Mr Sparks

by Danny Weston

  ‘But that doesn’t make it right!’ protested Owen.

  ‘I’m not saying it does. But I look back at the things that have happened in my life and I can see that it is like a set of er … how do you call them? The little black things. The game? Dom … dom …’

  ‘Dominoes?’ suggested Owen.

  ‘Oui! You stand them in a line and you knock one over … and down they go, one after another, right to the very end of the line. Maybe our lives are like that. Take out one domino and the chain stops. You do not meet Mr Sparks. Otto doesn’t die. And you don’t end up here! Maybe Charlie is one of the dominoes. Maybe we should not take him out of the line. Besides …’ He glanced back at Da again. ‘I have a feeling he could help your father.’

  ‘Charlie? Help him? How?’

  ‘There is something he has. A gift. It is called mesmerism.’

  ‘Oh yes, I know all about that,’ said Owen. ‘I saw him use it on Mr Schilling once. He just … said some words that sort of put him to sleep. It’s the same thing you do to Mr Sparks.’

  ‘Yes, but that is just a little trick that Otto taught me, some words that he managed to plant at the back of Mr Sparks’ mind, without him knowing. It’s funny when you think about it, because I know that Charlie did the same to Otto. They could put each other to sleep, but neither of them ever knew that the other could do the same thing. So one time Otto told me the string of words he’d planted in Charlie’s mind, in case I ever needed it. That is the full extent of my skills. But Mr Sparks, he is an expert. And there is another way he can use this gift of his. I have seen him do this once before. He makes a person go into a kind of … I don’t know the English word for this, but it is as if they go back in time … in their heads. I saw him do it once with my father. Papa was very forgetful when he grew old and one time, when Charlie and Otto were visiting us, my father forgot where he had hidden something, the key to the safe. Charlie was able to take him back in his mind so he could remember where he had put it.’

  Owen frowned. ‘So … you’re saying that maybe he could mesmerise Da and help him remember what happened to him?’

  ‘It’s just an idea. But it could work.’

  ‘But …’ Owen lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘What’s Da going to think when he sees Mr Sparks?’

  Gerard made a face. ‘That, I cannot say.’ Gerard glanced back over his shoulder. ‘You all right back there?’ he asked.

  Da glowered at him. ‘Where are you taking me?’ he asked.

  ‘We’re going to my cottage,’ said Gerard. ‘We’ll have something to eat and a good cup of coffee. Then you’ll feel better.’

  ‘I don’t like leaving Dominic and Claude,’ he said. ‘They need my help on that road.’

  ‘They said it was fine,’ Gerard assured him. ‘They were happy to let you come with us. Don’t you want to find out more about your son?’

  ‘I don’t have a son,’ said Da.

  ‘Of course you do! This boy is your son. You just don’t remember him.’ Gerard studied Da for a moment. ‘What do you remember?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t remember anything.’

  ‘Of course you do. There must be something.’

  Da thought for a moment. ‘The sea,’ he said at last. ‘Grey … rainy … and something sticking out into the sea. I dream about it sometimes.’

  ‘The pier!’ exclaimed Owen. ‘Llandudno pier. It’s where we lived. Before you went away to war.’

  Da frowned, shook his head. ‘I don’t remember,’ he said. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘That’s all right,’ said Owen, but he couldn’t hide his disappointment. He turned to look at the way ahead.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Gerard assured him. ‘We’ll find a way to make him remember.’

  But they didn’t. Once back at the cottage, they sat at the table with bowls of stew and as they ate, they talked to Da, asked him questions, tried to come up with things that might possibly jog his memory. But he just sat there, looking miserable, answering monosyllabically, giving the impression that he’d rather be anywhere else but here. The day moved into afternoon and afternoon turned into evening and they felt they were getting precisely nowhere. Night-time came, and still Da could remember nothing but the sea. Finally, Gerard whispered to Owen that maybe they should try the idea he had put forward in the carriage on the way home. Owen didn’t like the sound of it. He was worried that Mr Sparks’ appearance might serve to tip Da over the edge into madness, just as it had with Ma. But he didn’t know what else to try.

  ‘You fetch him,’ he whispered at last. ‘Wake him up and tell him what we want him to do before you bring him in here. I don’t want him messing about and frightening Da.’

  Gerard nodded. He got up from his chair and went out of the room. Da looked at Owen suspiciously. ‘Where’s he going?’ he muttered.

  ‘He’s just gone to get something,’ Owen assured him. ‘Something we think might help you remember.’

  Da snorted. ‘I think I should be going soon,’ he said. ‘It’s getting late.’

  ‘Why would you want to leave?’ Owen asked him. ‘It’s warm here. There’s a place where you can sleep.’

  ‘I’ve got my own place,’ Da assured him. He made a sound of exasperation. ‘Look, lad,’ he said, ‘I understand what you’re trying to do here. You say you’re my boy and I’m sure you have no reason to lie about it. But if I can’t remember you, then what’s the point of any of this? We may as well just say “Forget it” and let me move on with my life.’

  ‘But we can’t do that! What about Ma?’

  ‘What about her? From what you’ve told me, she thinks I’m dead anyway.’

  ‘But she never gave up hope that you’d come back one day. It’s all she ever talks about. Why have you given up on it?’

  Da shook his head. ‘You have to understand,’ he said. ‘I’ve been living in a fog for over a year. Don’t you think I’ve wanted to remember? Don’t you think I’ve tried. But there’s nothing there, nothing I can hang onto.’

  ‘But you remember the pier at Llandudno. Doesn’t that tell you something?’

  ‘Who’s to say that’s what it is? It’s just the sea … that could be anywhere.’

  Just then the door opened and Gerard came in, carrying Mr Sparks.

  ‘Hello, hello, hello!’ said Mr Sparks. ‘Who have we got here then?’

  Da sat up in his chair. ‘What the hell is that thing?’

  ‘Oh, that’s charming,’ said Mr Sparks. ‘Didn’t they teach you anything at school? Like good manners?’ He turned his head to look up at Gerard. ‘Here, pop me on Owie Bowie’s knee,’ he suggested. ‘I’m dying to have a chinwag with his dear old dad.’

  ‘Whatever you say.’ Gerard carried Mr Sparks across to Owen and sat him in the boy’s lap. Then he stepped back and took a seat on the far side of the kitchen table.

  Mr Sparks looked up at Owen for a moment. ‘I knew you wouldn’t leave me like that,’ he said. ‘You care too much about me.’

  ‘Don’t flatter yourself,’ muttered Owen. ‘It’s only because we need your help.’ He looked at Mr Sparks. ‘Well?’ he said. ‘I’m waiting.’

  ‘Ooh, you’re a hard case!’ Mr Sparks swivelled his head to look at Da. ‘So,’ he said. ‘Gareth, I believe they call you. Another Welsh name. What’s this I hear about you refusing to remember anything?’

  Da allowed himself a thin smile. He looked at Owen. ‘That’s good,’ he admitted grudgingly. ‘Bit of a hobby, is it?’

  ‘How dare you?’ shrieked Mr Sparks. ‘I’m not anybody’s hobby, I’m my own man entirely. Don’t be looking at him, sunshine, I’m the one doing all the work! Now then, I want you to look into my eyes …’

  ‘Why?’ muttered Da.

  ‘I’ll tell you why, Gareth, and believe me, I don’t say this to a lot of people. When I was made, the man who carved me, Lucien Lacombe, he made a tiny mistake. He made one of my eyes, a teeny weeny bit smaller than the other. Can you see which one it is?’

 
‘The … the left one?’ muttered Da. He was staring back at Mr Sparks now, his expression vacant.

  ‘And … I don’t know if you can see this, Gareth, but one of them is a slightly different colour to the other. One of them is clear blue, but the other is a kind of bluey green. Can you see which one that is?’

  ‘I … er …’

  Mr Sparks’ voice seemed to getting lower in tone with each sentence he said. ‘Now then, Gareth. You and me. Me and you. We’re going to go on a little trip. Together. We’re going to go back to before you had that scar on your head. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Da quietly.

  ‘You’re going to tell me what happened to you. You’re going to describe everything in detail, as it happens. Because it will be as though you’re back there. You’ll describe every little thing. Will you do that for me, Gareth?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good. Now, hold on just a moment. Will you wait right there for me?’

  ‘Yes.’ Da slumped slightly in his seat, his head drooping forward onto his chest.

  Mr Sparks turned his head and waggled his eyelids at Owen. ‘Piece of cake,’ he said. ‘We’ve got him right where we want him. He’ll tell us everything we need to know.’

  ‘Good.’ Owen looked at Mr Sparks suspiciously. ‘So … what are we waiting for?’

  ‘I’ll tell you.’ Mr Sparks leaned closer. ‘Are you planning to put me back to sleep after this?’

  Owen scowled. ‘I haven’t decided,’ he said.

  ‘Well, decide now. I want you to promise me that you won’t do it.’

  ‘That’s not fair!’

  ‘Promise me.’

  ‘All right. I promise I won’t do it.’

  Mr Sparks sniggered. ‘You must think I was born yesterday!’ he observed. ‘Of course you won’t do it. I doubt that you even know how! No, it’s Gerard that knows the words.’ He flung a mocking glance at Gerard and sneered. ‘And I wouldn’t even know that he could do it, if you hadn’t given the game away, you nitwit. I’m guessing that Otto must have taught him that little trick.’ He cackled. ‘It’s funny when you think about it. Otto didn’t know I was doing it to him and I didn’t know he could do it to me!’

  Gerard started to get up from his chair. ‘Charlie,’ he said. ‘The boy needs your help now. Don’t …’

  ‘You sit down and keep your mouth shut,’ snapped Mr Sparks. ‘This is between the boy and me.’ Gerard glared back at him for a moment, but then did as he was told.

  There was a long silence. Owen glanced at Mr Sparks impatiently. ‘My da,’ he whispered. ‘He’s waiting.’

  ‘Let him wait. We need to get this sorted out before we can proceed. You have to promise me that you won’t let Gerard put me back to sleep. Not ever.’

  ‘But that’s—’

  ‘Say it. Or Gareth here stays in the land of Know-Nothing.’

  Owen felt anger welling up inside him, and had to restrain himself from punching the dummy to the floor. ‘You … you are evil,’ he hissed.

  ‘Flattery will get you nowhere! Just make the promise, Owen, and we can get on with the show.’

  Owen spoke the words through gritted teeth. ‘I … I promise I won’t let Gerard put you back to sleep.’

  ‘Good.’ Mr Sparks looked again at Gerard. ‘That’s a promise from both of you now. Just remember, a person who breaks a promise is not an honourable one. So …’ He turned to look at Da, who was still slumped in his chair. ‘If we’re all ready … I’ll begin.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Gareth. We’re setting off now, you and me. We’re setting off on that day when you were injured. I want you to picture the scene, just as it happened, and I want you to tell me all about it. Like I said before. Every. Last. Detail. So, if you’re ready … you can begin.’

  There was a long silence, while Da sat there, staring into space. Then his eyes seemed to widen a little as though focusing on something that only he could see. He began to talk.

  22

  The Battle

  ‘It’s around midday and we’re lying in a trench, eating our rations. There’s me and Taffy Roberts and Billy Price and it’s the same old bully beef they always serve us. Taffy says he’d give just about anything for a proper Sunday dinner, with roast potatoes, Yorkshire pudding and onion gravy, but I tell him to stop torturing himself. Everybody’s trying to put a brave face on things, but the talk around the regiment is that we’ll be going over the top soon and that it’s going to be another big one, so as soon as I’ve finished eating, I go off by myself and I write a short letter that I can leave here, just in case anything bad happens to me.’

  ‘That’s good, Gareth. What do you say in the letter?’

  ‘I tell Megan that I’m keeping my head down and that I got a food parcel last week and there was a lovely bit of bara brith in it, though it wasn’t as nice as hers. I tell her the word is that now the Yanks have joined in, it’s just a matter of time before this whole sorry business comes to an end. And I put a little note to Owen, telling him that when I get back, we’ll buy him that bike he’s been wanting. The two of us will cycle out along the promenade and we’ll head out to the hills and take a packed lunch with us and we’ll have ourselves a rare old time. And I tell myself that I won’t think about the things I’ve seen since I came out here to fight, I’ll just put them out of my mind and act like everything is fine.

  ‘Anyhow, I finish the letter and I see the chaplain go by and I call to him and hand it over. I ask him to make sure it gets delivered and he tells me not to worry, he’ll see to it. Just then, I hear shouting from up the line. I can see men getting to their feet and I know this is it, it’s time, so I put on my pack and I check my rifle and I stand to attention with the others as Captain Jenkins comes down the line to give us our orders. I don’t mind the captain, even though he’s an Englishman and a bit la-di-dah with it. Billy always says it’s easy for him, living the life of luxury while we eat bully beef, but I tell him that when the time comes, the captain will be out front with his pistol, leading us into No Man’s Land and that takes guts, no matter where he comes from.’

  ‘What happens next?’

  ‘The captain gives us a little speech. He tells us that we’re on the final push now, that the Boche are losing ground and it’s only a matter of time before they throw in the towel. But he says that doesn’t mean we can take it easy, because there’s another trench that needs taking and we’re the lucky lads who’ve been chosen to do it. But he promises us that he’ll be with us every step of the way and I give Billy a sly look, that sort of says, “There you are then, what did I tell you?”

  ‘Then we’re ordered to about-turn and we’re told to follow the captain and a sapper. They lead us along the maze of trenches and it is a maze, like a rabbit warren, Taffy always says, and as we march, you can’t help but notice that the noises of explosions are getting louder and louder. We seem to walk for miles and after a while, we can feel the ground shaking under our feet and every time a shell passes overhead, we duck our heads, even though we’re still below ground, because you could just be unlucky and catch a dose of shrapnel. Another troop of men pass us on the way, heading for where we came from I suppose, and I try not to stare at them, because they’re filthy and some of them are covered in blood. Others have bandages around their eyes, blinded by mustard gas, and their friends are leading them along, helping them every step of the way. Every single man I pass has this haunted look in his eyes. I know exactly how they feel, because I’ve lost count of the battles I’ve been in, and even after all this time I couldn’t tell you if I’ve killed a single one of the enemy, because it’s madness out there, you just run forward and dive into trenches or shell holes full of muddy water and you shoot at shadows and when the shelling stops, if you’re still alive, you sit where you are and wait for somebody to tell you what to do next …’

  ‘So what do you do next?’

  ‘Well, finally, we come to the Front Line and here, the force of the explosions seems to shake
you like a rag doll. The noise is terrifying, shrieks and bangs and thuds, most of which you cannot identify. The captain stops walking and turns back to tell us to take up our positions. Ladders are brought and placed all along the sides of the trench and Captain Jenkins, fair play to him, he’s the first to take up his position, so he can peep over the top with a periscope and take stock of the situation. A ladder is placed by us. Me and Taffy, we look at each other, as if wondering who should be the first to climb, but then Billy steps forward and climbs up the ladder. That’s Billy for you, afraid of nothing.

  ‘The noise goes on, the pounding, the shaking, but it’s as though it’s all suddenly happening miles away, because every part of you is waiting, waiting for the sound of the captain’s whistle, our signal to go, and now I just want to get it over with, the longer I wait, the harder it will be to climb that ladder and step out into No Man’s Land. I look at Taffy and he winks at me, gives me a grin, but I can see the fear in his eyes. He isn’t fooling anyone. And then—’

  ‘Go on, don’t stop now!’

  ‘Then … then we hear the sound of the whistle, so shrill that it nearly makes me jump out of my skin. In that instant, the captain goes up and over and ahead of me, Billy climbs and I take my place on the ladder behind him, but even as he sticks his head up over the parapet, something hits him with a force that throws him back against me and he goes somersaulting over my head and I see, briefly, that his face is a shattered mess that no doctor will ever be able to piece back together. I’ve known him since we were boys playing in the street and he’s dead. In one instant his life has winked out like a candle flame, but there’s no time to dwell on that. I climb and I step out onto the muddy ground and I begin to run forward. For an instant, it seems to me that it’s only me following the captain, he’s just a few steps ahead of me, but then I’m aware of Taffy running alongside me and he isn’t grinning any more, he must have seen better than I did what happened to Billy. I glance back and more men are streaming out of the trench, and with one voice they are yelling their defiance as they run towards the enemy. A machine-gun starts hammering and I feel rather than see the bullets whipping past me. A man to my left is hit and he drops in his tracks but I do not hesitate. Captain Jenkins turns his head to look over his shoulder and he shouts something, but I don’t hear what it is and an instant later, he reels back and goes down, clutching his stomach. I drop to one knee beside him and I see he is grinning up at me, but there’s blood spilling from his mouth and he waves me onwards. Pausing like that has allowed others to catch up, so when I get back to my feet, I am running amongst a crowd of men, we are all running blind and so far as I am aware, not one of us has fired a shot because we cannot even see the enemy, we can see nothing but a line of sandbags up ahead, which we know must mark the edge of the German trenches and it still looks such a long, long way off …’