Luke Adams Boxset 1

by Dawson, H A

  The group mainly consisted of older folks, presumably Janet’s friends from the community centre, but no one was familiar. Periodically she peered through her fringe at the strangers, searching the faces for her mother. But, she was not brave enough to question their connection, and none seemed concerned by her presence. She assumed that her mother would appear uneasy, and twitch and shuffle, or make uncomfortable attempts at conversion. No one did either, and no one fitted the description Leanne held in her mind.

  Once guided to the pews in the small room, she sat down, said a quiet prayer, and waited; her back was straight, her feet were together, and her hands grasping her black bag. At the front was the coffin. Burdened with grief, she stared, waiting for the ceremony to begin.

  Her conscious mind faded in and out, as the proceedings continued. She drifted through moments of Janet’s life to Phillip’s, their funerals combining in her mind. Tears welled, her hands shook, and her chest tightened. Her husband should have been here; he was her future. It was a sad reflection of what her life had become.

  Tyler reached for her hand and squeezed. She peered at him out of her eye corner, and at his young face that displayed immense composure, and her lips wobbled and her tears overflowed, streaming down her cheeks in waves. She reached into her pocket for a tissue, wiped her nose and urged her breathing to slow. Then she smiled. A concerned frown was all he could manage.

  What must he be going through? He had also lost two of the three most important people in his life and he did not have the benefit of age and experience as an aid. Even so, he seemed to be coping admirably, more so than she. Gathering her strength, determined to provide Tyler with the support he should be receiving, Leanne blanketed her sorrow and listened to the eulogy.

  The coffin disappeared from view and a little while later, the proceedings ended, the finale of her grandmother’s life now complete. Then, with Tyler in tow, Leanne headed out of the room where she received more condolences - the most common being Janet’s good age upon death - yet it provided her with little consolation, and bitterness crept into her heart. Just because her grandmother was in her eighties, it didn’t make her passing easier to accept. She had been her entire family. Did no one realise?

  She turned to Tyler, ready to announce their departure, but she stopped and hesitated, unexpectedly saddened that he had richer family connections than she had. Fearing that he would want to strengthen those ties, her heart plummeted. But when she looked to his milky skin and silky blond hair and saw his maturity emerging, she realised there and then that she could not deny him a better future however hard it may be for her. He was her son and he deserved the best.

  ‘Ready to go?’ Leanne asked.

  Tyler nodded

  Outside, there was a drizzle of rain and a cooling wind, and a chill enveloped her, so she pressed her arms to her body and placed her hands into her pockets. The air whipped up and her hair danced, floating across her face and blocking her view. Brushing it aside, she increased her pace and climbed inside the car.

  ‘I hope it wasn’t too bad,’ she said.

  ‘It wasn’t as bad as Dad’s.’

  ‘No, it wasn’t.’

  ‘It was different . . . a different set of people, a different atmosphere.’

  ‘Phillip was young and in good health. It was a shock for everyone.’

  She indicated left and turned onto the main highway, heading through the early afternoon traffic. ‘How are you coping?’

  ‘Okay, I guess.’

  ‘You handled yourself well in there. I’m proud of you.’

  Tyler was gazing out of the side window.

  ‘You know you can always talk to me about how you feel, don’t you?’

  He remained silent. She focused on driving, careful to stick to the speed limit as the clouds darkened and the rain increased, streaking across the windscreen. For some reason, she felt stronger now that the funeral was over, much better than she thought she would have felt days previous.

  After Janet’s death, Leanne’s relief had been almost immediate and it had taken her by surprise. To justify her guilt she told herself that she had cried endlessly during the preceding days, and somehow must have already processed her passing. Yet she still felt shame and forced her heavy heart to rise and encouraged her newfound energy to subside.

  It could have been that she was subconsciously comparing Janet’s demise to Phillip’s, yet they could never be the same. The love she had for her husband could not be surpassed; they had been devoted, and talked for hours at a time, sharing pastimes and points of view. There was rarely friction between them, and right now, as she drove closer to her home, she could not recall a single fault. He was a perfect man, husband, and father.

  Her chest swelled. She fought her bubbling grief. Tyler was what mattered now. He needed to see her coping and happy.

  ‘We’ve been through a lot these last few months,’ she said, ‘I think we need to start enjoying ourselves a bit more.’

  He looked at her, his expression blank.

  ‘How about a holiday at half-term?’

  ‘Could do.’

  ‘I thought you’d be a bit more enthusiastic. Are you too old to spend time with your poor old mum?’

  ‘Course not, it’s just . . . ’

  His voice trailed. There was anxiety in his eyes. She kept glancing at him as she drove, urging him to speak.

  ‘Darren’s asked me to stay,’ he said.

  She held her breath. ‘Okay.’

  ‘I’d like to get to know him.’

  ‘If that’s what you want.’

  ‘You don’t mind?’

  Leanne’s heart hammered and her blood pounded through her veins. She would be alone and wanted nothing more than to tie him to her side and force him to find happiness with her and her alone. Yet Janet’s plea rang inside her head. She gathered her strength and forced the right words forward. ‘You should do it if it’s what you want.’

  She turned along the road leading to her home, passing a few parked cars, a teenage girl with a dog, and an electricity van, and fought the loneliness in her mind. She had few friends to turn to and imagined long evenings and weekends alone. She would soon grow bored of reading and doing jigsaw puzzles, her usual hobbies, and would count the hours until she could return to work.

  ‘I won’t go if you don’t want me to,’ Tyler said.

  She reversed the car into the drive, turned off the engine and turned to face her son. ‘I’ll miss you, but I know it’s important to you.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Of course, I’m sure, but I’ll want daily reports, and don’t forget, if you're unhappy, even in the slightest, you ring and I’ll be straight there. Deal?’

  ‘Deal. Thanks, Mum.’

  She watched him leave. The years had passed quickly, and it seemed only yesterday that she fulfilled his every whim as he toddled around the garden demanding her attention. He had needed her help with the most basic of tasks, as well as for guidance and discipline. Now he was grown up and needed for nothing.

  Desolate and forlorn, Leanne trudged to the house, her body sinking and her mind tiring. Her decision to appear chirpy now seemed like a monumental task, and she could neither force a smile to her face nor banish the dark clouds that gathered inside her head.

  ‘Want a tea or coffee?’ she asked Tyler, as she stepped into the kitchen.

  ‘No thanks.’

  She filled the kettle with what seemed like a meagre amount of water and slumped onto a chair, waiting for it to boil. Laughter and banter filled her ears as she glanced across the table to where Phillip and Janet’s figures once resided. Phillip would make witty remarks, often commenting on someone’s misfortune, and Janet would cackle. She thought him mischievous; she loved him as the son she never had.

  The kettle switched itself off and then there was silence. Loneliness pressed into her, compounding her anguish and torment. She shuddered. She wanted a companion.

  Was there any chance
her mother could be alive? It seemed as though Janet had forced her to stay away, but why would she do such a thing? And why would she lie? Janet had deceived her in the most atrocious way, waiting until her last breath to detach herself from her guilt. She should have told her sooner and explained what had happened. What had she been thinking and would she ever learn the truth behind her silence?

  As the days past, Leanne’s desire to search for her mother ebbed and flowed. She knew nothing about her except her name and did not have a clue where to start looking. And why should she? Her mother had never attempted to make contact with her, and so intentionally or otherwise, she had made her feelings clear. A relationship was never going to grow and develop.

  Yet she could not help but wonder what had caused her mother and grandmother to fall out in such an unambiguous way, and she searched her mind for possibilities so appalling that she could not deny the outcome. It was a pointless task; she knew almost nothing about Janet’s younger days and nothing about her relationship with her daughter.

  During Leanne’s youth, she had asked Janet about her mother, only to learn she had died in an accident when Leanne was five. It was evident now, as the memories started to form clear images in her mind that Janet had been guarded whenever the subject arose, ultimately causing her to push her concerns aside. She should have pursued it further. She should have realised Janet had been lying and should not have trusted her so implicitly.

  Frustrated, she stomped upstairs to Janet’s room and sifted through her belongings for evidence. More than anything, she wanted to prove Janet’s confusion, and find a death certificate, a newspaper article, or anything to show that her mother had in fact died. The alternative, the lie, was too difficult to contemplate.

  She opened drawers and found clothes, books, jewellery and perfumes. Realising that she should be bagging it, she returned downstairs, grabbed a couple of large bin liners from a kitchen drawer and returned to the room. With a heavy heart, she disposed of the underwear and then sifted through her selection of blouses; some were ragged and worn, others were almost new. She separated them into two bags, one for the tip and the other for the charity shop, and then continued to look through the skirts.

  The bags filled within minutes. She stared at them, her grief mounting and aware that soon there would be nothing left of Janet’s life. She would fade into insignificance; her friends would forget her, her achievements forgotten. People would carry on as though she never mattered, as though her life was unimportant.

  Leanne’s enthusiasm to continue her task was draining. She opened another wardrobe door, searching for more clothes to sort through, and fingered the piles of jumpers at the base. Then she hit something firm. It was a small wooden box.

  Having retrieved it, Leanne sat on the edge of the bed with it on her lap and prised it open. Upon first glance were an assortment of documents and loose sheets of paper. The first piece out was one of her school reports. She placed it to one side and reached for a folded sheet of paper. It was a love letter to Roy, her grandmother’s husband, and it was dated 1949.

  Leanne read it and experienced a surge of tenderness. Roy had died of heart failure almost ten years previous. She had loved him as a father and had many fond memories - the most prevalent were their conversations of the paranormal from psychic experiences to vampires and lake monsters. The subject fascinated her and it had been easy to trigger her curiosity. However, Janet wasn’t appreciative of the discussion, and ruthlessly ended every conversation with a harsh comment or a stony glare, reprimanding them both with regularity. Undeterred, they had held secret discussions, often passing knowing glances and chuckling under their breath.

  Roy had been an easy-going man and candid about his likes and dislikes, his mistakes and his achievements. Janet, on the other hand, said little, and always seemed shielded. Yet they shared one decision; they had both disowned Karen, their daughter. Why did they never speak of her? The life before her so-called death was a subject off limits.

  Leanne continued to sift through the papers, but there was little to indicate that Karen had ever existed, and most of the items in the box were her own, drawings and suchlike from her childhood. Then, at the bottom, she spotted an envelope, and with expectations rising, she removed a photograph.

  Her heart leapt. Before her was a detached country house, and in front of it were a couple and three children. She flicked it over. It was dated 1942. It said nothing else. Who were they? Was one of the girls her grandmother?

  Memories crept towards Leanne from the depth of her mind. It was a farm, they all worked the land, and once upon a time, she had lived there too. She could visualise herself running through the fields with the sunshine upon her skin and the light wind caressing her face. They were happy times.

  Tyler appeared in the doorway.

  She lifted her head. ‘Hello love.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Just a photo.’ She handed it across.

  ‘Who are these people?’

  ‘I think they must be gran’s family.’

  ‘Which one’s Gran?’

  ‘Maybe the one of the left, I’m not sure.’

  He studied the photo.

  ‘I think it was a farmhouse,’ she continued. ‘I think I lived there too when I was young.’

  ‘Why did you all move to the city?’

  She placed the photo back into the envelope and puffed out. ‘There’s such a lot I don’t know about my grandparents. I wish I’d asked more questions.’

  ‘I once asked her about her childhood . . . years ago. She was sharp with me.’

  ‘I’m sorry. Did it upset you?’

  ‘A bit,’ he replied.

  ‘She didn’t like to talk about it. I think it had something to do with her upbringing. People were much more private back in those days . . . although having said that they were things troubling her.’ She knotted her hands wondering what to say. ‘Before she died she told me my mother was still alive.’

  ‘Alive?’

  ‘That’s what she said . . . she was confused and it didn’t make much sense.’

  ‘How could she keep something like that from you?’

  She hesitated. ‘It might not be true.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She paused thoughtfully. ‘She’s had her chance to contact me but never made the effort. It might not be worth the effort of tracking her down.’

  Tyler stood with his legs apart and his hands in his pockets. He seemed to be scrutinising her, or maybe just pondering something.

  ‘What is it you wanted? I doubt you came in here for a chat,’ she said.

  ‘I’ve just spoken with Darren and confirmed I’ll be staying there. He’s going to pick me up on Saturday morning.’

  ‘Okay.’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘I’m not sure if I should go.’

  ‘Have you changed your mind?’

  ‘No. It’s just that . . . well . . . will you be okay?’

  She placed her hands on his upper arms. ‘What did I do to deserve such a wonderful son?’

  ‘Stop it, Mum, you’re embarrassing me.’

  Cringing, he turned and left, heading back to his room.

  Briefly, he turned his head. ‘You should look for your mum. It could be just what you need.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘There could be all kinds of reasons why she hasn’t contacted you . . . maybe she’s been out of the country.’

  He stepped into his room.

  Was that what Darren had been telling him? Was he filling him with lies? She rushed along the landing, her anxieties ready to burst through her skin, but as she reached the doorway, she heard Janet’s voice. ‘Promise me you’ll let him go,’ she had said. Leanne shuffled back to her grandmother’s room and dropped onto the bed. Tyler was ready to start a new chapter in his life. Was she willing to do the same?

  As the start of half term neared, her pounding heart seemed to get louder, dreading the m
oment when Tyler walked out of the house and into someone else’s life. It was selfish to want him all to herself and wrong to hold him back, but that was what she wanted to do. The promise to Janet, along with her fluctuating resolve to provide him with better opportunities than what she had maintained her silence.

  Thoughts of loneliness scurried through her days and she wondered how she would cope with an empty house. With no one else to care for, she would find herself alone with her ponderings, dwelling on the loss of her grandmother and husband, along with the lies told. She would cry bitter tears and scrutinise the past, searching for more evidence of betrayal. She would wonder what could have been. It would be unhealthy. It could be unstoppable.

  Janet should have told her about Karen years ago. What else had been withheld? What other untruths had she told? She didn’t want to be angry with her grandmother, but her world was falling apart and it was growing ever more difficult to maintain calmness and clarity. With no other family members to talk it through with, she feared the truth would remain hidden and her unrest would remain.

  Saturday morning arrived, and she awoke after having had a restless night’s sleep, burdened with grief and with visions of solitude. She tried to appear happy, forcing a smile to her face and a chirpy tone to her voice, and disguised her sadness. Tyler became her focus.

  Together, they went through the contents of this bag and checked he had enough clothes, money, and items to keep him amused during his stay. She sensed he was nervous, but he never spoke of his fears, only the days out they had planned. They were to visit various cities, the coast, and amusement parks, where he could get to know his new family in a more relaxed atmosphere. It sounded like he would enjoy himself, providing he could get on with everyone. He was young and had the innocence of youth on his side, and was without the qualms she would carry if she were in his position.