by C. A. Smith
Mike frowned wondering if it was normal and why he hadn’t seen such a sight before. The unusual apperception was quickly forgotten as he approached his turning by the pub that lead to his office. Finding a parking space in a good spot took precedence in his thoughts. Normally it was easy enough to find a space in this medium sized village, but more difficult to get one in view of the window in front of his desk. His mind wandered into another Monday morning thought of when his last car was stolen and found burned out in a lay-by two days later. Unfortunately, it’s a sign of the times and even a normally peaceful village like this didn’t go unaffected by the modern scourge of mindless vandalism.
“Sorry,” Mike sarcastically thought to himself, “misguided youths who deserve more understanding from law abiding people as their cars are stolen and their homes are broken into. Maybe more taxpayer’s money is necessary to send them on holidays. This way we can really push home the message that crime doesn’t pay!”
Mike is a bit of a deep thinker, which doesn’t always give him an easy life. He often toys with the opinion that honour, compassion and caring only hold real value if God actually exists. If not, then they could possibly prove to be an unnecessary burden rendering these attributes no more than a mental weight around the necks of the strong and serving only to handicap their survival and success in a ‘dog eat dog’ world. He thought if Tyrannosaurus Rex had offered his food to the other dinosaurs because he cared about them, then they would have used him for this purpose. The weak dinosaurs would have ruled him because of this compassion. Then, when he became weak and hungry, would they have provided for him? More like eat him! If he were compassionate then he probably wouldn’t have killed at all and would have starved anyway. This was a part of his ‘no more Mr. Nice Guy’ thoughts brought on by the fact so many callous people seemed to prosper. Even though Mike toyed with the notion of not caring about people any more, he still found himself stopping and waving the old lady across the junction before he continued into the parking space. He often questioned the presence of a higher being and this fact was enough to suggest a hint of belief or at least a willingness to accept the idea if it were backed by solid proof. He has a scientific approach to life but the continual battle between his heart and his mind inadvertently brought him more questions than answers. He has a caring side and therefore his efforts to disprove the existence of God are driven by a desire to really prove the opposite. If every question could be answered, then proof will be born one way or another. He comes from a Catholic background and upbringing, but constantly questioned the religion. Only one of his parents were catholic which enabled him to keep a balanced view of the matter. Unlike some of his friends, he was not forced into pursuing it and decided against this way of life at the early age of twelve. However, his early teachings were enough to fuel his desire for the truth for the rest of his life. Who knows, maybe one day he may find it.
Chapter 8
In the nearby town of Chatterrae, hordes of children in uniform were walking to school. Some laughing and messing around, others intently swapping their latest stickers in the hopes of completing their page of beloved football stars. Many were travelling in groups, some of the younger ones with parents and some alone dragging their heels as they started another day at school.
The traffic on the main road was busy this time of the morning while the side roads where many young children were funneling down were almost devoid of traffic other than the odd householder leaving for work. In the distance a white transit van appeared from around a corner and slowly approached a solitary boy as he meandered along. An older teenage boy walked briskly towards him from a side street, clearly late and on his way to a different and more senior school. Although in a hurry, he couldn’t help noticing something strange about the van. Maybe it was the poor condition or just the slow speed it was traveling.
As it got closer the teenager paid particular attention to the scruffy driver wearing a baseball cap turned back to front. Although it was more than likely just someone looking for a road, the driver’s focus on the lone boy stood out. This didn’t seem to be the type of focus one would execute for driving safely. It was a little too concentrated and lengthy for comfort.
Further ahead a group of children moved quickly to the side of the pavement as a mum appeared from around the corner. She smiled at them and, in a friendly manner, shooed them along with her hands telling them to get a move on. They giggled and politely parted around her regrouping like a shoal of fish after she had passed. The teenager, who by now had slowed his pace noticed how the driver immediately picked up speed when he saw the woman, but still, kept glancing back at the young boy in his rear view mirror while driving off.
Chapter 9
In St Faddyeons, a young woman was kneeling at a pew to the right of the isle four rows back from the altar. Her silent prayers were momentarily disturbed by the sound of the church door opening and closing as it echoed off of the cavernous stone walls. This echo seemed to be the church’s equivalent of a shop bell to a shopkeeper as it attracted the attention of Father Phillips who was currently standing to the side of the altar concentrating on his preparation for mass. He looked up to see a tall, dark haired, smartly dressed man walking slowly up the isle toward him. He smarter than he did while descending from the summit of mount Snowdon.
The young woman paused in her prayers again to see the man walking purposely towards her. She looked around at him and smiled gently. He stopped in front of her without returning her smile. Father Phillips heard him speak in at what he thought was Hebrew. Her face grew menacing. She hissed at him and said something back in the same language before retreating towards the door of the church and leaving
Father Phillips’s looked at the tall dark haired man standing in the isle for an explanation. None was offered. Instead he looked around calmly at the ornate ceiling and pillars as though nothing had happened.
He looked over at Father Phillips.
“They know about you.”
“Pardon?”
The stranger didn’t reply. He gazied up at the stained glass window depicting angels holding their hands together in prayer while the radiating light of the sun revealed the depth of colour born from each individual section of crafted glass. He laughed silently before breaking off from this personal indulgence and turning to the pew on the left of the church isle and slowly sitting down.
Father Phillips watched in confusion as he knelt without making the sign of the cross and began to pray quietly as though he was no stranger to a Catholic church.
He finished his prayers and opened his eyes directly on Father Phillips. He stood and walked toward him.
Father Phillips wondered what was about happen.
“Good morning. Can I help you?”
“Do you like your name Emet?”
He studied the man standing in front of him and started to feel a little threatened. He sensed a very strong air of confidence surrounding this man.
“Yes. As a matter of fact I do.”
The man, still calmly looking him in the eyes, slowly nodded as though accepting his reply.
“It’s a hard name to live up to. Do you think your parents realized how hard it would be when they named you?”
“I don’t think a name makes a person. It’s up to the individual to make good their name. I’m sure my parents just liked it and didn’t think too deeply about it.”
The visitor just nodded in thoughtful agreement. Father Phillips held his stare and tried to hide his concern with a smile.
“But I’m sure you have more important matters in your life than the origins of my name.”
Sensing the discomfort of the priest, the visitor smiled to prove no malice was intended, nodded slightly, then turned and walked away.
“What did you say to that woman?” Father Phillips bit his tongue as the question left his lips. He began to wish he’d let it go and left the man to walk out.
“That was no woman,” he shouted back before disappearing into the sunlight of the busy street.
Father Phillips’ stare was only broken by the noise of the closing door. He frowned with confusion doubting that this man was yet another one of those poor souls effected by our modern lifestyle. Something was different about him.
The rest of the day continued as normal for Father Phillips, yet he couldn’t help continually thinking about the stranger who had walked in from the street earlier.
Today had been a particularly busy day for him and returning to the storeroom wasn’t on his agenda for this evening.
After returning to the rectory, he closed the door, walked into the kitchen and poured himself a beer. He took a sip and walked over to one of his lesser-known pleasures, the game console. He took a racing game from his shelf, removed the disk and inserted it into the console. After two hours of racing his online opponents under the pseudonym of ‘Burning Rubber’, one which was quite innocent when he chose it, he decided to call it a night. He put the disk back into its case and returned it to the bookshelf, walked over to the microwave and heated up some milk in a mug before adjourning to the bedroom.
Something drew him to the window. He saw the silhouette of a man disappeared into the shadows.
Chapter 10
As they finished their breakfast Mike headed for the bathroom. The usual morning procedure mirrored by most households across Britain ensued. Sue was brushing her hair in the bedroom as she called out to her husband.
“Mike, don‘t forget we‘re at Emma’s and Sarah‘s for dinner on Friday.”
Mike was now brushing his teeth.
“Yea, Ok.” he replied while aggravating the toothbrush under the cold running water. He put the toothbrush back into its holder, placed both arms on the basin and leant forward looking into the wall mirror directly above the sink in front of him.
“There‘s got to be more than this to life. Work, bills, tax and then death! Whoopee!”
Chapter 11
Inside the kitchen of a three bedroom terraced house four miles north of Mike and Sue’s, two young women were chatting over breakfast while the radio played in the background. They were discussing past boyfriends and what their perfect man would look like. Emma recapped their choices resulting in the eruption of spontaneous laughter after they realized the cumulative attributes taken from their ‘best bits list’ would end up forming a likely Frankenstein candidate rather than the perfect man.
Sarah pointed out how their planned dinner party with friends on Friday was long overdue.
“Do you realize, the last time we all got together was about seven months ago?”
“Yea, it must be. Is time passing quicker as we get older or is it because we’re all so busy? Everyone seems so busy these days.”
“Well all the more reason to make sure they come.”
“So who’s coming?”
Sarah started with, “Well Marcus obviously.”
“Well I suppose we can allow him!” joked Emma.
They both laughed. It was obvious he would be coming, invited or not! Marcus is Sarah’s boyfriend and a doctor at Orient Vale, the local general hospital.
“Oh and Sue and Mike. We haven’t seen them for a while.” Sarah continued.
“Where‘s your brother these days?”
“You want to invite Bob?” asked Sarah.
“Yea why not. He hasn‘t been around for ages.”
“I suppose it’d be nice to catch up on what he’s doing, that’s if he turns up. He’s working in the city, but comes home on weekends. I‘ll give him a call and see if he can leave a bit early on Friday. You wouldn’t guess he was my only brother would you. Still, I suppose he calls now and again. Anyway, it’s about time he met Sue and Mike.”
“I thought he’d met them.”
“No, not yet. I often bring them up in conversation, so he probably feels as though he knows them by now.”
“Is he still with Hannah?”
“Yes, surprisingly, although they’ve had a few close calls. You know what he’s like, Mr. Anti-social.”
Sarah paused with a smile. She loves him dearly, but has always found it hard to deal with his tendency to avoid meeting new people and exiting social gatherings at short notice armed with one excuse or another.
“Yes, but there’s still something likeable about him.”
“Yea, I love him of course, but I’m his sister. I don’t have to live with him. Poor old Hannah gets stressed about it sometimes.“
“Really. It’s that bad?”
“The last time we spoke she told me how she wished Bob would be a little more sociable. She said whenever they’re about to go out he always asks who they’re meeting. If they’re people they haven’t met before he seems on edge until he meets them.”
Emma interjected, ”It’s surprising really, he doesn’t seem nervous with people.”
“No, he’s a strong character, just seems to be very choosy who he associates with. It gets a bit embarrassing at times, although he’s never purposely rude to them. He seems to have developed this way of politely removing himself from certain company without upsetting anyone, well apart from Hannah. Most of them just assume he’s quiet apart from those who really know him.”
Sarah stared for a while thinking back to their childhood. “It’s a big difference from when we were young. Mum used to think he was being bullied sometimes because he’d be standing near a new friend one minute and the next he’d start crying and running away from them. It was only when she actually witnessed it happen in front of her that she knew it wasn’t anything to do with bullying. She told me how she watched when a little boy went up to him to befriend him and he just flipped and started crying. He kept saying the little boy was scary.”
Emma started to laugh, “Can you imagine if it still happened!
“Yes, can you picture him at the bank. ‘Good afternoon Mr. Ashcroft. I’m Mr Hobnob your bank manager. Mr. Ashcroft, please stop crying… come back Mr. Ashcroft. I may be able to extend the overdraft a little. Mr. Ashcroft?’ ”
Both women started laughing although they knew they shouldn’t, it did conjure up quite a comical scene.
Laughter was something lacking lately in Emma’s life and was now a commodity she held onto like a drowning woman clinging to a piece of flotsam. She had dark days where she sometimes felt as though life really wasn’t worth the hassle, but then she thought how hurt her friend Sarah would be if she were to actually do anything about it.
“I shouldn’t really,” continued Sarah.
“He used to hate me reminding him of those moments and making fun of it. Although he does see the funny side of it these days.”
“So what else did Hannah say?” said Emma bringing the cup up to her mouth.
“Well, she was getting annoyed because he spends most of the night as though he’s somewhere else. Sometimes even when they’re meeting people who he’s already met, he still seems edgy. It’s not as though he doesn’t like them because he says how nice they all were after they’ve gone. Although she did say there are others he seems really comfortable with, even people he’s never met before. He just chats with them all night. I told her he was probably just a little anxious around certain people. I think I helped comfort her a little, but she just wishes he’d lighten up a bit more around some of her other friends. It’s not as though he knows enough about them to cast any form of real judgement, but I did remind her of his good points. The fact that he rarely says anything bad about them after meeting them and that once she gets past the few bad points, she’ll realize he’s a decent sort, even if he seems a bit anti social at times. We ended the call laughing about it all, so I think it helped.”
Emma took a sip of tea, “Are you taking the whole day off or just the morning?”
“I booked the whole day off. I thought it’d be be
tter just in case her flight is delayed. Anyway, there are plenty of shops around to look at if she’s late.”
“Is this Maria’s first time in England?” Emma asked after gulping the last of her tea.
“No, she came over once when she was still at school, but she’ll probably be a lot more relaxed than she was back then. When I was over in Spain visiting her mum last year we got to know each other well. She’s matured a lot since her school days. Alessandra saw how well we got on together and asked if she could stay again. She said it’d give her English a real boost and at least she could relax knowing she was with us.”
“I’m really looking forward to meeting her.”
“You’ll get on well together. Hopefully we’ll get a few Spanish lessons too.”
“How long did you work with her mum for?”
“Alessandra, oh about two years on and off. We worked together for about a year before she moved back home and started working for the Spanish office. Then she would visit the English office for a couple of weeks at a time and we’d go out together in the evenings. When I visited the office in Madrid she’d take me out. We just seemed to get on, and have stayed in touch ever since.”
“It’s lovely how you stay in contact. What time is Maria landing?”
“Not until eleven, so I’ve got plenty of time, which is more than I can say for you.” Sarah pointed to the clock on the kitchen wall.
“Oh crap! Look at the time! I’ve gotta go.” Emma jumped up and took one last bite of toast. “Time always flies when you have a laugh. I wished work went as fast.” She rushed to the bathroom to brush her teeth quickly, grabbed her handbag and coat and hurried to the front door. “Hope it all goes well. See you tonight!”
“See you tonight Emma and don’t rush you’ll…” the front door slammed shut.
Sarah shook her head and smiled while finishing off her breakfast. After sorting the mail that had just plopped through the letterbox she cleared the table and started to get ready to leave for the airport.