by Adam Grinter
Five months and three weeks into his stay he got an interview. He travelled to Manchester by train and sat in front of a gentleman who was judging him for different reasons than he was used to.
The phone-call came a week later. He had got the job as handy man at Auden House Old People’s Home. He punched the air in delight when he hung up the phone. His Mother congratulated him profusely.
Peter visited that night and John told him he was moving away. Peter cried.
Their final conversation finished with John saying. “Promise you’ll help them.”
Peter looked confused.
“Who?” He asked.
“Anyone.” John clarified. “If they need your help, give it. Whatever you can do to make it easier for someone else.”
Peter looked slightly confused, but he nodded his agreement.
“Say the words.” John demanded.
“I promise.” Peter returned, shocked at the tone of voice his friend had used.
John smiled at his acquiescence.
Peter saw him off at the station and told him he would visit him soon. Mother told him he wouldn’t see Peter again, but he shouldn’t be sad because Peter would be fine as long as he kept his promise.
John waved at Peter from the window as the train pulled away from the platform and motored John onto his new life.
Chapter Sixteen
We headed towards the M6 heading South in silence. We had a destination, we had a target, we had a purpose.
The drive Southwards was taken at speed. We were getting closer.
My words came back to me – closing in.
We passed Blackpool almost as a blur and kept going.
The silence between us grew as our determination did the same.
#
We arrived in Manchester at seven that night. Our final step to Audenshaw would have to wait until the following morning.
We found a local hotel and our regular evening routine returned.
We sat contentedly after our evening meal. We could do no more. We resigned ourselves to an evening together.
“What are we going to do with him if he’s still there?” I asked.
“I have not thought that far.” Maria answered not unreasonably.
The search had so consumed our time, it had become a purpose in and of itself. Now we were fulfilling that, we needed to think of the next step.
“We need take him to Father William. I think.” Said Maria.
I agreed but another question dawned on me.
“Why?”
Maria paused before she answered.
“I don’t know, but hopefully we find out tomorrow.”
#
The following morning, we sat in the dining room eating breakfast. Both conscious of the time. Filling the empty minutes until we could leave.
Despite the calm facade we were trying to present we were both tense, excited, and ready to go.
We’d checked out of our rooms and loaded our bags into the car. We were coiled and ready to spring into action.
At nine-fifteen we could contain ourselves no longer, we rose from the table almost simultaneously. We knew why without needing to ask the other. We piled into the car and headed out.
Audenshaw was a sleepy suburb at nine-forty-five in the morning. I could imagine the jams as the morning and evening commute and school runs collided on its narrow roads. I was glad we’d waited for the rush to subside.
The sun was still low in the sky and I was temporarily blinded as I pulled into Auden House car park. I stopped the car and allowed my eyes to recover. The glare diminished, I saw an empty space and pulled in.
We got out and headed to the front entrance. After the search we’d undertaken the nerves started to reappear. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach and I glanced across at Maria. I could see the determination coupled with apprehension on her face. I assumed as she glanced at me I was showing the same.
My side ached and I focused on the discomfort rather than the palpitations my nerves were putting me through.
We entered the building and my eyes slowly adjusted to the change in light. I could see a corridor stretching off to my right and its mirror image to my left. There was a reception desk opposite the main door, so Maria and I approached.
A receptionist in her early twenties sat behind the counter, studying her nails as we reached the desk. She looked up at us with an expression of quizzical wonder at our magical appearance in front of her. There was a touch of inconvenience in her wide-eyed bewilderment as if our sudden apparition had interrupted her from a very important task. She caught herself as she realised it was her job to answer questions and deal with the general public.
Her face was covered by a thick layer of cosmetics. Her make-up masked what should have been an attractive face, it was round and she had wide blue eyes. Her bright red lipstick focused your gaze on her lips, to a distracting degree, when she should have highlighted her eyes with their long lashes.
“Hi there.” I said cheerfully.
She smiled and her scarlet lips parted to reveal two rows of sparkling white teeth. Maybe her decision to accentuate her lips wasn’t a mistake as her whole face lit up with the small movement.
“We’re looking for a guy who works here.” I kept my tone and language light, as I had with Peter. I knew we had no rights here, we weren’t the police, we couldn’t just barge in, demanding what we wanted. “John Byrne.”
Her smile widened even further at the mention of his name. Her eyes sparkled and there was almost a radiance to them. He was obviously someone she liked very much.
She didn’t say a word, she sat smiling and glowing for a couple of seconds before she shook her head almost imperceptibly to rouse herself from a daydream. She refocused her gaze back to us and asked, not unreasonably, “Why?”
This was the question that continued to puzzle me. Why were we looking for John? The answer was still seemed ridiculous. We believed his birth was prophesied and we need to find out why. No one would believe us.
It was Maria who fell back on the old police adage; say nothing with the most number of words.
“His name come up in an investigation we’ve been doing.” It sounded official, it made us sound as if we had some sort of authority. Most people don’t question authority.
“Oh.” An acceptance of the words, a typical response. “He should be in the TV room, he normally is at this time.”
“Can we?” I asked letting her have the moment of power to let us through. I felt allowing people the opportunity to say no made them happier with the yes they gave, even if human nature had guided them towards that inevitable outcome.
“Of course, down the hall, last door on the right.” She gestured down the corridor to our left.
“Thanks.” I said genuinely. We turned and walked away from the counter.
The last door on the right was ajar and we could hear a television through the gap. The blare of a theme tune that was familiar to the home bound.
Maria and I paused and took a deep breath. The smell of the resident’s breakfast still hung lightly in the air. Combined with the morning aroma of soap and deodorants they almost covered the scent of incontinence and medication.
I took the lead and fully pushed open the door. We followed it into the beige decorated open space. Green padded chairs dotted the room, many were occupied by residents. Some were staring into space, some were sleeping and a couple of them were actually paying attention to the large television in the far corner. One occupant of the chairs was in an animated conversation with a young man who was kneeling in front of him.
We headed over to him, He was the only likely candidate for John in the room. As we reached him, he stood and looked us both in the eyes. There was an intensity to his gaze that made me feel as if he was able see through any lies we might want to tell him about who we were.
Before we could say anything, John offered his hand for me to shake and said, “Thomas, Maria I’ve been expecting you.”
Ruth
John threw himself into his job as handy-man/caretaker at Auden House, very quickly he’d proved his worth. He fixed the lights, he put up shelves, he helped in whatever way was needed. He never complained, he always smiled when asked to do something and he completed everything in a timely fashion.
After a year of mending and fixing behind the scenes he was asked to replace the fluorescent lighting tubes in the TV room. He walked in with his ladder, a couple of boxes under his arm and he started the job. One of the residents looked up at him as he worked and Mother told him, ‘go to her, help her.’
He climbed down the ladder and approached the elderly lady. He knelt down beside her chair and put his hand on hers. She grasped it hard, with a strength John wouldn’t have thought she possessed considering how frail she looked.
“Oh, John it’s so hard.” She croaked.
“What is?” John whispered.
“Dying.” She said solemnly.
‘Give her peace.’ Mother told him.
“I’m here.” He reassured her, not sure what else to say.
He knelt next to her, holding her hand for two hours while her breathing slowed. Nurses fussed around him and tried to help her. With her strength fading and her eyes dimming she shooed them all away. She told them she was at peace now, her time had come, leave her be. The nurses emptied the room until there was only the two of them holding hands in the middle.
John knew the nurses were just outside the door. They hadn’t quite shut it properly and he could see indistinct shadows moving about in the hallway outside.
Her breathing eventually stopped and she was at peace at last. John hoped he’d eased her final moments, she’d felt the love he had tried to impart through the softly spoken words he babbled while she passed away.
He gently removed his hand from hers. On legs that were slightly unsteady, after two hours of kneeling, he opened the door and allowed the nurses to remove her body.
That night in his tiny bedsit, he cried. His Mother comforted him and told him the lady had been at peace when she’d passed over.
John wailed and moaned about how unfair it was, she was a nice old lady, she didn’t deserve to die. Mother told him everyone dies. It might not seem fair but there is a plan, he just can’t see it all from where he is now. She told him the lady, Ruth, wanted to tell John what a help he had been. This brought him some peace, he knew Mother wouldn’t lie to him. He accepted the pain to himself as a trade off with the comfort he’d given Ruth.
Over the following year John connected with the residents on a level he never had before. He spoke to them, he tried to help them in other ways than just maintenance. If they needed something, he tried to anticipate this and provide for them. Blankets, pillows, emotional support and just being company for many of the lonely, isolated residents. He held their hands, he listened to their stories, he gave his time to them. He became indispensable to the home. His work was exemplary, his interaction with the staff was fabulous. He was well liked, but his relationship with the residents was second to none. He always knew what to say, what to do, what to provide. He would always talk to them, always make time for them. They were never a burden, never a drag on him. He loved them and they loved him.
At last he had discovered his place.
Mother would still talk to him and encourage him to help wherever he could. However, it had become second nature to him. He would help without needing to be prompted.
The owners of the home were very happy with all he was doing. The residents were happy, the staff were happy and the home was running smoothly.
Awards followed and Auden House was consistently ranked in the top care facilities in Manchester. A fact that went unnoticed by all, apart from the owners, was the length of stay within the home had lengthened. The average age of the residents when they passed had gone up. The residents of the home were living on average three years longer than the UK as a whole.
All was going well for John.
All was going well for Auden House.
Then six weeks ago things changed.
Mother’s tone changed, her messages changed.
‘Thomas is coming.’ Mother told John. It wasn’t said as a threat it was an announcement of a visitor. She told him he needed to be ready when Thomas arrived.
Three weeks ago, he was told, ‘Maria will be with Thomas.’ Mother told him he would need to go with them when they arrived.
He carried on as normal and then Mother told him to quit his job. She gave him the date he needed to leave. He was a good boy so did as he was told. The owners had begged John to stay. They offered him a raise, they offered him all sorts of other things in the hope he would change his mind. John, however, wasn’t persuaded by their inducements. Mother had given him an instruction and he needed to do as he was told.
He woke up on his last day at the home and Mother told him, ‘Thomas and Maria will be here today, this is the beginning of your new life.’
John didn’t fully understand, but he was ready to meet his destiny.
Chapter Seventeen
Maria and I couldn’t hide our shock at being greeted by name.
“Have … Have you spoken to Peter?” I stammered.
“Not for a couple of years.” John replied completely calmly. “How is he?”
“He’s fine. He said he kept his promise.” I babbled, unsure of myself and how best to proceed. Everything about this search had put me off balance.
“I knew he would.” John said wistfully.
I paused and tried to regain my composure, John had caught us by surprise. I needed a clear head now to work out what this was all about. I allowed the ache in my side to wash over me, I was used to it so didn’t let it consume me. I used it as a concentration cleanser, something to take my mind off current difficulties and refocus on the more important things.
“Can we go somewhere to talk?” I asked trying to buy a bit of time for myself.
“Of course.” John replied very calmly as if all this was normal. He walked towards the door, we followed behind not sure what to make of him. He wasn’t phased by our arrival, he hadn’t asked what we wanted from him. He just accepted our arrival as a normal part of his day.
Peter had been right, there was something about him. He was spot-on, the word aura was too wishy-washy and didn’t do him justice with all its new age connotations. He had a stillness, a calmness, a sincerity that drew you to him. He was definitely very interesting.
We arrived at the staff’s break room. It was built for function rather than comfort with a kettle, microwave, fridge and sink. The table was typical break room fare and the Formica chairs didn’t encourage long periods of sitting. Maria and I sat while John opened a cupboard, pulled out a couple of mugs. He glided around his familiar surroundings and put the already full kettle on to boil.
I couldn’t take my eyes off him as he moved around the small kitchen area. This was the man I had travelled half-way round the world to find and now here I was in his presence. I glanced at Maria in the hope she could give me some sort of clue how to proceed but she looked as confused as I felt.
I studied him as he moved, the ordinariness of his movements and the mundanity of the task he was performing were in stark contrast to the inner peace that emanated from him.
He looked like a typical mid-twenties young man. He was dressed in jeans and check shirt. His hair was mousey-brown and cut short. His face was unremarkable, clean shaven, neither ugly nor beautiful; he would blend into a crowd very easily.
Maria and I sat in silence while John made us a cup of tea. He placed our mugs in front of us and put a bag of sugar in the centre of the table.
“Sorry for that.” He gestured at the tatty, half full bag.
Maria and I waved away his apology and reached for our unsweetened drinks.
The mug was hot in my hands and I quickly put it back down on the table, Maria did the same. John sat opposite us at the table and waited for us to get comfortable and tell him
what we wanted him for.
“So, John,” I started, trying to keep my tone conversational, “how did you know we were coming?”
“Someone told me.” His voice was deep and resonant but there was a musical quality to the tone that reminded me of a high bass from a male voice choir.
The statement demanded a follow-up question, but I didn’t want to push him, having just met him. I felt pushing him too hard at this point may put up barriers that would be difficult to break down in the future. It might jeopardise what we needed from him, even if we were unsure what that was at this moment.
My side ached which allowed me to focus on John and the task at hand. I must have grimaced at the pain because John asked, “Thomas, are you OK?”
“I’m fine John.” I replied. John didn’t push any harder, but I could see genuine concern for me in his eyes.
Maria broke the silence that had briefly fallen on the room. “So, John, your mother died giving you birth and you grew in care at Jimmy’s in Penrith.” She had taken out a notebook and was reading from it. I knew she knew by heart, the brief history of John we had discovered. I saw she was returning to police procedures; establishing facts and making sure we had the correct man.
“Yes.” John’s answer seemed anti-climactic, but it meant we had the right man.
“You were arrested at eighteen?” Maria continued reading from her notes.
“Yes, it was a misunderstanding. They released me the next day when they realised I’d done nothing wrong.” There was no anger or resentment in his tone it was just a simple statement of fact. “Gemma got hurt on a night out and the man that did it said it was me, but the police worked it out.” There was something very childlike and naive in the way he recounted the incident.
“Your friend Peter told, you were here.” Maria had summarised our search in three sentences and when I analysed what we’d done, the journey I’d been on, I felt slightly disappointed that was all it warranted.
Maria’s statement didn’t demand an answer and John sat with a small contented smile on his face as he studied both Maria and myself. I found it strange he hadn’t asked why we’d been looking for him.