by David Haynes
“Mum!” he wailed.
Chris went in first but Ollie always called for Lou when he was hurt.
“My foot, my foot, my foot!” he repeated. Chris bent down and scooped him up. The pressure in his swollen fist sent a bolt of pain through his body but he ignored it.
“God, look at his foot!” Lou hissed. “Bring him upstairs to the bathroom.”
Ollie was crying but it wasn’t the hysterical sound he’d made last night.
“Put him there and bring me a clean towel.” She indicated the toilet and Chris put him down gently. “Now lift your leg so Mum can see it properly.”
Chris opened the boiler cupboard and grabbed a towel. “Is it deep?”
She took the towel and dabbed at the blood. “No, not deep but there’s lots of cuts.”
Chris moved to the side and took Ollie’s hand. “Will I have to go to hospital?” he asked. He was still crying but not quite as hard.
“I don’t think we need to worry about that, do we Mum?”
Lou shook her head. “Just get me another towel, would you?”
Chris let go of Ollie’s hand and fetched another one. “Might not be surfing for a few days, big man.”
Ollie started crying hard again and Lou shot him a fierce look.
“Not unless we get you one of those special rubber socks.” Chris tried to rescue the situation.
Ollie stopped crying and looked up at him. “What? Like Jacob wears at swimming? He’s got verrucas, you know.”
“That’s it, just like those. I’m sure we can find somewhere in Penzance that sells them. What do you reckon, Mum?”
Lou wiped away more blood, allowing Chris to see the damage. There were lots of shallow scratches and three or four deep cuts. Thankfully all but one had stopped bleeding. “We’ll see how you are tomorrow, eh?”
“I’ll be fine,” Ollie wiped away his tears. “Can we play Risk now?”
Chris almost laughed. “We might need to put a bandage on it first. I’ll go and find one.”
Ollie’s eyes lit up again. “I’ll need a big one, Dad!”
Chris did laugh then and he could hear Ollie chatting away to Lou as he walked back downstairs. Joe was in the front room.
“How is he?” he asked.
Chris popped his head into the room. “Oh, I think he’ll live. We just need a bandage. A big one too.”
Joe turned away and looked at the floor. He waved his arm distractedly toward the kitchen. “In the cupboard next to the sink.”
Chris took a step toward the kitchen and then turned back. Joe was still staring at the floor. “What is it? Glass?”
“What?” He turned and looked back at Chris. “Yes. Yes it’s glass, but...”
Chris walked to him and stopped. On the floor, beside the dresser where the game was kept and the shelf where the photographs were on show, were splinters and shards of glass. It was like a minefield for bare feet. Ollie had walked straight into it.
Next to the glass were two frames. Their silver sides were twisted and warped as if they had collided with something. Joe reached over the glass and picked them out. They were both face-down but even before he turned them over, they both knew which photographs they were.
Joe brushed away the remaining fragments of glass wedged into the frame and passed one to Chris.
It was of him, Lou and Ollie at the cape two years ago. They hadn’t just fallen from the shelf when Ollie had come in. Chris had dropped one the other night and it hadn’t smashed. No, these had been thrown to the floor and stamped on; stamped on with real rage.
He looked from his own photograph to Joe’s. Joe ran his finger over his son’s face.
“My boy.” His finger left a smear of blood over the picture.
Chapter 15
Ollie was in bed and Joe had gone to the pub. They’d all played Risk and eaten fish and chips for tea, but Chris found it difficult to show any enthusiasm for either. Lou had looked at him a few times. She put her hand over his when she could see those all-too-familiar signs that all was not right in the house of Chris.
He’d smiled back, as he had hundreds of times over the last year, but saw the same worried expression come back from her a hundred times before. They both knew things were still a very, very long way from being normal. Ollie had gone off to sleep quickly though with no mention of what happened during the previous night. Perhaps it had slipped away into the part of his mind that kept nightmares locked away. Perhaps.
In any case, just being there to give him a kiss as he went off to sleep had lightened Chris’s mood a little.
“I feel like there’s so much I need to say, Lou. I don’t know where to begin. I mean, last night...”
“No, not last night. Not yet.”
He nodded. They were going to go there at some point tonight. They had to and if he was right, it would all come to that anyway. He poured them both a glass of Sauvignon Blanc and sat down at the table. There was no way he could face any more beer or cider.
“Well, I found out my dad was going to kill himself.” There, that was a start. It felt like a terrible thing to say but it was the truth.
“What?”
“Joe had a note. Well, Mum actually found the note when we were down here on that holiday. She found it while I was out with him on that day.”
Lou reached across and took his hand. “Oh God, Chris. Oh God. When did Joe tell you?”
“The day I got down here. We had this huge talk and everything came out. All of it.” He pointed at the drawer. “He’d kept it in there.”
Lou didn’t look, she kept her eyes on him. “And... who... shit, I’m sorry, I don’t really know what to say.”
“And neither did I. There were a lot of tears though, from both of us.”
Lou shook her head and let out a long breath. “And your mum? Why didn’t either of them mention it? Not at the time, I can understand that but to leave it this long, it’s... well I’m not sure what it is.”
“Look, I don’t blame either of them. What do you do? Let a boy carry on believing his dad was a hero and that he died saving you, and in doing that give him a huge sack of guilt to lug around for the rest of his life?” He paused and looked to the ceiling. “Or you tell him the truth and say that his dad, who he thought was a hero, was going to leave him? Permanently. Either way, you’re screwed.”
“But I’ve seen what this has done to you. I’ve listened to you, Chris. I’ve seen the look on your face when you’ve been thinking about it. This has screwed you up. Completely and utterly. You are a fuck-up.”
“Oh cheers, thanks for that.” He tried to laugh but it didn’t sound right, even to him.
She squeezed his hand. “You know it’s true. That’s why you’re here. That’s why I chucked you out.”
“You didn’t chuck me out. I left of my own accord.”
“Yeah, right. Well if you hadn’t gone, I had a crowbar with your name on it.”
“And I would’ve deserved it. You’re right, I am messed up but I’m still here and I’m fighting.”
She let go of his hand and took a drink. “And tell me I’ll never find a note from you, Chris.”
“What?”
“Just tell me.”
“Come on, Lou. I’m coming back here, I’m on my way back to you. And to Ollie. There won’t be any notes. Okay?”
Lou nodded. “Better not be or I’ll come for you.”
She took his hand again. “So, how do you feel about him? How do you feel about him now?”
“I don’t know, and that’s the honest answer, Lou, I don’t know. Granddad said Dad had always felt guilty about killing his own mum...”
“Sorry?”
Chris rubbed his face. “I’m sorry, that’s something else I should’ve mentioned. Dad’s mum, Grandma, died giving birth to him. Saying he killed her, that’s wrong, but you get the picture.”
Lou raised both hands and slapped her cheeks. “Poor Joe. Poor, poor Joe.”
“Well, Joe thinks
Dad was carrying that around with him. I’ll have to speak to Mum at some point and find out but if he was anything like I’ve been, I’ve probably been wrong about her too.” He took a long drink. “What a mess. You married into a right lot, didn’t you?”
“You’re not kidding.”
“Oh, you’re all heart.”
“I am if it comes to my little boy, Chris. That’s all that matters. He needs a dad, but he doesn’t need one who scares the shit out of him, or just isn’t there. He needs a dad.” She looked out of the window into the darkness. Chris knew she loved how dark it got here, how many stars there were and how big the moon always was.
“I know that. I know what he needs. I know it because I didn’t have it. Look at me, Lou.”
She turned away from the window.
“When they found Pat, I was there. I was at Hawk’s Cove with Joe, standing right by his side. I felt sick to my guts and it took every ounce of strength I had just to get out of the car and look down there again. You know how I feel about that place. I’ve never been back, not once have I even considered it, but I was there yesterday. I was there. And that means everything. I could do it. I can do it again and I can keep doing it. I’m not explaining myself very well, I know I’m not, but...”
“I know what you’re saying. I understand what it is you’re trying to do. You’re trying to prove to yourself that you’re dealing with it. I can see that.”
They sat in silence for a minute or two and both drank some more wine.
“Pat told me some stories about Dad, some Joe doesn’t know and it’s best he never knows.” He could feel a smile start to grow but it was stopped dead in its tracks as soon as the natural flow of his thoughts took him to Pendeen. Took him to her.
There was a silence again and this time it felt awkward. It felt that way because both of them knew what was coming next. What must come next. He could tell her about Pendeen, and about the look on Pat’s face. He could tell her that as he looked into the place where her eyes should have been, all he saw was despair, utter despair, and he would have stepped over the precipice sooner than look into that blackness any longer. He could describe the anger he felt radiating off her too. The strength of it was so perfect and flawless as to be nauseating. He could say all of that and Lou would sit there and listen to it.
But would he be left with the blank look of denial and incomprehension that Pat had given him? Would all that he had said before about getting better and stronger slide into the sea, disappear along with Pat’s blood?
“What did you see, Lou? What did you see in Ollie’s room last night?”
She didn’t respond immediately but he could see her jaw muscles working through her cheeks. Was she going to do what Pat did? Was she going down that road? Because if she did, well that might just put him back to where he was on the night he’d driven down here. On that night he’d had one foot inside the psychiatric ward.
She looked at him, opened her mouth, shut it again and looked away.
He reached over and gently guided her face toward his. “You’ve kept this family together for God knows how long now. You’ve protected Ollie and you’ve tried your best to help me. Now it’s my turn to listen to you. We’re in this together now.”
She wanted to speak, he could see it in her eyes, but once she voiced what she’d seen there was no taking it back.
“It was the worst thing I’ve ever seen. It was... it was vile.”
Chris nodded, he didn’t want to say anything, lest it interrupt her flow.
“It… I mean she, and it was a she, Chris… was standing over Ollie. Standing over him like she owned him or something. I thank God he was under the covers because if he’d seen her, if he’d looked into those eyes and saw what I saw then he’d still be screaming now.” She stopped and stared into space. “Holes. Great, black endless holes and I felt myself being drawn into them. I could feel endless pain in there. I could feel it, actually feel it and I was slipping closer and closer toward it and what was at the end was relief, but it was death too, it was death. Blackness, Chris. Just blackness, eternal, excruciating pain.”
She turned her head and Chris could see the tears in her eyes.
“I almost felt sorry for her but she wanted our boy. I could feel it when she saw me. It was radiating off her like a beacon, only it wasn’t light, it was darkness. And I knew if Ollie saw her, he would be gone. He would slip into those holes and never come out.”
She stopped, wiped her eyes and drained her glass.
“It’s madness, absolute madness, I know it is and I know what you’ll say. You’ll say that I’m under stress and Ollie made it up to bring you home but it...”
“I’ve seen her too. I saw her when I was seven, Lou. I saw her when my dad died and I saw her two nights ago at Pendeen with Pat.”
“What?” Lou was the only person who had never questioned her existence, but her eyes were filled with confusion. “You think it’s the same woman? Chris, that’s ridiculous. It doesn’t make sense. How can...”
“So what we’ve seen, what we’ve both seen, is perfectly logical is it? To see and feel exactly the same thing isn’t ridiculous, it isn’t part of a nightmare. It’s the truth and it’s happening to us, all three of us.”
Lou crossed her arms, rested them on the table and buried her face in them. Her voice was muffled but it was still audible. “I don’t understand. I don’t understand any of it and every time I close my eyes, even just to blink, I can see her. I can see those long fingers running like water toward Ollie.” She lifted her head and finished her wine. “What about Joe? Does he know about her? Have you told him about last night, or about Pendeen?”
“I haven’t said a word. How can I?” He shrugged. “I know Pat saw her too though and I’m pretty sure he’d seen her before. He wouldn’t listen and we got into a fight about it.” He stopped and reached for the bottle. There was only a little bit left but Lou covered the top of her glass. “But he’d gone by the next morning. He was already down at Hawk’s.”
“Is that why your hand’s like that?”
Chris looked at it and nodded. He’d been given an easy out and he was taking it.
“Do you think we should talk to Joe about it? Would he understand, do you think?” Lou was not interested in the hand, which was good.
Chris shook his head. “I don’t know. He’s surprised me this week.”
“With what?”
“He believes in ghosts, for one thing. And he keeps talking about Lizzy. Reckons he’s seen her on the lane up there and then down at Gwynver. But this, this is different.”
Lou nodded. “Well, you know him better than anyone so I’ll leave that decision to you. We’re safe here though, that’s the main thing.”
Chris glanced toward the front room.
“Chris? We’re safe here, aren’t we?”
He smiled and took her hand again. “Sorry, I was miles away. Yes, of course we are. This is the safest place in the world.” And it had always felt that way since he was a little boy. But the photographs, they were concerning.
*
Whenever they came to stay at Joe’s, Lou always insisted on having the bedroom window open when they went to bed. She loved to hear the distant crash of waves rumble into the room as she fell asleep. Tonight she hadn’t mentioned it and Chris wasn’t going to mention it either.
She lay against him with her head on his chest and when her twitching body woke her, she rolled over. Chris lay there staring at the dark space above his head. He hadn’t slept much the night before so was exhausted, but everything was spinning around and around and around in his head like a carousel. As each thought appeared, he was just getting to grips with it before it spun away and was replaced by something else. It happened over and over again and it was making him dizzy. Were they safe? Was Ollie really safe here? What was this all about? And why was this... woman doing this? Hadn’t she done enough?
At some point he heard Joe come in. He listened to each of his
footsteps as he climbed the stairs. Joe didn’t need this brought to his door. He’d been through too much and lost too much for something else to try and knock him down.
He lay there and as the thought carousel revolved in seeming perpetuity, his eyes grew heavy and he allowed them to close. If they weren’t safe here, they weren’t safe anywhere.
*
He was aware of a voice in the house. It was Joe’s voice and he was upset or angry, or maybe both but he needed help.
Chris lay there and waited. Had it been a dream? His eyes started to close again. Just a dream, that was all.
“No.” It was a growl, the sound of someone trying not to make too much noise.
He rubbed his eyes and slid his feet over the side of the bed. He listened again but all he could hear was the sound of Lou’s heavy breathing. Maybe Joe was having a nightmare. He sighed, now he was awake he needed to go to the toilet anyway; too much wine just before bedtime was responsible.
He pushed the screen on his phone. It was just after one. He couldn’t have been asleep for very long. He padded quietly across the room and opened the door. It creaked a little but not enough to wake anyone.
“No, no, no.” This time it was louder but not full volume. Chris stood at the top of the stairs. It was Joe’s voice but it hadn’t come from his room, it had come from downstairs. Either from the kitchen or the front room.
He reached around the bedroom door and grabbed the dressing gown. Maybe it was just a visitor, one of his pals from the pub, but it didn’t sound right. Anyway, he’d heard Joe come up to bed.
He pulled the dressing gown cord and stepped quietly down the stairs. He’d never known Joe to sleepwalk before but there was always a first.
He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked into the kitchen. It was dark, no sign or shape of humanity in there. He turned the other way. Joe was silhouetted in profile against the window. He was staring at the spaces where the two picture frames had been. Both frames were now in the bin but the pictures had been laid flat, ready for new ones.
