| Royds Part 8 - Shimmer |
July 1940
Billy had no idea how many were onboard the S.S. Lancastria, but he knew for sure there were far too many. He glanced at his watch: 15:38. Only three minutes since the last time he’d checked. His childhood friend Charlie was mercilessly teasing a couple of young RAF lads who were vying for a few inches of the deck. A gentle breeze smoothed its way across the ship as her engines began to chug their way out of the harbour.
“Hey, Billy!” He looked up to see a smiling Charlie bearing down on him. They had both been wearing similar smiles all day. Nothing could take away the joy they felt at the prospect of going home, not even the advancing enemy. The unexpected sounds of approaching aircraft quickly changed everything.
Billy’s awareness came crashing back to the interview room when a boot smashed into his ribs for a second or third time.
“Christmas has come early for me, pal! I can’t wait to see you hang!”
He looked up at the policeman and felt his chest tighten, he needed more air.
“Right, let’s get this done properly. Don’t want you wriggling off that rope, now, do we?” The Inspector began to half-chant the memorised lines he was required to say. “Do you wish to say anything in answer to the Charge? You are not obliged to say anything unless you desire to do so; but whatever you say will be taken down in writing and may be given in evidence upon your Trial.”
“I have nothing to say.” Billy gasped and coughed the words out as best he could.
Somewhere in the distance the cell door slammed shut.
***
Peg felt a little uneasy about walking away and leaving everyone to it, but then grudgingly accepted she wasn’t going to be much use to anyone staying put.
“I’ll go get my coat.”
Hughie started laughing again. “It’ll not do you much good. You can’t wear it, putty brains! Look, I’ll show yer how it’s done now. Yer just think how yer would like to appear and Bob’s yer uncle, Fanny’s yer aunt!”
Peg watched in amazement as Hughie’s army uniform transformed into full evening attire complete with monocle and silver-handled walking stick. “Just imagine yer coat and it’ll be there!” He informed her, giving a twirl in the process.
Peg closed her eyes and imagined wearing her green wool coat. She opened them and looked down, amazed.
“See! Benefits or what?” Hughie chuckled.
His laughter was contagious and Peg joined in. Feeling guilty she checked herself and stopped. Hughie frowned for a moment and changed back into his uniform.
“No matter how daft this may sound, Peg, life goes on. Or rather death does! Nowt yer can do for ‘em now by being all bloody miserable like. They can do that for themselves. I’m sure if we feel brighter, they do too. It’s how I look at it anyways.”
Strangely enough, it seemed to make sense to Peg. She took in the scene behind her and was astonished to discover that the members of her family gathered in the house appeared to be shimmering ever so slightly.
“Yeah... lovely to see isn’t it? It’s their life force I think. Leastways, it's how yer make out the Living from the dead most times. It’s if they’re darker than dark and lurk in the shadows, yer’ve problems. I’ll tell yer more about them later.”
Peg shivered. “I don’t think I like the sound of that.” She looked down at her coat, thought of something a little more fashionable and expensive looking and smiled brightly when it appeared.
They both started laughing, and following one last lingering backwards glance, made their way out of 24 George Street and into the world beyond.
Labels: 1940s, Billy, Peg, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Web Fiction |
posted by Miladysa @ 00:01  |
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| RoYds Part 7 - Whatever it Takes |
2007
“I don’t know where to start...”
It was Elizabeth’s second day since her return. She studied the smartly dressed and obviously professional young woman who had just walked into her office and came to the conclusion she was probably at her wits’ end.
“Tell you what. Why don’t I make us both a nice cup of tea and then you can tell me all about it?” Elizabeth smiled encouragingly before walking over to a connecting door leading to the kitchen at the rear of the room and putting the kettle on.
Sarah Entwistle definitely was at her wits’ end. She looked around the room. To all intents and purposes it looked like any normal tourist information office except that the local tourist office for this town was situated in the library.
Elizabeth re-entered the room carrying a tray holding two large mugs of tea and a number of rich tea biscuits. She put the tray down on the table and passed one of the mugs to the young woman.
“Here, Sarah. Help yourself to the biscuits. There’s some sugar too, if you take it.”
“What exactly is it that you do here?” Sarah asked cautiously. Elizabeth could see that Sarah looked a bit suspicious at her surroundings.
Whatever it takes
“We investigate paranormal activity,” replied Elizabeth matter-of-factly.
Sarah blushed with embarrassment as she took a sip of her tea. “I told the man at the library that I thought my flat was haunted and he said the best thing I could do was to visit here and see if anyone could help.”
Elizabeth looked slightly amused. “And you thought about that at least twice before doing so, I’ll bet!” she said light-heartedly.
Sarah smiled and Elizabeth saw five years drop from her face with that smile, and she came to the conclusion that Sarah was probably in her early rather than late twenties. “Where is it that you live?” Elizabeth enquired. “And what makes you think that it is haunted?”
Sarah considered her words carefully before speaking, “It will probably sound daft. Even I think so! When it happens, I'm scared stiff and everything is so real. But now, talking to you, it all seems stupid and I feel like an idiot.”
“Well, I promise not to think of you as an idiot. At the very least, talking to someone about it can only help, and together we might be able to find a logical reason for what you are experiencing.” Elizabeth wished she could do more to help Sarah relax.
“I’ve got a ground floor flat in Howell Place. You know the old chapel facing the Band Club?”
Elizabeth nodded, “Go on.”
“Well, I moved in a while ago. It’s really nice; all the neighbours seem friendly and location is ideal. I was lucky to get the flat. Matt, my old lecturer from college, was going abroad for a year and asked me if I wanted to rent it while he was away. Of course I jumped at the chance!”
“So, what’s the problem?”
Sarah sighed and shrugged her shoulders, “Well, for instance, say I know I have turned the light on in a room –- well, it might just turn itself off. Same with the radio, or a tap, or the television. At first I thought it could be faulty wiring or plumbing and then, well, then I heard the voices...”
Sarah looked to Elizabeth for reassurance.
Elizabeth nodded her head in encouragement, “It’s OK, carry on.”
“It’s a man and a woman. I can’t make out all the words but I know he’s ending things with her and she’s crying, begging and pleading with him to change his mind.”
“Could the voices be coming from a TV or radio in another room?” Elizabeth asked. “Or maybe from one of your neighbour’s flats?”
“I don’t think so,” replied Sarah nervously. “You see, I recognise one of them -– the voices. I know who it is... and... This is going to sound crazy, right? You are going to think I am mad... but, you see, the man... Well, it’s Mathew. It’s his voice I can hear!”
“And you are positive that Mathew is still... abroad?” Elizabeth enquired.
Sarah nodded firmly.
Instinct told Elizabeth that Sarah was not suffering from a psychotic illness, although there was always the possibility of drugs. “I’m going to ask you this because we need to rule it out and I don’t mean any offence. Do you have any history of drug taking? You know these things can have lasting effects?” Elizabeth could clearly see by Sarah’s eyes that she had taken offence at her question.
“No, of course not! Don’t be so ridiculous. I wish I had, though. At least it would be an explanation.”
“OK,” said Elizabeth getting up from her chair. "And again, I apologise. I just needed to be able to rule that out. How about I have a look to see what information I can find out here about the old chapel and if any powerful transmitters or telephone masts have been erected in the area recently? They can sometimes play havoc in ways you would not imagine. Meanwhile, it’s just a suggestion, but I wondered if you might feel easier staying at a friend’s house until you get this sorted out?”
“I have nowhere else to go,” replied Sarah sadly. “Besides, I want to remain at the flat. Apart from what's happening, I feel rather attached to it.”
“Okey-dokey,” replied Elizabeth, unable to hide her concern. “Why don’t I meet you at your flat later this afternoon then? Say around three o’clock?”
The tension appeared to drain from Sarah’s face. “Fantastic! I really appreciate you making the time and effort.”
A few minutes later, Elizabeth sat at her desk and wondered what course to take with Sarah’s happenings.
“Shall we investigate this together?” asked a voice from behind, and she turned to find Tashriel casually leaning on the doorframe.
Labels: 2007, Elizabeth, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 00:01 |
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| RoYds Part 1 - Dark Day |
2007
Elizabeth brushed aside her long fair hair with leather-clad fingers and fought a constant battle with the ever present wind as it gathered pace and pushed its way through the cemetery. The drone of the approaching lawnmower brought her thoughts back to the present day and the rows of well-manicured graves and regimented gravestones.
She strode past the names of the family members resting in the ground beneath her feet and then stopped to study the dates chiselled into one of the cold granite headstones before her. Only five names were engraved and yet there had been six burials. Elizabeth turned and made her way into town.
A solitary tear trickled slowly down her cheek as she left the cobblestone rake leading down from the cemetery and entered the main street of Whituth. As a town it was nothing special. None could deny its glorious location though, nestled as it was in a valley between moorland and a breathtaking dell.
As a child, Elizabeth had delighted in learning the history of the area; bloody battles involving Danes, Vikings and Celts, and legends full of sorcery and mythological creatures. Her mood darkened when she remembered other less documented invaders. Not all struggles that had taken place here had or would appear in the history books.
The wind gusted and Elizabeth’s pace quickened to match it. Each hurried step was punctuated by the echo of her soles scraping against the fine layer of grit smothering the damp stone pavement. She scanned the hills and moorland above the industrial landscape searching for some colour. Between clouds of fog, church spires and mills she glimpsed only the occasional bolt of green. Today was a dark day indeed.
Elizabeth returned her gaze to the turreted grey building ahead and the chink of light radiating from it.
Concentrating hard, she pushed herself onward towards the beckoning light only to be startled by a rasping cough from a cobbled alleyway to her right. A raggedly dressed young woman sat on the ground, her back against the wall of one of the buildings. A rake-thin baby beneath a grey woollen shawl was suckling at her emaciated breast.
Elizabeth refused to meet the eyes of the ones searching her out and rushed onwards as a dirt-encrusted hand thrust its way down the alleyway towards her.
A child’s buggy nearly collided with Elizabeth’s black leather boot; she just managed to step out of its way. A rain-soaked infant stared at her with blank eyes. Elizabeth gave him a warm smile and his eyes lit up with surprise. The mother remained fixed, huddled over the buggy handles and hurried past without any recognition.
Not far now
A soldier wearing a World War II uniform appeared at one of the windows of the Heyleigh Arms public house. He made no effort to acknowledge her presence and a relieved Elizabeth pushed on towards the welcoming doorway ahead.
A single, time-worn stone step led up to an imposing arched doorway. In the granite beside the weathered wooden door was carved “RoYds”.
The door was held open halfway by an elderly gentleman wearing a full morning suit. Opening the door fully so that Elizabeth could easily step inside, the man gently closed the door behind her.
“Morning, Miss.”
“Morning, Wilfred. How are you today?”
The little man blinked back at her, same blank expression as always. He answered with the usual monotonous tone in his voice.
“Present as usual, Miss,” he replied. “Mr Birch is waiting for you in the red reception room, Miss. Very dark out today isn’t it?”
Elizabeth suspected that Wilfred had always been around to supervise the doorway at RoYds, altering only his clothing, hairstyle and manner of speech to suit the conventions dictated by the modern world.
“Certainly is,” remarked Elizabeth with an involuntary shudder.
***
Elizabeth entered the red reception room through an open doorway. The rather grand room was furnished with deep sofas, armchairs and various pieces of antique mahogany furniture. Facing her was a large, highly polished black marble fireplace and a roaring coal fire.
Sitting in one of two oxblood leather armchairs by the side of the fireplace was Stanley Thomas Birch, an eccentric gentleman whose demeanour, despite his civilian attire, gave away the fact that he was, or had been, in the military. He was quietly sipping an amber liquid from a cut crystal tumbler and when he caught sight of her, he stood up and smiled.
“Ah, Elizabeth! Please do come in and take a seat." He pointed to the armchair facing the one he had just left.
Elizabeth shivered slightly; someone else was in the room with them. Turning to her left she caught a glimpse of Wilfred placing a small silver tray with a large mug of tea and some chocolate biscuits upon a nearby table.
“Took the liberty, Miss,” remarked Wilfred. “I thought you might be in need. Can I take your coat, Miss?” He held out his hand.
“Thank you. That’s very kind of you,” she replied removing her long red winter coat and passing it to him.
“Please do take a seat and enjoy your tea,” said Stanley fussing after her lightly.
Elizabeth reached for the tea that Wilfred had made for her. She was delighted to discover it was as delicious as ever.
“Welcome back,” said Stanley with a broad grin.
Labels: 2007, Elizabeth, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 00:06 |
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| RoYds Part 6 - Veil |
1940
There was a whooshing sound and Peg floated towards the ceiling. She noticed a cobweb in the corner of the fanlight above the front door and a ray from the streetlight outside crept its way in through one of the glass panes. A finger-like beam reached towards her and instinctively she edged away, tilting forward erratically and hovering above the heavily congested hallway below.
Her body on the floor was the next thing she noticed and then Anne on her knees beside it, sobbing as Billy rushed down the hallway and out of the house. The finger of light hummed softly, its intensity increasing steadily. Above it, she could only just make out a distant cacophony of shouts and sobs amidst the rage that was Michael.
There was blood everywhere; thread-like streams trickled in the grouting between the patterned floor tiles as others navigated the heavily embossed Lincrusta wallpaper.
The light was persistent. She refused to turn and face it and instead pushed down towards her body in a failed attempt to rejoin it. She tried again, concentrating all her effort into moving away from the ceiling, but merely ended up shooting off through an open doorway landing forcibly on the bedroom floor beyond. The startled baby witnessed her arrival and ceased wailing. Peg smiled at her reassuringly before picking herself up off from the floor and rejoining the others in the corridor beyond.
I must be dead
“I’m afraid yer assumption's correct,” remarked a young soldier sitting on the stairs smoking a rolled up cigarette.
“Is that you, Hughie Nuttall? I thought your Millie said you'd been taken prisoner following Dunkirk!” replied an incredulous Peg.
“Aye, most likely she did, but as yer’ll have gathered by now, the bloody pen pushers got that bit wrong an’ all.”
Peg blinked, at least she felt like she blinked, “I’m not dreaming then?”
“Nope,” said Hughie. “Sorry, Peg. Bloody terrible way to go too! I mean, I expected to get shot but no one would have guessed anything like this would happen in yer own home.”
Peg moved aside to let her sister Catherine pass. She noticed a smear of blood on her cheek and splashes of it on her dress. She looked down at her own; there was none to be seen. She half expected to see the wounds evident on her abandoned body and was relieved to discover she was whole, or at least gave the impression of being so.
“Can’t work out why that is either,” said Hughie, standing up and walking towards her. “I had one of me legs blown off and half me face missing but yer would never have guessed it looking at me. The police'll be here in a minute, I should imagine. Looks like yer staying, then? The light’s gone.”
“The light?”
“Yeah, it came for yer. Don’t yer remember?”
Peg shook her head, “The street light?” She looked up at the fanlight above; there was only a dim glow now.
“It’s something else, that light, Peg. I’ve seen it loads of times now. Comes for yer when yer die, it does, but I never fancied going with it meself. Most people do though.” Hughie bent down to adjust his puttees and then straightened up.
Peg couldn’t take her eyes off her family.
I can’t leave them like this
Michael banged his fist on the wall and cried out. The baby started to wail again and in an attempt to pull herself together, Anne made her way over to the cot.
Above the baby’s cries, Peg just about managed to make out that her family were communicating verbally with one another and yet the only things she could clearly hear were the baby’s cries and Hughie’s conversation. The world of the living was gradually muting, and something else was happening; everything appeared to be turning grey and had a slightly washed out appearance.
“That’s what some people call the veil, Peg. Don’t worry, though. Yer’ll become accustomed to it after a while and hardly notice it’s there at all.”
The front door opened and Billy rushed in accompanied by Dr Lord and his black leather medical bag.
“Fat lot of use that'll be now,” remarked Hughie grinning. Peg looked at him disapprovingly and he shrugged his shoulders. “Well, if yer don’t laugh there’s nowt left to do but skroike, lass,” he said putting his arm around her comfortingly.
Peg hadn’t felt any real emotion up until that moment and the reality of it all hit home at once. Sobbing, she leaned against Hughie resting her cheek on the shoulder of his jacket. Almost immediately she pulled back and looked up at him. "Why are you here, Hughie? What’s all this got to do with you?”
“Look, lass, it’s going to be a bit like Piccadilly Station in here for a while, so what say we go take a stroll and find somewhere a bit more peaceful like? I’ll do me best to explain things as we go along. How’s that sound to you?”
Labels: 1940s, Peg, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 00:06 |
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| RoYds Part 5 - Fallen Angels |
2007
Elizabeth wasn’t sure how long she had been sleeping. She watched through heavy lids as a very tired looking Stanley put his glass down for a moment and ran his hands through his thick brown hair. He lifted his head and his glass before turning again to face her.
“Sweet dreams?”
“I wish,” she replied forlornly whilst continuing to concentrate on a presence behind him. It had been there for the past few minutes and although she was unable to see anything she had been able to form a pretty good mental image.
Definitely male, with the most amazing long hair that rippled across his face and tumbled down towards his shoulders in what looked like a million or more strands of light. She found herself fighting an overwhelming urge to walk towards him and gather together a harvest of the strands. There was a slight tinkling sound associated with him too, she could hear it. Only faintly, but it was there nonetheless.
Tashriel
Elizabeth was jolted from her thoughts by a burst of sinister laughter which came from a newly arrived presence seated in shadow at the far side of the room.
Taking the sound as a challenge, she turned her attention towards the seated presence. She sensed earth, granite, rain and wind. It was as if moorland had been moulded into a man. For a moment she was engulfed by a wave of dark green.
Grispheran!
“Greetings, Bess,” he whispered menacingly into her ear as both fallen angels appeared close by. Elizabeth felt as though someone had just walked over her grave.
“Good of you to join us, gentlemen!” said Stanley.
Labels: 2007, Elizabeth, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 00:05 |
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| RoYds Part 4 - Ribbons of Red |
November 1917
He loved the ribbons of red in her hair, especially when the sun forged them into a halo of flame. The sun had been shining the first time he saw her, the moment captured in his mind so clearly that he could recall it as though it were happening still. He closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of that day and hearing the soft breeze rustling through the trees above.
Edwardina was sitting on a ledge of granite, her feet dangling down towards the burbling water below and cloaked by a retinue of greenery cast by the shadows from the overhanging trees. When she raised her eyes to meet his, the green soul looking out from within them seared him to the core. One moment had changed his life completely.
The sleeping figure beside him rolled over and threw her arm across his chest, nestling her face in the crook of his arm. Her face was damp from the tears she had shed and those waiting to be released. He pulled her close and kissed her forehead lightly, inhaling tones of Lily of the Valley as he did so.
He thought of the events of the previous day, the visitors, their kind words and offers of help. They were all good people and he knew they would stand by her and help her to get by. There was not one of them who had not suffered some kind of grief.
When they had left and just the two of them remained, he promised her that he would honour what she had demanded of him three years earlier and remain with her as long as he possibly could. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling above. He could not bear to think of it anymore. Maybe one day he would, but for the moment he made an agreement with himself to lock the memory in a box and push it to the very recesses of his mind. He knew she would never get over this.
The woman sleeping beside him woke, walked over to the window and pulled back the lace curtains. Despite it being a cold winter’s day she pulled up the sash window fully and let the frosty morning enter the room.
Stanley sensed the hollow feeling that consumed every inch of her. She was as empty as the abandoned cot and disturbed bed. Her tears flowed freely. She gathered up the woollen blanket from the arm of a chair and sat down next to the window. She let out a slow, frosty breath and then the tears began to flow again. Her body was racked with sobs as the aching in her soul grew. For a moment, Stanley thought she noticed him standing beside her and then she shook her head, apparently remembering that she was the only one left in the house. The feelings that radiated from her began to change from sadness and despair to rage and frustration.
Standing up abruptly and leaning her head out the window, she looked with hatred up into the grey sky and shouted at the top of her pitiful voice, “Can you hear me, Stanley Thomas Birch? I hope to God you can because you and our son are not the only dead members of this family!” Feeling the coldness of her words and the bitterness of the air, Stanley watched as she closed the window and crawled back into the desolate bed.
He reached out and covered her mouth with kisses, tasting the salt in her tears as he did so.
“Yes, I hear you.”
Labels: 1917, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Stanley, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 00:04 |
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| RoYds Part 3 - Breaking the Silence |
2007
“Whituth has always attracted more than its fair share of dark forces...”
“You can say that again,” remarked Elizabeth helping herself to one of the chocolate biscuits and then looking at Stanley with earnest, “I shudder to think what the place would be like without RoYds!”
Stanley laughed and continued, “Quite.” He winked a blue eye at her before adopting a more serious tone. “There has been more than our fair share of dark activity recently though -- a series of gruesome murders, umpteen happenings and stranger than average creatures roaming the moors. The whole town is becoming darker day by day and rather agitated, especially the Living. We have our work cut out.”
“Sounds like it,” Elizabeth replied, biting deep into another tempting biscuit.
“There have been a number of changes here too,” Stanley remarked casually as he removed a cigar from a silver box on the table and proceeded to light it.
Elizabeth’s curiosity was piqued, “At RoYds?”
“Gemma Bolton has joined us. You remember Gemma?”
Elizabeth half-choked on the biscuit she was eating. That creature was enough to darken even the brightest day. “Who could ever forget,” she scoffed.
Stanley took a drag on his cigar and held the smoke in his mouth for a few seconds before exhaling. He spoke quietly, his words darting in between the clouds of cigar smoke, “Tashriel speaks highly of her.”
They made meaningful eye contact and fell into an uncomfortable impasse with only the occasional spit from the fire and the reassuring tick-tock of the large Edwardian mantle clock breaking the silence. Elizabeth fidgeted in her seat for a few seconds before resting her head on the wing. The journey to RoYds had taken an unprecedented toll.
Stanley observed the young woman curled up in the chair opposite him. In some ways she reminded him of his late wife. Like Edwardina, Elizabeth was an attractive woman who had no real awareness of her own beauty. Over time, Stanley had formed the opinion that with some women, beauty added a quality of ugliness, this was not so in Elizabeth’s case. The same could be said for all her matriarchal line: beautiful women and all of them gifted, or cursed, depending on one’s point of view.
Labels: 2007, Elizabeth, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 00:03 |
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| RoYds Part 2 - Something Snapped |
July 1940
There was no escape from the almost constant stream of voices which whispered in the corners, nooks and crannies of the building. Not even outdoors -- they followed him wherever he went, travelling on the wind, the slightest breeze or the fog. Things had become so bad that even the alcohol had lost its touch. That didn’t stop Billy from wanting another drink, though. He glanced again at his watch. Nearly lunch time; the pubs would be opening soon. He didn’t know what he would do for money, but something would turn up. It always did.
Thoughts of his wife Anne crossed his mind, but not for long. It occurred to him that he probably wasn’t the only one who was feeling tired and frayed at the edges these days. Looking after four young ones was certainly taking its toll on her. Perhaps a night out would do her some good? He would try to arrange something once he got paid. Leaving the downstairs bedroom, Billy emerged into the hallway and discovered his bubbly mother-in-law, Peg, waiting for him.
“I was just on my way to see you!” She smiled and held out a single £1 note. “Here’s a pound, Billy. Why don’t you and Michael nip down to the pub for a few drinks? Anne and I will join you later.”
His prayers had been answered! The only problem now was that he would have to take Michael, his bloody awful father-in-law, with him. He reached out somewhat grudgingly and took the faded note from Peg. He didn't feel good about it. He disliked taking charity from anyone, but he took it anyway.
***
The pub was full. Everyone was a mate enjoying a pint and a cigarette. Even his father-in-law was a mate here -- there was a war on after all. Billy looked across at Anne, expecting to see sadness in her green eyes, and was surprised to see her smiling. He stiffened, though, when he caught sight of the lecherous pub landlord looking at her. His stomach tightened. He quickly finished his drink and ordered another one. Did that make eight or nine now? What did it matter? Perhaps he would sleep better for it tonight.
The taxi arrived soon afterwards and Billy's mouth began to water as the savoury aroma from the hot pies they were taking home tickled his nostrils. He was feeling a bit more positive again, and starting to believe that things would look brighter in the morning. That was, until Michael started to bully Anne about the children making too much noise in the house, and then he turned his attention in Billy’s direction.
“The Navy is the top dog, always has been and always will be! All the Army is fit for is running away!”
“Shut-up, Michael, and keep it shut!” Peg spoke the words Billy had been thinking.
***
Billy glanced at his watch and fidgeted with the smooth brass bullets in his pocket. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Michael chatting with the babysitters: Peg’s sister Catherine and Catherine’s husband Thomas Clark. Anne and Peg busied themselves arranging supper.
It wasn't long before Michael stopped being civil and settled on his first target. He fired a round of abuse directly at Anne, unnecessarily finding fault with the way she was laying the supper table. The Clarks shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Billy, hand still in his pocket, continued to roll the ammunition quicker now, the heat from his fingers warming the metal cylinders. Michael’s comments were about to make him boil over. He made eye contact with Anne and her furtive glance in his direction begged him to stay quiet. He bit his tongue.
Anne placed the last supper plate on the table and without sitting down to eat, made her excuses and left the room looking exhausted. She was headed to bed and Billy decided that it wouldn't be too long before he joined her. He took a bite of meat pie and chewed thoughtfully as he poured himself a glass of the beer they had brought home with them. Every now and then he reached into his pocket, feeling the smooth bullet casings, glad of the peace of mind of knowing that the bullets were out of his children's reach. He had seen the damage bullets could do. He had seen enough damage to last him a lifetime. God, he needed to forget! He needed to forget it all!
“I said you’re no good! You never have been! I’m the one keeping your bloody wife and kids! Me!”
Billy realised it was his turn in the firing line again.
“The only reason you joined the bloody Army was because you are too bone idle to find work! You’re a good for nothing layabout!”
Billy cringed as the voices stirred. Above the din he managed to hear Peg say something to Michael and grasped the opportunity to escape the kitchen and join Anne in the sanctuary of the room next door. He took off his jacket and threw it a bit more forcefully than necessary over the back of a chair before walking towards Anne. They stood together, facing each other, listening to the raised voices from the kitchen beyond. The baby stirred uncomfortably in her cot. Anne was the first to speak.
“Do you think you could try and get my Dad to go to bed?”
Billy considered Anne’s request for a moment and then, with a hesitant nod, he reluctantly returned to the battle front and entered the kitchen to witness an enraged Michael towering over Peg. The voices in his head all screamed as one and something snapped in Billy.
He sped from the room and grabbed his Lee Enfield rifle from its resting place behind the baby’s cot. He was aware that he was shouting but had no idea what he was saying, his voice was just a far-off whisper in a storm of rage. He only vaguely noticed Anne’s presence close by as Michael stormed down the hallway towards them. With one swift movement, Billy departed the bedroom and centred himself in the corridor, simultaneously levelling his rifle at Michael. A single shot reverberated throughout the house and a body hit the hallway floor with a dull thump.
Labels: 1940s, Billy, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 00:02 |
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