Fifty Years of Fear

by Ross Greenwood

  My mum admired my brother in the same manner I suspect the person who invented dynamite enjoyed his creation - with care, respect, and pride, but from a distance.

  My dad showed his affection to Frank with bone-crushing holds and general grappling. I think he secretly got some pleasure from the odd visit from the police or the calls from the school, as nothing seemed to stick. Frank was a natural leader, but at home he appreciated the fact he wasn’t the alpha male. With us, he could just be.

  He used to arm-wrestle my dad, who would feign losing, his hand shaking. Then, with a roar, my dad would pick up my brother with his other arm and throw him around like he was made of cotton. There would be no more of that.

  My parents loved us both for what we were - opposite ends of the spectrum. The stroke hadn’t altered how I fitted in with the family, but it was obvious to me that Frank felt unsure. My mum, as usual, attacked things head on.

  ‘Right boys. Sit down.’

  We sat on my dad’s bed and faced her. She wriggled on his commode chair to get comfortable. A smile crept onto her face and we laughed.

  ‘I’m glad we can still giggle. The ambulance has gone, so it’s just us now. I’ve talked to your father about what he wants, but you two can help decide how we go forward.’

  She composed herself and continued.

  ‘We have been allocated a carer, but they won't be here much of the time. However, you're aware your dad is a private man and would be uncomfortable around strangers. He can go to the toilet himself although he'll need a helping hand onto the seat. This chair is for everything. He will need food preparing and some help to eat it. He can’t dress himself yet, for obvious reasons. That will be one of the hardest jobs. I think I can do most of it myself otherwise.’

  ‘I’ll be here for whatever needs doing.’

  ‘Let me finish, Vincent. Money is tight. Both of you may need to get a part-time job to help out. We get a bit of cash from the government, so we can see if that's enough. I got the cleaning job I went for at the school. It’s between four and seven every evening. Perhaps you could take turns as you will need to be responsible for him while I’m not here.’

  The look on Frank’s face was known the world over. General Custer would have worn the same expression as the three-thousandth Indian rode into view. He blurted his words at us.

  ‘I’ll get a job and help out like that.'

  I nodded. I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

  Chapter 4

  1982 – Age: 16

  I could have counted how often I’d been on a train on one hand and still had enough fingers remaining for the number of times my dad had left the house since he became ill. Yet there we were, to wave goodbye to my brother.

  The smell of diesel and the rush of people made me excited and nervous at the same time. I didn’t understand why as I wasn’t going anywhere. My mum wanted to push my dad, but the wheelchair was far from state of the art. It was like guiding a trolley through sand, and was another job I had seamlessly taken to be mine.

  My dad sat upright and beamed. He had regained some of his strength and speech, almost to the point of being jolly. My mum however, seemed to have shrunk over the last year. It was as if the energy and vitality he gained were pulled directly from her reserves.

  She perched on the edge of a seat and lit the ever-present cigarette. I sometimes wondered whether she did it to clear the smell of the hospital he brought home with him. At least he hadn’t smoked again.

  You would think my brother would've been apprehensive about the challenges ahead. Instead, he looked relieved. Frank’s O level exams got placed firmly in the black category and he didn’t sit any of them.

  He went straight out and took work to bring in a wage. He'd do anything that came his way, from labouring to packing jobs. At the house, he thought of himself as a spare wheel and said as much. In his free time, he jogged. He would go out for hours, pounding the running shoes which were his only extravagance.

  If I’d analysed it, as opposed to immersing myself in literature, I would have seen the armed forces as a natural choice for Frank. He bristled with energy and needed to let off steam. The government must have been crying out for people like him. I even caught him reading newspapers and watching the news which had been unheard of beforehand. I supposed it was to keep up to date with the Falklands conflict, but I believed he decided to join up long before that became a motivating factor.

  He was different. We all were. Unexpected events like a stroke, and the grind that comes afterwards, can blow families apart, yet it drew us together.

  My dad rediscovered his love of sport. He played football to a good standard in his youth, only dropping it as the demands of family life became all-consuming, so he enjoyed anything that came on television.

  I read in the lounge next to him or, on the days where he was too weak to get out of bed, in his bedroom downstairs. I began to know the man in a way I suspect I never would have done if life had continued as before. There were big gaps in his past though. I wasn’t astute, but even I could tell he omitted things as he talked.

  My attendance at school suffered, but I had the ultimate get out of jail free card. Time drifted. Soon, it was me making a mess of my examinations.

  As I watched my dad say his farewells and fail at sneakily trying to slip my brother a folded-up wedge of cash, I allowed myself to consider the future. It was something that was often in my thoughts.

  There was no way my mother could cope on her own, she wasn’t strong enough. I had given up on the weights because moving a twelve-stone dead weight around was all the exercise I desired. She would still need my help. Therefore, I wouldn’t be going anywhere soon. I didn’t mind so much; family came first.

  My brother shook hands with both my parents. As usual, no words were necessary.

  ‘Come on, Elvis. You can carry my bag. I'm reserving my strength for killing the enemy.’

  I followed him up the platform as the train glided in. I wondered where he was going, until he stopped out of earshot of the others. Frank looked up at the station clock as he searched for the words he needed.

  ‘You’re the man of the house now.’

  ‘You’ll be back.’

  ‘I’ll send money.’

  ‘Cool. I’ll spend it on sweets.’

  Only then did he smile. Frank bit down on whatever he was about to say as the whistle blew. He stepped onto the train, and I passed his kitbag to him. As soon as the door shut, he pushed the window open.

  ‘Vinnie. I just want to say thank you. What you’ve done is something I never could. These words don’t come easy to me, but I’ll make you proud, because I’m proud of you.’

  We shook hands, and then hugged - a new experience, I later recalled. I'm sure I felt tears on my cheek. Mine or his, I couldn't tell. He leaned out of the window, straightened my jacket, flicked my earlobe, and then strode into the carriage.

  I returned to stand next to my contented parents. All of a sudden, it felt as if we were the only people present. The train left, he pressed his palm against the glass as he went by and we said goodbye to the past.

  I heard my dad whisper, ‘That’s my boy.’

  My arms were tired from waving, and I shoved my hands in my pockets. The money given to my brother tickled my fingers. Frank was darkness and light. I wasn't to know that then, but he would be the only one who would stick by me.

  Then there were three.

  Chapter 5

  1983 – Age: 17

  I wondered whether I was unconcerned with my future due to the fact I could see it was out of my hands, or because of a general lack of ambition. Deep down, I knew that things were unlikely to continue as they were, and so I let nature take its course. I was proven right.

  My dad appeared to have plateaued with regards to his rehabilitation and, despite the lack of progress, was seemingly content. The loving relationship with my mother continued and I even heard the odd strange noise coming from his room at night.
r />   I, too, was taking notice of sex and women, though they both seemed a foreign concept. Almost everything I learnt about the topic stemmed from books. I’m not sure James Herbert’s “The Rats” was a good introduction to relationships, but there were others with a more reasonable approach.

  To most of my teachers’ amazement, I passed nearly all of my exams. My English teacher asked if I would continue my studies. I explained my commitments in our house and that I would see what life brought. A heart attack, as it turned out. Specifically, a series of mini ones which barely registered.

  They took my dad into hospital and the doctors decided he needed a bypass. A date for surgery wasn't mentioned as it was plain to all he would never be strong enough for such an undertaking. I think they thought he would fade away, but he proved them wrong and, in the end, they let him come home.

  The weeks that followed were strange. We moved his things into the lounge and waited. There was only a shadow left, but my mum would get in bed with him and they would cuddle.

  They surprised me when they told me to go on holiday. The crazy bat next door had won a week in Cromer at the Hotel De Paris. Full board and quite a prize. She had been entering the competitions from my mum’s old Reader’s Digests for years. When she found out she’d won, she gave it to my mum, saying, ‘What the hell do I want to go to the beach for at my age?’

  Cromer is a traditional seaside resort in Norfolk. I hadn’t been before but with my general lack of having been anywhere that was not surprising. The seaside is the seaside, and, when I was feeling strong, I looked forward to a break and adventure.

  ‘I’m not going,’ I said.

  My mum just smiled. ‘You’re going.’ She beckoned me to sit next to her on the sofa. ‘Do you trust me?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘It’s a scary thought, going away, especially on your own. It’s normal to feel like that. If you don’t like it there, just come back. That won’t be a problem. Especially seeing as we won the prize. Be young, Vincent.’

  The idea something might happen while I was away nagged at my mind but the arrival of my brother and his enthusiasm gave me the confidence to pack my things.

  My brother took a week’s leave for the period I was away. Basic training was over, but he remained based in the UK. He had got back in time to walk me down to the bus station which was the cheapest method of transport to the coast.

  ‘Have a lovely break. Not too good though. I don’t want to hear you’ve been making sweet love to all the hot chicks staying at the hotel.’

  ‘Will there be loads of women there?’

  ‘Yeah, that place is well known for its dances and the mischief that occurs at them.’

  The word dance sent a shimmer of worry through me. Perhaps I would be able to just watch.

  ‘Thanks for taking the time off to help while I’m away. I wouldn’t be comfortable going otherwise.’

  ‘No problem. I think my career in the navy will be a short one.’

  ‘What!? I thought that was all you wanted. Why?’

  ‘There was fighting which got out of hand. People were hurt.’

  ‘That’s war though. Fighting is what they pay you to do.’

  ‘Not with each other, Vinnie.’ He looked away. It was always hard to see what Frank was thinking.

  ‘I’m sure it’ll work out.’

  ‘It’s too late for that. They wouldn’t give me the time off.’

  ‘You’re AWOL?’

  ‘I did what had to be done. Enjoy yourself. I bet you’ll meet some interesting people.’

  Without any further comment, he walked from the bus station with an amble that told of no worries. I watched with an open mouth as he left. I couldn’t help thinking that the routine and discipline would’ve saved him. What would he do now? I supposed it would be nice to have him home.

  Chapter 6

  I sat on the rear seats the whole way. Only the cool kids got to sit there on school trips and I kept waiting for someone to tell me to move. I arrived at the bus station in Cromer in the early afternoon.

  It was August, and warm and pleasant. I couldn’t believe I was actually going somewhere on my own. My thoughts flicked from terror to excitement and back again. I figured I had to shake myself out of my stupor. There was a world out there and I wanted to see it.

  After asking for directions I found the Hotel De Paris. It was on the seafront, looking out over the Victorian pier. At first glance, it seemed fantastic - moody and large. I could almost sense the stories of people’s lives having happened there as I stared up at the long row of windows.

  The breeze was invigorating and the sea air made me feel like running. The hotel even had a revolving door in which I went around twice before handing the letter with the prize news to the girl at reception. They knew I was coming as I needed to confirm my booking over the phone beforehand. I breathed in deeply and approached the desk.

  ‘Congratulations on your win. Have you been here before, Monsieur Roach?’

  The look on her face was impish. The half-smile didn’t require an immediate response, and she widened her eyes. What was I missing? I wasn’t sure if it would be good news or bad. I glanced around to see if it was obvious.

  There was only me in reception, and I’d been in louder churches. The whole place appeared tired. However, I thought she should be able to tell from the clothes I had on that I was used to worse.

  ‘Thank you. No, I haven’t been here before.’

  ‘The prize is for two. Has your partner arrived as well?’

  I didn’t know that, and my face burned with the knowledge. I paused to think of who I could've brought with me and came up lacking.

  ‘It will be just me.’

  Her big smile pushed up her cheeks which made me notice her eyebrows. Her thick black hair gleamed in a tight ponytail, so those wild beasts dominated her features. Her lips were cherry red in comparison. Despite that, I recognised she couldn’t be much older than me.

  ‘I run the bar through there. It is very quiet bar. Come and see. Here is your key. The porter is helping other guests so a strong man will have to help himself.’

  I wasn’t entirely sure whether she was flirting with me or taking the piss. I didn’t think I’d ever met a French person before, as I’d assumed that’s where she got her ‘Allo Allo’ accent.

  ‘Your dinner is at seven o’clock. I hope you enjoy it here.’

  She gave me a suggestive expression that made me need the toilet. I scuttled off upstairs with a racing pulse.

  My home for the next week was a clean and functional room, in keeping with the areas I walked through. Tiredness descended on me like I’d been injected with an anaesthetic when I realised, for seven days, I was free.

  The only responsibility I had there was to spend the pocket money given to me by my mum. May, the neighbour, had slipped me twenty pounds too, and I felt rich. I slid into the musty covers and was asleep in seconds.

  I woke with a jolt, forgetting where I was. The light through the windows, and a glance at my watch, confirmed I had time for a wash before dinner. My best shirt wasn’t up to much but was the only reassurance I had over the nerves that tried to stop me leaving my room.

  I approached the doors to the dining area, where the girl from reception waited with a grin the size of a piano keyboard.

  ‘Sit where you like, Monsieur.’

  ‘It’s Vincent,’ I said. The joke revealed itself as she opened the doors.

  I didn’t realise God’s waiting room was on the east coast of England. When I stepped into the hall of tables, I brought the average age down by about thirty years. I was the only one there whose hair was still present and wasn’t grey or purple.

  There were loads of free tables, although none next to the windows. I looked at the girl and smiled. I thought of my brother’s comments, tipped my head back and laughed. Only a few hours ago, a situation like that would've made me cringe. I wasn't sure who this new Vincent was, but I liked him. Jud
ging by her grin, she did too.

  ‘And I am Sara. I will see you soon.’

  I sat in the corner at a table set for four and poured myself a glass of water. The room filled up fast and my confidence drained. There must have been a coach turn up unless they’d been below, hiding in a secret crypt. I began to perspire.

  ‘Are these seats free?’ A doddery lady with shaking hands peered at me.

  I nodded to confirm.

  ‘Are you on your own?’

  ‘Yes I am.’

  ‘Don’t worry, you won’t get bored with us.’

  That wasn’t what I was expecting to hear, and I leaned back to regard her and her sleepy looking husband as they sat down.

  ‘It’s our wedding anniversary. Sixty years. I’m Betty. Never a cross word too. Not from me anyway. Lucky to have me, aren’t you Arnold?’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Deaf as a post he is. Eh, Arnold?’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Ignore him, talk to me. I’m lots of fun. Do you have grandparents?’

  ‘No, I never knew them.’

  ‘Shame, shame. We’re silly and wise. It’s the best way to be. Ooh, look, it’s Doris. Yoo hoo, Doris. Wait there, I’ll come over.’

  She left as a waiter arrived at our table.

  ‘Red or white, sir?’ It was me who said ‘pardon’ to that.

  ‘Wine, sir?’

  I hadn’t been in that position before so I declined. I didn’t know how much it was and felt daft asking.

  ‘You get a bottle per night, as part of your prize.’

  ‘He’ll try the red,’ Arnold said. ‘Give Betty her usual, I’ll educate the boy here.’

  The waiter took a dark bottle off his trolley and poured a small amount in my glass. He then looked at me and raised an eyebrow. Arnold reached over, picked up the glass and swallowed it with a flourish.

  ‘Perfect. Pour it out, my man.’