Hope House: Part Four - Breakfast Blues
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“Wow,” whispered Paul. “Look at his hair. It’s almost to his waist. What’s wrong with him, Nat, why is he staring like that? He looks like his lights are on, but no one is home.”
“He’s having a cerebral absence. In simple terms it’s a kind of trance or fit. He’ll come out of it in his own time.”
“No shit.”
“Curb the language, Paul,” said Nat, automatically giving voice to Gordon’s disapproval, which seemed to come to him telepathically from above.
“You swear. I’ve heard you. Like last week when you tripped over James’s mother.”
“Do as I say, not as I do,” said Nat rather primly. “And I didn’t trip over James’s mother. I tripped over the wastebasket James had left in the hall. It’s bad enough James conjuring up the woman without you starting. She is dead and gone.”
“She might be dead, but she hasn’t gone. James still hears her, sees her too sometimes. Her ghost haunts him. I thought I saw her once, on the landing upstairs.”
Nigel gave a gasp of fearful alarm on hearing the word ghost.
“Nonsense!” Nat spoke robustly. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.” Turning to Nigel he gave him a reassuring smile. “Be a good lad. Fetch Caleb a big towel from the airing cupboard. Can you do that?”
“I’ll find him the best one.” Nigel flew out of the room.
Nat wagged a finger at Paul. “Don’t mention ghosts in front of Nigel. You know how easily frightened he is.”
“Don’t you really believe in ghosts? I do.”
“Then believe in them quietly.”
Nat gently guided the tall figure of Caleb down onto a kitchen chair.
“What is he doing here?”
“He comes to see us every year at this time.” Nat glanced across at the kitchen wall calendar. It was exactly a year since his last visit. Cal never wavered.
“Where does he come from?”
“Around and about. He’s a traveller.”
“What, like a gypo or pikey?”
“Don’t use those words in that tone, Paul. It’s derogatory. Just because people live in caravans instead of houses doesn’t make them worth any less than the rest of us.”
“My dad says they’re all thieves, scammers and tax dodgers.”
“Well, he’s entitled to his opinion,” said Nat, while keeping the opinion that Paul’s father was an obnoxious bullyboy firmly to himself.
“How do you know him? Was he a patient here?”
“Your father? I don’t think so.”
“Not my father.” Paul grinned. “Him, Cat man, or whatever you call him.”
“You’re asking a lot of questions.”
“Just curious.”
“Questions can be answered later. Go and see where Nigel has got to with the towel. He’s so excited he’s probably forgotten why I sent him up there.”
Paul went out and Nat seated himself at the table keeping company with the silent guest. He studied him, feeling a twinge of disquiet. Something wasn’t quite right. He could sense it. Taking Caleb’s hand he held it, conveying what he hoped was a message of comfort. “You’ve reached Hope House, Caleb,” he murmured. “You’re safe here.”
End of part four.
Copyright Fabian Black 2016
Coming soon -
Part Five –
The Hope House weekend continues with storms of a non-weather variety. Caleb wakes up and Nigel unearths hidden treasure, leading to trouble for Paul.