Four British Mysteries

by Thomas Brown

  “He hurt her too”, Richard tells him, shaking his head as if he should have known this would happen. Thom can’t believe Richard could draw these comparisons between him and Daniel. How long has he been thinking these things? Why hasn’t he said something before?

  “How did he hurt her?” Thom asks, not bothering to defend himself again. He doesn’t think Richard wants to hear it; he is convinced he is Aunty Val’s protector and Thom the attacker.

  “He hit her”, Richard answers flatly.

  “What? When?” Thom lurches towards them, making Richard hug Aunty Val even closer to his chest. Thom settles back again, not wanting to frighten Richard’s information away.

  “About two months before”. Richard’s answers are curt; his lips so tight Thom can’t see even a minute fraction of his usual smile. Thom can’t remember seeing Richard this angry. In a way, Thom is proud to see him stand up for something, yet he wishes he didn’t have to be the receiver.

  “Why Rich?”

  “She wouldn’t say”. Richard gestures to the awakening Aunty Val. “I just came home to see this horrible purple bruise on her face. She tried to lie but I could tell straight away. Something had been going on with them for months”.

  “Why didn’t you mention this before?” Thom jumps to his feet. “Maybe it would’ve helped with everything, with finding out...”

  “Shut up!” Richard shouts, so bloodthirsty that Thom halts instantly. “This has nothing to do with your stupid quest or whatever it is. This is about him and now you, hurting my mum”.

  Aunty Val opens her eyes and stares up at her devoted son. I envy her for having someone whose job it is to protect her, who will always love her no matter what. Even though Thom has pretended he can play that role too, he isn’t her real son and he isn’t doing a good job of protecting anyone, even himself.

  “I love her. I wouldn’t hurt her on purpose”, Thom insists, squeezing his bandaged hands until they begin to ache. He deserves the pain so he increases the pressure the more they throb.

  “But you still did!”, Richard shouts.

  Thom feels like someone has stabbed a needle into his lung and is letting all the air rush out of him. He remembers the day he received the phone call from Richard, the tears in Richard’s voice. He has failed them.

  “I’m sorry Richard… Aunty. I haven’t meant to do anything bad”.

  “I should smack you in the face like I did him”, Richard swears but Aunty Val grabs his clenched fist and holds it against her cheek. He slackens the tension but gives Thom a dark look, warning him that he is still capable.

  “He didn’t do anything, Richard”, Aunty Val says, letting him help her to sit up. He holds onto her torso like a human stabiliser.

  “Why were you unconscious then?” Richard persists, feeling like a child being lied to. He is certain he has missed something and wants to be included.

  “We were just talking, weren’t we Thom?” She reaches a long way in order to touch Thom’s knee again, nodding in a discreet way only he understands. She doesn’t want him to tell Richard what he told her. Why? Yet, Thom nods quietly anyway.

  “I just felt a bit woozy”. She waves into the air and proceeds to gently peel away Richard’s hold from her chest. Richard stares at his rejected hands.

  “What were you talking about mum?”

  “It’s nothing darling”. Aunty Val gives him a broad smile. Thom’s stomach spins at the sight of it. He can’t help feeling she is a mother protecting her last innocent child from the world. Thom is already lost, Daniel already dead, she only has Richard now. He wants to hold out his hands and beg her save me too; I need you to keep me from falling apart. Yet Thom can’t make his muscles tense to speak, they are tumours impeding function and he doesn’t know if they will ever be granted freedom.

  “I think you should leave, Thom. At least for a few days”, Richard suggests coldly. Thom doesn’t hesitate; he ejects himself from the sofa and attempts to eject himself from their lives. Feeling he is now the tumour, he decides to hack himself out as quickly as possible.

  “No, Thom”, Aunty Val chases and grabs him by the hand. “We need you here”.

  Thom shakes her off. “He’s right, I think we all need some space”. Aunty Val grabs tighter so Thom pulls away more roughly. He may as well have kicked her to the floor. In the next moment she sinks to her knees anyway.

  “I need you Thom”.

  “Aunty Val please…” Thom dismisses her, with a desire to stab himself in the heart instead of watching this sad display. Richard stands up behind her and presses her against him. She is still on her knees so she holds onto him through his legs. He is staring at Thom, a solemn lip clashing with his furrowed eyes.

  “You have to come back”, Richard tells him firmly. Thom nods, fascinated by the words. Come back to where? To the house? To his old self? To them?

  Thom turns sharply and shuts them in, pausing in the hallway. He glances up the stairs, expecting to see Sarah on the top step or hoping to visualise his way back. He takes the few small steps to the front door and leaves the house. The wind whispers to him outside come back, come back. He doesn’t see Aunty Val peering out of the front window, her face raining on the inside.

  34 The Nose Bleed

  I run all the way back to the Mansen house, doubled over with breathlessness and sickness by the time I arrive. Crouching in the middle of the road for several minutes, I gasp and suck in air, not concerned if a car were to speed around the corner and bulldoze me into the asphalt.

  My bag feels like it’s swelling with rocks but I haven’t been able to let go of it. I don’t want to lose the evidence or let my past escape from my memory ever again. I want to be able to say I have knowledge of something, even if it’s something bad.

  Mum, it’s time to get the past back. It’s time for me to realise you can’t help anymore.

  I think about going back to the house but my feet don’t want to go that way. They walk down the middle of the road, slowly and even leisurely, until I reach the part where the ascending road begins to roll downhill again. I reach my hands into the air and begin saying ’Michael’, louder and louder until I am screaming and sobbing.

  I am sobbing heavily when the figure appears out of the darkness. He presses me against him like he wants to seep into my body, trying to calm my moaning. His familiar smell wraps around me like his embrace and I run through several memories in my mind of a time when we were happier, when we didn’t stand on two opposite ends of a scale that were never level.

  “Oh Alice…” He coos and kisses my forehead. “Are you okay?” he asks and I wonder why I have been running away from him for so long. He does love me. He didn’t mean to disappoint me by deserting us. I can tell by his digging fingernails that he is sorry.

  “I’m not okay”, I snort, burying myself into his clump of curls. I feel like I am reacquainting with myself, his hair so similar to mine, his bony nose the mirror of my own. I’m returning to the life I thought I lost and it is easier than I imagined. I can talk to him. I can act human. There is hope for me.

  “Whatever it is, I’ll help you”, Michael promises, holding my face between his hands like people do when they are being earnest. I rest my forehead against his, reminding myself of his clammy blemished skin. “I love you Alice, I’m so sorry about everything. I won’t let you down again”.

  For some unknown reason, I believe him. I have been trying to escape him for weeks but hearing his voice now, it is as strong and honest as a piece of steel. I need him anyway. I can’t deal with these new revelations alone.

  “Will you tell me the truth, Michael?”

  “I will if I can”. He stares into my eyes, not shaken by the increasingly cold wind thrashing all around us. I feel like we are in a bubble that nothing can touch, everything is frozen except the two of us.

  “Tell me about a man named Daniel, then”, I say. Michael’s eyes protrude in response. There is no attempt at disguise.

  “How do you k
now…” Michael rolls silence around his tongue for a moment but finally finishes, “…about him?”

  My insides instantly sink. He has confirmed it. It’s true. I don’t even need to ask any more questions, the file is a hub of answers. Yet to keep our interaction going, I say, “I found a file from the hospital”.

  “I wish you hadn’t found out about this”. He lowers his head.

  “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

  “We thought it would make things worse”. Michael pouts. “But if you want to know more, maybe we should take you to see Doctor Rosey”.

  I instantly pull out of his hold. He stiffens up and reaches his hands out towards me. “Please, don’t run”. He is standing like he is ready to chase me.

  I shake my head and reassure him, “I’m sick of running”.

  “Thank goodness”, he sighs happily and brings his feet back together. I want to throw my arms up in victory at this small gesture. It seems that suddenly Michael and I are communicating.

  “I don’t trust that Doctor. She wants to take me back to the hospital”.

  “I won’t let her”, Michael slants his head, “…not again. You can come and stay with me”.

  “But your family…”

  “My family will get to know you and support you”. He nods seriously. My chest is threatening to rupture with elation. Another small part of me wonders if Michael is merely trying to trick me. It has happened before. What makes this situation different?

  Reading my mind, Michael adds, “you can trust me this time Alice. I won’t let you down again. I’ve realised…” he inhales deeply, “I should’ve been there”.

  “I want to believe you”. I begin pulling at my hair and letting the curls spring back. Michael watches, a smile rising on his lips.

  “It’s so good to talk with you like this again”.

  “I’m still ill Michael”. My admission makes him smile even wider.

  “That’s a good step”. He takes me by the shoulders, a brother praising his little sister. It’s obvious but I enjoy every moment. I’ve done nothing for him to praise the last few years.

  “Come and see the Doctor now, we’ll talk to her together”.

  Michael starts leading me towards his car but suddenly he is wrenched backwards. I spin round and see Thom standing there. He is shaking like an infected dog, salivating as he stares at Michael.

  “Get your hands off her”, Thom snarls, his jaws crunching loudly.

  Michael instantly remembers Thom and doesn’t take him seriously. “What business is it of yours?” Michael stares Thom down. What Michael doesn’t realise is that Thom thinks he’s a rapist, that Thom has just been accused by his cousin of hurting his Aunty, and that Thom would love to skin someone alive.

  “She told me about you”. Thom jabs him.

  I jump in front of Michael and raise my hands. “Thom, you don’t understand”.

  “No, I do Sarah”, he growls. “And I won’t let him scare you anymore”.

  “You have the wrong idea”, I appeal to him again.

  Thom’s nose is hooked upwards with disgust, his nostrils flaring like tunnels. I want to pull him close to me to make him settle but equally I can’t stand to see his face, taunting me with the living vision of the man who has made me sick with obsession and perhaps even love?

  “The wrong idea?” Thom cries. “This bastard raped you”. Thom jabs Michael over my shoulder. Behind me, Michael lurches forward like a spring and I am pushed aside.

  “What did he say?” Michael shouts, turning white. “Are you crazy?”

  “You have the nerve to call me crazy you fucking pervert!” Thom shrieks and grabs Michael by the throat. I hear Michael cough and grunt, trying to claw at Thom’s hand. I pull on Thom’s arm but he shoves me backwards, making me stumble over. I can only watch Thom pushing Michael against a car, throwing his fist into Michael’s face. Whilst I try to hoist myself up, my legs suddenly numb.

  Michael is attempting to push Thom off him, his face swelling with desperation and blood. When Thom finally releases him, I am holding myself up at the end of the car, blowing out the air I have been holding. Yet my relief is short as in the next instant, Thom begins punching the still recovering Michael, as if he is a piece of meat he needs to tenderise.

  As Michael slumps down the car, with blood exploding from his nose like a dam battered by flood, I squeeze myself between them. Thom narrowly misses striking me with yet another punch intended for my brother. He leaps away from me. I think about saying something to him, then shake my head and turn away.

  Michael is lying face up on the floor, leaning his head as far back as he can, staring up at me drowsily. He is probably thinking about what a terrible person I am, or what a terrible person Thom is, or why he is being called a rapist when he is not.

  I kneel next to him, bowing my head close to his body, atoning for my lie and its bloody offshoots that pierced him like shrapnel. He grabs my hand. I stroke his sweaty forehead and press my scarf against his bloodied nose until he squints and groans. This scarf is no longer a bind; it is a bandage.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Thom yelps from behind me.

  “You have no right to hurt him”.

  “But he hurt you!” Thom cries as I help Michael sit up, and then turn to face him.

  “I told you it was fine and you ignored me anyway. Why didn’t you listen?” I hit at his chest, hoping to bruise him.

  “But you told me he hurt you. I don’t understand”. Thom holds his head with clawed fingers, backing away from the source of his throbbing confusion.

  “Why did you tell him that, Alice?” Michael coughs, equally as perplexed.

  “Don’t call her Alice”. Thom snarls and kicks Michael in the ribs, who yelps sadly and slouches sideways. I drive forward and shove Thom into the middle of the road. He stumbles as if he is standing on one leg. He holds his hands up, to help him balance and to reach out.

  “Stop hurting my brother”, I spit. A current of shock mixed with awareness thrashes over his expression. He drops his arms, his body a balloon wailing into a slump.

  “Your brother?” Thom squeaks, glancing at Michael on the floor, who is pushing himself up with a half press up.

  “This is Michael”, I say blankly.

  “But you told me...”

  “I know what I told you”, I interject before he can repeat my poisonous lie. “I told you that because I didn’t want you to listen to Michael”. I step closer to him but he immediately backs away the same distance, afraid I have a disease that is airborne.

  “Why Sarah?” Thom’s words seem to froth from his mouth. “Or Alice or whatever your name is”, he sulks.

  “I’ve been ill for a long time and I haven’t been ready to face up to that. I didn’t want Michael to disturb my life”.

  “You were ill?” Thom repeats, his tone lacking surprise.

  “I have had some issues… well, I still do”. I hear the words and feel them clear and bold in my mind. There is no static or interference. I see the truth like a fact in an encyclopaedia. “I’ve been running away from dealing with them for ages. Even though they let me out of the hospital, I’m really not better”.

  “The hospital?” Thom shouts out. His mouth moves like he is a dummy being manipulated by somebody else. He isn’t thinking about talking, he is merely performing it.

  “I spent time in a hospital Thom. And just for the record, I was raped”.

  “Why should I believe you now?” he mumbles dejectedly.

  “Would I really want to tell you all these bad things about myself if they weren’t true?” I move towards him again and manage to sweep my hand across his.

  “Well, you told me your brother was the one who raped you”, he reminds me and I bow my head.

  “I shouldn’t have done that”, I pause and look into his face again. “I was afraid that he would tell you all these bad things about me and you would hate me. But I should’ve realised it would have been the best thing
to get this all out, to realise how sick I’ve been”.

  Thom shakes himself out and begins to turn away, then snaps back, kicking the floor between us. “This is all crazy. You’ve been lying to me this whole time”.

  “You didn’t actually ask that much about my past. And when I told you anything, you just accepted it”. I don’t mean to criticise but Thom has no other way to hear this.

  “You’re blaming me?” he cries, his mouth hanging open. I want to reach over and press it closed, fix one of the growing holes in his life.

  “No, I’m sorry”.

  “I can’t believe this Sarah”. Thom screws up his face. In this moment I feel superior because he is falling apart. I decide to close the gap between us and take him by the hands, as Michael had done with me only ten minutes before.

  “It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have lied”. I want to hug him but his bruised knuckles stop me. Thom’s legs are wobbling, his face a piece of paper gradually crumpling, creating passages for his tears.

  “I can’t deal with this right now. I need you…” he whimpers.

  “You’re okay Thom, I know you are”, I say but I am lying again. Yet this is a lie that is needed, an exit clause and a scaffold.

  “But Richard thinks I’m trying to hurt Aunty Val”. Thom pulls me towards him and grabs onto me. I have to push him away. “He told me to leave and now… now you hate me too”. He tries grabbing me again for a few seconds, I instinctively squeeze him but remember to urge him away again. Thom’s posture drops and he shuffles backwards.

  “What did you do, Thom? Why did he tell you to leave?”

  “They don’t understand Daniel”, Thom sighs and looks ready to lie on the ground and wait for the tyres to crush him into a pile of slush and chunks. Although Thom thinks he has nothing left, his words actually repair the smallest thread of our relationship. It is a microscopic fragment on a large tapestry. If anyone can empathise with the damage Daniel has done, I can.

  “You can stay at my place. It’s a horrible bedsit but at least it’s somewhere”, I say, giving him the address and the key. Thom nods at the gesture and holds the key tightly in his hand, a hook and line keeping him attached to the shore, no matter how weakly.