Homecoming

by Kent, Jonathan

  'Show me what mum? What is it about these pictures?' Even though he was keen to see where this went, there was definitely an air of trepidation. As if something was about to be revealed, something that couldn't be taken back.

  'OK Davey, I want you to draw me a picture - I suppose you guessed that. But this picture has to be good, really good. It can be imaginary or maybe someplace we've been to, but most importantly it has to be someplace you can imagine yourself actually traveling to. It needs to be a place where you feel safe, a place where you can physically picture yourself. Do you think you can do that?’

  Dave nodded and took the paper and pencils over to his mother's dresser. Art wasn't his strongest subject, but he did sketch from time to time and he felt he could hold his own. The feeling of trepidation still hung in the air, but he didn't question it. He hadn't seen his mother this animated, this alive in such a long time and he sensed how he needed to get this picture right. How she willed him to get it right.

  He knew exactly what he was going to draw the second she handed him the paper and he quickly set to work. He tried to keep it as simple as possible, mainly for speed (he was still very keen to see what it all meant), but also he wanted his mother to clearly see what he had drawn. To know exactly where it was meant to be. For some reason he felt that it was equally important for his mother to picture the place as well as he could. After about ten minutes he put his pencil down and looked at his drawing.

  'Chesil Beach,’ she said. He hadn't noticed, but his mother had crept up behind him whilst he’d been drawing. 'Good Davey, good choice.’

  Chesil Beach was about an hour’s drive along the coast from where they lived, at the southernmost tip of Dorset. It was a huge expanse of beach that ran along a large part of Lyme Bay from Abbotsbury to the Isle of Portland. During the summer and during periods when his father was on an 'up' they would take day trips there. Dave was fascinated by the empty expanse of beach looking out over the ocean. It was a solitary place. A place to escape.

  Although his picture only really showed a pebble bank with waves breaking on the shoreline and a sun setting in the distance, by keeping it simple he had made it obvious to his mother where he meant.

  'If I can feel safe anywhere, then it's there,’ he said.

  His mother took the drawing, studied it up close for a moment and then handed it back.

  'It's perfect Davey, but now things are going to get a bit weird. There's nothing to worry about, I’m going to be right beside you the whole time.’ She took his hand and led him back over to the bed and they both sat with their knees just touching.

  'Do you remember those funny books your dad bought me for Christmas last year, the ones with the weird pictures where if you looked at them for long enough another 3D image would appear?'

  Dave nodded, he had a clear memory just after Christmas dinner last year of them passing the book around the table. At first he didn't get it, his mother seemed to see the hidden images straight away, but neither he nor his father could see them. Eventually he tried crossing his eyes and an image of a tiger lurking in some tall grass jumped out of the page where before it was just a criss-cross green pattern.

  ‘Good. Now I want you to imagine your drawing is just like that. I want you to stare really hard at the picture - cross your eyes again if it helps - but whatever you do, don't take your eyes off the picture. Don't let any other thought enter your mind. Give your full attention to that beach, imagine yourself actually sitting there with the sunset shining in your eyes, the waves crashing on the beach and the breeze blowing in your face. Do you think you can do that Davey?'

  'Of course mum, but what's gonna happen?'

  'It’s going to be much easier to show you I think,’ she said. 'Now hold my hand, stare hard and clear your mind.’

  So Dave did exactly as she asked. With one hand he held tight to his mother's and with the other he held the picture up close to his face. He imagined himself sat on the beach, all alone, watching the wave’s crash in. He imagined it was a bright summer’s day that was starting to lose its heat. He could hear seagulls overhead and he imagined the sea breeze blowing into his face. He crossed his eyes and stared at the picture. He cleared his head and thought of nothing else than the last time they came to the beach. He stared long and hard and just when he felt he could look no more, just as his eyes began to ache with being crossed, it happened.

  At first he thought it was just his imagination, of looking at the picture for too long, but then he felt it again. Just a slight breeze on his face almost imperceptible, but definitely there. He uncrossed his eyes and lowered the picture. He could still feel his mother’s hand in his, but everything else had changed, he was sat high up on a pebble beach looking out to sea as the sun set on the horizon.

  He was sat on Chesil Beach.

  Chapter 9

  'For a moment there, I didn't think it was going to happen.’ His mother spoke from beside him, but what she said hardly seemed to register. He was transfixed by the view. A moment ago he was sat on his parent’s bed back in the relative safety of his house and now he sat miles away on a pebble beach with just the sound of the waves and gulls for company.

  It was Chesil Beach, but he also knew it wasn't. It was his version of Chesil Beach. In fact it was his drawn image of Chesil Beach rendered in glorious reality. The pebbles were real - he could feel them pressing against his buttocks. He could hear the waves crashing and the gulls crying and he could feel the sea breeze gently touching his face. All this was real, but it wasn't quite as he remembered. The pebble bank was far too high and steep for starters and there were no cars moving along the causeway to his left. More pointedly, the Isle of Portland wasn't there. In either direction the beach just continued on and on into the distance. Where the real beach ended at the foot of the island, this beach seemed to have no end.

  A thousand questions buzzed round his head, but the only one that eventually came out was the one he thought most apt.

  'Is this all real mum?' he said.

  'Yes Davey, it’s all very real.’ She answered, her voice was calm and soothing.

  'But how is this possible?’

  'Do you know what? That's the first question I asked my mother the afternoon we did our drawings, and the truth is, she didn't know and neither do I. It’s just something we can do.’

  To an adult, this would not be answer enough, but for an eleven year old boy it seemed all that was needed.

  'This isn't the real Chesil Beach is it?' he asked. 'This is my version of it.’

  'That's right, we haven't travelled to the real Chesil Beach. In fact we haven't travelled anywhere. Both you and I are still both sat on the bed back home. Probably staring into space like a pair of idiots. Truth is I've never really cared much for what happens to the rest of me when I go.’

  'Is it just my imagination?' he said.

  'Does it feel like imagination Davey?'

  'No, not really, but it's kind of my drawing come to life. How can that be?’

  'I'm no scientist, in fact apart from my mother and Andrea, I've not yet met anyone else that can do this.’ She looked away at this point and Dave felt she wasn’t quite telling the truth here. ‘But then again,’ she continued. ‘I suppose it’s not the sort of thing you're going to tell everyone is it? I mean, telling everyone you can literally disappear into your own imagination is probably going to get you a one way ticket to the looney bin. The point is, all I know is all I know. My mother opened the door for us, showed us a few things but really we learnt it all for ourselves.’

  'What if you can't find you're drawing? What if you......you know, you're in a tight spot?’

  'Now that's the thing Davey, the more you use it the better it gets. It’s like a muscle. The more you exercise it the stronger it becomes. The drawings are just a way in. You'll probably only need them a few more times and then you can use this.’ She tapped her finger on his forehead. 'This is where it really comes from. You just need to think of where you want
to go, and then......poof.’

  'What anywhere? Not just from the picture?’

  'Anywhere. Anywhere you can imagine, and the thing is Davey it’s your world. You can change it. Make it what you want. And it’s all totally real.’

  'How can you be here? Isn't this my drawing?’

  'I asked that too! The first few times we crossed over my mother came with us, I think it’s just how it works. It might be our own individual 'place', but it’s all connected. It’s all one big world. If we were to both be in our own 'place' I'm pretty sure we could find each other over here. To start with, when we were first learning the ropes as it were, we all used to meet up over here, well Andrea and I anyway.’

  'What, not Sally? Why not? Was her picture not good enough?’

  'No, nothing like that, she just couldn't do it. I don't know why. Maybe it’s a bit like rolling your tongue or whistling. If you can't do it, you can't do it. Her drawings were perfect - way better than mine. But she just couldn't 'go'. I mean, my mother tried and tried............ but nothing. That was the problem you see.’ Her voice caught on the last word. 'He could still get to Sally.’

  She paused then and looked out over the ocean. The sun may have dipped a little lower in the sky, but Dave thought that even if they sat here for the next three hours, the sun probably wouldn't move. This was his part of this 'world'. His way in. And this part would always be sunset.

  'Look Davey, this world is wonderful and full of everything you can possibly imagine. Andrea and I spent hours here exploring and creating new worlds together. But even though it feels real, it's not the real world. You cannot live here. Never think this is a permanent escape. Think of it as a refuge, a place to hide away for a short time.’ At this part she fixed her eyes on Dave. 'It was where we came when he started on us. He never knew of course, but when he started we could cross over here. Hide through the worst of it, because there's no pain here - not from your body back home anyway. He could go to town on you, but whilst you were here you felt nothing. Sure, when you crossed back, you would be sore for a few days but nothing like if you actually went through it. Again, don't ask me why, but that's how it is. If you're not actually in your body when it happens - it’s like it hardly happened at all.’

  ‘But what about Sally? What happened to her?’ He thought he might know the answer to this, but asked anyway.

  ‘We had to protect her. Deflect his attention as it were. We knew when it was coming, knew when he ‘turned’ so to speak, and it would be like throwing yourself in front of a train. For the most part it worked. When the rages set in I don’t think Pop really cared who felt the full force.’ Again the bitterness in her voice.

  ‘But this place is amazing, why couldn’t you just stay here? Just get away.’

  ‘Don’t ever think that Davey. Not ever! This place is dangerous, this place could kill you.’ The calmness had gone from her voice now. She grasped both of his hands and looked deep into his eyes. ‘It all feels so real and you can get lured into thinking it is. But get this, you are never here. Your body is still back where you left it. You can eat and drink here, but it provides no sustenance to your real body. You can only visit and sooner or later you have to go back. I don’t know how long a body can go without food and water and I suppose if you had someone feeding you at the other end………...’ She trailed off then, lost in thought. ‘Don’t push it Davey. Use it to escape. To get away from him. But don’t let it take over.’

  ‘Does Dad know about this place?’ He asked.

  ‘No, and we can’t let on. Ever. I have spoken about duty, and I believe it is my duty to help your father get through this. I didn’t marry a violent man, but ever since your sister died, that’s what he has become. Pop was always nasty - as far back as I can remember, but your Dad was always gentle and kind and I have to believe that I can find that man again. If it means using my ‘talent’ every now and again to get through it, then I will. I have shown you what I can do and thank god you can do it too. We have to be strong together to get through this. Come here together if need be, but I do believe there will be an end to this and we can start to move on with our lives.’

  'Ok mum, I get it. Use it but don't abuse it.’ The turn of phrase made him chuckle and she smiled at him.

  'That's right Davey, always keep your wits about you. Now let’s go back, I need to make dinner.’

  'But.........'

  'No buts now, we've already been here plenty long enough. We can come back tomorrow and I can show you all I know.’

  For the next four days they came back and stayed a little longer each time. Just like his mother said, he found it easier and easier to cross over and after three trips he didn't need his picture anymore. He learned by just imagining a place he could move from one 'scene' to another, but even though the possibilities for creating seemed limitless, he soon learned the new world had certain 'rules' that no matter how hard he tried, couldn't be broken.

  Firstly, he couldn't create people. He tried picturing a busy shopping centre but when he crossed over he found himself in an empty mall. The only person he ever saw in this world was his mother. He supposed that if other people had the same talent then they could be over here; but he never saw any evidence of human activity.

  Secondly, you couldn't fly or run any faster than you could in the real world and if you hurt yourself the injury came back over with you. Dave learnt the hard way with this last part, cutting his hand on a washed up tree branch that left a nasty scar on his palm.

  Thirdly, and most distressingly, he learnt this new world was very much alive. It seemed to resent you being there and would make your time as awkward as possible. It would create the world you wanted exactly as you imagined it and that could be a huge problem. Get a minute detail wrong such as the temperature or gradient of a slope and you could find yourself crossing over into a very inhospitable environment. If this occurred (and on the first few solo excursions it did) you would have to instantly cross back or risk serious injury. God only knew what would happen if you imagined yourself on the surface of Mars.

  Also, each individual 'scene' had very clear defined boundaries and in between these boundaries were vast desolate areas or no man’s lands inhabited by giant slug like creatures. These creatures seemed pretty dormant during the day but very much alive at night. His original theory that each world created would remain locked as you pictured it, was wrong. Time definitely moved forward over here and it was unwise to be crossed over as dusk set in.

  During the day you could venture into these blank zones as the creatures seemed to pay you no heed, but on one foolish night time excursion the creatures had become very agitated as he neared the edge of a picturesque desert scene he had imagined. He had to quickly cross back as two of these creatures lunged at him whilst letting out guttural chirping barks. For such huge beasts, they were incredibly agile and had no fear of leaving their 'zones'. It was clear that the boundaries between the scenes and no man’s lands were not quite as clearly defined as the night fell. Again, he shuddered to think what would happen if one of these beasts actually got hold of you. Night time trips were then ruled out for good.

  He quickly began to realise, that his mother was right - this world was definitely not to be trusted. Even if it was a realisation of your own imagination, it was a real world and you could only ever hope to be no more than a visiting guest.

  Gradually he learnt to live with the possibilities and limitations the world had to offer. For an eleven year old slightly reclusive boy, it was the perfect getaway. He would frequently go to bed early and spent hours exploring his creations. When he had seen enough he would simply cross back and imagine something new.

  More and more though, he used it to escape his father. Just like his mother said, he knew when it was coming. Felt the atmosphere in the house change. When it did, and as his father was ready to blow, he would simply cross over. God knew what was happening to his body back in the house, but he didn't care. He had found a way to e
scape. He had found a way to cope. Sometimes his mother would come with him and sometimes she would cross over later and tell him the coast was clear. Sometimes he would cross over when his father started on her, but no matter how hard he tried, he could never find where his mother went. He got the impression that his mother was incredibly strong at crossing between the worlds as she never seemed to have any trouble finding him - no matter how obscure his creation was.

  As time went on, life settled into a rhythm. Weeks of normal life followed by a few days of violence where they simply crossed over at the very worst of times. His mother thought that things seemed to be easing off slightly, but Dave thought this was just wishful thinking as to him the level of violence had remained pretty constant. He didn't exactly get bored with the other world - he still got a rush seeing his creations appear before him - but there was definitely a time when he stopped playing. He had created hundreds of different worlds, spent countless hours exploring all the different creations and there came a time when he would cross over to a peaceful, simple scene and just get lost in his thoughts.

  Gradually he could feel himself repairing. Recharging. Getting ready for the real world. He could see a time coming when he would move away and not need this world anymore. It had helped him through a tough time and he had used it to find himself again.

  As the months went by he would find himself simply returning to his version of Chesil Beach. Just sitting on the pebbles listening to the wave’s crash below him and the gulls cry overhead. Just sit and think that in a weird way he was going to be ok after all.

  And this was where he found himself some thirty years later. Sat on the beach, knees up to his chin watching those familiar waves rolling in. Only it wasn't really that familiar to him anymore. He hadn't been back to this world for years.

  From the age of eleven to sixteen he had crossed over here whilst his father did his business. But just before he turned seventeen, whilst he was studying Business Studies at the local College, he had met Jenny. She was a year older than Dave studying Economics and they hit it off right away. Her story was similar to his, only this time it was alcohol rather than domestic abuse. She was an only child and her mother had died when she was very young. Her dad never hit her, but she spent the majority of her childhood making her own dinners; getting herself to school; putting herself to bed and generally bringing herself up.