I felt an emptiness without Lucy to talk to anymore. I needed to feel some love and warmth, plus I needed to see my little man one more time before his Daddy possibly disappeared forever. I would go and visit my pride and joy, perhaps the only thing I’d achieved during my lifetime that I could be truly proud of; my Damien.
It was obvious Becky wasn’t around when I arrived in their lounge. Damien was sitting in his playpen crying loudly for his mother, but the girl I presumed to be his babysitter, just didn’t seem to give a shit. Even I, an inexperienced father could tell Damien needed something, a nappy changed perhaps, maybe some milk, or even it was just a loving cuddle he was after. A slip of a girl, maybe no more than thirteen or fourteen, was slouched on the sofa, the television turned up loud, no doubt to drown out Damien’s insistent crying, munching on an enormous bag of crisps. She just didn’t seem to care Damien was suffering. How could Becky have been so stupid as to leave our son in the care of someone so callous and unfeeling as this child? A rage poured through me and I knew I had to make this little girl pay for her inattention, but that could wait. Right now my son needed someone and he needed someone immediately.
As soon as I poked my head over his play-pen, Damien stopped screaming and looked at me with these wise, intelligent, eyes, far beyond his eighteen months. I always knew children had a sixth sense that allowed them to see ghosts, without them having to manifest. I’d experienced it already with Jake’s daughter’s imposter, Sylvie and then again with Damien when I went to see Lucy. They had both seen me straight away. There was an innocence about children that superseded the world-weariness of us adults and allowed them to see wondrous phenomena that society would later convince them were just childhood imaginations. Damien looked up me, the tears drying on his face and recognition in his voice as he whispered, “Dada!”
My heart broke into a million shards when I heard that word. I had waited my entire life to be called “Dada” by somebody and now, when it was too late, I finally got to hear my son call me that.
I’d never before attempted to actually pick something or someone up in my arms, but I instinctively knew that I could hold my son. It just seemed right and I bent over the cot and lifted him from his pen. He wrapped his tiny arms around my neck and I could feel those chubby, little fingers reaching behind my head, messing with my hair. Oh God, I thought, what wouldn’t I give to turn the clock back and make amends for the mess I’ve created. Nothing has ever felt as perfect or as right as holding my son in my arms felt at that moment. Time stood still, as I allowed myself the luxury of soaking in the feeling of contentment Damien brought me.
Taking a deep breath, I gently put my son back in his playpen and straightened up. I knew he could understand every word I said. I knew, despite his youth he would grasp what I was about to say to him. I leant over the pen and whispered down to him, his little face staring up at me and shining with adoration, trust and love. “Damien my little friend, I’m going to tell you something now and you have to promise me that when you get older, you’ll remember what I tell you tonight and you’ll believe in it, okay?”
Damien just looked up and his pudgy face wrinkled into a smile, the dimples on his cheeks radiating joy. “Yeth, Dada!”
I swallowed hard and continued. “Damien, I want you to always remember your Daddy loves you more than anything in this world. As you get older I want you to promise me you will look after your mother. She’s fragile Damien and she will need a son who can be strong for her.” I reached down and cuffed him under his chin, “You’ll be that son for your mother, won’t you, Damien?”
His smiling face became serious and he answered, “Yes Dada, yes!”
I exhaled softly and bent over to kiss him on the top of his head. “Bye my little one, I love you.” I turned away before my emotion got the better of me. I need to leave Becky a note, I thought. She needs to know what I’m thinking. As I went to the kitchen, in search of a pen and paper, I heard Damien start to whimper again, the soft whining soon growing to a full-blown crying fit once more. I grinned, he misses his Daddy already. How sweet!
I found paper and a pen hanging underneath a fridge magnet and tearing a sheet, I began to think my message;
‘My Darling Becky,
Tonight the insanity will end for me and hopefully for you. It is possible that by tomorrow Molly and Jake will be dead. I recently increased the sum insured on Molly’s life and named Damien and you as the sole beneficiaries. If I am correct and Molly dies this evening, you will both be very wealthy. I want you and Damien to leave this city and this country. Emigrate Becky, go to Canada, New Zealand or Australia, anywhere you want and make a new life for you both.
Never forget I loved you and I will always love Damien.
Yours, D’
As I was placing the note on the kitchen table where Becky could hardly fail to see it, I heard a scream of frustration from the lounge. The babysitter, clearly fed up with Damien’s insistent grizzling, had had enough. She stormed up from the sofa and approached the playpen, violent intent written all over her face.
I wasn’t quick enough to stop her and before I knew what was happening she had picked Damien up from his playpen and holding him out in front of her, she began shaking him violently, like a rag-doll. “Shut up, you little shit!” she ranted. “Shut up or I’ll bloody give you the biggest smack you’ve ever had in your life.”
By the time I reached them, she had drawn her hand back and looked set to slap Damien’s face. I grabbed her arm and held it in a vice-like grip. If the situation hadn’t been so damn serious, the look on her face would have been comical. Her mouth dropped open and some half-eaten crisps scattered all over the floor. “Wwwwhat...the...” was all she managed to get out before I decided to rub the fear in even more by materialising in front of her. That was enough to throw her completely and I smelt the acrid sting of urine, as the poor girl peed herself. She was swaying on her feet now and I sensed her imminent collapse. Letting go of her arm, I grabbed Damien from her mitts, just as she collapsed in a lifeless heap on the floor.
I quickly checked my boy was alright, but when he gurgled at me, stuck a fat thumb in his mouth and giggled “Dada!” I knew he would be fine. Placing him gently back in his pen, I knelt beside the lifeless girl and was relieved to see she was still breathing, although her pulse was running at around one-sixty. I grinned, she’d just fainted, thank God.
Standing up, I looked down at my beautiful, trusting son. He just stared at me in that loving way he had. I looked down at the girl and then back at Damien. “Shit son, I can’t leave you here. Not with that bloody bully. When she wakes up, I don’t doubt she’ll just take it out on you again. What was your mother thinking of, leaving a child to look after you? I’ll have to have a stern word with that woman.”
There was nothing for it, I thought, I would just have to take Damien with me. I didn’t want him up there on the building, but what bloody choice did I have? Anyway, I thought, it will give me a few extra hours with my little boy, before the fates decided what our futures would be. I reached down and scooped him up, cuddling him tight.
“You and me against the world eh, Damien?”
***
It was time! Time for the final showdown!
I’d guessed Jake wouldn’t be in his apartment, although part of me wished he’d been there, so I had taken Damien there until midnight. The first thing I noticed was the smashed mirror on the floor. Worrying about Damien’s safety, crawling around with so much glass on the floor, I took him into the bedroom and shut the door. Being around Jake’s things was unnerving. I could smell him and sense his presence everywhere in the flat. All my old longings came back to me and I knew, with an absolute certainty, Jake was indeed my beloved, my soul-mate.
None of this seemed to bother little Damien though. He was having a grand old time, crawling all around his new playground and getting into all sorts of mischief. Alone, as I was, with my thoughts, I still had to keep a watchful eye and a listening ear
on what the little rascal was getting into. Jake had cleared most of the stuff from his room, but drawers were left open and cupboard doors gaped... perfect hiding places for a tiny mite intent on exploring.
I had truly enjoyed my brief flirtation with fatherhood, but now the time had come to face the music. I almost considered leaving Damien there and hoping someone would discover him crying and take him back to Becky, but more likely she would be charged with child neglect and Damien would end up in a foster home or something. No, I wasn’t risking that, I would just have to take him with me, although it definitely wasn’t my favoured option.
Glancing at the clock, I realised it was almost midnight and time I put in an appearance, so I gathered young Damien up in my arms and left.
As I glided onto the roof of the Oceanic Shipping Building, my little bundle safely cradled in my arms, I was stunned and shocked to see first Becky and then Simon, standing there.
“I thought this was supposed to be a private party,” I exclaimed, but then seeing Becky, I grinned at her and gently handed her our son. “I believe this sweet little man belongs to you. Guard him well Becky.” She moved away from where she had been standing next to Jake and just clutched Damien close to her breast, mouthing something, but no words would come out. I kissed her gently on her cheek. “It’s going to be okay Becky, don't worry.”
I nodded briefly at Molly and Simon, who barely acknowledged my presence. I quickly turned to Jake, who was now standing alone, singing, singing our favourite song. I grinned at him like an idiot and walked slowly toward him, embracing him tightly. I kissed him on his cheek.
Turning to face the others, I put my arm around Jake’s shoulders and pulled him close to me. “From the top again eh, buddy, just like the old days?”
“Hello darkness, my old friend,
I’ve come to talk with you again...”
***
Chapter 34 – Simon Reynolds
I finished typing and sat back in my chair, totally bemused. I had just written what would probably rank as, “the greatest story ever told”, the pinnacle of my journalistic career actually and yet I knew deep down in my heart it would never see the light of day. Sad really, but what happened on the Oceanic Shipping Building last night, what I had witnessed first-hand, would not only shock a disbelieving public, but I could almost hear my fellow editors scrambling for their pens to write their obituaries to the journalistic career of one Simon Reynolds.
I chuckled softly to myself. No, I certainly wasn’t stupid enough to ever publish this article, but I had to write it if only to clarify in my own mind, just what had occurred high above the streets of Central Manchester last night. Even if I was thinking about publishing it and trust me, I’m not, I’d certainly have to edit it to take out all the expletives and firm it up, like a real newspaper article. Nope, this little story was “for my eyes only”.
I was still in a state of shock and disbelief when I sat down to write this convoluted tale and now I was actually finished it, I wasn’t sure I was any the wiser as to what had really happened up there. At least now, I’d put it down on paper, in all it weirdness and disbelief. Wanting to try to make sense of it all, I read again my report, from beginning to end, shaking my head in disbelief and wonder at various parts of the narrative.
SUSPENSION OF BELIEF
A personal report on paranormal phenomena:
By: Simon Reynolds (Editor in Chief – Sun-Star Daily)
It had all started off so ordinarily yesterday, as these things usually do. I had just finished my morning coffee and was routinely checking my emails, when I was shocked and surprised to see an email from my number one investigative journalist, Molly Sampson. I looked out through my window and noticing Molly wasn’t at her desk, I clicked to open the email, wondering why she hadn’t arrived at work yet.
What I read was confusing, to say the least. Molly was requesting my attendance on top of the Oceanic Shipping Building at exactly midnight that evening, the second month anniversary of the death of her husband, Daniel. He had fallen to his death during some mad, thrill-seeking game, she, Daniel and a former sub-editor at the Sun-Star Daily, Jake Marsden, had been playing. It had all been a tragic accident, but the consequences of that night were still playing out, with Jake having recently resigned and Molly seemingly not yet come to terms with her husband’s sad death.
I fired off a quick response, asking her what it was all about. Her answer was to invite me to lunch, where she proceeded to tell me “everything”. I sat and listened to her unbelievable story about Daniel not really being gone, about Jake and her, about Jake and Daniel, children born out of wedlock, drugged out revenge seekers, mysterious messages, ghostly visitations and a whole host of other staggeringly weird ideas and happenings. I didn’t for a second think she was telling me the truth, perhaps the truth, as her tortured mind saw it, but not reality. She may have believed all this, but it was clear Molly needed professional help. For reasons I won’t go into here, I felt obliged to go along with her and pretend, at least to some extent, I understood and believed her. We would get her the help she needed. She was my best reporter, bar none and one hot lady to boot. I didn’t want to lose her. I agreed to go with her that evening for two very simple reasons. Firstly, I wanted to protect her and secondly, my journalistic interest was piqued by her story of their twisted, three-way relationship. I wanted to know more.
We were the first to arrive on top of the building and we made small talk whilst we waited for the other participants. I could tell Molly was incredibly nervous and scared, despite the hard, handle anything woman facade she was attempting to hide behind. I held her hand and could feel the trembling in her fingers.
When Jake Marsden arrived, I was surprised to see he was with another woman. Molly hadn’t mentioned this, she had intimated it was just going to be her, Jake and Daniel (yeah right!) on that building. I had assumed, rather naively as it turned out, that it would just be Jake and Molly there, trying to come to terms with what had happened two months earlier. I was wrong... utterly and completely wrong.
Turning to Molly, I raised an eyebrow at the appearance of the mystery woman. She whispered to me it was Daniel’s mistress, Becky, the one he had had a child with. I smiled, nodding understandingly and squeezed her hand tightly to assure her I was there for her.
I studied Jake. He was different somehow. No longer the introverted, hard-working, young sub-editor I had once marked for greatness in this industry. Rather, he had a jaunty, almost arrogant demeanour, as he strutted across the rooftop and gave Molly a perfunctory kiss on the cheek, before nodding slightly toward me and moving over to the edge of the building. He then lined up several photographs on the edge of the parapet.
Bloody hell, I thought, Jake’s fucking lost it. I turned to Molly to confirm my thoughts, but that was when Jake started to sing, in that beautiful baritone voice of his;
“Hello darkness... my old friend”
“He’s nuts,” I whispered to Molly, but just as I spoke, all hell broke loose.
My mouth dropped open and I stood in stunned silence as the apparition of Daniel appeared on the western parapet, only it wasn’t really an apparition, well, not the sort I think of, anyway. To all intents and purposes, it was Daniel, alive and well. I knew rationally that it couldn’t be. I mean, bloody hell, I’d been to the man’s funeral, not two months back. Shit, I’d even seen his body through the glass top of the casket at the wake before he had been cremated, so how, in everything that was sane and reasonable, could that be Daniel, hovering a foot or so above the roof of this building? And yet, there he was, large as life. To top things off, he appeared to be carrying a little child in his arms, a toddler.
I watched, dumbfounded, as he handed the child to Becky. Obviously, this must be the child Molly had told me about, little Damien. I shook my head and turned to Molly seeking some explanation, some assurance even, that I wasn’t going insane. She just stared at Daniel, her eyes blazing with unconcealed hatred. This was goin
g to be some rocky reunion, I decided, but then things started getting even more surreal, if that was even possible.
Daniel glided across to Jake and embraced him tightly before they turned and almost like they were performing at Wembley, or something began to sing: “The Sounds of Silence”, together. The noise of the traffic far below us was muted by distance and after the pair had ceased their rendition, you could have heard a pin drop on that rooftop.
Jake turned to Daniel and hugged him tightly. I heard a choked, “Thank you, buddy,” come from his mouth, before Daniel turned and beckoned Molly to join them at the centre of the roof. Instinctively I put out my arm to stop her but she just brushed it aside.
She wasn’t even looking at me, her eyes were fixed on the two men standing together, arms around each other. Flicking a glance at Becky, I could tell she was as shocked as I was by what we were witnessing. Perhaps I recognised a kindred spirit, or perhaps I just needed to be in the company of someone who was as lost, up here, as I was, but I sidled across to stand beside her, glancing at little Damien, still sound asleep in his Mother’s arms. Crazily, I wondered what the little fella would make of all this if he was awake. Becky nodded to me and reached her free arm to grasp my hand. She needed moral support, as much as I did, even if it was from a total stranger. We turned to face the trio to see what would happen next.
Tortured Minds Page 23
