Come on, Dad, let’s go and see Harry. Mum will get over it; she’s just worried about him.”
George looked down and gave her a distracted half-smile.
“Of course. Let’s go to Harry.”
Chapter 3
“Any idea how that kid is that we pulled out of the water?” Kenny asked Lucy the following day.
“I haven’t heard anything. I expect he’s okay, he just swallowed too much river,” Lucy replied as she put a plate of food in front of him.
“Well, he’s very lucky you and Clarry happened to be there, or he’d be a dead lad.”
“Well, it’s really thanks to you and the guys that he survived. I’d like to know, but I don’t think they will tell us anything. We only know his name is Harry.”
“Oh well, if I know anything about you, you’ll try. This pie is gorgeous, my love.”
“Glad you like it. Now, John, you eat your dinner, not put it on your head.” Lucy turned to their little boy who was sitting in a high chair.
“I think
I’m going to call the hospital this afternoon, see if I can find out anything.” She turned back to her husband after sorting out the toddler.
Kenny stood up.
“Well, love, I must be going. Good luck with the hospital.”
He kissed the top of the child’s head then kissed Lucy tenderly.
“Wave to Daddy, John,” said Lucy and the little one obediently waggled his fingers.
“Bye bye,” Kenny waved and was gone.
Later, while John was contentedly playing with his bricks on the sitting room floor, Lucy called the hospital in Hereford. She explained about the boy who had been rescued and asked if anyone could tell her how he was as she only knew that his name was Harry. The telephonist stopped speaking and Lucy heard the tapping of computer keys and she was put through to a ward. She explained again who she was to the person on the other end and asked after the boy called Harry.
“Just a moment,” the other voice said and all went quiet. After a while another voice said, ‘Sister Wilson speaking. How may I help you?”
“I am just enquiring after the boy you had brought in yesterday after a canoeing accident, Harry.”
“Are you a relative?”
Lucy sighed tiredly and then explained yet again who she was.
“Oh, I see. Well, as you’re not a relative I can only say that he is comfortable. But the visiting hours are two until four and six until eight-thirty.” And with that, the phone went dead.
Lucy looked at the phone in her hand.
“Well, thank you very much,” she said, and put it back on the cradle.
*****
“I’m going to visit him,” Lucy informed Kenny when he came home from work that evening.
“I’ll come with you. I’ll call Mum and ask her if she can pop over and sit with John while we go.”
Lucy put her hand on his arm.
Fear Has Long Fingers Page 1
