by Annette Heys
For a while, her feelings for her mother were not dissimilar from Michael’s for his.
The prospect of seeing his daughter again took away some of the irritation brought about by Helen’s bizarre actions. Her decision to pay off her ex-husband was bewildering to say the least. As far as he could see, Carl was a coward and a brute. No self-respecting man could do what he had done. And despite what Helen might think, there was every chance he would come back again and again. She had tried to make excuses for him, for his failed business and mounting debts and the fact that she was successful while he had fallen on hard times. So why was that her problem? When he’d challenged her about it, she had become defensive, told him she knew what she was doing. Some days later, after she had handed over the money, it was as though none of it had ever happened. She seemed her old self again, as carefree and happy as someone who had come into a fortune rather than given one away. And then she surprised him with a present, a solid gold watch. Helen gave him the small parcel and waited eagerly for his reaction like a child handing a bunch of freshly picked wild flowers to her mother. ‘Because you make me happier than I’ve been in years,’ was all she said, putting her finger on his lips to stop his remonstrations at her needless generosity.
At home, all Kate talked about was Michael or Ben. He could not understand why she gave so much thought to either one of them. Michael’s situation was completely beyond her control and Ben’s was not so different except that he had more opportunity to exploit Kate’s altruistic nature. It was partly to do with her obsessive resolve in continuing to believe that her input might make a difference that helped change his mind about ending his relationship with Helen. The other reason was that his feelings for her had now overshadowed his sense of guilt. He had no idea where it would lead but it didn’t really matter. The thought of making love to Helen, drinking coffee together, chatting, just being near her was more exciting than anything he could think of, anything apart from this imminent reunion with his daughter.
Angela had been cagey when he rang and asked after Sharon but when he spoke of his determination to find his daughter she felt it only right she should help put him in touch with her. And now he was within a few miles of her home.
Jim kept glancing at the map as he drove. All he had to do was negotiate his way through the town, exit onto the right B road and follow it for half a mile or so before arriving at Lovell Gardens. He recalled their brief conversation over the telephone, the stunned silence when he told her who he was and then her stuttering response—yes, she did want to see him. It seemed to him making that telephone call was the strangest thing he had ever done in his life.
As he pulled up outside the house, he caught sight of someone briefly through the window. By the time he was walking down the path the door had opened and a slim, young woman came out to meet him. They stared hard at each other as if looking for a sign that they were indeed related. Sharon yielded to Jim’s open arms at once, negating all uncertainty.
The initial awkwardness of their reunion was soon overcome as they stripped away the years with everything they could remember to tell each other about their lives. The first sign of unease showed when they reached the present. Jim thought of Helen, the one part of his life story he was not about to share with anyone, least of all his daughter. In Sharon’s case, it seemed her taboo subject was her mother. She hadn’t once mentioned her name. But that was no bad thing, he thought.
‘Would you like to hold her, Dad?’ Sharon picked Louise out of her crib and passed her over.
Jim felt a rush of pride as he took the baby into his arms. Sharon had just called him dad and he was cradling his granddaughter. ‘She’s beautiful, just like her mother.’ He looked up and searched her features for the blonde five year old and once again found his very own daughter. She was right not to have mentioned her mother. It would only remind him of all the lost years. Nothing should spoil this moment.
Finding his daughter again had made Jim more understanding towards Ben and his drug addiction just as Kate had hoped it would. Since Matt’s death, he had believed that anyone addicted to drugs was destined for ruination, and not only their own. Matt’s family had been left bewildered as to how it could have happened to their child. How could someone as popular and handsome as Matt, with everything to live for, have succumbed to the evil of drug abuse? Jim now realised that drugs had been Matt’s weakness, something he could not control. How people behave isn’t just about brains, good looks, personality; they’re far more complex than that. It’s just that when someone has all of these qualities, it’s difficult to understand how they could mess up their life. Though he now appeared to be more willing to accept Ben’s problem, Jim had left Kate with no illusions about the power of addiction. It turned decent people into liars and thieves with no regard for who they deceived.
So far, staying at Sam’s had been the best option. Had he stayed with them, Kate knew she would have been checking up on him the whole time, making sure he was eating properly, not drinking too much, but checking up most of all on the drugs. Aside from the constant worry, there would doubtless have been friction between her and Jim.
Sam had encouraged Ben to get help. It wasn’t really an option if he was to stay with her and Alex, but he had anyway. He’d booked himself into a rehabilitation centre. Although he hadn’t found work yet, Sam was keeping him busy with odd jobs around her home. No one got a free ride out of Sam. These arrangements seemed to be working and, as far as anyone knew, there had been no lapses.
Kate’s only real concern now was Michael. She still hadn’t managed to stop him writing to her as though she was his girlfriend and he’d made it clear he didn’t want to write to anyone on the outside. The reason she hadn’t asked him not to write to her any more was that she believed he needed some distraction from his darker thoughts, thoughts she knew were never far from his mind.
She had hoped to have found some support from his case conference but soon realised the unlikelihood of that. When she learned he’d been storing his tablets she knew he was still looking for an opportunity to kill himself. But she was sure they weren’t convinced it was anything more than a cry for help. If only he’d given her permission to tell them how he was feeling. Instead, she had sat there, mute as a Trappist Monk, guarding his secrets.
Sometimes it was as though she was the keystone to his mortality, but its foundation was very shaky. Her vow of silence concerning anything he told her was weighing her down.
Only the other day in class he’d complained about someone breaking a confidence. He was seeing a counsellor who he claimed had repeated something he’d told her. Another prisoner, the closest to a friend he had in there, had mentioned it to him. Michael said it could only have come from the counsellor. Whether it was fact or just a coincidence didn’t matter to Mac. He was angry and swore he wouldn’t tell her another thing. No one got a second chance with Michael.
Then there was the young female psychologist. At the first session they’d had a disagreement. According to Michael, she had got annoyed with him and so he decided not to have any further sessions with her. She’d written a report about him and had given it him to read. He said he never finished it because it was a load of rubbish. “How can anyone make a proper judgement about someone after one brief meeting?” he’d said. Besides, she was younger than he was so what did she know about life?
Michael had serious reservations about the people who were supposedly there to help him. By now he had a totally negative outlook on life and whatever anyone tried to do for him, he would find fault with it. Kate began to believe that the letters, especially the fantasy parts, were the only thing that were keeping him alive, and that put an awful lot of pressure on her to carry on accepting them. At night she would lie awake wondering how to get out of this mess she’d got herself into. She was in an impossible situation. His hopelessness had become her conviction but now it was a question of where or how
it would all end.
A car horn tooted and she looked out of the bedroom window. God, why is she always so early? Sam’s white Fiat was parked outside the front door, engine purring. She could see Ben in the back. They were going shopping, choosing their outfits for the wedding. She scooted around the bedroom, slipping into shoes and throwing on a jumper and trousers before rushing downstairs, breathless, as another blast from the horn tore through the house.
‘Hurry up, Mum. Why are you always late?’ she grumbled. Kate was hardly in the car before Sam was checking her mirror, thrusting into gear and pulling off down the road.
‘Hi, Ben, you all right?’ Kate turned to look at him. His dark hair already showed strands of grey but his face seemed less gaunt, a good sign. She wondered how long it would be before she needn’t look for signs.
‘Fine,’ he answered.
‘Any luck on the job front?’
Sam jumped in before Ben had time to answer. ‘We need to stop off for some paint. Ben’s decorating the front room for us. He’s already papered the walls. Looks pretty good, too.’
Kate recognised Sam’s gagging tactic and remained silent.
‘Don’t sound so surprised,’ he said. ‘I’m not totally useless.’
‘In that case you can do ours when you’ve finished.’ She looked at Sam who smiled and glanced in the mirror for her brother’s reaction. Kate remembered them as children. Nothing much had changed. Sam still had the upper hand.
Kate looked at herself critically in the mirror while an assistant hovered around, smoothing out the shoulders of her jacket and arranging her hat at various angles. Her dark shoulder length hair stuck out beneath it.
Before Kate had chance to comment, the assistant suddenly grabbed the offending strands and pulled them back behind her ears. ‘A French roll with a few loose twists will be perfect for this hat,’ she offered.
‘Don’t you think it’s a bit on the big side?’ She never liked hats at the best of times.
‘Oh no, not too big at all, and it’s a perfect match for those shoes.’
Kate wasn’t sure that being a perfect match with the shoes was a priority but what did she know? She hadn’t bought an outfit like this since she and Jim were married. Realising she was not the best judge, she decided to take her word for it.
‘Would you mind coming upstairs? Your daughter wants your opinion on her dress.’ A wafer thin teenager, blonde hair tied up in a pony tail and far too much make up appeared on the stairs.
‘Should I stay here?’ Ben asked.
‘Of course,’ belted out Kate’s assistant. ‘You know what they say about the groom seeing his bride in her wedding dress before the big day.’
‘He isn’t . . .’
‘Doesn’t matter, Mum. I’ll stay here.’
‘Oh . . . he’s your son. Oo, pardon me,’ she tittered at her mistake and turned to Ben. ‘You’re welcome to take a look if you like.’
Ben just held up his hand and smiled as she went up the stairs still giggling at her faux pas. Being in a room full of women while they gushed about how wonderful Sam looked in her wedding dress probably wasn’t Ben’s thing anyway. He’d already sat through her fitting and a quick glance at his bored expression was confirmation of this.
The room above was almost identical to the one downstairs except two of the walls were lined with bridesmaids’ dresses instead of wedding gowns. Three free-standing mirrors were positioned in the middle of the room to allow an all round view of the garment. Sam stood in the centre of the mirrors and as Kate stepped closer, she could see three images of her from different angles.
‘Oh, Sam, it’s beautiful.’
‘You don’t think this neckline is too low, do you, Mum?’
‘It’s perfect . . . you look perfect.’ Her daughter’s smile broadened and Kate knew that whatever she had said would have made no difference—Sam was happy with it. Her own wedding dress had been hired. She remembered the missing sequins. An omen if ever there was one.
On the way home Ben again sat in the back surrounded by parcels. A tin of barley coloured gloss was in the boot, the only purchase of the day that Ben had shown a real interest in.
That evening Kate sat thinking about how beautiful Sam had looked and how much she was looking forward to the wedding. She had noticed a much friendlier relationship between Sam and Ben, something she hadn’t seen in years, and it gave her a sense of contentment along with the hope that things were turning a corner with him. If anyone could help him, it was Sam, but only as long as he towed the line. She wished she could be as firm with her son.
Her perfect day was almost sullied by the thought of work. She was wondering what to do for the group part of the lesson when she came across a pile of picture cards of famous paintings. She decided to give the students an exercise in imaginative writing. They could choose a card and write a story about whatever that picture conveyed to them.
Michael chose a picture of a dinosaur and wrote a story about time travel. As usual, it was badly punctuated with no paragraphs but Kate thought it a reasonable story, humorous and fairly well structured, so she offered to type it up for him in the hope that once he saw it in print it might encourage him to write more stories and fewer letters.
A short story
by
Michael McKeown
After arriving in the age of the dinosaurs in my time machine, I stepped outside to see what it was like and looked around. It was very quiet. There was nothing around but dust and rocks. Then I heard a noise and a few seconds later I could feel the ground moving. The noise began to get closer and closer. It sounded like thunder. I walked to where I thought the noise was coming from. I climbed a hill and as I looked over I saw all these dinosaurs. They were massive. I decided to get a closer look, which was a big mistake as one of these things saw me. I just stood and looked at the creature. Then it started coming towards me. My heart was starting to pound like mad. I looked around but there was nowhere to hide. This thing was now moving faster towards me so I thought I’d better get out of here. I reckoned it must be hungry and I didn’t fancy being its next meal.
I ran as fast as I could but I knew it was gaining on me as I could feel the ground thud under the weight of its massive feet. I thought, what have I landed myself in for coming here? Then I saw a little gap in the side of the hill and jumped in as quick as I could. The stupid dinosaur ran straight by me. I thought, I’m not moving from here for a while, at least until I’ve had a good rest.
I looked around this place I was hiding in. It was very dark. I had my lighter on me so I took it out and lit it. All I could see were these eyes looking at me. I couldn’t see what it was but it seemed more afraid of me than I was of it. I moved a little closer to this thing. When I saw what it was I nearly died. It was a cave woman. I didn’t think there were any humans around in this time. Anyway, I felt a little more relaxed. I kept staring at her and looked her up and down as you do. She wasn’t that clean but this was no surprise as they probably never heard of washing, yet I was more interested in what she was wearing. It looked like animal fur which just about covered her up. She didn’t look all that old and she wasn’t all that bad looking either which was a surprise. Anyway, she couldn’t speak a word of English. She didn’t seem frightened of me but looked more interested in what I was wearing and how I looked. I was as interested in her as she was in me. I wondered if there were any more like her around. She suddenly moved forward and put her hand on my face and touched my hair. I was starting to enjoy this a lot. Then I thought, why don’t I do the same and touch her, but I didn’t stop at her face. She didn’t mind a bit and even seemed to enjoy it. I forgot all about the dinosaurs and why I had come here in the first place. I wanted to take her back to my time. I decided to see if it was safe to go outside. If the coast was clear I would make a move. I tried to get her to follow me but she w
ouldn’t.
When I got outside I realised she was behind me, and then she made a sign for me to follow her, so I did. I wondered where she was taking me but followed her anyway until we came across a large valley. I couldn’t believe my eyes. There were more people around. She took me to them and they seemed very friendly. They seemed fascinated by me. I had all these eyes on me and I wondered what they made of me. Anyway, I couldn’t see any men, just women. They had little children with them but even they were all girls. I wondered what had happened to the men. Maybe they all got killed by the dinosaurs, who knows, but all I know is that I had all these women around me and they had this funny look in their eyes. Then, suddenly, they all came towards me. They held me down and tied me up. Then they took me to this hut. It smelt bad. One of the women came in with a piece of wood on fire which lit the place up. I looked around and saw all these dead bodies. These women had killed them.
At that moment I heard this thunderous noise and once again I could feel the ground move. I heard all these screams coming from outside the hut and realised there were a few hungry dinosaurs in the area. I had to make my escape while I could. I managed to untie myself and found a way out without the dinosaurs seeing me, and made my way back to my time machine. I soon changed my mind about taking one of these women back. I’d had enough for one day.
The End
When she handed it to him he was obviously pleased and genuinely grateful to her for having taken so much trouble over it. He said it looked like a real story.
‘You should write more stories, Michael. You could get them published in the prison magazine.’
‘I’ll think about it,’ was all he said, and she doubted very much if she would ever see another from him.