The Original's Return (Book 1)

by David Watkins

  He walked to the road and ambled back up the street. He looked like he hadn’t a care in the world. Jack slammed the front door and shouted “Arsehole!”

  He stormed through into the kitchen to find Ginny lying on her bed. She growled when he came in. He stared at her and growled back. What are you doing Jack? Ginny rolled over and exposed her white belly to him. Keeping eye contact, he knelt down and stroked her once. Her tail was flat between her legs and she was trembling again.

  “What have you done girl?” he said. As he stroked her, he caught a glimpse of the time from the corner of his eye and panic set in.

  3

  One o’clock! Katie was going to kill him. He’d said he’d be there by nine. He ran upstairs and started to pull on the first clothes he saw. He spread some hair gel to hide the worst of the bed hair (bed hair during that exchange with Frank, no wonder he wasn’t scared) and cleaned his teeth.

  He sprinted out the door, pausing only to grab his keys and then he was in the car driving as fast as he could. The hospital was thirty five minutes away, but he made it in thirty. The latest Foo Fighters album blared out of the car speakers helping him force the pace. He parked in the first space he saw and sprinted through the car park, down to the maternity unit.

  He had to be buzzed in, and ignored the sarcastic “she’s been expecting you” from the receptionist. He walked down the corridor until he found the door with Katie’s name written on a wipe clean whiteboard. She was sitting up on the bed, feeding the baby and when she saw him her face lit up with the biggest grin in the world.

  Not in the doghouse.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Nothing would make me upset with you today.” She was looking at the baby and stroking his soft hair. “He’s absolutely perfect Jack.”

  He sat in the chair next to the bed and took in the room for the first time. There were four beds in total, but two were empty. The other bed had a small woman who was holding a tiny baby like it was a fine china bowl. Her husband stood up, announced with a boom - and in terms that left nothing to the imagination - that he was going to the toilet. He was easily six foot six. It takes all sorts.

  Jack lent over and kissed Katie on the mouth. “You look great.”

  “So do you. How are John and the boys?”

  “I didn’t go out last night.” The words were out before he’d thought through the implications.

  “Really? Why are you so late then?”

  “I don’t know. I drank some wine, played some tunes and then passed out on the living room floor.” He decided not to tell her about the guitar. Something else to add to the list of what could wait.

  “You must have been shattered. Adrenaline and everything.”

  “Yeah, I guess.” Christ, I’d almost forgotten all about that. “It was a pretty eventful day.”

  “You were on the news.”

  “Spotlight?”

  “No the national news. It was quite exciting, according to the nurses.” A murmur from her breast made her pause. The baby had come off. “Shh, shh,” she said. “Daddy’s here.”

  The baby opened his eyes at her voice and just stared at her. “Do you want to hold him?”

  “Of course.” Jack took him, trying hard not to look like he was holding a fine china bowl.

  “Support his neck.”

  “I know.” The baby felt so light in his arms. He rested his head on Jack’s shoulder and fell straight back to sleep. Jack couldn’t help but smile and felt tears well in his eyes. He perched himself on the edge of Katie’s bed.

  “Do you want to talk about yesterday?”

  “Not really. There’s not much to tell.” Getting pretty good at this lying lark, Jack, be careful. “The ground gave way and I fell in.”

  “The doctor said there’s not a scratch on you.”

  “Doctor?”

  “Yeah, Doctor Baxter. He came round this morning, hoping to examine you properly.”

  “Well, I’m sure I’ll catch up with him at some point.”

  The older midwife from the day before came in then. “Afternoon, Mr Stadler.”

  “Jack, please.” He remembered her name was Sue.

  “Ok, Jack. How are you feeling today? Quite a day you had yesterday.”

  “I’ve had less eventful ones,” he said with a rueful smile.

  “So what about a name then?” Sue asked.

  “Still happy?” Jack asked Katie.

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. In that case, he’s called Josh.”

  4

  The day passed quickly. Josh slept for most of the afternoon, waking only to feed and for a terrifying nappy change. Katie talked Jack through it like she was some kind of instant expert.

  Katie slept herself late afternoon and Jack took the moment to ask if Doctor Baxter was available. Five minutes later, he arrived at the maternity unit. He was even younger than Jack remembered, but that could be down to his clean-shaven fresh face. Jack stood as he walked in. Baxter stretched his hand out in greeting and they shook hands like old friends.

  “Congratulations Mr Stadler.”

  “Please call me Jack. Sorry I didn’t get back to you yesterday.”

  “No problem. We were rammed anyway: bad crash on the 377.”

  Baxter looked at the sleeping baby and wife and said: “Shall we go somewhere more private?”

  He led Jack through the corridors to one of the empty maternity rooms. “Just as well it’s quiet here today.”

  “What do you need from me?”

  “Well first of all, I’d like to just do a general exam of you and make sure there’s nothing damaged that adrenaline is hiding.”

  Jack nodded. “Ok, but I think I’m absolutely fine. Not even a bruise.”

  “That’s great Jack, but not many people can walk after falling, what, fifteen feet?”

  Jack didn’t correct him. This could be awkward enough without explaining that he had fallen nearer thirty feet.

  “And there’s not a scratch on you. That’s a miracle, Jack.”

  They moved to a bed, and Baxter asked Jack to get undressed whilst he got some things together. Jack stripped to his boxers and lay on the bed. Baxter returned with a stethoscope, blood pressure monitor, small wooden hammer and a range of syringes. He listened to Jack’s heart for a minute, before attaching the blood pressure monitor.

  “It’s all good Jack. Pulse is normal, and so is your blood pressure.” He asked Jack to cross his legs and arms and he tapped on various pressure points with the hammer. Satisfied, he picked up the syringe.

  “I’d like to take some blood, send it off for some tests.”

  “Tests for what?”

  “Jack, you should be in pieces after that fall but I can’t even find a bruise. This might scratch a little.”

  Jack bit back a shout as the needle slid into his skin. Scratch a little. Bloody doctors.

  “All done.” Baxter said, removing the syringe. Jack started to get dressed, deliberately avoiding looking at the test tube full of blood.

  “They won’t find anything you know,” Baxter said, as Jack pulled on his t-shirt. “They never do in these miracle cases. We’ve only had to send these results off for the last year: you’re my first bona fide case.”

  “Miracle cases?”

  “Yeah, sounds stupid doesn’t it?” Baxter smiled. “As I said, there’s not a mark on you and you should have at least some broken bones. Therefore, you count as a miracle – medical science can’t explain why you’re ok. Understand?”

  Jack nodded, swallowing hard. If they knew about the bone, that would make it more than a miracle. “Who gets the blood?”

  “Oh, just some central agency that does the testing. They’re based in Kent, I believe. Don’t worry, it’s all perfectly safe and legal. Your personal records are only accessed if they find something.”

  “What happens then?”

  “I’m not sure: like I say, you’re my first miracle. I suppose they put in a request to get mor
e of your blood.” He produced a clipboard with a form on it.

  “Let me guess, I have to sign?”

  “Yeah. It gives consent for the tests to be done, and for you to be contacted if anything is found. You don’t have to sign Jack. It’s just a legal thing.”

  “It’s not a problem.” Jack took the pen from Baxter and signed the form.

  5

  Katie was advised to stay in another night and had been too tired to argue. Jack strolled back to the car alone, utterly depressed at leaving his is wife and son behind. He held on to the memory of them both asleep: Katie in her too small hospital bed and the baby in his cot. He had been lying on his back, legs and arms drawn into his body and looking a lot like a frog in a white baby grow. The thought made him smile, and he chuckled to himself at how quickly his emotions were changing now: depression to elation in less than a second.

  Jack drove home alone for the second night running. The Foo Fighters were a little loud given how tired he felt, so he switched to Lambchop. Kurt Wagner’s voice totally fitted Jack’s mellow, relaxed mood. He was home by eight, and found two messages on the phone. The first was from John, asking for a night out to celebrate. The second was from Chris, another of the incomers, also asking for a night out.

  Jack ate a piece of toast whilst listening to the messages. Ginny lay on her bed looking forlornly at him. She no longer had blood around her mouth, and the cut on her chest was already healing. What did you do, girl?

  He felt guilty about not walking her that day, and decided to take her to the pub with him. He phoned John first and asked him to ring the others. They agreed on nine o’clock, so Jack went to get changed.

  Not for the first time he reflected on the difference between his friends and Katie’s. John had not asked anything about the fall or the baby: he knew that there was plenty of time for that conversation in far more convivial surroundings. Katie would have talked for half an hour, then gone out and done it all again.

  He tied Ginny’s lead to her and left, not even bothering to lock the doors behind him.

  6

  The Stars was small and far from cosy, but it served beer. The only room was dominated by the fifty-two inch plasma screen that always had sport on it regardless of the time of day. A smattering of tables filled the space between that and the actual bar itself. Two men sat on bar stools alternating looking at their pints and the screen. At the rear of the room was a pool table and John was already there racking up the balls. He waved and shouted that there was a drink already bought for Jack.

  Sara, the landlady, gave Jack a kiss and poured him a pint. They chatted for a couple of minutes, then Jack went to the pool table. John clinked glasses with him, before breaking by hitting the balls as hard as he could. Nothing went down.

  “Going to be a long game,” he said.

  Five minutes later, Chris arrived. He bought a drink before coming over.

  “What do you get if you cross a baby with soldiers?” Chris said.

  Jack shook his head as he bent to take his shot. John groaned and said: “Get it over with.”

  “Infantry.” Chris started laughing but he had one of those infectious laughs that made everyone else smile. “It’s the only decent one I could find about babies.”

  “Decent? Jesus, I’m glad you didn’t tell the other ones.”

  “Did you know there’s a whole website devoted to dead baby jokes?” Chris said, shaking his head. “I didn’t bring any of those. Didn’t seem right.”

  They all laughed again and raised their glasses. “What do you call a man who fell down a hole?” Chris said.

  “Jack.” The others all said at the same time.

  Jack snorted beer out of his nose. “You heard about that?”

  “Heard about it?” said Chris. “It was on the six o’clock news last night. I couldn’t believe it.”

  “Yeah, cameras here and everything, mate. They even interviewed Terry,” said John.

  Jack potted the black and shook John’s hand. “Drink?”

  “Very kind of you Jack. I’ll have JD and coke.” Chris raised his glass in a mock salute.

  Jack was relieved at the change of subject that no-one seemed to have noticed.

  “Just kidding, man, tonight you don’t pay.” Chris sauntered over to the bar and started chatting to Sara and the other two locals. He returned with a tray loaded with spirits. He handed each of them a glass and said “Name yet?”

  “Josh,” Jack said with a shrug. “It seemed right.”

  “So, to Joshua,” Chris said, raising his glass.

  “No, just Josh. None of that religious crap for my kid thank you.”

  “Sorry. Ok, to Josh.”

  They clinked glasses again and downed the double Jack Daniels in one go. Following the comedy exaggerated gulps after the whisky had ripped the back of their throats out, Jack said, “Where does wetting a baby’s head come from anyway?”

  “I once worked with a bunch of guys, one of whom wasn’t very bright,” Chris said. “Anyway, this lad had his first kid and we took him out for beers. This is back in Surrey, years ago. I didn’t have my kids then, so I just went along for the piss up.”

  “You do surprise us,” John said.

  “Well, while we were out, one of the boys told him that the phrase came from an old tradition where you passed water given to you by your closest friends on to the newborn’s head.”

  There was silence as they took this in.

  “So he went home, and his wife caught him standing over the baby’s cot with his cock out. She managed to stop him just in time.”

  “That’s not funny,” John said.

  “True though. The man who told him to do it was his brother in law.” Years before, Chris had worked nights in a warehouse, a far cry from the financial manager he was now.

  “You must know what it really means.” Jack said to Chris.

  “Well, some think it originates from baptisms. You know, the pouring of water over a kid’s head.” Chris, in addition to knowing more jokes than most, also had levels of trivia that bordered on the obscene. “No-one really knows when it started to mean getting lashed. Early 1900s maybe. Of course, to wet has been around as a phrase for drinking since-”

  “Enough! I wish I hadn’t asked. We going to play or what?”

  The rest of the night passed in a blur. Jack explained about falling down the hole, but spent longer talking about the birth of Josh. Right priority. He was the last of the group to have children. John had two girls, Chris three boys – all under five.

  They played pool several times before getting bored and seeing who could do the most outrageous shots; ordered pizza from the local take away – only condition was that Sara had some; drank more whisky and pints and then stumbled out of the pub at a ridiculous hour. Jack only just remembered to take Ginny with him.

  7

  They said their goodbyes outside the pub, with Jack promising that they would visit as soon as Katie was home. He walked down a small alley and into the churchyard that represented his route home. As soon as he stepped out of the street, silence and darkness enveloped him like an uncomfortable glove.

  “It’s dark girl,” he said, more to break the silence than anything else. His eyes adjusted quickly and he bent down to let Ginny off her lead. “Just don’t poo.”

  The church sat in the middle of the graveyard, impossibly ancient and imposing. Two paths led around the outside and he chose the bigger, right hand one as that had security lights. He took two steps left for every one forward, stumbling back on track every few paces. He chuckled to himself as he did so. Too much beer.

  Just then, the clouds broke and the moon and stars came out. He stopped, the clarity of the night sky took his breath away. The moon was bright enough to light the whole churchyard and he could see the Milky Way.

  “Wow.”

  Jack felt a twinge down his left hand side. His hand started trembling. He looked at it, raising his hand in front of his face. His skin was ripp
ling, large waves running across his hand and disappearing into the arm of his coat.

  “What the hell?”

  It doesn’t hurt.

  He slowly raised his other hand only to confirm what he suspected: the skin was rippling there too. The ripples reached his face now, arriving with a wave of nausea that threatened to make him collapse. Jack looked wildly up and down the street. No-one in sight, which was not unusual at this time of night in Huntleigh. Everyone tucked up safe in bed, which is probably a good thing.

  That thought galvanised Jack into action and he started to run. The nausea faded as adrenaline took over. Tarmac blurred beneath his feet as he ran the straightest route, straight down the middle of the road. Within a couple of seconds Jack was sprinting faster than he ever had before, heading for the only safe place he knew.

  Home.

  Wednesday

  Chapter 4

  1

  Sergeant Peter Knowles opened the door to the medical research wing and was stopped by two soldiers. Their weapons were slung over their shoulders but this didn't worry him; he was expected. Knowles saluted. “Sergeant Knowles for Major Smith.”

  One of the guards consulted a list and inspected Knowles’ ID card. Knowles bit back a tiny bit of frustration: the Major had sent a driver to his home on his day off ordering him to get to base immediately. Knowles lived alone - only his palimony payments for company, he liked to quip - and he had nothing planned for the day, but it still grated to be ordered to work and then made to wait.

  Eventually the guard nodded and waved him through. Another armed man led the way. Knowles marched through the stern corridors. It was expected that people would march everywhere in the base, regardless of rank. The Brigadier thought it set the right tone.

  The guard stopped outside a non-descript door and knocked twice. A non-descript door in a non-descript building. Knowles had not been in this building before, despite being on base for a month since returning from Ghanners.

  “Come.” The Major’s voice was loud even through the door. What does he want?

  Knowles opened the door and stepped inside. He shut the door then stood to attention in front of the Major’s desk. He saluted again and said, “Sergeant Knowles reporting as ordered, sir.”