All Your Fears

by Peter Hodgson

  ‘Veronica. Who else would want to talk to you? I’m surprised you kept the same number … You okay?’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘What are you up to?’

  ‘I’m doing cleaning at a hotel. The pay isn’t brilliant but the staff are okay.’

  ‘How nice for you. Are you with another bloke, or can’t you find someone who will put up with you?’

  ‘I’m on my own. Anyway, it has nothing at all to do with you … How is mum these days?’

  ‘That’s what I’m ringing for. Mum died.’

  Her bitterness towards Veronica ebbed away. A cloak of sadness wrapped itself around her splintered heart. Her existence was suddenly pointless. No mum. Gone forever. She had been the one person who understood her feelings and given her strength to cope with life’s problems.

  ‘Are you there?’ Veronica said. ‘I can’t sit around waiting all day.’

  Veronica’s apparent lack of sympathy was salt in a wound.

  ‘When did she die?’

  ‘This morning. Mum went round to fat Bab’s house for a couple of hours. She came home at eleven and had a bite to eat. Turned out to be her last meal. Josh found her dead, with a fag in her mouth.’

  ‘What happened next?’

  ‘The ambulance men came. It took them long enough. They tried the resuscitation routine and everything. It was useless. She must have gone out like a light. I reckon she suffered a heart attack. She had it coming.’

  ‘How can you be so nasty? She was our mother.’

  ‘She was a forty-a-day smoker. It’s very bad for your health. You should know.’

  ‘Says you!’

  ‘Oh, yeah? Can you imagine the distress you caused her? I’m not surprised she was in bad health. She never recovered from all the worry you put on her.’

  ‘Don’t remind me. It’s all in the past.’

  ‘In the past, is it? I don’t think so. You’ve no conscience, have you?’

  ‘I don’t have to explain myself to you. What date is the funeral?’

  ‘Too early to say, innit? One thing I can say – you won’t be attending. Imagine who might turn up. Could be very risky. Not to bother. You always have me to look after you, little sis.’

  ‘You don’t give a fuck about me, you slag.’

  Veronica laughed. ‘And, why should I? Tell you what, give me your address and I’ll send you the bereavement cuttings from the newspaper.’

  Kim pressed the ‘end call’ button as hard as she could. The word ‘bitch’ sprang from her mouth. She swallowed a mouthful of tea. It struggled against the lump in her throat. She saw tear-blurred images. The hands of grief tore at her heart. She hated Veronica for her callous, uncaring nature, yet she had made a valid point. Returning to Grenthorpe for the funeral was not an option she would consider. The inference that her actions had affected mum’s health intensified her sorrow. Veronica never truly understood mum’s feelings. Her words reminded Kim of the times she had lied to create problems between mother and daughter. ‘Cow,’ she murmured. ‘I could kill you.’ Although Kim hadn’t seen mum since a terrible period in her life, their love for each had never dwindled.

  Only the passage of time could ease the sadness and mend a shattered heart.

  ‘You’re still here, I see’

  Kim looked up. Tears rolled. The waitress who had served her stood by the table. ‘Oh dear. Can I sit with you?’

  Kim nodded and wiped her cheeks with a tissue.

  ‘I noticed you left most of the main meal and wondered if anything was wrong.’

  ‘I’ve had some bad news.’

  Kim opened an empty packet of cigarettes.

  ‘Here, try one of these.’ She offered Kim a roll-up. ‘Whatever’s upsetting you, I hope it doesn’t last long … My name’s Gill. There was a vacancy here. I applied and landed the job. Lucky me.’ She made a sympathetic smile. She was late thirties. Her wavy brown hair was tied back in a customary catering-environment ponytail. A long nose ran in between flat cheekbones and her lips stretched over slightly protruding teeth. Dark, linear eyebrows ran above lively, genial blue eyes, giving her a quietly attractive look. ‘I’ll have a quick smoke myself, and make tracks. There’s shopping to do and I fancy a look round the market.’

  Kim took a long drag of the roll-up and coughed.

  ‘A bit strong? They’re a lot cheaper than fags.’

  ‘I wouldn’t bother going to the market if I were you,’ Kim remarked. ‘It closes in ten minutes.’

  The waitress glanced at her watch. ‘Oh, well, I’m sure I can manage until next week … Do you come here often?’

  ‘I do. The food is excellent.’

  ‘I’ll make sure we have plenty of the Black Forest gateaux. We don’t want to disappoint you on your next visit.’ She stood up and squashed her cigarette in the ashtray. ‘I must be on my way. Take care.’ She checked the time again, walked briskly to the end of the Courtyard.

  Kim smoked the roll-up and wandered down High Street, lost in memories of the happy days she had spent with mum. She had worked hard for her two daughters, given them most of what young girls craved for. If the girls wanted something badly enough mum would spend her last penny on them. Their teenage years saw her fall into bad habits when dad’s dubious cronies weaved their way into her life. There were health issues, money problems and occasional brushes with the law.

  She was a fighter until the end.

  Kim switched her phone off in case Veronica tried to ring again. A subconscious walk took her to the top of Castle Street and then to the seating area in front of the castle ruins. She sat on a bench and looked up at the war memorial. The soldier in mourning, posing with head bowed and arms reversed, was a poignant reminder of the lives lost in the Great War.

  For the first time, Kim acknowledged the suffering of the comrades who had died, the mothers and fathers who had lost their sons.

  She hummed to herself, rocked gently to and fro whilst observing four children playing near the base of the memorial. Without knowing why, she clapped her hands and paused as an irate woman rounded them up and bawled in exasperation. Kim’s body stiffened. ‘It’s not fair,’ she said quietly. ‘They were having such fun.’ Her hands fell by her side. She gripped the bench and stared at the soldier’s chiselled features. She relaxed again and sang, ‘“As I was walking one morning in May, I spied a young couple a-making of hay. Oh, one was a fair maid and her beauty shone clear, and the other was a soldier, a bold grenadier.”’ She sniffed, wiped away her tears and became aware of someone standing close by. He stared at her in speechless amazement. She looked up slowly, taking in his red tartan waistcoat and trousers. The Sherpa collar of his black, wool jacket was pulled up.

  ‘Far from the Madding Crowd,’ he said. ‘I’m not sure if the line is in the novel. It’s in the film adaptation, the one featuring Julie Christie.’

  ‘Jay Yeldon,’ she said flatly. ‘Sit next to me.’

  ‘With pleasure … You have a good recollection of names. Have you read the novel by Thomas Hardy?’

  ‘I’ve never read a book. I might have seen the film … Why is it so busy with children round here?’

  ‘They have a fundraising event every year. This one is running late. The children follow a trail of clues hidden in various parts of the grounds. If they are diligent enough in their searches they will find an Easter egg.’

  ‘Are you fond of children?’

  ‘I am. I teach them. Well, they’re not children. Some of my students behave as if they are.’

  He moved closer to her. His hand touched hers, creating a tingling sensation that felt pleasant and wrong at the same time.

  ‘What do you teach?’

  ‘History. Fascinating subject. I was hooked on history at an early age.’

  ‘No photos today?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You told me you took photographs of the Old Town.’

  ‘Correct. I’m impressed. You can recall the smallest detail … Is
your ankle better?’

  ‘It is, thank you.’

  ‘No more crazy drivers trying to scare you to death?’

  ‘No, thank goodness.’

  ‘Good … I’ve spent many an hour here reading books. For me, it’s the most relaxing part of town, particularly if the weather is as lovely as today. Apart from the magic of the castle ruins you also have the twisting pathways and charming rose garden to enjoy.’

  The noise from a group of children became louder. Led by a smart, castle-ground attendant, they walked by the memorial. A girl from the group ran up to Kim. Her golden locks danced on her shoulders, her face beamed with pleasure. ‘Look what I’ve won miss.’ She showed Kim a large egg wrapped in purple foil and decorated with red, felt ribbon. Jay smiled as she skipped back to the line of pupils. He turned to Kim and began telling her the story of a dog that once found and ate one of the eggs. His words were crushed by the sight of tears tracking down her face. She sprang to her feet and ran off, her shrill sobs grabbing the attention of parents and children. Jay shot up from the seat, shouted her name. She ignored him and passed out of sight.

  Chapter Six

  Following another fitful night’s sleep, Kim dyed her hair and slid into a hot bubble bath. She smoothed the suds over her chest, allowing the warmth to caress the ache in her lower back. Andy advised her on many occasions to bend her legs when lifting heavy objects. She wished she had taken his advice. Within minutes she inwardly reached out for the night’s dreams demanding her scrutiny.

  She sees mum dressed in white, weeping tears of sadness. Jay examines her ankle and twists her foot forcefully in a full circle. A blonde, blue-eyed schoolgirl presents her with an Easter egg oozing ribbons of blood. Words of torment whisper in her ear and the disgust of sadistic perversion induces acrid vomit to spew out of every orifice in her body. Bells clang. A depressing dirge echoes all around her. The sounds fade. She walks across grey fields, her feet sinking into mushy soil. Black flowers bow in a cold breeze. She passes a single ash tree. Animal bones crack beneath her feet. The cottages await her, dilapidated and sombre against a backdrop of grey, angry clouds. She hears the innocent gurgle of a nearby stream. Her pulse races. Her sense of foreboding grows deeper with each step.

  Kim blinked forcefully. A scene from her past had crept into her life. Like a signal, it pointed her to a place she had been before and would never return to.

  She towelled herself, sat in front of the dressing table and dried her hair. She brushed it gently and scrutinized the roots to make sure her natural colour wasn’t showing.

  Downstairs, Smarty sounded his warning-bark, as was his habit whenever somebody rattled the door knocker. Kim wrestled into her bra, slid her knickers on. She peered through the window. A black car made a U-turn at the end of the cul-de-sac and sped off, leaving a long trail of blue smoke. She hurried down the stairs and into the hallway. ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Kim, let me in, will ya?’

  She opened the door. The attitude said it all. Emma pulled a face and leaned to one side to counterbalance a large canvas bag stretching her arm. ‘Am I interrupting a sexy moment?’ she teased.

  ‘Not a chance, Em. Make yourself comfy. I shan’t be long.’

  Kim put jeans and blouse on, did a quick makeup job and joined her in the back room. Smarty sniffed at the bag. Emma was reading a page in a diary Kim had forgotten to put away. She panicked, snatched it from her and shoved it inside a cupboard.

  ‘What’s up?’ Emma said, bewildered. ‘I was only looking.’

  ‘There’s personal stuff in my diaries.’

  ‘You’re in a mood. I can tell.’

  ‘No. I’m not in a mood. Everything’s fine. Was Doug the man I saw driving away?’

  ‘Yeah. He showed up, at last. He’s keeping an eye on Samuel for a change … What do you think of this new coat he picked up for me?’

  Kim fingered the material and gave her an eyebrows-raised look.

  ‘Yes, Kim, he actually bought me a coat. What a turn-up for the books. It isn’t hot, believe me … What have you done to your hair?’

  She’d noticed a change in the colour. Kim was annoyed. ‘There’s nothing wrong with a woman changing the colour of her hair. I used a dye on it. I’ve been using this colour for some time. It looks okay, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Whatever you’re happy with, Kim. Who am I to judge? It could be pink for all I care.’

  They fell into silence. Kim stroked Smarty’s head and became lost in thought. Emma nudged her. ‘About the text you sent me … What happened to your mum?’

  A surge of sadness engulfed Kim. ‘My mum has died.’

  ‘I know. What happened to her?’

  ‘She had a sudden heart attack. My sister rang me and gave me the bad news. Mum’s life is over. She’s gone.’

  ‘I didn’t know you had a sister. I’m upset for you. I’ll do all I can to cheer you up. You only have to ask if you want anything.’

  ‘Thanks, Em, but what can you do to ease the pain?’

  ‘I’ve brought six bottles of your favourite wine and a couple of cans. I couldn’t decide what else I could bring you. They were too heavy for me to carry so I asked Doug to drive me here. I could bring you some smokes if you want.’

  ‘You mean, weed. No thanks. I’m grateful you brought the wine.’

  ‘Emma to the rescue, kid. Did the funeral go okay?’

  ‘I couldn’t say.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean I didn’t go.’

  ‘Is there some kind of problem?’

  ‘Me and my sister don’t get on. Haven’t done for a long time.’

  ‘Mums only die once, Kim. Why –?’

  ‘I didn’t go. End of. It would have been too stressful for me.’

  ‘Were you and your mum close?’

  ‘We were close for a short time.’ She gave Emma a stern look. ‘I don’t want to talk about mum or the funeral.’

  ‘Okay. No sweat.’

  Emma made a fuss of Smarty and asked, ‘Who are the couple next door?’

  ‘Lauren and Stuart. Did you see them?’

  ‘Yeah. She looks snobbish. Her bloke smiled at me. He’s fit. I wouldn’t say no to a session with him.’

  ‘They’re a decent couple. Nice enough.’

  ‘What do they do for a living?’

  ‘Bloody hell, Em, you’re all questions.’

  ‘I’m being nosy.’

  ‘Lauren is a web developer. She works for the NHS. Her husband is an orbital prosth … prosthee … Oh, I can’t remember the word. He makes glass eyeballs.’

  ‘I’m sure he was making eyes at me, Kim.’

  ‘Wishful thinking. I have to say, he is very good looking.’

  ‘Yeah. Tell me if he becomes available … I’d better be off. Have you anything planned for the rest of the day?’

  ‘Not really, apart from –’

  ‘Why not come for a drink with me?’

  ‘I’m not in the mood for drinking. Some other time.’

  ‘So, you’ll drink the wine on your own. Boring.’

  ‘We would end up being pissed.’

  ‘It’s what you need to take your mind off things, drown your sorrows.’

  ‘My sorrow would come back once I’d sobered up, and I’m at work tomorrow. My head aches and I don’t want to make it worse.’

  ‘Fair enough.’

  Kim showed her out. Halfway down the path, Emma turned. ‘I’m sorry to hear the sad news. Come and see me sometime. Don’t sit on your arse all day brooding. It won’t do you any good.’ She walked briskly down the road, cigarette smoke drifting behind her.

  Kim hurried upstairs, crawled into her bed, tired and despondent.

  ***

  Evening came. Kim walked briskly to the castle grounds. She took the usual route to the gardens and bandstand, occasionally pausing so Smarty could investigate smells only his kind could detect. She looked towards the empty bandstand and deserted skate park, hailed as a co
ncrete beauty in the popular Roller Snake skateboarding magazine. Both attractions slowly lost their definition in the enveloping gloom. Victorian-style lamps, scattered here and there, lit up the winding pathways and presented a less threatening atmosphere.

  She allowed Smarty to pull her to the stone steps close to the grassy field where she had met the inquisitive blonde woman. She recalled the probing questions thrown at her and wondered if she had been singled out for a purpose. The dimness of the field in front of her created the notion of an ulterior motive. She turned to her left and led Smarty further along the path. Parson Lane wasn’t too far away. She had taken him along the same route a hundred times. Not tonight. She imagined the car coming at her, its engine revving, tyres screeching. The memory of stumbling and falling onto the pavement was etched into her soul.

  She turned in the opposite direction, reached down and patted Smarty’s head. She straightened herself and noticed a man silhouetted against the glow of a lamp, arms hanging by his side, fists clenched, legs slightly apart. She moved slowly towards him. Perhaps he wasn’t looking at her. Maybe he was deciding which path to walk along. She moved closer to him. He stood his ground. Was he a harmless eccentric, a mugger, rapist … or murderer? Behind Kim’s fear lay the instinct of survival. Her pace became slower. Her legs turned to jelly. She stopped abruptly and stared at him in helpless silence. Her heart went into overdrive. Perhaps Smarty would protect her if she was attacked, but what if he failed to respond? Harmless eccentric or not, he was standing there still as a statue. Kim spun around and hurried along. ‘Don’t run,’ she told herself, ‘or he’ll know you’re scared. He’ll come after you … Keep going … don’t look back.’

  She expected footsteps to advance behind her. Her rapid breathing and Smarty’s panting filled the air. She was compelled to look behind. To her surprise, the pathway was devoid of any human presence. The man, whoever he was, whatever he wanted, had vanished.

  Kim was torn between backtracking and heading for Parson Lane.

  Chapter Seven

  Kim slammed the door shut and rested in the dark of the hallway. The discomfort of sweat-soaked clothing and panting lungs was nothing compared to her relief. The frenetic run back home seemed to have taken hours. She had headed for Parson Lane, passed the same spot where the car incident had occurred. Nobody chasing her. Not a soul in sight. She had kept running all the same until her legs stiffened and drained of energy. Had the stranger run along adjacent fields, kept out of sight and followed her home? Was he still out there, waiting in the shadows, deliberating what to do next?