Out of the Mist

by Lynne Chitty

  Slowly running became the main focus of my life. When I retired a few years ago I started volunteering with the local running group.I have met some great people and when I run I talk to Barb. So you see I am totally bonkers. “

  Eliza couldn’t find words and didn’t want to break the flow of Pete’s.

  “Barb loved animals and was always sponsoring creatures all over the world. So I ran a few races for the charities she supported. Helped me not to feel so useless and surplus to requirements. Instead of a retirement party I got everyone to do a Park run with me. You can picture it can’t you a whole office full of unfit and unimpressed accountants and secretaries cursing me with their every breath. Actually, they all enjoyed it, afterwards at least. A couple of them kept it up and one girl takes her children with her each week which is brilliant. “

  Pete stopped suddenly as if he felt he had said too much “Sorry” he said and lowered his eyes. “Got a bit carried away. Haven’t talked about Barb for a while.”

  “Now you are apologising.” Eliza said and they both laughed.

  “Seriously though,” she went on.” I think you are amazing. I mean really amazing.”

  “I have a sneaking suspicion you might be too” Pete said and she could see that he was slightly embarrased at her praise but harbouring pride too which told on his face.

  Eliza fiddled with her napkin. “No I’m not” she said. “Not at all.”

  “I won’t pry” said Pete and she knew he sensed her sadness that had suddenly enveloped the table. “Just so you know though. I don’t share my life story with everyone. So thank you for listening and for coming to the race. I couldn’t believe it when I heard you screaming my name. It was brilliant. Just brilliant.”

  Ease restored, he stood up and held out his hand which Eliza shook. “Maybe see you next year then” he grinned. “Look after yourself. You are more special than you know.”

  By now tears were really on a mission to escape but Eliza did her best to smile. “Thank you for everything” she said.

  “Don’t forget Couch to 5k” and turned and headed over to the other tables to say his goodbyes. Eliza watched as he left the restaurant and went back out into the car park blending in with the landscape she loved so much that it hurt.

  She gave him ten minutes then she too said goodbye to the others and went out and down to the waters edge and sat in her favourite spot in the cove. The seagull was there tossing seaweed here, there and everywhere in a corner where the tide had gone out. Another friend she would be sorry to leave. She had kept people at arms length for so long and yet in the space of four days she had met the dearest man whom she had grown so fond of and a regal bird who shared her dreams and understood her. At least she thought he did. He was always on his own and he always seemed to spot her. A few drops of rain started to fall and the mist had insidiously crept in and blanketed the mountains in its darkness.

  She picked out her notebook from her pocket and wrote

  TEARS

  I longed for a song.

  For music to soothe my soul.

  But Davids lyre was silent.

  Only the sound of the wind in the trees played

  and the rain falling to earth.

  Drops becoming puddles.

  Only the sound of the oncoming darkness remained.

  A symphony of sadness, a whispering of arias.

  I wept.

  rs were the words of the song

  I longed for.

  MARCUS

  With a Mr Whippy ice cream, complete with flake in one hand and his money for the slot machines in the other, Marcus felt like a kid again.The jackpot was only a tenner but it felt great to have nothing on his mind and to be in the moment. His counsellor would be proud of him! He realised now that he had been happy as a child. You took stuff for granted when you were a kid. His dad might not have been the best but apart from the odd occasion when Marcus probably deserved it, he didn’t take the belt to him too often. He put him down a lot and sneered at his love for his pet rabbits, but all in all it wasn’t too bad. Mostly his dad had left him alone. Until he had grown old enough to nick things for him anyway. To be fair his mum and Eliza ran round after him making sure he was ok and covering for him when his dad was in a bad mood. For a moment he longed for those days again. The freedom of throwing off his school uniform and going out to kick a ball around. Feeding his rabbits and cycling down to the allotments to see Fred Rimmer and collect any spare greens he had. Fred used to take off his cap and scratch his bald head. Reckon I can find something for those rabbits of yours he would say. Then he’d look at Marcus and ask how he was doing. World can be a rough and unforgiving place lad he’d say so you work hard at school. You’ve got it in you to make something of yourself. Marcus regretted not paying more attention to Fred’s wisdom. He wished too he’d gone to his funeral. Died one Sunday afternoon. Gone home for tea after a day on his patch and had a massive heart attack on the way upstairs. Marcus had read about it in the paper. To be honest he grieved more for him than he did for his own father. Fred had that way of making you believe in yourself. His dad didn’t believe in anything. Certainly not in the God the minister at the crem committed his body to.

  Marcus was three pounds up so he pocketed the money, picked up his helmet and wandered out of the arcade onto the pier. He watched families playing on the beach. Siblings burying each other in sand. Not that Weston was renowned for its sandy beach! Blokes in ridiculously bright Bermuda shorts throwing frisbees. Girls laughing and screaming as they ran in and out of the water. Dogs too though on their leads hurtled out as far as they could drinking the waves as they went. Then shaking themselves dry all over their owners. Boys ran after the seagulls whenever they tried to land. Thrilled when they made the birds take off again. What went on when they got home Marcus didn’t know but for now the beach was full of folks playing happy families and it wamed his heart.

  Marcus didn’t expect to ever be a father. Wasn’t cut out for it. Didn’t want the commitment or responsibility for one thing. Yet a bit of him thought how great it would be.Taking his lad to football. Teaching him to ride a bike. He finished his ice cream and dismissed all thoughts of fatherhood. Knowing his luck he’d get a girl anyway. What a nightmare that would be.

  Seagulls hung in the air over head, gliding in the breeze as Marcus leaned against the pier railings looking out to sea. For some reason his thoughts turned to Eliza. She had been twelve when he was born. More like a second mother than a sister. They hadn’t had much in common but they had got on pretty well. His mother favoured her, but spoilt him too and if they argued would say to Eliza “you are old enough to know better. Let him be.” Marcus would smile smugly. One nil to him!

  He remembered a conversation he had had in a pub with a fellow United fan. They had been watching a match on Sky when Dave had said out of nowhere:

  Has you sister ever had a bloke do you think?

  Eliza?

  Yeah. I saw her in the library today, while I was going to get the trillionth book on pregnancy and babies for my missus. I don’t know what we ever talked about before she got pregnant. Honestly she’s obsessed. I’m excited course I am but bloody hell, morning, noon and night that’s all she talks about. Her mother is as bad. Phoning every morning and evening to see how she’s feeling.

  Anyway your sister was putting books away in the romance section and it just got me wondering if she had ever had romance of her own. She always seems so self contained and unreachable. Sorry mate, Dave suddenly seemed embarrased. Bit out of order talking about your sisters sex life.

  Can’t really say I’ve ever really thought about it he said then both men screamed

  YES COME ON YOU REDS

  As Wayne Rooney scored all but sealing the championship and banishing all thoughts of Eliza from the minds of them both.

  Marcus thought about it now though. Was that where the seed had been sown? She was stuck up. Thought herself too good for anyone else. His mother had called it shyness. W
hatever it was it had gradually begun to get on his nerves especially after a few pints. If he was honest he knew that it was only when he was in that state that he started to believe that she fancied him. Telling him he looked smart when he went out. Noticing when he had his hair cut. Doing him a packed lunch when she did hers.

  A boat appeared on the horizon and disrupted his thoughts. As did a golden retriever who bounded by him all but dragging a child behind him. The poor kid was hanging onto the lead for dear life. No match for the dog. Marcus smiled and headed into town. He’d have a look round maybe put a bet on then grab some fish and chips before he headed back. He wanted the day to last and with it the feeling of having no ties, no responsibilities. Some snobs might call it Weston Super Nightmere but it suited him. He picked up his helmet and sauntered back along the length of the pier. I am never going back to prison he said to himself. Never.

  EDITH

  Miss Garnet had died. Edith had known she would. Somehow though she died fulfilled Edith put down the book and unwrapped the sandwiches the carer had left her. How she had loved picnics. Sometimes they hadn’t even gone out anywhere just picnicked in the garden. Eliza especially had thought it so exciting. She had been easily pleased as a child and still was really. Now it came to mind, she didn’t really know what Eliza did with her time when she wasn’t at work. I would love to go for one last picnic. If only she could face going down the stairs. She wondered would she chose the woods or the seaside?. The beach won. Maybe Burnham? There were wonderful stretches of sand there and it didn’t get as crowded as Weston. There must be coach trips there in the summer. She was dreaming that’s all. It wasn’t going to happen. She was no Miss Garnet. She didn’t have her courage or her depth. She didn’t deserve a day out anyway. She wondered where Marcus had gone? He never told her what he did. Which was probably just as well. She did worry. He was so impatient and got angry so quickly. If only he could get help. Or meet someone he loved so much that he changed for them. She sighed that didn’t happen did it? How many men and woman married thinking they could change their other half? A sudden wave of panic set in. Was it still Saturday? She reached across and put the radio back on waiting for a clue as to what time or what day it was. Were these sandwiches her lunch or supper. She couldn’t remember. Rage at her inability to concentrate and hold on to reality flooded through her and she clenched her fists. Gradually the music from the radio calmed her. What did it matter what time or day it was. She didn’t have plans and she wasn’t going anywhere. She finished her sandwich and turned the radio back off. She would just rest for a bit and think about things later.

  FIFTEEN

  ELIZA

  As she lay in bed that night. Eliza had found herself thinking about Pete and all he said to her. She wasn’t in love with him or anything silly like that. But there was something very gently attractive about him. She had enjoyed his company. He had felt easy somehow and safe. Above all safe.

  She had never had a serious boyfriend. Never felt the need really. She was a dreamer always on her own, but never on her own because of the world in her books. You should get out more her mother was always saying. Meet people. Nor be cooped up in your room all day. Why would I want to go out Eliza had thought when she was younger. She didn’t have anything in common with the girls in her class. Even from a young age they only seemed to be interested in boys and clothes. Eliza could go anywhere in the world in her books. Reading or writing. She just loved words and never felt there was anything missing in her life. Well except her father and she had a gut feeling that he would never come back. She knew people talked about her. They thought she was stuck up and probably laughed at her expense. On the whole though Eliza didn’t mind. She was odd, she admitted it. Or different as her counsellor had tried to get her to believe. She had fancied a few men along the way. There was a chap who came in to the library with his little girl and he was quite simply the most attractive man Eliza had ever set eyes on. He was about forty with brown hair, that stuck up, brown eyes and a smile that lit up the library. He was always smartly dressed and never seemed in a hurry. Others too from time to time had made her look twice. Though even if they had asked her out which they hadn’t, she was far too shy. If anyone had chatted her up, and apart from a drunk one Christmas Eve, no one ever had, she would have been too self conscious to string one coherent sentence together. No she was ok with the truth that she was odd, different, whatever she was she didn’t mind. Most of her didn’t anyway.

  She could barely talk to the man, with his daughter Charlie Foster, without going the colour of an over ripe sunset. She always tried to focus on the little girl, Alice or else she would get so tongue tied it was as if she had the worlds worst stutter.

  She must have a hormone or two missing she thought sadly one day not to want to be out dating. She did get very upset once when Mr Fosters wife brought Alice in to the library one afternoon after school. She was the most irritable, rude, loud-mouthed woman Eliza had ever encountered. She pulled Alice along giving her no time to choose which book she wanted. She let the whole library know that she’d had to cancel an appointment because her poor excuse of a husband was still on the golf course. Eliza had been horrified. What on earth was such a nice man doing with such a dreadful woman?

  She hated the word spinster. That was what she was though and what she would die as. Such morbid thoughts where did they come from? Just when her mind was beginning to clear and think normally, they crept in and sabotaged everything. She didn’t want to think about death. It had preoccupied her thoughts for too long. For the first five years after Marcus had attacked her all she had wanted to do was to slip away quietly. Trying to care for her mum whose injuries had been so severe took all her strength even with the help from the carers.

  The trip to Skye was in spite of everything all about life and hope. She knew Marcus was free and walking around the streets of Wellington, living in the house with their mother which still frightened her, but Skye was bigger than her fear. Yet it was almost time to leave. To go back to Gloucester. To the library. To the little bedsit which was her home. She had thought about staying on. The hotel had space for another three nights. She wouldn’t even have to change rooms the receptionist had said. Her train ticket was booked though and her budget was spent. In any case would it be any easier to leave on Thursday than it would be to go tomorrow? She was due back at work on Wednesday so that was that. She suddenly felt trapped. The holiday had cost close to a thousand pounds. More money than she had ever spent in her life. She had saved hard and gone without so much. She just didn’t have the resources to stay longer, but she didn’t have the strength to leave either. I would like my ashes to be scattered here she thought. In this little cove with the seagulls looking on and the mountains like chief mourners in the background. God she was thinking about death again. STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT she screamed to herself stifling sobs she was afraid those in the room next door might hear.

  MARCUS

  It had been a brilliant day but it was time to head back home. As he approached his bike he saw a gawky looking teenager inspecting it Seeing Marcus coming he said in a friendly sort of way

  “Is that your bike?”

  “Is it yours?” Marcus asked back

  The boy grinned from ear to ear and shook his head.

  “It must be mine then mustn’t it so sod off.”

  “Alright mate I was just looking” The boy took a step back realising he may have made a mistake engaging Marcus in conversation

  “Yeh well if I find a single mark on it I’m going to break your bloody legs.”

  Marcus saw the boy was scared now, his stupid baggy jeans so low that he was almost tripping over himself.

  “I’m just going alright” He walked back towards the town as fast as he could without actually breaking into a run. He had some pride.

  Marcus knew he had ruined the boys day. He could see why he had wanted to chat about the bike. What he couldn’t quite understand was why he had gone for him. What h
ad happened? He was just a kid. He had put the fear of God into the boy. But really did he care? No he didn’t. Why the hell should he? Little git shouldn’t have touched his bike.

  He put his helmet on. Best he didn’t have a son he thought as he headed back towards the A38 and home.

  EDITH

  Edith had been dozing for a while and when the front door slammed it jolted her whole body. It always did when Marcus was in a mood. He must have had a bad day. I hope he doesn’t come in. I’d rather wait until the carer comes for my evening drink then have to face him in a thunderous mood. She needn’t have worried. Marcus was barely in the house ten minutes before he was off out again. Edith breathed a huge sigh of relief and put the radio back on. She recognised the voice of the presenter but couldn’t quite remember his name. It would come to her. Before the programme ended she would be sure to think of it. He was interviewing somebody or other. She had a very nice voice. Well spoken and with lots of interesting anecdotes about her life to share. Theresa someone. Edith took her mind off the radio for a minute and tried to think of something witty or amusing she could share about her own life. Nothing leapt out She would ponder on it a bit later. There must be some events worthy of sharing should she ever get the opportunity which she knew was extremely unlikely. No harm tucking one or two anecdotes away though just in case.