The Medium

by David Hatton

  24.

  “In sorrow we must go, but not in despair. Behold! We are now bound forever to the circles of the world, and beyond them is more than memory.”

  - JRR Tolkien (Date Unknown)

  The sparkling lakes slept comfortably within the green valleys. Heather moorlands formed a collage with Wordsworth’s golden daffodils, and majestic mountains sprouted out of the national parkland. Writers and artists had chosen the charm of Cumbria for their residence as they created the world’s most breath-taking masterpieces.

  The hillside hikes and tranquil parks provided a welcome escape for a widower seeking refuge from the pressure of the press. Michael Walker struggled to avoid direct approaches from journalists, including the representatives of The Castlefield Gazette, whom he’d committed to provide an interview for following the discovery of his wife, which they’d funded. He switched off his mobile phone and ignored Nathan’s persistent voicemails.

  Every newspaper, television channel and billboard across Manchester had the city’s newest celebrity plastered across their media outlets. Having communicated his plans to only those who needed to be in the know, he escaped to the Lake District. He approached a small white cottage in the hamlet of Grasmere, nestled between two lakes, with the drive forming the entrance trail to the Black Quarter of Easedale Tarn. He knocked on the door and a warm familiar smile answered.

  ‘Michael!’

  ‘Mum.’ He embraced her and she stepped aside to let him in. ‘Mind if I crash for a few days?’

  ‘Of course, any time!’ She took his bag from him and followed him into the house. ‘You should have called.’

  ‘I’ve had my phone switched off in Manchester and the beautiful thing about this place is there’s no reception!’

  While the views provided a welcomed rehab centre, the pain of the memories with his wife and son continued to haunt him. He’d spent many Christmases, weekends and annual summer trips to the rural hotspot with Jason and Suzanne. In the nearby hills, Jason thought he was Frodo Baggins, hunting down The One Ring across Middle Earth. While down the road, he relived his poetry lessons at school in the nearby Dove Cottage where Wordsworth once resided. With Suzanne, they’d dined at one of Grasmere’s bistros and he proposed to her beside the lake.

  The living room formed the entrance to the house. Two cream couches formed a right angle, facing towards an open fire with a mantel covered with Spanish pottery. Oak flooring sat beneath a white rug, which a glass coffee table sat upon in the centre of the room. The walls were white, lined with cooking and gardening books on attached shelves. Photographs of the family were spread across the units, including a matching photograph of Jason in his school uniform, which he’d discovered in Jane and Theodore’s home in Staffordshire, and Suzanne and Michael’s wedding day at a stately home in Cheshire. One notable absence was any photographs of Robert and Elizabeth; taken down the previous week. The room hadn’t changed since they moved in a decade before, except for one curious item in the corner of the room.

  ‘You have a television?’

  The flat screen device was attached to the wall. Beneath, a cabinet held a digital box and DVD player. He sighed; he’d hope to completely escape the rest of the world for a few days.

  ‘We do.’ Isabella shrugged. She stood in the kitchen cooking a hot-pot over a cast iron stove.

  ‘But I thought you didn’t need a television. I thought it was a waste of time compared to the ‘beautiful view outside’?’

  ‘Michael, I’ve been looking at that view for over ten years. I never thought I’d tire of it but my God I need some entertainment now your father is out on his boat all day.’

  ‘He has a boat?’

  ‘Oh, so he hasn’t told you then?’ Michael shook his head and his mother rolled her eyes. ‘He bought a boat. He’s out on Lake Windermere with it now. I don’t know, boys and their toys.’

  ‘Have you been on the boat?’

  ‘Hell no! You know I can’t go near water, Michael.’

  He had flashbacks to the horror stories his mother fed him as a child whenever they were on holiday. Never had Michael learned to swim or been to feed the ducks as Isabella banned him from any nearby water. His canal-side apartment was the very reason they’d avoided his declining state in the previous two years.

  Michael chuckled at his father’s antics. ‘I take it he didn’t tell you about it until he’d already bought it?’

  ‘Does he ever? I’m still furious about that hearse he brought home.’

  ‘That was twenty years ago. You don’t half like to keep a grudge.’

  ‘A woman never forgets, son.’

  The hearse in question was an impulse purchase from his father, who brought it home and attempted to encourage Isabella to side with him over the ‘great deal’. Within the first week of purchasing his new toy, he managed to cause trouble in the small town of Eccles where Michael grew up. Daniel drove the car around the Salford estate with his friend, Tommy, hidden in the back beneath a white sheet. Upon reaching a set of traffic lights, Tommy sprung up like a scene out of Thriller and scared following traffic. The pair managed to make the local press; The Salford Zombies were on the front page of the Manchester Reporter but they had to cut their escapades when they caused an elderly driver to crash after a mild cardiac arrest. She lived to tell the tale, and so did Daniel, narrowly. He was banned from further pranks and Isabella forced him to utilise the transport for its intended purpose.

  ‘From what I remember it ended up becoming quite a lucrative enterprise.’

  ‘Until it broke down a month later. It was an antique, that thing.’

  They chuckled, reminiscing about stories from their youth and Daniel’s incredible antics with Tommy, which were like an episode of Chuckle Vision. When the laughter died, Isabella stared at her son and his frail state; the ribs spiking through his red t-shirt, his gaunt face and the sadness embedded into his eyes.

  ‘So how are you, son?’

  ‘I’m good. Well I’m OK, I suppose. A lot better than before.’

  The truth was he wasn’t quite sure what he really felt. To anyone else, he’d lied and said he was fine when he was feeling anything but. It was exhausting to detail his emotions to passive friends and co-workers who held no real vested interest in hearing about his feelings either. But to Isabella, he struggled between giving her the reality which she craved and the desire to spare her feelings.

  ‘The funeral must have helped?’

  ‘Yeah I suppose. It would’ve been a lot easier if that bastard hadn’t turned up.’

  ‘Language!’ Isabella hissed. ‘He’s still your brother.’

  ‘Sorry.’ He bowed his head. ‘Have you heard from him recently?’

  ‘He came up to see us last weekend. He knocked and your dad answered. You can imagine where Daniel told him to go.’

  ‘Good,’ Michael said, a proud smile sprouted across his face. ‘Did you have a go at Dad for his language too?’

  ‘Oh of course,’ Isabella chuckled. ‘But he’s still your brother and he’s still our son. Whatever’s happened, he’s family. We’ll have to forgive him eventually.’

  ‘He’s no brother of mine.’ Feeling his temperature rise, he stood up and left the kitchen. Isabella followed but was relieved to find him standing by the window, staring out and watching hikers march up to the tarn.

  ‘They all look so happy.’ Resentment reeked in Michael’s voice. It was a young couple with their children, all holding hands as they skipped past the drive. A Golden Labrador followed behind, panting as it strolled up to its owners. ‘What an idyllic sight. I once had all that. I wish I was them. If only for a moment.’

  Isabella walked up him and placed a hand over his right shoulder and leaned her forehead against his back. ‘I’m sure they have their own problems. Nothing is ever as it seems.’

  ‘It’s amazing really. All that sunlight and green, the birds and the wildlife and I’m still furious that all this happened to me. I hate Robert, Mum,
I hate him!’ He fell down onto the arm of the couch and sobbed into his mother’s chest.

  ‘I know you’re angry. We’re all angry. But Robert is my son. I can’t abandon him. Just like you wouldn’t have done with Jason.’

  ‘Mum, I’m sorry.’ He sniffled and wiped his nose with his wrist. ‘I won’t be angry with you if you continue to see him. I understand he’ll always be your Robbie regardless of what he’s done. But you have to understand that I can’t see him. He crossed a line and our relationship is over. I’ll never speak to him again.’

  ‘Can’t you see it’s that witch of a wife of his who is to blame for Jason’s death, not him?’

  ‘I know. But he kept it a secret for all this time, actively encouraging Elizabeth to keep it a secret. He let me go through two years of torture. He even gave me the damn car which killed my son! If you put all that aside, he still slept with my wife and I can’t forgive him for that. You don’t do that to your own family.’

  Isabella nodded her head and wiped away a tear from the corner of her eye. Despite his ailing body, there were other changes she’d grown concerned about in recent months.

  ‘I’ve been meaning to ask you something for a while now, but it never seemed like the right time…’

  ‘Go on…’

  ‘Why did you consult a medium for answers?’

  ‘I didn’t consult her, she came to me.’

  ‘But you took the bait?’ Isabella shrugged her shoulders in disbelief.

  ‘I struggle to understand how she could’ve known everything she knew. There’s no explanation for it. She knew everything. She knew about your parents, about Suzanne and Jason, about our lives. It was unexplainable.’

  ‘Everything is explainable… at least that’s what you used to believe. I just can’t understand how you’ve made such a drastic turn in your beliefs. I still remember the little boy being thrown out of RE class for pointing out that if God was everywhere he’d be watching you on the toilet too which seemed ungodly.’

  ‘I was a terror.’

  ‘Where did that boy go? It’s not that I’m against it as Daniel and I have our beliefs. But you? You were adamant and I’m just worried.’

  Michael moved off the chair and sat down on the cushion. He patted the seat to the side of him, inviting Isabella to join him, which she obliged.

  ‘The last time I saw Suzanne, she came to tell me that she was going out for the evening. I didn’t even say goodbye. I merely lifted my head and sulked. If I could go back, I’d grab her, hug her, kiss her and never let her go. Except I can’t and for six months I tortured myself with that every day, hoping she’d come home so I could tell her how much she meant to me. But she never did and with no explanation. I’ve been falling apart because I couldn’t even bother to acknowledge her before she left the house.’

  ‘That wasn’t your fault,’ Isabella protested. ‘You were both grieving. You weren’t to know she was going to die.’

  ‘But look at you and Dad. You won’t ever go to bed on an argument or leave the house without telling each other you love each other. You’re always prepared in case it’s the last time you see each other.’

  ‘To be fair we’re a lot older than you.’ Isabella laughed. ‘But you and Suzanne? You were so young. Who could have thought she’d have died that night?’

  ‘She was a depressed alcoholic. Anything could’ve happened. I’m surprised she lasted as long as she did. The fact is we ended on bad terms and I couldn’t make it up to her. Then one day, this woman turns up and claims she can make everything right, get me the answers to my questions and potentially be able to speak to Suzanne. How could I turn that down when I had so much I needed to know, and so much left to say to Suzanne?’

  ‘I suppose whether she has this gift or not, she found your wife and answered the questions you’ve been waiting for so long to be answered. I don’t think anyone could criticise the comfort you’ve taken in that. Have you managed to speak to Suzanne then?’

  ‘No, Jackie and I had somewhat of a falling out recently. I never got a chance to connect with Suzanne.’

  ‘Don’t you think that’s something you should sort out?’

  ‘Yeah, maybe.’ Michael shrugged.

  ‘Well when you do, you send Suzanne and Jason my love.’

  They held each other for some time until the click of a latch disturbed them. Through the front door, Daniel walked in and placed his blue anorak and sailing cap on the wooden coatrack in the corner of the room. He glanced at the emotional sight before him and quickly removed himself from the room.

  ‘Is he OK?’ Michael asked.

  ‘Oh yeah. He loves you boys very much but you know what he’s like, he’s never been good with the emotional stuff.’

  Throughout his life, he only remember embracing his dad twice. Once after Jason died and once at his wife’s funeral. It wasn’t his fault; he was brought up in an era where men worked and the women took care of the kids. Like Theodore, he saw Michael’s generation as snowflakes and thought a jolly good war would sort them all out.

  He followed his dad into the kitchen and found him sneaking a sip of Isabella’s hotpot.

  ‘How is it?’

  ‘Delicious as always,’ Daniel whispered and quickly hid the spoon. ‘You shouldn’t upset your mum, you know.’

  ‘I try not to.’ Michael lowered his head and took a seat beside his father at the dining table. ‘I hear you’ve got a boat?’

  ‘I sure do,’ Daniel said with a frayed smile. ‘You can come with me sometime if you want.’

  ‘I’d love that.’

  ‘You would?’ Daniel’s teeth shone through his joyous lips. ‘It can’t go too fast, mind. It’s only five miles per hour on Windermere. Bloody ridiculous. Wouldn’t find that back in my day.’

  ‘I definitely want to come on board. In fact I have a plan but it involves Mum…’

  Over the following days, Michael took himself up to Easedale Tarn as part of his daily routine. The hike took him to just over nine hundred metres above sea level and allowed him to follow Wordsworth’s own footsteps.

  The surroundings provided Michael an opportunity to reflect on the previous weeks. He would sit for hours, skimming pebbles across the tarn; something his father taught him to do and what he passed on to his own son. Sometimes he’d cry. Other times he’d laugh, remembering the good times. Isabella disapproved of his lone walks.

  ‘You’ll fall up there!’ she’d say. ‘You’ll fall and meet your death. No one will come for hours.’

  ‘Mum, you’re at the foot of one of the Lakes’ busiest walks. I’m sure someone would find me.’

  ‘At least take your mobile so you can call someone.’

  ‘There’s no signal here!’

  The green hills and the blue waters allowed him to gain some perspective. While he wallowed in the pain of the hand he’d been dealt, he also felt blessed for the few years he’d managed to spend with his family strolling through the foothills of one of England’s most beautiful spaces. He knew that if Jackie’s words were true, that Suzanne and Jason were alive in spirit, they’d be settled within the mountainous land where he now strolled through. With their most treasured memories taking place in the land around him, he felt closer to Suzanne in the national park than he did in his hometown of Manchester. An epiphany overshadowed his pain as he considered where his wife’s final resting place should be.

  The following morning he joined his parents for breakfast. Isabella was busy in the kitchen cooking them a hearty meal with free range eggs from Donny and Marie, the chickens in their yard out the back.

  ‘So you’re sure about this, Michael?’ asked Daniel.

  ‘Sure am,’ Michael said. ‘Mum we need to talk to you.’

  ‘OK, OK.’ She walked through and placed the plates before them. ‘Honestly, can’t you see I’m busy making breakfast? What is it?’

  ‘I want you to come on the boat with Dad and me later today.’ ‘Me, going on a boat? I think not! Not in a m
illion years!’ She heckled a lone laugh and returned to the kitchen.

  ‘Oh go on, Mum,’ Michael pleaded. ‘It’d be nice to spend some time together as a family.’

  ‘We can spend time together as a family on dry land where no one will drown.’

  ‘Bella!’ Daniel cried. ‘Come on now, it’s been sixty years since your sister died. You’re going to have to get over it one day. She shouldn’t have been walking on that icy pond in the first place!’

  ‘No means no, Daniel!’

  ‘Mum, please!’

  ‘No!’ she snapped and turned on the hot water tap, collecting a dirty pan to scrub over their pleading.

  ‘Isabella. Please will you do this for your son? He wants to scatter Suzanne’s ashes over Lake Windermere!’

  Turning off the tap, she turned to look at the puppy-dog eyes of her two favourite men in her life.

  ‘Why Lake Windermere?’

  ‘Because the best moments of my life were up here. It’s where we got engaged, where we spent our honeymoon and it’s where our son was conceived. Jason loved it up here too. We loved our holidays here and, had she lived long enough, we’d have spent our retirement here too. This is where she should be.’

  ‘Couldn’t we scatter her over a lovely park?’ Isabella nodded to the children’s play area across the road.

  ‘Come on, Bella.’ Daniel snapped. ‘Do this for Michael, for Suzanne and Jason. How can you possibly turn this down?’

  Isabella stood up and placed a hand over Michael’s shoulder, gently patting it. ‘OK, son, OK.’

  *

  The seemingly still water held a palatable tide, brushing into the banks of Bowness. Scattered amongst the blue, wooded islands broke the path of Cumbria’s boating enthusiasts. A white sailboat disturbed the swans, gliding across to peck the legs of the youngsters on the cobbled shores.

  Pearl was a rustic wreck of a vehicle when Daniel purchased her six months before. With time and love, he spruced her up and changed her name. La Bella was now a fine thing. Inside, the cabin held a small kitchen, a sofa-bed and a lavatory. It also encased the petrified lady whom the vessel had been named after.