| Billy Part 23 - Choices |
1940
Peg and Hughie stood between the edge of the dell and the sloped gardens of Heyleigh Hall looking up towards the grand stone facade of the present day Georgian building.
“What does she want with me?” Peg whispered just in case there was anyone or anything loitering in the dell behind them.
“I’ve no idea Peg. I wouldn’t like to disappoint her, though -– she’s rather used to getting her own way,” replied Hughie, moving on in the direction of the hall.
Peg followed. “Is she now? Well we’ll just have to see about that! I’ve had enough of being pushed around all my life -– I’ll be damned if it’s going to continue now!”
Hughie threw his head back and let loose a great big belly laugh. “That’s the way to go, lass! Up and at ‘em! Mind you, she’s best handled with a bit of tact is our Lady Mabel. I’ve known her for years, ever since I knocked around in the grounds of the Hall as a kid. She’s frightened the living daylights out of me umpteen times. There’s far worse about than her, though!”
Peg shuddered. “Like the figure at the fire station?”
“Aye,” Hughie replied solemnly, looking behind her into the dell.
“What was it?”
“Hard to explain, lass. And if I’m honest, I don’t fully know m’self. You know how the Living shimmer to us?”
Peg nodded.
“Well them things are attracted to that light -– the energy of the Living -– whether it’s human or not. They preyed on us when we were alive too, only we didn’t know ought about it at the time. All those negative thoughts you had over the years and the wrong paths you went down? It were partly their doing. Some of it, mind you -– not all. Can’t blame them for all our own bad choices. They were there though, whispering and nagging -– I’ve watched ‘em at it while I’ve been hanging around like. Seen them at your Billy last night when you...er...”
“Died?”
“Delayed. Aye. That’s not all, either.”
“What else?”
“Those of the Living who have, what you might call, a foot in both camps -– thems that are familiar with both the Living and the Delayed?”
Peg gulped. “Go on,” she encouraged, though with a touch of apprehension.
“Well, you could say they’re a bit like a beef steak to a lion. Those things hang around them all the time -– never give up like.”
“Good grief!”
“Yer can say that again! Mind you...they look out for them at RoYds. Lady Mabel and her like. If she meant any harm, she wouldn’t have sent me along to meet you when you passed over would she? Shows how caring she can be at times.”
“But what about all those stories about her being a devil worshipper, selling her kids’ souls, and one from each generation of her descendants being...cursed? Why would people make up stories like that? There’s no smoke without fire, my mother always said.”
“Aye, mine too. I’m sure you’ll be able to see the good in her if anyone can, Peg. Perhaps that’s why we’re here? So, coming?” They had arrived at the grand entrance to the hall. Hughie placed his foot onto the first of three stone steps leading up to the front door and held out to his hand to her.
Peg laughed. “Just let anyone try and stop me!” she grinned, taking the offered hand and leaping into the hall beside him.
PrevLabels: 1940s, Hughie, Peg, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Web Fiction |
posted by Miladysa @ 14:00  |
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| Billy Part 2 - Wild Flowers |
1945
Some days Peg just wanted to fade away -- into the background, into herself, into oblivion. So far, today was not one of those days.
The little white dog, which for some unknown reason had befriended Hughie and Peg, ran on ahead, splashing through shallow puddles as they lagged behind, gathering twigs for playing Pooh Sticks at the little bridge that crossed the river farther down the cinder path. Peg's senses were romanced by birdsong, laughter and the faint scent of blossom. The sun's rays washed across the top of her head and shoulders.
When they reached the bridge, the games began in earnest. Peg and Hughie squealed with joy and only just stopped short of throwing themselves head first off the arched platform to join their twigs in the grey waters below. Squeals turned to moans as potential champions crash-landed upon slabs of rock or were snagged by weeds.
It had not been so long ago that Peg and Hughie had played here as happy carefree children while their mothers watched them play and smiled encouragement.
Peg felt positive that despite the prison sentence everything was going to work out for Anne and Billy. Stanley had assured her that a position with RoYds would be offered to Billy upon his release. Peg was relieved that Michael had already moved on and appeared content with his life without her in it.
Peg looked up to see a tearful Hughie clutching a bunch of wildflowers in his outstretched hand.
“For me?” she asked, smiling as she reached out to take them from him.
“Aye, lass. Know what’s on your mind so I thought I would make it easier for yer. There’s nothing I can say as might change yer mind, like?” he asked, his voice breaking slightly before he muffled the sound by clearing his throat.
There’s nothing more I can do here,” she whispered into the flowers as she lowered her head to enjoy their fragrance.
“Aye, well, I suppose that’s it then,” he said looking away. He lowered his eyes and kept them fixed on the path, sweeping his foot side to side and forming a semi-circle pattern in the cinder layer beneath it. “I’m going to miss yer...”
“It will be lovely to see my mum and dad again, Hughie! My grandparents and my brother too!” Peg beamed at him.
Hughie continued ploughing the cinders with his foot.
Peg reached out and touched the sleeve of his uniform. “Why don’t we go together?” She asked tentatively. “There must be family you would like to see? What about your parents?”
Hughie shook his head. “Sorry, lass. I’m going nowhere. Our Millie needs me. She’s no one else...and someone needs to look out for her. Plus...”
“Plus? Plus what?”
Hughie raised his head, surveyed the landscape around them and crumpled his face. “The dell’s my heaven, Peg!” He stepped forward and placed a tear-coated kiss on her forehead. “Give my lot me love,” Hughie announced cheerfully as he stepped a few paces backwards.
Peg nodded and smiled. The little white dog curled against Hughie’s foot as the light swooped down and whisked Peg away. In the distance, leaning against a dry stone wall, a pretty blonde woman in a cherry-red coat watched intently.
PrevLabels: 1945, Billy, Peg, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 00:01 |
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| RoYds Part 10 - Blossoms in the Dark |
July 1940
Peg was surprised to see the number of people out and about in the early hours of the morning until it struck her that most of them were dead like Hughie and herself. She wondered if she would bump into anyone else she knew.
“I shouldn’t think so,” said Hughie. “It’s not been my experience anyways. It's no coincidence I was at yer home tonight. It’s not like I’ve been hanging around there these past few weeks. I knew you were going to bite the bullet.” He couldn’t resist a gentle snigger at his own pun. “I was doing someone a favour by being there when it happened.”
Peg stopped in her tracks, half her attention taken by Hughie, the other half by a figure partly submerged in the shadowy entrance of the fire station.
“Who?”
“What?” Hughie’s concentration had also been distracted by the figure.
“Who asked you to be there? Was it my mum?” Peg asked eagerly.
“Nay, it was Lady Mabel.”
“...Lady Mabel?“
“Yeah.” Hughie took hold of Peg’s elbow and steered her past the fire station. “She's helped me a few times since I delayed. Let’s go to the cemetery. It’s always very pleasant there in the wee small hours.”
He steered their way to a wooden bench under a cherry blossom tree and they sat down together. “I’ve always thought blossom smells best in the dark,” said Hughie, taking hold of a bough above his head and pulling it down to savour. “Champion, eh?”
Peg smiled in return. “It’s lovely, Hughie. Now, tell me more about Lady Mabel.”
***
Stanley Thomas Birch shuffled the papers on his desk and took a deep breath before running his fingers through his coarse hair and lighting a cigarette. There was a light knock on the door and his associate, Wilfred, entered the room with a cheery smile and a tray of hot tea and biscuits.
“Thought you might be in need of these," he said, putting the tray down and making his way back towards the open door.
“Perfect timing,” Stanley declared as the door handle clicked back into place.
Although he had never been able to read Wilfred's mind fully, Wilfred always had a good idea what was on his. If only he could see deeper into the mind of Billy Lawrence. There was only one thing he knew for certain at this point, the soul of Lawrence had been a fatality even before the unfortunate shot had been fired.
Stanley’s fingers repeated his earlier actions, shuffling papers and combing through his hair, pondering the situation. It might be possible to save Lawrence from the hangman. Thankfully, there were a couple of witnesses whose evidence would help to support a defence and he was certain that he would be able to provoke an unsavoury response from at least one of the prosecution witnesses.
His train of thought was suddenly derailed by a firm knock followed closely by Wilfred carrying his overcoat and a black umbrella.
“Time to leave for your meeting, sir. It’s getting late.”
“Thank you, Wilfred. What would I do without you?” Stanley asked with a grateful smile as he buttoned up his coat. His thoughts once again turned to the case at hand and he wondered idly if any of the Living were concerned about the welfare of Billy Lawrence. Somehow he doubted it.
***
Billy gasped for air. The roaring planes had returned, their machine guns blazing and cracking. He wanted to cover his ears and block it all out but he needed to keep one hand on the piece of debris that was keeping him afloat and the other free to ward off the desperate hands reaching out and clutching at him.
Incendiaries fell like bats diving from the sky and he realised the enemy was trying to set fire to the thick oil blanket covering the surface of the sea as far as the eye could see. Mesmerised, Billy stared ahead to where a crest of bodies had gathered and were performing a macabre dance in the waves. He clung desperately to the debris and then recoiled in horror as he realised he was clutching Charlie’s corpse.
Demons screamed at him from all directions.
You’re going to hell, Lawrence!
“I’m already bloody there!” he screamed back.
Suddenly everything went dark. Something was crawling on top of him, smothering him with its weight, pushing him under the surface of the freezing water. A silent scream erupted as he clawed frantically to free himself.
Sitting up with a start, Billy scanned the shadows of his cell and realised he had been dreaming.
Labels: 1940s, Billy, Peg, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Stanley, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 00:01 |
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| 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 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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