Kingdom
Page 27
For the first time in a long time I’m holding my father again, as tight as I can to try and stop him from slipping away. But we both knew that it was hopeless and when we’d accepted this, said goodbye and allowed him to leave, I just didn’t have time to mourn him. Getting out of that place had been the priority. I’d humped his body onto my shoulder and called to Rose and her mum to follow. I remember calling back every second step to make sure that they still had hold of Christine’s hand. It felt like we were climbing out of a volcano that night; so hot and steep the ascent, all the time Keltz raging and blazing somewhere deep in the earth behind us. Once outside I still couldn’t rest though because my work was far from over. As the women had huddled and consoled my sister I’d crept away into the woods to bury my father. I wish now that I had done things differently but then my fears were too many. That all this would be discovered, that Keltz would stumble after us and continue his onslaught, that I’d abandoned and condemned the others who, as I stood sobbing in the empty rain over my father’s body, I knew must still be inside the monsters lair. My terror of all these things had been too strong and so the course of action I chose was to swiftly deal with them all. I rang Stan, dragged him from his bed and told him to get to Hartford woods with his welding set as fast as he could. He’s a good man is Stan, didn’t ask why then and he hasn’t asked why since. Whilst I waited for him I buried dad. I used a piece of corrugated iron ripped from the side of the lab entrance to scrape a shallow grave in the soft ground beneath a nearby oak tree. I feel terrible again for what I did, feel now more like I disposed of a body rather than buried my father but it had to be done that way and it had to be done close to the door because I had to keep an eye on it, make sure nothing burst through. And once I’d put him in the ground it was my turn to go there, back into the monster’s lair to search for Hill and Jack and poor, innocent Jonathon.
I have no regrets about my actions that night when it comes to this. Some might say that I should have stepped from the bottom step instead of clinging to it. Those same armchair heroes might scorn me too if I told them that I never walked to the end of the light and into the dark tunnel’s beyond but instead stood at the bottom of the entrance shaft and shouted. But what would have been the point? My voice searched much faster and further during those few minutes than my legs could have ever done in an hour. There was no where for the sound to go, other than the distressed ears of anyone who might be trapped down there. And I swear on my father’s woodland grave that I heard nothing back that night, not even from Keltz. I knew that he had to be down there though, led deep into the mine by his blind rage. He probably came across and dealt with the others too, so savage was his hate for humanity then. That’s why they couldn’t answer me. It has to be this way. Nothing else makes sense or other wise they would have called back wouldn’t they? And as there is no other way out, as I’d heard for myself the threats from Keltz behind us as the girls and I had made our escape, then he had to have been still down there when Stan welded the door and sealed his carbon tomb. Yes, this is how it was, no doubt. I’ve taken a lot of solace from this knowledge over the past year, even daring to hope that Keltz is perhaps still clinging to some kind of life in the mine and enduring that most feared of silkie deaths; a slow rotting hell trapped behind Donald’s smashed eyes.
And now it is time to go, back to the manor and my own idea of hell; three stressed out women and a wedding to organize!
‘Lloyd, Bruce, come on lads. Time for home boys.’
Bruce is soon here, bursting through the bushes to heel but Lloyd isn’t with him.
‘Lloyd!’
It’s unusual for him, not to be first back. I stand quietly, listening hard but there’s no rustle of mischief in the woods, no bark to let me know he’s heard my voice.
‘Lloyd come here now!’
Still nothing. I’m starting to worry. Instinctively my eyes scan the weld again. Is that what I think it is? No, it can’t be, please god no! Oh but it is. It’s a crack, a tiny hairline crack snaking to the edge from where the keyhole has been filled. Oh please no, surely not, not today of all days! Is it? I rush forward and with immeasurable relief rub the thin line of black mould away. Then, as my heightened nerves spin me quickly to check my back, I notice Lloyd sat quietly beneath a nearby oak tree. His eyes are closed and laid on the ground at his feet is a bundle of half chewed daffodils. I’m overwhelmed by what I see, emotions rising through me so fast that I’m barely able to express my appreciation.
‘Thanks Setantii, that’s a nice thing you’ve done.’
Finally, my father has the tears he deserves.