by Gil Brailey
* * *
The following Saturday, Faith made the same journey and was almost at Edward’s door when she noticed a man standing there, as though bracing himself to push the door open and to step inside.
“Mr Harker? Is that right?” she said, walking up.
The man turned and she knew straight away who it was, here were Nick’s eyes staring back at her.
“I’m Faith, Faith Harris, the person that bought Renfield Road.”
There was a long pause while Henry mulled this over. “Oh, I see,” said Henry, warily.
“Look, I’m sorry to do this, but I’m desperate to find Nick.”
“Nick? Nick who?”
“Your son, Nick, of course.”
Henry stared at Faith, barely containing his fury. “Is this some kind of joke? Some kind of newspaper stunt, is that it?”
“No, of course not.”
“Nick is no longer with us, and all things considered, my only regret is he didn’t leave us sooner. Now I don’t know who the hell you are…”
“But I don’t understand. On my first viewing at Renfield Road I met Nick at the house and he showed me round.”
Henry put out a hand to steady himself, then leant up wearily against the wall. He started shaking his head again and again, as though what Faith had said was an impossible notion, and one he didn’t want even to consider.
“As Nick has been dead for years, I’d say that was highly unlikely, wouldn’t you?”
For what seemed like a lifetime, Faith remained where she was, gazing at this man who had just uttered the most preposterous statement she had ever heard. And he stood looking at her as though he was in the presence of a mad woman. Eventually, Faith heard the distant clank and rattle of tea trolleys, indicating her senses were resuming normal service.
“That can’t be,” she said, finally.
“Christmas Eve, 1985, the day he killed his mother, her sister and her husband, the day he strung himself up on the bannister at 77 Renfield Road. I was only spared because I was in hospital at the time, with an in-growing toe nail of all things – truth being stranger than fiction.”
Rooted to the spot Faith could only stare at this man who was saying such outrageous things, things that just could not be. “I don’t believe you, I don’t believe any of this, because I met him, we… became close, he and I, none of this can be true.”
“You don’t have to take my word for it, one click at your computer will provide you with all the relevant information.”
“But we spoke together I’m telling you on two occasions.”
“Then you were talking to his ghost. They say he’s still in that house, my father used to see him from time to time, so you’re not the only one.”
They stopped speaking then, just stood looking at each other as though a bluff had been called, both waiting for the other to back down.
“Why did you abandon him when he was a child?”
Henry let out a nasty laugh. “Lots of children are “abandoned” in similar circumstances, but they don’t knife their own mother. Nick Harker made a pact with the devil, that’s the long and short of it. He’s no son of mine.”
“No, he’s not, he’s a million times better than you could ever be or could ever think of being.”