Spark'l ~ Part 4 & Last

Spark'l  ~  Part 4 & Last

By Len Morgan

 

“That was a fine thing you did for those young people” said Karen in the privacy of her bedroom.

'They were so sad; they had lost all hope and their belief in the future.  All I did was to give it back to them.   A little nudge here a push there.   Not all went home but their families now know they are safe,' said Spark’l.

“Yap,” said Scruffy

“Time for sleep,” said Karen turning out the light.

.-…-.

One week later, Archie was in his office when Spark’l appeared suddenly.  

“Good morning,” he said cheerfully.   Spark’l did not respond immediately.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

‘I am not what I seem,’ she said.   He remained silent waiting for her to explain.   ‘I now know my purpose,’ she said.

“Have you known for long,” he asked, without concern.

'It grew gradually within me.   I do not even think that I am female.   I should be out there seeking a prime star, one that is ready to flower, ready to become a Supernova.  The longer I remain here, on earth, the less likely I will be able to leave.' 

If you wish to leave now I could explain to the other’s, he offered.

'It is already too late, I have tried, I no longer have the energy to escape from your planet.'

“It’s a hell of a burden knowing that,” said Archie lapsing back into speech.

‘Sorry!   I may just fade out like a spark.   But, I could explode, and destroy all those I love, I do not know what will happen,’ said Spark’l.

 “Professor, come quickly!  I think you had better see this,” said Iris bursting into his office.

 She knows about Spark’l, he thought with a sinking feeling in his stomach. 

 Iris turned on the television.

   /… “As I speak, the reactor is close to meltdown.   Scientists estimate that, because of a nearby fault in the earths crust, the explosion might be sufficient to cause extensive earthquakes, tidal waves, and radioactivity that will destroy life as we know it…”   

Archie rushed to the TV frantically changing the channels.

“It’s not a hoax, It’s on every channel,” said Iris, “It’s the end of the world!” she ran from the office.

“Where are you going?”  Archie called after her.

“I’m going home to be with my family,” she answered, grabbing her handbag.  

   /…”The spiritual leaders of the world are urging all people of faith to pray for deliverance in this our darkest hour.   Pray for a miracle here in Urbistan.  The world’s largest, and newest, nuclear reactor went online just twelve hours ago.   It has been building steadily towards a chain reaction that will cause an explosion a thousand times greater than any nuclear device ever detonated by man.   The sequence of events started just minutes after the reactor went online the fault is due to human error.   It’s comforting to know that the destruction of our planet will be of our own doing,” said the announcer ironically…

It seems you will not after all be responsible for our deaths, Archie thought.

‘Nuclear energy; It is similar to the energy of the sun is it not?’  asked Spark’l

A very small sun, but yes, said Archie.

'It is the type of energy I require to survive, she said.   If I succeed, you will not be seeing me again.   I believe my visit to earth may not have been an accident after all,’ said Spark’l.  

Archie looked up but she was gone.

.-…-.

“What can she do?” asked Karen.

“Honestly I don’t know,” said Mum as she continued to get ready.

“I can’t believe you are still going to work Emm,” said, Dad.   “If it’s the end of everything wouldn’t you prefer to be here with us?”

“If Spark’l succeeds,” said Mum.

“She is an it!” said Dad.

“That’s was not what she said,” said Mum.   “I’m a nurse and there will be people at the hospital who are in pain, in need of help,” she said, “I can’t let them down.”

   All over the world people were fixed to their TV screens as the final countdown began.   Karen hugged Scruffy who covered his ears with his paws.

I’m afraid that won’t help you Scruffy, Karen thought.

But, It makes me feel better, it was so much easier when I knew nothing, he thought.

 The pictures on the TV shook violently a loud roar and a huge ball of fire expanded to fill the screen.   Then, it slowly contracted to the size of a football and began to rise into the air, slowly at first then; it began to gather speed, increasing rapidly, as it shot up into the atmosphere and out into space.

'Goodbye my friends, when next you see a Supernova, remember me.'  said Spark’l - the message was received by all those whose lives had been touched by her.   They all experienced her warm feelings of love, friendship, and togetherness.   None of them would ever feel lonely again.

 The Pope, and other religious leaders gave thanks for our deliverance and why not.

.-…-.

   Ten thousand years ago, something fortuitous happened.   Beings with incredible foresight sent Spark’l to us.   Had they done so six months earlier, or six months later, it would probably have meant the end of everything.  “How did they know?’” said Archie.

 “Did you talk to me a while back?” asked Karen.

 Scruffy smiled inwardly, ‘Yup.’

Ends.



Copyright Len Morgan

IT’S A MAN’S WORLD

IT’S A MAN’S WORLD

By Bob French

The noise, that seemed to come from nowhere was deafening.  It shook my body until it ached all over as I was thrown down to the ground where I lay. My eyes stung, my ears and sense of direction was sent into complete confusion.  I frantically tried to remember where I was, felt the cold wet mud sticking to my face as I gasped for breath.  Then my eyes slowly focused as I looked up into the face of Corporal Fellows.

          “That son, was bloody awful.  If you’d been in the streets of Aden, they would have robbed you by now, then slit your throat.”

          He leant down and grabbed my combat jacket and un-ceremonially dragged me to my feet. “What did I tell you?  The second you are hit, or you go down, roll away into shadow or find cover, don’t lay there enjoying the bloody sunshine.”  I was doing my best to hear him, but the sounds around me seemed muffled and I couldn’t quite get my balance.  I suddenly felt a clout around the back of my helmet and turned.

          “That son, was a dog’s breakfast.  Do that again and I kick you from here to the bloody horizon, got it?” 

          I nodded, “Yes Sergeant.”

          As my platoon sergeant stormed across to the next recruit who was having his rite’s read to him, my balance and hearing started to return and the smell of CS gas started to sting my nose and throat.

          “Well, don’t stand there, pick up your bloody rifle and get moving!  You’ve got another six miles to go yet.”

          I leant down to pick up my rifle, only to continue my forward momentum and fall headlong back into the mud again.  As I tried to scramble to my feet, I could feel the closeness of Corporal Fellows as he began to scream at me again.

          The smell of CS gas increased as I stumbled towards the low beam, then fell to my knees and scrambled under it and into some tunnels.  The last tunnel was underwater and by this time, I was shaking with exhaustion. 

As I was dragged from the water, I saw the six-foot walls and wondered how I was going to get over them.  My surroundings were filled with men screaming death threats into my face and pushing me towards the walls.  Suddenly Brian, a mate from Liverpool, who had joined the same intake as me, was on my shoulder, and as I glanced across at him, he was grinning at me as though this was a walk in the park.

          We both hit the barbed wire scramble nets at the same time and, on our hands and knees we crawled and scrambled for about fifty yards under this wire netting with thunder flashes and hose pipes hitting us from both sides.  When we cleared that obstacle, we were staggering around like drunks.

          I saw the end of the assault course and together we started to run towards the end gate.  As we cleared through it, my body seemed to suddenly give up and I saw stars flashing in front of my eyes, then fell forward onto my hands and knees and vomited my breakfast all over my rifle.  Corporal Fellows appeared from nowhere and started to scream more verbal abuse at me. 

“This is a man’s world you little turd, if you want to be part of it, you’d better bloody well get up and move your bloody arse.”  But I just ignored him.  Sitting back, I took a couple of deep breaths and took a quick compass bearing then nodded over to the left of the horizon. Brian heaved me up and we began jogging.  As we started to climb, Jenkins came up on our shoulders we nodded to each other, fully understanding what lay ahead.

          The huge hilltop seemed miles away and I knew this run was going to hurt.  As I started to push, I turned back to see Williams, a Welsh lad, standing in front of our Platoon Sergeant sobbing his heart out.  The Sergeant didn’t seem to care and just pointed to the hilltop yelling at him to get going.  Strange I thought. Couldn’t all Welshmen climb hills; their country is full of them.

          An hour or so later, after three false horizons, I reached the top of the mountain.  There were about five of us on the top and the Platoon Sergeant pointed to a four-ton vehicle in the distance.

          “Right you lazy bunch of tossers, if you want your lunch, you had better reach that four tonner before it pulls away, which should be in about twenty minutes time.”

          No one moved for an instant, then he yelled at the top of his voice "move your useless carcasses."

          My thighs were burning from the climb, my knees ached and the weight of the rucksack, now soaking wet, seemed to have increased as I started to jog unsteadily off towards my promised lunch.

It took me about a hundred yards to get my body to move in sync with the moving weight on my back and the heavy rifle across my chest.  As I stumbled towards the truck, the rain and wind seemed to increase and for the first time, I cursed the God who had watched over me.  It was then, out of the blue, I recall the words of wisdom from Jim Faraday, a mate of mine who had already joined up.  At the time I didn’t understand what he had meant, but his words came back to me on that sodden, wet and windy hilltop.

          ‘Remember, it’s not the fit guys that get through training, it the ones with mental strength.’ 

          I could hear the heavy breathing around me from those left from the original intake as we drew near to where the four tonner was parked.  Then, as i expected, the driver started her up, then slowly drove off into the mist.  Several of those around me collapsed onto the wet ground sobbing, but my sixth sense had told me the Platoon Sergeant was going to do that. This is what Jim had meant.

          “Come on you lot, we got to keep going.” I yelled and turned, quickly glanced at my compass and started to jog off towards the slope that lead down to a river.  I could hear Brian come up on my shoulder, as we started to slip and slide down the hillside. 

          By the time we had reached the river the afternoon was started to close in and the clouds were getting darker by the minute.  It looked like it was only Brian, Jenkins, Jes and Big Frank, the comedian of our intake from Jamaica, that had made it this far.

          “How we gonna cross this?”  No one seemed to have the answer.  We all turned to look up the hill, expecting to see if Corporal Fellows charging down towards us, but he wasn’t there, only the sound of the wind in the trees, the rain and the rushing water. 

          Brian started to unsling his rucksack.  “Ay Brian, if you thinking of swimming man, you got another thing coming.  That’s got a really strong current.”  Frank’s voice sounded serious in the dark.   “I suggest we split up; half go upstream and see if you can find a boat, the others go downstream.  Fifteen minutes, then turn around ‘n get back here, OK.”  No one argued with Big Frank. 

          Thirty minutes later we all staggered back to our start point on the side of the river bank.  “Nothing, not even a canoe.”  Brian’s voice was starting to break and I knew we all had to try and cheer him up. 

          Suddenly, Jes yelled out and started to wave and point.  We all turned and looked down the river to where he was pointing.  A cabin cruiser was gently making its way down the river towards us.  We all screamed with joy as the lady who was at the controls waved back at us, then started to steer her little boat towards the bank.  

          “Are you alright?” She smiled as she slowed, then stopped her craft. Jes stepped forward. 

          “I am sorry Mama, but we are involved in a race and need to cross this river.  Would you be kind enough to give us a lift across please?”

          She laughed and waved us towards the bow of the craft with a warning to be careful as we climbed aboard.

          “Where would you like to be dropped off?”

          Jes, having taken off his rucksack stepped forward.  “Anywhere along this stretch please where we can jump off.”

          She steered the craft downstream for about a hundred yards then pulled into a small peer.  “This do?”

          We all thanked her as we clambered onto the little peer, and waves as she moved off into the centre of the river.  I took a quick compass bearing and pointed to the hilltop over to our right.  Without a word, we started to climb. 

          Big Frank looked back at Brian, who had fallen off the pack and was now limping and called a halt.

Without a word, Big Frank took Brian’s rucksack and threw it over his shoulder.  Jenkins leant forward and took his rifle and received no protest from Brian.  It was getting dark and cold now, and according to my reckoning, we had about three miles to go to the next checkpoint.         

“I’m starving. Anyone got any choc bars?”  No one spoke.  I thought there’d be something to eat at the next checkpoint, but Jim’s words of wisdom kept creeping back into my mind, so I pushed my hunger aside and staggered on. 

Corporal Fellows stood by the big oak tree in the middle of a field that started to rise up into the heavens behind him.  The Hurricane Lamp behind him lit him up like a ghost. 

          “Where the hell have you lot been?”  I quickly glanced down at my watch and saw that we had reached the checkpoint with ten minutes to spare.

          Big Frank dropped Brian’s rucksack then turned to Corporal Fellows. “Ear, Corporal, Brian here has done his ankle in real bad man.  He needs a doctor.”

          Brian started to protest, but Corporal Fellow pushed Big Frank aside, knelt down and quickly undid his laces to take a close look at Brian’s ankle.  Brian screamed as the budding doctor prodded and twisted Brian’s ankle around. 

          “Sorry lad, you’re off the course.  Go stand over there.”  He nodded to where six or seven figures sat in the darkness.  Probably been failed by Corporal Fellows during the day. 

          “Is there anything to eat?”  Jenkin's voice sounded frail but we all knew what the answer would be.” 

          Corporal Fellows glanced around at us all and shook his head.  “You lot got here too late.  You got a choice. Get your heads down or leg it to the next RV.”        

          Jes raised his head in surprise.  “But it’s dark Corporal.”

          Corporal Fellows grinned as he turned and faced Jes.  “Show me in the Geneva Convention where it says that the enemy will stop fighting when it gets dark lad.” 

          We all seemed to move at the same time.  My compass bearing showed me that we had to head over to the East and without another word, we walked silently out into the darkness.  We walked slowly, regularly changing direction at each checkpoint until the early morning rays of dawn lit the field in front of us.  In the middle of this filed was the Marshal’s tent.

          Big Frank turned to us.  “Right everyone, straighten up, don’t let the bastards see that we’re knackered, and let’s keep in step and rifles at the high port.” 

          A week later on a bright sunny afternoon on the parade ground of the recruit selection camp, twenty-five of us stood to attention and with proud parents sitting on the sidelines of the square, the Brigadier stood and began to praise us for making it through the four-week Army Selection Course. 

          “You stand here before your officers and parents, proud that out of the one hundred and sixty-four recruits, you twenty-five have faced and overcome adversity, hardship and degradation to make it to the end.   There is a great future ahead of you; of travel, excitement and comradery.  Feel proud. You have earned it.  Many of you will look back on these past four weeks as sheer hell.  Believe me, it is only the begging as when you join your regiments, so your schooling will continue.  And when you are deployed to Northern Ireland, Afghanistan or the Balkans the training you have been subjected to here will have put you in good stead.  So well done.”

          The Recruit Center Sergeant Major screamed ‘three cheers,’ to which we all yelled our heads off, then as silence descended upon the square,  the Commanding Officer stood and moved to stand next to the Brigadier.  The Brigadier took the piece of paper, then nodded.

          “It pleases me to announce that the best recruit for intake 35 is Recruit Amanda Margaret Jenkins of six section.  Big Frank and Jes jumped, screamed then turned and hugged her from both sides. I smiled as I turned to Corporal Fellows, who stood behind me. 

“What did you say Corporal.  it’s a man’s’ world?”       

Copyright Bob French

The Awakening

The Awakening

By Peter Woodgate

He had known the heat of summer

playing in the streets of home,

games, where just imagination,

was the cost, all else there, none.

He was happy, as were all,

those children that were unaware,

as they found fun in frolicking

in empty houses, without care.

And as the gentle years rolled by

he became aware, of girls

for they were not just silly things

with smiling eyes and pretty curls.

Despite his love of football,

cricket, table tennis too,

his troubled mind could not erase

those, he’d met and knew.

But being shy, he wasn’t bold,

respect he always had,

alas, this course of action failed,

no dates, and he was sad.

Seventeen and summer camp,

a week in Felixstowe,

an experience to change his life,

as yet, he did not know.

It was on the beach, one evening,

after their day of drill,

the young cadets who laughed and joked

were ready to leave, until,

some girls came walking on the sands,

arm in arm they strode,

fifteen young lads, just three of them

the scene it would explode.

Wolf whistles, banter, saucy chat,

all this filled the air,

he stood there, silent, shared the view,

for they were slim and fair.

Suddenly, one of the three,

detached herself and pranced

over to the shy young lad

persuading him to dance.

Compulsively she pressed her lips

upon his, he responded,

it seemed like an eternity,

in truth, they briefly bonded.

She broke away, joined her friends,

then turning, gave a grin,

the moisture from her sensual lips

remained that week with him.

And from that moment, things around,

acquired a special glow

and beauty shaped, all he perceived,

just why he did not know.

The girl, he never saw again

but retained her memory,

a sumptuous taste of summer,

it would always be.

Copyright Peter Woodgate

THE SEA

THE SEA

By Phil Miller

Glistening beneath the radiant sun

Undulating for all eternity

the omnipotent presence we cannot shun

Unchained by man in its entirety

Tempestuous, unforgiving to all

Calming, brooding, raging and beckoning

Answering only mother nature's call

Eroding with natural reckoning

Whispering softly along golden sands

Gently lapping under a moonlit night

Stroking me softly with watery hands

Quietly controlling its mane and its might

The source of all life on this blue planet

A pure, fresh, inspirational delight

Phillip Miller 07/08/08

Just Another Ordinary Day

 Just Another Ordinary Day  

By Jane Scoggins                                        

The sink was full of dirty dishes, the breakfast egg congealed on the

plates. A pool of milk sat in a perfect round convex, shimmering on the kitchen worktop. It was just waiting for the slightest jolt to burst out and spill down the cabinet to the floor.

Cornflakes crunched underfoot. The Hoover, upright and silent in the hallway stood to

attention like a guardsman in his shiny red jacket, waiting for the order to ‘jump to and

clean up’. The dog, having finished snuffling around for titbits on the kitchen floor now waited by the back door assuming a pathetic look that combined an attitude of urgency for the purpose of expressing his outdoor toileting needs. Jackie surveyed the kitchen wreckage and sighed, muttering to herself

‘‘Just another ordinary day I see, welcome to the usual morning bomb site Jackie.’’

The dog, with his sensitive hearing, hoped that the words, despite being delivered in a low tone by his loving mistress were for him and an indication that a walk was imminent.

Bingo understood the word walk, but also knew that other words that did not sound like walk may possibly lead to a walk if spoken in his direction. It was only when words directed to him with a shake of the head, indicated that there was no chance of a walk in the near future. On these occasions, Bingo knew it was best to retreat to his bed and lie quietly but expectantly for a while until summoned by Jackie, big Dave, smaller Tim or even smaller Katie. A lot of the day was spent with Jackie in the house and Bingo had become accustomed to her routine once Dave, Tim and Katie had jumped up from the kitchen table, scraped back their chairs, grabbed their coats and hurried out the front door. Bingo had never quite got used to this sudden flurry of early morning activity, and the four individually pitched voices all speaking very fast at the same time. But he always felt unexpectedly excited every morning when this happened and was compelled to join in with the rushing about and the noisy voices competition. His involvement was curtailed when told to stop barking and running around in circles in the overcrowded kitchen. Sometimes he was told to go to his basket and calm down. Bingo appreciated this order as he never had any idea what he was getting excited about and didn’t know when to stop. Bingo and Jackie were good friends and therefore had lots of communication throughout the day. Jackie had a routine so Bingo generally knew the pattern that the morning would take, thus allowing him to avoid the bits he did not enjoy like the vacuum cleaning machine that scared him. Sometimes Jackie sang, sometimes she put on the radio, and sometimes she did both. Quite often she would talk to Bingo as she went about her jobs putting the house to rights. First it was the downstairs rooms and then upstairs to the bedrooms. Bingo listened out for the change in tone in Jackie’s voice. When she was cross about something she had to clear up in Tim and Katie’s rooms he would slink away under a bed in another bedroom where he could keep safe company with a pair of soft fluffy slippers or bigger rough tweedy ones. He loved washing clothes days as he enjoyed snuffling through the delicious smells hidden in the piles of dirty laundry waiting on the landing, or on the kitchen floor ready to go into the washing machine. Socks and jeans were particular favourites. He liked to help find abandoned clothing under the beds and bring them out. Sometimes Jackie showed appreciation and sometimes not. She was definitely not impressed when he tipped over the piles of clean laundry and spread it around the floor whilst he went in search of an interesting scent or chewed on a button. He particularly liked running around the house with a sock or T-shirt in his mouth waiting for Jackie to chase him. Sometimes she whacked him with the newspaper and although it did not hurt he knew that it was temporarily time to stop whatever he was doing, however much fun.  A very good game involved skidding across the kitchen floor after Jackie had taken time with her mop to create what he believed to be a lovely wet play area. Bingo had better hearing than Jackie and liked to be helpful by barking loudly and running around her feet when he heard the doorbell or the telephone ring. Sometimes he would chase his tail around and around in a circle to get her attention as an alternative or in addition to barking.

When Jackie finished her jobs she would take Bingo out for a walk. This is what he had been waiting for. When she reached for her coat and his lead, Bingo could not help but run up and down the stairs a few times as fast as he could to show he was aware of the plan, ready and excited. Sometimes, if there were things left on the stairs, they would roll or tumble onto the hall floor or get tangled up in his paws.

When Tim and Katie came back in the afternoon there would be more activity. He couldn’t wait to perform tricks for them. He took requests for tricks as seriously as any good performer and was generally very pleased with himself for the response he received. He could roll over, jump over the footstool, and when in the mood and given encouragement would sing. A particular favourite of his was ‘How Much Is that Doggy in the Window.’ As soon as he heard this music Bingo was ready to give his best rendering. The postman was a welcome visitor to the front door. Bingo could hear him coming up the path and could smell him faintly when he put things through the draughty letterbox. Sometimes it was the whiff of another dog, sometimes a bit pepperminty, but not as strong as the Polo mint he had found and crunched, under big Dave’s chair. Bingo had only seen him properly through the window but had barked hello very loudly many times and the postman usually waved at him in a friendly way. He sniffed the envelopes that come through the letterbox and would lick some of them, or pick them up in his mouth and shake them about a bit if they were large enough. The mistress often had to push him aside to pick them up before they got bent or a bit damp. Sometimes she put them down again, especially if they were the brown colour. But if she liked the look of them she opened them straight away. Bingo knew that this was usually a cue for her to take a break and have a drink and a biscuit. Bingo was happy when this happened as there may be crumbs or even broken pieces of biscuit for him to eat. He was more than willing to attract Jackie's attention by performing a trick or sit in front of her and paw her leg gently, for the pleasure of being rewarded a treat.

On this particular ordinary day, Jackie, having finished the chores, and with the

dishes washed, the laundry sorted and in the machine, she was ready for a sit down with a cup of coffee. Bingo had been under her feet all morning running around with a sock in his mouth and refusing to let her put it in the washing machine Added to this he had been making paw prints on the clean kitchen floor. However, she loved him a lot, and his funny antics make her laugh and kept her sane whilst she tackled the boring humdrum daily housework. Picking up the one letter from the mat that had arrived that day she slit it open whilst waiting for the kettle to boil. Having quickly scanned the words she read out loud to Bingo.

‘‘Bingo, the magazine likes my stories about you; they want me to do a weekly column, a sort of Dog’s Blog. They say that hearing about your antics made them laugh. They are sure that their readers would like to hear about the things you get up to. Do you remember when you ran around the house with a pair of Tim’s underpants on your head, with your ears poking out? We couldn’t catch you, and then you escaped out of the house and ran down the street. Tim ran after you and was so embarrassed because he saw a girl he knew and she saw you had a pair of his Spiderman underpants on your head. She laughed and laughed, but all he could do was go bright red knowing it would all be around the school the next day. Well, the editor loved that story and wants more. Thank you Bingo. This hasn’t turned out to be just another ordinary day after all!’’

Copyright Jane Scoggins    

Hope

Hope

(A Sonnet)

By Peter Woodgate

I walk the streets with sorrow in my heart,

black clouds descend and sadly we must part.

Chill rain beats down upon my angry head

echoing those words, “sorry but,” you said.

Why this dreadful change, what could I have done?

Thought we were forever, and lived as one.

My eyes fix now upon the pavement, grey

and dour reflections illustrate the day,

all darkened doorways lead to pending gloom

and muffled voices fill each lonely room.

Just when I think my world has ended here

the sun breaks through to throw upon the air

a wondrous arc of colour fills the sky,

and I no longer feel the need to die.

Copyright Peter Woodgate

The Darker Half Chapter 5

The Darker Half ~ Chapter 5

ANNA

By Janet Baldey

She was sitting perched on the edge of a worn armchair, munching a custard cream. A tune was running through her head and she hummed in time with it, accompanied by the rasp of a saw as her father worked on a piece of oak.  Slowly, she realised that, although she was certain it was her father’s workshop, somehow it was different.  It was the wrong shape for one thing and smart when it should have been shabby. Her father wasn’t right either. He had always been a big man, heavy featured with muscular forearms and bristles of stubbly black hair bursting out of his ears and nose, even sprinkled on the joints of his fingers. His chest and back were hairy too and, in the summer, when he took his shirt off in the garden, she thought he looked like a big black bear. But this man was thin, almost like a skeleton and a big curved nose protruded from his face making his head look too small. He didn’t look a bit like her father although somehow she knew he was, just as she knew she was nine years old and still at primary school. She didn’t even need to look down at her woollen school skirt to confirm it.  Plus, she knew she was in the right place at the right time. She always made straight for her father’s workshop when she came home from school, preferring to be with him rather than with her mother and brother. She’d long ago decided that sitting at a table with Alec was like picnicking on top of a red ant’s nest.  She particularly hated it when her mother, usually toasting her legs by the fire, deep into a ‘True Romance,’ got her to “do the honours”.

“Pour your brother some milk Anna and butter ‘im some bread.   You know ‘ow he likes it.”

At first, she’d carefully pour the milk and wait for the creamy foam to settle before topping up the mugs so they were exactly equal. She knew Alec’s beady eyes scrutinised the levels closely and if there was the slightest difference, he’d whine and grizzle until her mother was forced to heave herself from the chair, lumber over to the table and like as not, clip Anna’s ear.  She’d learned her lesson and from then on, she automatically put an extra slurp into his mug so he couldn’t complain. Foiled, Alec had obviously thought about it. The next time he quickly gulped a few mouthfuls and then complained.

“Mum, Anna’s got more than me.”

“No, I haven’t Alec. You’ve drunk some of yours.”

“I haven’t.”

“You have Alec. It’s all around your mouth.”

This was a mistake on Anna’s part. Hastily, Alec had wiped away his white moustache and, his eyes wide with innocence, appealed to his mother again.

   Then, there was the time that he had deliberately jogged her arm as she passed him his mug.

“Mum….Anna’s spilt my milk and it’s all over the tablecloth…”

After that, Anna gave up. As soon as she came in from school she said she wasn’t hungry and made straight for her father’s workshop, grabbing a biscuit or two from the kitchen as she passed through.

It was soothing being with her father and she liked the steady buzz of the saw, the sweetish smell of linseed and the ringlets of planed wood littering the floor. Here, she could be herself. Never a great talker, her dad didn’t quiz her about her day or scold because she’d got mud on her socks 

         Still, things weren’t right and that tune was still running around her head. She screwed up her eyes and tried to think of its title….something about a dog. Her friend Janet had been singing it all day at school but they rarely had the wireless on at home so she didn’t really know the words.

         “Anna….”  At the sound of her father’s voice, she looked up.

         “I could do with another cup of tea love…” He pushed his empty mug towards her.

         She nodded obediently and reached out for it. As she did, he grasped her arm.

         “What’s this then?”  He frowned at the bracelet of red marks circling her wrist.

         “Nothing,”  she tried to pull away but he wouldn’t let her.

         “Bet that nothing hurt though, didn’t it?  Was it Alec?”

         She shook her head not wanting to lie out loud but he wasn’t fooled.  His face grew stony and anger danced in his eyes. “Right”, he muttered, straightened and headed for the door. Her vague sense of disquiet deepened into a mounting terror. “No” she screamed inside her head. “You mustn’t. It’ll make things worse, much worse.” She tried to run after him, to pull him back but her legs seemed glued to the floor and she couldn’t move.  But she knew that he mustn’t go outside, he mustn’t cross the yard and go into the house and above all, he mustn’t go into the bathroom. And, it wasn’t about a dog, that song.  It was about a cat.  At the thought, her head seemed to explode and she was catapulted back from the past into her own bed where she sits bolt upright and gasping, sweat trickling down her body.

         It takes a while for her breathing to steady. When it does, she notices a thin grey light is slipping through the cracks in the curtains and she hears the faint twittering of birds. It’s morning, so she must have slept a bit.

         She lies back down again unable to get the dream, or nightmare or whatever it was, out of her head. Why has that terrible time surfaced after all these years?  Perhaps some things are just so awful you never forget them, the memory just lies dormant. But why now?   It was a long time ago and a lot of other bad things had happened since then.

Copyright Janet Baldey