THE PORTAL: a novel (chapters 1 - 15)

PROLOGUE
This was a terrible place to die but a location designed for death.

Time and space seemed irrelevant here. Was she up or down, was she falling or being dragged by an unseen force? All she sensed is that she was hurtling towards something. Oblivion? Either way, she had no sense of when this had started or when it would end.

Her speed of movement was verging on the unbearable and intensifying with each passing second, whipping violently against her flesh and slowly shredding the clothing from her body until she was left naked and exposed. She was desperate to force down her arms to cover herself but the intensity was greater than she could fight against.

The velocity also made it difficult for her to keep her eyes fully closed, forcing her brain to process a haze of quick-cut images. It might have been a black hole she was falling through or a building of leviathan proportions or a cavern of indeterminate size. Its edges looked black and decaying, a twisted amalgam of flesh and metal: a suppurating and oozing landscape.

There were other sights, too; either that or her mind was playing tricks on her. She was sure she saw entities moving in the periphery of her vision, flitting between the shadows. Some looked like demons; others looked like black-garbed angels. She was terrified and wanted to bury her head and deny that any of this was happening. But there was nowhere to escape to. It felt as if the only way out was death itself… and that death is where she was heading to.

She could feel herself getting weaker, the speed at which she was travelling increasing to a point where she felt she could no longer stay conscious. She looked down at her nakedness, her limbs and flesh being stretched to breaking point, her skin starting to tear and split, blood seeping to the surface. She felt an agonizing pain and a horrible, squelching ripping noise inside of her. Looking down, she saw with horror that dark, viscous blood was spilling from between her legs.

She thought of her family and her friends…and wept at the knowledge that she would never see them again.

Surely I’m too young to die, she thought to herself…just as everything turned black…then exploded with light like time itself had just been born.

CHAPTER 1
Is this what it felt like to be born? Who knew; who could ever remember their own birth?

To Amelia, it felt like gravity was dragging her down a pitch-black slide in a nightmarish theme park with a glimmer of brilliant white light in the distance. And then suddenly the light was everywhere, enveloping her, sucking her out and throwing her down on to a cold, hard surface.

Oddly, Amelia realised she felt no pain from her impact. There was only a sense of disorientation. Abruptly, her focus returned and she realised she was displaced from her body, starting to float out and above it. Was this one of those out-of-body experiences, she thought to herself? Without eyes, she was looking down on her fourteen year old body slumped on the bathroom floor of the Manhattan apartment that she shared with her dad. It was odd to see herself like this – is that really how I look, she thought - so pale and small, garbed in her childish knee-length pyjama T-shirt?

She could see the dark, viscous blood oozing from the self inflicted wound on her left wrist. And next to this was the glistening razor blade. Amelia understood that she must have passed out before she was able to continue with her plan to slice open her opposite wrist. What she couldn’t quite understand was the dark, blood-like stain where her T-shirt was stuck to the V of her groin.

Amelia was distracted by a faint, distant sound. Without ears, she strained to listen: it seemed to be the barely audible sound of something banging against the wood of the bathroom door over the soundtrack of a yelling baritone voice: a fist? It was the sound of someone (or something) trying to break down the bolted bathroom door, though it was as if Amelia was listening to it on the other side of an invisible, sound-proofed bubble.

Finally, the cheap lock gave way and the door spewed violently open. From above, Amelia saw a shape enter the bathroom in cinematic slow-motion: a man. Up until this moment, she had felt totally disconnected from the scene she was viewing, as if she were watching a dream sequence in a movie. Only when she saw the man looking down at her body on the floor with an expression of horror did the reality of it all come rushing into her. Slow-motion was replaced by the mad blur of real-time and the near-silence was replaced by the deafening, horrified roar of her father, Trent, calling out her name as Amelia balanced on the precipice of life and death.


CHAPTER 2
TK diary entry Sunday 20 March.
New York –- Manhattan especially –- how many people has this city bewitched and enthralled? On a day like today you can understand why. From the back window of the apartment where I’m sitting, I can see the rising sun glinting off the Chrysler Building. Out on the street below, all is early-morning quiet. Last week’s cold snap is evident within the snow, laying a carpet of beauty across the concrete.

For all this, though, the time has come to move on and leave New York behind; to evolve. I remember my first time in this city, how I felt it belonged to me, how I wanted to drink in every intoxicating drop. I haven’t fallen out of love with the place but she has become like a beautiful, needy mistress who I need to extricate myself from.

Today is the third anniversary to the day of Sara’s diagnosis and close to a year since her death; the culmination of a long, difficult time. It seems fitting that I should be putting my decision down in writing today. This might sound overly dramatic but I truly believe that things have to change if I and Amelia are to survive.

The two of us need to get strong again and I don’t think that can happen with my current lifestyle or our current location. I need to downsize, change jobs and get out of this apartment…and this city. This is the decision I have made. I feel it is the right one and pray my instincts prove right.























CHAPTER 3
Amelia stepped into the bath and eased herself down into the water, letting the heat and the suds envelope her body. A month had passed since the ‘incident’ but she still felt exhausted most of the time. Baths felt like soothing gloves wrapping themselves across her flesh.

Lying there, her mind drifted to the future. She tried to imagine what kind of grown-up she would make. Would her suicide attempt mark and formulate her forever or would find strength from it and joke about it at those dinner parties sophisticated people went to. Well, I can rule that out, she smiled to herself; I’ll never be sophisticated enough to be wearing dresses and sipping cocktails at parties. Thank god.

Her therapist had talked about just concentrating on one day at a time. Don’t be worrying too much about what might or might not occur down the line, she had said; let the future take care of itself. That was easier said than done, of course. Big changes were looming at the moment. She knew her Dad had been looking to move and was applying for jobs out of town and she felt guilty that she was the reason for forcing him out the city and his job. She realised why this city and this apartment would have ghosts for him but she didn’t want him changing his life on her account.

Amelia closed her eyes and tried to conjure up good memories; images that would calm her. It was a technique her therapist had suggested. She thought of times of her childhood, times spent with her parents, learning to ride her friend’s horse, trips to Florida, being on her father’s shoulders in Central Park and feeling like a giant. She used anything to keep away the dark thoughts and dreams. She thought of all those impatient times she had spent learning the piano with her mom. She loved spending time with her, sharing her passion and wished she had tried harder. Both of them knew, though, that Amelia was too much of an out-doors-tom-boy to ever devote the time to being a pianist

Counter to this, Amelia loved music and loved to sing; singing was especially therapeutic when she felt that the darkness was starting to roll in on her, a darkness that had threatened to swallow her whole a month ago. The medication was effective but made her feel slightly embarrassed and nervous about its long term effects; singing provided a natural high. When she felt the world starting to close in on her, she would pick one of her favourite songs and random and let herself go. Here, in the bath, she was safe in the knowledge that the sound proofing was good and that she could sing as loud as she wanted and that the only person likely to hear her was her father.

She started to sing ‘Roll To Me’ by Del Amitri, a band she had discovered through her mother who seemed to have knowledge of every musician, artist and writer under the sun. Despite the seemingly downbeat lyrics, it was a raucous little ditty. “And I don’t think I have ever seen a soul so in despair. So if you want to talk the night through, guess who will be there…?” Amelia continued to sing out the rest of the song, grabbing up a shampoo bottle to imitate a microphone.

With the water starting to cool, Amelia leant forward to reach for the hot tap. As she did so, she suddenly noticed that the blue, soapy water had taken on a reddish tint. A moment of confusion was followed with the horrible realisation that there was blood in the bath. She jumped to her feet, panicking, wondering what the hell was happening to her. She looked down and saw tiny rivulets of blood streaking down her thigh.

She half-leapt from the tub, grabbing a towel, blood soaking into the whiteness as soon as she started to dry herself. Suddenly, realisation kicked in. Amelia realised she was having her first period.




CHAPTER 4
Trent glanced towards his daughter. She was short like her mother – shorter at fourteen - but looked tiny and vulnerable hunched up in the passenger seat, leaning against the door, hugging her childhood cuddly bear tight to her body, the seatbelt hooked around both of them. “We’re almost there, kiddo.”

Amelia snapped her head towards her father, broken from her thoughts. “What you say?” she asked. It came out as if it were one word: watusay?

“I was just saying that we’re almost there. And to check that you’re ok – you’ve been very quiet over there.”

“I’m fine, dad. Totally. I was just taking in the sights. Bit spooky out there, don’t you think? Even Sam seems a little freaked out.”

Trent gave a quick glance to their chocolate brown Labrador in the back of the SUV. She was no longer calmly laid down but sat bolt upright and starring out into the woods that flew by them on both sides of the highway.

It was a sunny day in late June. Or at least it had been five minutes ago; from here, there was little evidence that the sky and the elements still existed. The dense trees seemed to stand like brooding guardians along the roadside, their branches and foliage stretching to meet in the middle, creating a canopy, as if light was an enemy of the ground below.

Sat looking forward now, Amelia became aware of her father’s gaze flicking intermittently towards her, feeling the weight of his concern. “Honestly, Dad, I’m fine,” she told him.

“Sorry. Can’t help it,” Trent told her. “Part of my job description.”

“Yeah, I know. And I love you for it but –”

“But you’re saying give you a little space to breathe?”

“Something like that.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Thanks. Hey, if I was in your shoes, I’d be wrapping me in cotton wool, too. If I had a kid who – you know – well…” Amelia let the thought drift into silence. “But I feel a lot better now. Really I do. And I just want this move to Fallswood to be a fresh start for us both, you know. The good thing is that people here won’t know anything about what happened and won’t already be pre-judging me as loony tunes.”

“Don’t say that. No one thinks that about you.”

“Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologise, either.”

“I know.” Amelia saw her father throw a surreptitious glance towards her left wrist, the fading scar covered by a wrist band. “All I’m saying is that in Fallswood, I can be a blank page to all the new people I meet. Both of us can be.”

“A blank page sounds good to me,” Trent replied.

Amelia smiled at her father, “Good because being blank shouldn’t be too difficult for you.”

“Ha-ha, very funny.”

“Like father like daughter.”

“Your mum was the joker in the pack. I’m the serious intellectual one, remember.”

“Yeah, right,” Amelia scoffed.

“Hey, I can always make you walk.”

“I can live with that. Your sat-nav thingy says I can handle walking the rest of the journey.”

“I thought you didn’t do technology.”

“Oh, you know - when it suits.”

Finally, they came out from the avenue of trees, the sun momentarily blinding after the gloom. And there right in front of them was the sign for the city limit. ‘The City of Fallswood Welcomes You’, it announced: population 15246.

The place had the look of quintessential, tourist-brochure small town America, much of it resembling a throw-back to a bygone age with its family run diners and barbers and hardware stores.

“So. What are your first impressions?” Trent put to his daughter.

“Quaint,” Amelia replied. “And no chains, either, which is nice. I haven’t seen a single McDonalds or Starbucks yet.”

“Well, amen to that.”

“Not a lot of people out, either. You think maybe they’re all at home sacrificing goats or something?”

“They only sacrifice surly teenagers in this part of the world.”

“Wowsers.”
* * *
They reached their new abode five minutes later. It was located on the outskirts of the city: a small, two-storey Dutch colonial style house in the middle of an unassuming street of similar houses. Out the back, there was a fenced yard with a lawn and a single tree. Beyond the yard lay open land that led towards a dense forest in the distance. It almost blotted out the horizon.

“Looks like a postcard,” Amelia said to her father, the two of them surveying the scene from the rear of the house.

“Not quite Norman Rockwell but certainly very different to New York, that’s for sure.”
* * *
That night, Amelia lay on her makeshift airbed in her virtually empty room. The removals van wasn’t due to be with them until the following morning. A light breeze swayed the branches of the tree outside, the moonlight slicing through them in ever-changing shards.

She felt alone and slightly scared but gave herself an internal pep talk: that her feelings were understandable and that they would pass. Moving to a new house in a new town would make most people feel displaced and she knew the unfamiliarity would fade with each passing day; she just had to get through tonight and then tomorrow she would be able to busy herself in assisting with unloading the removals truck and getting the house sorted. Right now, though, feeling exhausted but unable to sleep, the morning seemed a long way off.

She sat up and reached across for Mr Cuddles, her childhood bear who had sat with her for the journey. She told herself that she only kept him around for the sake of ironic nostalgia. Tonight, though, the truth was that she needed him. She pulled him under the covers and held him tight.

“Everything’s gonna be ok,” she whispered to Mr Cuddles. “I mean, I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you and you wouldn’t let anything bad happen to me, right? Ok, fine. Enough said.”

It was another hour before she finally slipped into the realm of sleep; a restless state blighted by nightmares. She dreamt of falling again and landing hard on sodden ground in the middle of a brooding forest. She realised she was naked and cold and that something was watching her from the depths of the woods. She knew instinctively that she had to run or die. So run she did, her pursuer crashing through the trees behind her and seeming to gain with each passing step. The moment she felt something clawing at her back was the moment she screamed…and the moment she woke to find herself in her temporary new bed drenched in sweat.












CHAPTER 5
Amelia half-sat down, half collapsed onto the front lawn and tied back her spillage of shoulder-length chestnut hair. She was exhausted from lack of sleep and from helping unload the removals truck. Sam was tied up to the tree out front on a long leash, staying in the shade. Now, though, she padded over to say hi. Amelia gave her a hug.

“Don’t worry, Sam,” she comforted her with. “It’ll feel like home soon enough.”

Taking a breather, she continued to watch her dad and the two removal guys going about their business. One of them (Pete) was in his early twenties, the son of the older man. He was tall and lean and tanned, his hair cut to the bone; in truth, he looked a little bit scary. Amelia had barely heard him say a word all day but she felt this gave him a mysterious edge. In truth, she guessed he probably just didn’t have much to say for himself but this didn’t tie in with the little scenario she was toying with inside her head. Either way, she liked the way his muscles worked, accentuated by the vest her was wearing.

Coming back out of the house now, Pete caught her gaze and offered the merest of smiles. Amelia smiled back, trying to feign a detached coolness but feeling her pale cheeks suddenly burning red. She turned her attention back to Sam, not wanting to give her emotions away. She was aware that her feelings towards the opposite sex had suddenly intensified in the last few months. She had worried previously because many of her peers had seemed to have strong feelings for boys for what seemed like a long time ago. Now she was experiencing those emotions first hand.

Amelia aimlessly took in her environment, glancing both ways down the street. Turning from right to left, she realised that someone was watching her from the house one up from hers. It was a teenage boy, probably about her age, stood on the porch. As soon as Amelia spotted him, he turned away and pretended to act as indifferently as she had just tried to do: though a lot less convincingly. She was sure it was the same kid she had seen earlier heading up and down the street on his bike, checking out all the activity of the house move. Amelia decided to be brave and threw a wave towards the teenage boy on the porch. Even from here, Amelia could see him going redder than she had gone only moments ago. He toyed nervously with his spectacles before scurrying into the house.

“Well, that’s the end of that friendship,” Amelia thought out loud to herself. Sam seemed to look up at her and grin.

She closed her eyes and laid her head back into the sun, trying to block out everything else around her. She tried to drag up an image of her mother; sometimes it wasn’t that easy. Amelia could visualise lots of things she and her mom had done together but sometimes conjuring a clear image of her face proved problematic. Sometimes she had to pull out a photo of her just to get a fix on what she looked like.

Amelia’s mother had always seemed like a whirlwind of flamboyance, the perfect antidote to Trent’s steadfast nature and unassuming charm. Many of Amelia’s memories of her mother involved watching her paint, her fiery red hair often streaming as she danced around a canvas. She remembered one incident of secretly watching her mom being interviewed by a journalist who was desperate to know what made Sara Karras ‘tick?’ She had gone up to him - slowly – laying a hand delicately across his chest before leaning in to kiss him full on the mouth. At the very last moment she had pulled away laughing. “It’s arousing emotions like the ones you just felt that make me tick,” she had told him.

Amelia was broken from her thoughts by a low-threat woof from Sam. This was followed by a faint whirring noise followed by something nudging into her leg. She looked down and saw that there was a remote control car at her side. It had a note attached to it along with a pen held there with tape. The note read: ‘You look thirsty. Need a drink? We have Pepsi, Gatorade and Mountain Dew. All Diet, though, I’m afraid. Or perhaps water or juice? Your neighbour – Jake.’

Amelia glanced down the street and saw that her neighbour - her teenage voyeur - was skulking on his porch with what she guessed was a remote control in his hands. Amelia smiled and proffered a little wave. Tentatively, her neighbour waved back. Amelia took the note and pen and wrote the following: ‘Jake - Diet Pepsi would be great, thank you.’ She purposely didn’t write her own name. She replaced the pen and note and gestured to show that she was done. A moment later, the remote controlled car was whizzing back to its owner.

Amelia watched as Jake read her note and then quickly ran back into the house. About thirty seconds later, he spilled back onto the porch. A few seconds after that, with Sam watching it all the way, the remote controlled car was returned to Amelia with a can of ice-cold Diet Pepsi attached. She took it, opened it and gestured ‘cheers’ towards Jake before taking a mouthful of soda. Had a drink ever tasted so good, she wondered? She got to her feet. Then she untied Sam, put her on her leash and started to head over towards next door.

Getting close, she could see her neighbour looking edgy. “Thanks for the drink,” Amelia said to him a few yards from the porch.

“No probs,” he shyly replied.

“You’re Jake, right?” He nodded. “I’m Amelia. And the chocolate one here is Sam.”

She moved closer to Jake, remaining at the foot of the porch but leaning to offer her hand. He was thin, with short curly black hair, maybe five-seven – which still made him five inches taller than her (ok, five and a half). For a moment, she wondered if the humble handshake was alien to teenagers in these parts. It took awhile for Jake to finally take her hand – briefly – before looking away shyly again.

“Soft hands,” Jake said almost under his breath, going a little red again as if he had just been caught thinking out loud his most personal thoughts.

“You, too,” Amelia countered, jokily, sending Jake’s gaze down to his sneakers.

There was a moment of silence between them which Amelia deliberately didn’t move to break. Nervously, Jake was the one who eventually re-opened dialogue. “Is he friendly?” he asked, gesturing Sam.

“She. And, yes, she’s very friendly. Well, until I tell her not to be, that is.”

“I see,” Jake replied, looking a little unsure.

“You can come and stroke her if you like. She’d like that.”

Jake came down the steps cautiously, finally leaning over to give Sam a stroke. He started to get into it when Sam responded favourably to the attention. Amelia told him that he was now in Sam’s good books for life.

“So how many of you are moving in?” Jake asked.

“Oh, you know, just the ten of us,” Amelia responded deadpan, enjoying the look of horror on her neighbour’s face.

“Ten of you? I’m not sure these houses are really big enough for -”

“It’s ok because most of the troupe are dwarves. Not just shorties like me but proper dwarves. I’m massive compared the others so we don’t take up a lot of room. We’re a circus clan, you see.”

“Jeez,” Jake said, dreamily thinking out loud. “Wait till my mom hears about this.”

“Does she like animals?”

“Erm, she likes dogs.”

“What about monkeys, though? We’ll be keeping a bunch of them in the back yard.”

“Jeez.”

Amelia considered keeping up the act but felt a strong pang of sympathy for the look of abject worry on her neighbour’s face. She started laughing. “I’m sorry, Jake; I’m just pulling your pisser.”

“You are?”

“Yeah, sorry. It’s really just me and my dad moving in.”

“Oh.”

“I didn’t mean to tease you.”

“It’s ok. Everyone says I’m a bit gullible.”

“Hey, at our age, better to have a little bit of gullibility – a bit of wonder - than to wrap ourselves in a cloak of cynicism, right?”

“I like that. Who said it?”

Amelia pretended to look for someone stood behind her before pointing at herself proudly. “It was me. Amelia Jane Karras.”

“A would-be philosopher.”

“Nope, not me. I struggle working stuff out for myself never mind for anyone else…So, anyway – what’s a kid do around here for kicks? I don’t want a long, lonely summer ahead of me.”

“You don’t have to spend it alone,” Jake tentatively offered.

“You offering to show me the delights of Fallswood?”


“Yeah, I could, erm, show you around, if you like,” Jake offered hesitantly. “When?”

“Well, I need to help finish unpacking today but -”

“Tomorrow?”

Amelia held out her hand again. This time Jake was a little quicker off the mark in taking her offer. “Deal.”
















CHAPTER 6
TK diary entry Sunday 3 July.
Fallswood seems abuzz in anticipation of tomorrow’s Independence Day celebrations. All week, preparative work has been taking place with city officials and volunteers setting up a stage on the town green. They’ve also been erecting lights and banners and a launch pad for the fireworks along Main Street. I’ve always enjoyed the 4th of July and I’m doing my best to spark that enthusiasm in me right now. In truth, though, I think I’ll be glad when it’s all done and dusted.

I should see it as a networking opportunity, to introduce myself to a few more of the townsfolk. After all, I’ll be teaching some of their kids come the fall. However, I’m still not quite ready to be Mr Sociable. Thankfully, the neighbours have been pleasant – people you can say hi to – without being too obtrusive.

One great thing on the neighbours’ front is that Amelia seems to have made a friend with the kid next door: Jake. Under normal circumstances, I think I might have been a little nervous at the idea of Amelia spending a lot of time with a teenage boy. Jake, though – poor kid – can only be described as harmless. I shouldn’t knock it – he seems good natured enough – and I have some empathy for him. Let’s face it; I have some personal experience of what geeky and un-cool feels like at his age.

Jake’s mother, Fay, also seems nice enough: easy-going and well mannered like her son, also with a hint of her son’s shyness. I’ve been keeping my distance to a degree but at least I know Amelia isn’t falling under dubious influences when she’s next door. Amelia and Jake probably feel an extra connection because they are both the only child in a single parent household. From what Amelia tells me, Jake’s father is no longer on the scene; he just upped and left.

So what else? Well, the weather’s been glorious, so no complaints on that front. In truth, though, I’m looking forward to September rolling around so I can start my job in earnest. There’s a fair bit of prep work to keep me busy, of course – hell, I haven’t taught in over seven years – but I’m itching to get started again.

It’s not only been tough re-immersing into the mind set of being a teacher again; it’s also been difficult getting back into the world of reading. Since I gave up teaching, it strikes me how little I have read in that time. Sure, I always have a book on the go but I don’t devour them like I used to. Sara always found me a contradiction in terms: this person with a great flair and love for words and language who would rather be putting up shelves or messing about under a car. I never saw the incongruity, though. I am no writer, no story-teller and novels are generally not my first choice of reading material. I see words as technical - part of a puzzle – and teaching English Language to be about making the pieces fit like you would when fixing an engine or fitting a door. I just hope I can still make the pieces fit when I start teaching again in September.

I am nervous and excited about the future. As I said, though, a part of me would like to jump the summer and sink my teeth into the new job right now. Counter to this, I don’t want to be wishing my life away. And thankfully, along with the prep work, there are plenty of tasks to be keeping me occupied around the house. The previous owners – an elderly couple – clearly weren’t too much into decoration or renovation. Which is fine by me: not only did I get a good deal on the house, I can also put my own stamp on the place.

The bottom line is this: I need to stay positive. I’m not getting carried away but there are signs for optimism on the horizon. And I can maybe make those signs a reality with a little bit of effort and positive thinking.



CHAPTER 7
Jake and Amelia were occupying the den they had spent a bulk of the previous week constructing. It was in the heart of the local wood at the edge of the town green, locally referred to as Witches Wood. Today was the 4th of July and the daytime celebrations had been a blast. Now it was mid-afternoon and a slight lull in proceedings had descended across the town whilst people awaited the night time fireworks display to commence.

They had been quiet for some time, the two of them happy to watch the flickering flames of the little fire they had built. Jake idly stirred the beans he was cooking and finally broke the stillness. “I bet this is all a little bit boring for a city slicker like you.”

“Nope. I told you, I’m a country girl at heart. More like my dad, I guess. Mom was the real city slicker.”

“You don’t talk about her much.”

Amelia stared into the flames, not answering immediately. “No, I guess I don’t…But then who else would be interested?”

“Me.”

“Oh. Right. What do you want to know?”

Jake shrugged. “Dunno. Tell me what you want to tell me. What was she like?”

Amelia thought on this awhile. It suddenly struck her now that she really didn’t talk about her mother. She thought about her a lot but never got to express her feelings out loud, not even very often with her dad. Perhaps the wound of losing her was still just too raw. Talking to Jake, though, seemed easy enough. He could be shy at times but he was a good listener. Thoughts of her mom right now brought an involuntary smile to her lips. “I guess you could say she was a little bit crazy, really.”

“Crazy?”

“In a good way, that is. I don’t mean she was literally loony tunes. She was an artist.”

“Was she a good one?” Jake wondered.

“I think so. She was a little bit famous, too,” Amelia revealed.

“What kind of stuff did she do?”

“Oh, you know - mainly paintings and stuff. Some photography as well. She once did this video installation thing, too, but I was too young at the time so was never allowed to see it.” Amelia leant in close to Jake conspiratorially. “I’ve seen it since, though. It had all these people talking about the horrors of war…in Japanese… naked.”

Jake laughed, slightly embarrassed. “My dad might have actually liked that. Well, naked women, anyway. I don’t think he cared for art too much. I once got him to take me to a gallery in Providence as part of a school assignment and he was mumbling under his breath the whole time about how it was all just a bunch of crap. The only painting he liked was of some guy hunting with his dog.”

“You still see your dad?”

Jake’s gaze slithered away to the ground. “Haven’t seen him in almost two years.”

“You miss him?”

“I used to. I mean, I still miss not having a dad around but I just don’t miss having a dad around who doesn’t really care about me. Who would?”

“No one, I guess,” Amelia agreed. “Do you know where he is?”

“California. Living with another woman. Some floozy, as my mom puts it.”

“Right.”

“I feel bad for my mom more than myself, really. I think she gets lonely sometimes. She doesn’t let on but I’ll catch her sometimes when she doesn’t know I’m there with this look on her face like she’s about to cry.”

“Maybe she’s better off without him,” Amelia suggested.

“Yeah, but love is a funny thing. Logic doesn’t apply a lot of the time. So I’m told.”

Amelia laughed at this, giving Jake a good natured punch in the arm. “Wowsers, listen to you. Jake Carroll – love expert.”

“Hey, I am fourteen, you know.”

Amelia continued to laugh: “Oh, absolutely. A man of the world.”

“Well, not quite, but –”

“Being all grown up and knowing about love, I’m guessing you love yourself?”

Jake seemed puzzled by the question. “Well, yeah, I –”

“And where do you love yourself the most?”

“I –”

“Do you love yourself most in the shower or in bed?”

It took a moment for Jake’s changing expression to confirm to her that he had finally cottoned on. “I’m not telling you that!”

Amelia had to hold her stomach to stop the laughter hurting. “I’m just pulling your pisser…or rather you are.”

“Shut up!” Jake was laughing, too, now. “I bet you love yourself.”

“A lady would never tell.”

“A lady might not but what’s stopping you?”

“Ha, ha – funny man.” Amelia gave Jake another playful punch on the arm.

As she continued to laugh, Amelia saw the joy suddenly slide from Jake’s expression like play dough features under a hot sun.

“Did you hear that?” Jake questioned.

“The bogeyman?”

“No, seriously, I –”

Suddenly, two pairs of booted legs appeared in the entrance to the den attached to two guys in their late teens. “Hello, kids,” one of them said, an air of arrogant menace in his voice. “So what have we here, then?”

“Nothing,” Amelia responded, suddenly noticing that the two of them were carrying bottles in brown paper bags. The smell strongly suggested it was alcohol.

“It doesn’t look like nothing.”

“It’s our den,” Amelia replied.

“Oh, your den, you say? That’s interesting because this is actually communal land. So when you say it’s your den, what I think you mean to say is that it’s everyone’s den. And everyone would include me and the G-Man here, no?

Amelia gave a glance towards Jake, wondering if his expression might give something away about the two characters in front of them. He looked nervous but not overly concerned just yet.

“I’ll take your silence as a ‘yes’.” This was the tall one still speaking, his long and lithe face accentuated by his goatee. The ‘G-Man’ was still giving nothing away: Amelia thought he looked like a clichéd idiotic jock with his stocky build and crew cut hair.

“We were just going, anyway,” Amelia told them.

“But you’ll upset the G-Man if you don’t have a drink with us.”

The ‘G-Man’ nodded, taking a mouthful from his brown-bagged bottle.

“We’re a bit too young to be drinking,” Amelia explained calmly, even though her heartbeat was racing.

“So just hang out and chat with us, then,” Goatee replied.

“I don’t think we’d have much in common to talk about.”

“Well, then, just hang around and don’t say anything.” He gave Amelia a wink. “We’re happy to just have something pretty to look at.” He reached and stroked her hair.

Jake stepped forward now, taking Amelia by the hand. She was impressed by his sudden determination. “Thanks all the same but we really have to go now.”

Goatee barred Jake’s progress. “Whoa, easy, tiger. That isn’t very friendly just to up and leave considering it’s the 4th of July and all. And you still have your beans to eat.”

“Do you get off on scaring people?” Amelia snapped back.

Goatee considered this with mock-earnestness. “Mmm. Hadn’t really thought about it,” he replied before turning to his companion. “You?” G-Man grinned. Goatee continued. “Tell you what; I’m a reasonable kinda dude. Just have a quick drink with us and we’ll let you be on your way.”

“No,” Amelia said.

“’No’, isn’t an option,” Goatee replied, grabbing Amelia’s wrist.

His touch forced an involuntary reaction from Amelia. She kicked out at him, yelling ‘no’. Goatee’s calm was momentarily broken, the kicks to his legs visibly hurting him. Goatee grabbed at her T-shirt just below the neck and yanked her to an inch from his face. “You’re really not being very friendly, are you? Please don’t kick me again.”

“Why can’t you just let us go?” Jake pleaded, his voice wavering.

“Because you haven’t toasted the 4th of July with us yet,” Goatee answered.

“Ok, we’ll do it but then you better honour your word and let us go.” Amelia grabbed the bottle from Goatee and took a mouthful of whatever fluid was in the bottle. It felt like fire sliding down her throat. She handed it to Jake who did the same with equal spluttering results. “Can we go now?”

“Jesus, you’re a real feisty one, aren’t you, shorty,” Goatee grinned. “I admire that. Tell you what, two more hearty mouthfuls each and then your time here is done.”

Amelia took two mouthfuls, Goatee tipping the bottle to ‘assist’ her. Then she handed the bottle to Jake to do the same. Done, Amelia took the bottle back from Jake and thrust it in the direction of Goatee before starting to march out of the woods whilst pulling Jake with her. Neither G-Man nor Goatee barred their away as Amelia barged past, flailing her spare hand at them, their laughter ringing in her ears.

“See you around, kiddies,” Goatee shouted after them.

Crashing back out of the woods, the effect of the booze suddenly hit Amelia like a wave. She realised that her vision was hazy and that her legs were not entirely under her own control: one foot seemed to plant itself in front of the other on erratic autopilot. Her arm was stretched behind her; she could only presume she was still pulling Jake along because she couldn’t feel the weight of him.

As she ran, Amelia was sure she could see movement in the periphery of her vision: dark shapes at the edges of a world that appeared to be caving in on her. It reminded her of the hallucinations she had experienced when she had tried to kill herself. She desperately wanted to be away from this situation, curled up safe in bed with her father stroking her hair. But there was no escape; the dark enemy of the woods was an endless foe.

Amelia became aware of noise behind her. She had to concentrate hard to focus in on it…finally realising it was Jake’s voice. “I think we’re going the wrong way,” he was saying to, his voice sounding slurred.

She stopped now, turned, then gestured for Jake to lead. Her gaze was fixed firmly on where Jake was putting his feet and not on anything that might be moving through the trees. They’re not there, was the mantra running through her head, there’s nothing really there.

Finally, they came crashing out of the woods, the sunlight streaming down onto the open town green and dazzling Amelia’s eyes. She flicked a glance back towards the woods; if anything had been pursuing them, it didn’t venture beyond the density of woodland.

They raced towards home, keeping away from a route that would take them close to too many 4th of July revellers. Once they were back on their street, Jake asked Amelia if she wanted to come inside and lay low for awhile whilst they sobered up.

“I just want my own bed,” she replied. “I don’t feel so good.”

“I don’t feel so good, either,” Jake concurred. “I’ll call for you later for the fireworks if I feel any better.”

“Sure but don’t count on it.”

Amelia headed inside and could feel the sickness rise inside her. She just managed to get to the bathroom before throwing up. She stayed there clinging to the bowl, indifferent to its cleanliness, the waves of sickness moving through her body and clutching at her guts. After being sick a second time, the waves of nausea seemed to subside a little. With her head throbbing, she flushed the toilet and pushed herself to her feet. She cursorily washed her hands and face before heading to her room to slump on her bed, grabbing Mr Cuddles in the process. She was asleep within minutes but her sleep was shallow and tormented by the darkest of dreams.
























CHAPTER 8
Amelia didn’t know why or how she was here but she was here all the same, thrown into the scenario mid-scene like an expandable character from a horror movie, her legs moving her body at high speed. Her location was a circular metal tunnel just high enough for her to run through without stooping. Wires hung like spiders’ legs from the ceiling whilst intermittent cracks in the metal threw down washed-out light and icy cascades of water. She sensed she was running because her life depended upon it, dragging her bare feet through the cold water, her tattered and wet clothing slowing her down. As she ran, rat-like creatures screeched and scurried from her path, their eye-less faceless contorted with pain or fury. Behind her, she could hear the noise of whatever was pursuing her: a terrible roar reverberating through the metal of the tunnel and the nerves in her teeth. It was the sound of hatred.

It was a dream – how could it be anything else? And yet it retained a sharp reality about it. Dream or no dream she could still feel the biting wind tearing at her skin as it swept down the tunnel.

She reached a junction now and went instantly to her right purely on instinct; there was no time to procrastinate because she knew in her heart that the thing pursuing her would not stop until she was dead.

As she continued, the cracks in the roof started to diminish and the light with it. Finally, Amelia was in a world of absolute darkness and running blind, flailing her arms out in front of her in case anything barred her way. She couldn’t afford to slow down because the noise of her pursuer seemed to be gaining.

Then the worst case scenario: Amelia ran out of tunnel. She knew this because her arms connected with metal and crumpled, sending her crashing to the floor in agony. She tried to drag herself away through the freezing water but her arms were in no state to respond. As she lay there, she felt something move across her, insect-esque, its thin limbs investigating her skin. It made Amelia want to vomit.

The terrible noise was close now, deafening in her ears and she knew it was only a matter of time.

“Bastard!” Amelia screamed into the void. Profanity didn’t pass her lips very often but now was appropriate even if she couldn’t actually hear her own words over the din. Then, suddenly, the roar ceased.

Amelia could feel the creature’s breath; she could sense its bulk hovering over her. Even though its death cry had come to an end, Amelia realised she was not in a world of silence. She could hear a rhythmic beat above her head: it sounded like marching, a wave of boots crunching across the earth above. It sounded like an army going to war. What was this terrible place, Amelia wanted to know?

Something wet and flesh-like touched the corner of Amelia’s mouth.
* * *
Amelia clawed her way into the light; there was still fear but no pain. Or was it just a case that adrenaline was masking what she felt?

“It’s just a dream, kiddo. Everything’s ok.”

Amelia realised it was her father’s comforting tone. She realised she was in her bed in her room with her dad sat beside her, dabbing her forehead with a cold cloth. Her racing heartbeat started to settle.

“You were mumbling in your sleep and shouting. I came in and it felt like you were burning up. I wasn’t sure whether I should wake you or not. Bad dream, huh?”

“Awful.”

“Sounded like it. You’re probably still getting yesterday’s sickness out of your system. You didn’t look very well at all last night.”

“Did I even see you last night?” Amelia questioned.

“You don’t remember?”

“Um. Nope.”

“I came back looking for you to go to the fireworks but you were already holed up in bed.”

Memories of the woods and the booze and Goatee and G-Man came flooding back to her. “Did you go to the fireworks, then?”

“I just watched them from the back yard,” Trent told her. “I wasn’t going to leave you on your own when you were sick, was I?”

“I guess not. Sorry you couldn’t get to see the show properly.”

Trent reached and brushed a strand of hair away from Amelia’s face. “You can’t help being sick, kiddo.”

“Well, I feel a lot better now.”

“Glad to hear it.”
* * *
An hour later, seemingly convinced that Amelia was on the mend, Trent came and told his daughter that he needed to go out for awhile and that he would be taking Sam with him. Not long after he left, Amelia called Jake.

“Hi. It’s me. How you feeling?”

“Better,” Jake croaked. “How about you?”

“Ok. Ish. Had some really horrible dreams, though.”

“What about?”

“Your face,” Amelia joked.

“Oh, I see your sense of humour is still intact.”

“Always.”

“So what now?” Jake wondered.

“We live happily ever after? What do you mean ‘what now’?”

“Do we tell anyone about what happened?”

“What good would it do? Hopefully, we’ll just never see those two doofus’ again. They probably won’t even remember what we look like, anyway. To them, we were just a couple of nobody kids in the woods to have a little fun with. They’re not worth our worry.”

“So what if we cross their paths again and they do remember us?” Jake wanted to know.

“Like I said, they probably won’t or they’ll have moved onto the next random...However, if they do bother us again, we’ll find some way of paying them back.”

Jake laughed but Amelia sensed an air of trepidation in his voice. “Jeez, I’m glad you’re on my side. You can sound pretty fierce sometimes.”




CHAPTER 9
Trent was sat in the opulent study of Karl Bannerman with a glass of soda clutched in his right hand. He had managed to extricate himself from the offer of a brandy without it sounding too definitive. Even though it wasn’t an officially recognised policy – at least in some part of his brain - Trent effectively didn’t drink anymore. Not after what happened.

Karl was the Dean of Hawksbridge: the school where Trent would be teaching when the new academic year commenced in September. This was the first time they had met since the interview. Karl lived on the edges of Province City which was a thirty minute freeway drive north of Fallswood, at least when the traffic was moving unhindered.

“So, Trent,” Karl began to ask, perching his tall and solid frame over by the large bay window, smoothing back his thick, grey mane of hair whilst swilling the ice around in his glass. “How are you settling in with the locals in Fallswood?”

“Oh, you know, slowly but surely,” Trent replied, feeling somewhat encompassed by the huge leather swivel chair he was sat in. He was doing his best to look at ease but felt oddly nervous.

“Yes, it’s never easy setting up in a new town, is it? Must be doubly hard when you’ve moved from big city America to small town America, no? Fallswood isn’t exactly New York.”

“True. Sometimes change is what we need, though, right? I feel settled enough. It was the right time to move on.”

“Your wife,” Karl said, not elaborating, blinking against the sun that was spilling through the window.

“Sara,” Trent found himself saying out loud. He had never discussed his wife with anyone connected with the school but it didn’t surprise Trent that the Dean knew about her.

“Your previous employer mentioned what you had been through…when I chased for your reference. I hope you don’t think I was snooping. Please don’t think they told me anything out of turns, either, because they didn’t. They were very gracious. And also very sorry to see you go.”

“It’s not that I mind people knowing, it’s just...”

“That you don’t want the fuss.”

“Something like that.”

“Fuss is something I can do without, too. I know about loss myself – we all do eventually, I suppose - and that people mean well, but...we just have to find our own way to deal with it, don’t we?”

“What happened?” Trent found himself asking on auto-pilot. The question seemed to hang their tritely and Trent suddenly wished he hadn’t raised the matter. “Not that you have to –”

“Quid pro quo, I suppose. It was my son, Elias. A car crash four years ago. Senseless.”

“A parent losing a child must be…” Trent had a flash of Amelia sprawled in her own blood on the bathroom floor.

“It was, Trent. It really was.” Karl’s gaze seemed to disappear into the distance. “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question? If you don’t wish to answer then please don’t feel that you -”

“It’s ok. Go ahead.”

“Did it make you question your faith?”

Trent deliberately paused before answering, taking a sip of his drink to buy thinking time. He knew the Dean was a Christian and that the ethics of the school were governed to a large extent by that faith. At the interview – on questions of faith - Trent had worried that they might have thought he was telling them what he thought they wanted to hear. The truth was that the faith he had been brought up with – whatever it may or may not be – had been questioned from the moment he was old enough to question anything. Sara’s death had not pushed him any deeper towards non-belief. He had always found it difficult to accept that people with an ounce of intelligence could not have fundamental doubts about the validity of their religion, their faith and their God’s existence.

“My faith remains as it was,” Trent answered diplomatically.

“I see,” Karl pondered. “For me, it made me question my faith to its core. But it never wavered. A part of me is still angry at him, of course.”

“Your son?”

Karl’s eyes flicked towards the ceiling. “No, with Him. Not that He isn’t up to the challenge of my anger and a billion others on top if need be.”

“Perhaps so.”

Karl seemed to drift out of the moment again. He finally broke from his trance and threw the remainder of his drink down his throat. “Top up? A proper drink?”

“No, no, I’m still finishing this one. Thank you, anyway.”

“So,” Karl continued, moving from the window to make himself another drink. “Tell me about –”

The question was never finished, the Dean distracted by a sudden rap on his study door which was followed by its opening and a head popping around it a moment later. It was a woman, possibly late twenties or early thirties Trent thought, fresh faced and wearing no make-up, her blonde hair cut into a neat but feminine bob.

“Oh, hi,” she said to Karl, doing a bit of a double-take when she saw Trent. “Sorry, I didn’t realise you had company. I just wanted to tell you that I was heading off.”

“Ella, before you rush out, let me introduce you to Trent here. He’ll be teaching English with us in September. Trent, this is my daughter, Ella.”

Ella was already stepping into the study, flashing Trent a smile as she headed over. She was dressed for tennis, about 5’ 6”, shapely and athletic; Trent could make out bare and tanned legs from the periphery of his vision but he was cautious not look any more closely. She offered her hand which he shook: her grip was firm but not overly so like she was trying to prove anything. Her skin was still femininely soft.

“Nice to meet you, Trent.”

“You, too.”

“Has daddy been boring you with his golfing stories?”

“I haven’t mentioned golf once, thank you very much, young lady,” Karl replied well naturedly.

“Must be a first.” She turned her gaze back to Trent. “Just be careful he doesn’t make you stay for dinner. Escape whilst you still can. Well, have to run. See you tomorrow, daddy. And I guess I’ll see you, Trent, in a few weeks time. Bye now.”

Before Trent had time to question what Ella meant, she was bounding out of the room. Trent found his eyes darting momentarily to the muscles moving in her tanned calves as she sashayed from the room.

“Ella is a teacher at Hawksbridge, too. She teaches math. That’s what she meant about seeing you in a few weeks time,” Karl explained.

“She lives here with you?”

“No, no, she shares an apartment in the city with her partner.”

“I see,” Trent replied, noticing his pang of regret. It made him feel guilty. “She seems very nice.”

“Awful woman,” Karl replied totally deadpan. “Don’t even get me started.” Trent was momentarily unsure. Karl waited a few seconds before offering the merest of smiles. “Sorry, I’m joking. But I would have to say that I think I had you there.”

“You did.”

“Counter to popular belief, I do actually have a sense of humour. A rather black one, of course, but it’s there all the same, lurking under the surface…No, obviously I’m biased, but Ella truly is the bees’ knees. A little manic at times – always on the move doing something – but she gets that from her mother. Life, so many people don’t seem to understand, is for living slowly.

“Another drink?” Karl enquired. Trent glanced down and saw the Karl had somehow managed to finish his second.














CHAPTER 10
Amelia awoke to find a shadowy figure stood at the foot of her bed. She grabbed at her covers, recoiling backwards, a dry gasp slipping from her mouth. But the terror was gone before it had time to fully-form. Superstition was quashed by the weight of reality as she realised this was merely the hinterland between the sleeping world and the waking one, the aftermath of a restless, shallow sleep brought on by the nerves of having to start school this morning. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she realised there was no shadowy figure in the room; it was merely a trick of the mind and the adjustment to light giving presence to her dressing gown hanging from the back of the door.

She turned towards her clock. It was another hour before she needed to get up to ready herself for school. There was a sudden pang of regret in her heart that the summer was over. She thought back on the last few weeks and wished she could rewind her life to one those days. She already felt nostalgic and wondered if she had made the most of her time, whether she had taken her days of summer too much for granted. She thought of Jake and smiled. What would the summer have been without her goofy new friend?

Fifteen minutes later, restless and unable to get back to sleep, Amelia slid out of bed, her nerves sending her directly to the toilet. She showered and dressed then stood looking at herself in the mirror in her room, doing a bit of a twirl, checking that her uniform hung properly from her body. This was more a survival tactic than vanity; she wanted to blend into the crowd and was looking for anything that might bring her undue attention. She realised that had started to put on a little bit of her previous weight over the summer but was still on the skinny side.

She was glad that Hawksbridge required its pupils to wear a uniform. It meant she didn’t have to worry about what was fashionable this season or not. At her last school, she had become a little tired of the preening prima donnas trying to outdo one another with their displays of surface cool. Everyone had to play the game to some extent but she always suspected that the ones trying to climb the cool tree were the ones with the most layers to their masks; they all seemed to be trying too hard to project something that wasn’t them.

Amelia was distracted from her thoughts by sounds of her dad moving around downstairs. She realised that it was a big day for him, too, with it being his first day at work. Ever since she learnt about his job, she had considered if it would be odd to have him teaching at the same school where she was studying. Either way, they had made a pact that they wouldn’t behave like father and daughter if they saw one another during the course of the day. Amelia gave herself one last glance in the mirror, took a deep breath, and then went to join Trent for breakfast.

“Morning, kiddo,” he said to her as she stepped into the kitchen. “Sleep ok?”

“Well, not especially,” Amelia replied, shuffling across sleepily to her father to give him a hug and receive a kiss on the head. “I guess I’m…well, feeling a little bit nervous.”

“That’s only natural. For what it’s worth, I feel nervous, too.”

“You don’t look it.”

“Oh, I hide things well.”

“Too well.”

Trent sighed, smiled and reached to put both his hands on his daughter’s cheeks. He was momentarily overwhelmed with feelings of pride and sadness. His daughter was growing up and Sara wasn’t around to share that and guide Amelia through it. “Look, give it a few days and you’ll wonder what all your worry was about. I know Jake isn’t in the same classes as you but at least you have a friendly face there for you. I’m sure you’ll recognise some of the other faces, too; kids that you’ve bumped into over the summer. You’ll be fine.”

“I guess…Just remember our pact, that’s all.”

“I wouldn’t dare forget.” Trent smiled. “Even if you’re hanging from the edge of the school roof, I’ll just keep on walking like I’ve never met you before.”

Even though she knew her Dad was joking, Trent’s comment made Amelia feel a little bit sad. “Well, saving me from a life threatening situation is acceptable.”

“Ah, you see, now you’re blurring the rules for me.”

“Doofus.”

“Why, thank you.” Trent gave his daughter another quick hug. “Honestly, believe me, you’ll be fine.”

“Sure I will. Thanks, Dad.”

“Another satisfied customer.”
* * *
The registration and first lessons seemed to fly by in a blur for Amelia. She managed to pass pleasantries with a few of the people in her classes though it was too early to say if any friendships were in the early stages of being forged. At least no one had been unpleasant to her. She was grateful for lunch and the chance to seek out a familiar face in Jake.

After they had eaten, they headed out into the school yard together. The place was a cacophony of noise with kids running, yelling and playing games.

“Hawksbridge zoo,” Amelia thought out loud whilst purveying the scene.

“I’m not sure anyone would want to pay to see the exhibits, though,” Jake countered.

“Yeah, sometimes I’m not too sure I like the world of kids very much…not that I’m in any great rush to be part of the grown-up world, either.” Amelia laughed. “Not sure where that leaves me.”

“I’m quite happy to stay as a kid for now.”

“That’s because you’re the biggest kid in the world.”

“Jeez – thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Someone walking past them both suddenly stopped dead and did a double take. He turned slowly and looked down at Amelia and Jake sitting on the floor. Amelia didn’t recognise the tall, wiry male in front of her and started to laugh out of nervous embarrassment. She turned to Jake with a ‘have-you-seen-this-guy’ kind of look on her face…and saw the concern in Jake’s own expression. It was only then that the penny dropped: she realised it was Goatee from the ‘incident’ in the woods. Accept he no longer had his goatee. It made him look younger – as did the school uniform - but no less menacing.

“Hello again, kids,” Goatee said with faux-pleasantry.

“Hello, Goatee,” Amelia threw back at him.

Goatee stroked his chin. “Goatee? I don’t - ah, right, that’s what you decided to call me, is it? I’m sure it’s not a term of endearment. Nor is it particularly accurate anymore.”

“You’ll always be Goatee to us,” Amelia continued. “You can carry on walking now, thanks.”

Goatee smiled and turned to Jake. “Like I said before, your little girlfriend here is a feisty one.”

“Amelia isn’t my girl–-”

“Oh, right. I bet you’d like her to be, though, right? I wouldn’t blame you, either.” He looked Amelia up and down. “She’s quite a cutey. For a midget.”

“Shut up,” Jake told him.

A flash of anger cut across Goatee’s calm expression. “What was that?”

“He just wants you to go away,” Amelia told him. “Ditto for me…Goatee.”

The anger intensified on Goatee’s face. “My name is -”

“We don’t really care what your real name is,” Amelia interrupted with. “We just want you to go away and leave us alone. But seeing that you won’t, we’ll go away from you.”

Amelia got up and offered her hand to pull up Jake. When the two of them started to walk away, though, Goatee stepped across their path. His anger had been replaced again with his de-rigueur too-cool-for-school exterior. “Bye for now, kids. Just be cautious what you say to me in future, that’s all. Seeing me angry isn’t something I would recommend to you. I’ll be seeing you around.”

Amelia and Jake continued on their way, only talking again when they were a good few metres away. “I’ve never even seen him at this school before,” Jake said.

“Perhaps he’s just transferred here like I have or something,” Amelia pondered.

“Suppose. At least the other idiot isn’t here.”

“I think maybe you spoke too soon.” Amelia gestured with her eyes for Jake to see where Goatee had wandered off to. He was stood talking to the monosyllabic G-Man; at him.








CHAPTER 11
TK diary entry Friday 9 September.
They say that whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Well, I must be stronger because I’ve survived my first week at Hawksbridge; a week that has gone as smoothly as can be expected. Sure, some of the pupils are a little challenging – where aren’t they - but it’s not like some inner city hell hole having to check kids for guns and knives as they enter.

Ella seems to have made it unscathed through her first week, too. When we first moved here, I was worried for her. Over the summer, though, she seems to have gotten a little more robust, sometimes a little too robust. I worry sometimes that she might be overcompensating and hiding her fragility, often in bursts of anger.

I don’t want to play too heavy-handed with her. Obviously, I want her to get strong again and to be able to stand up for herself and deal with the rigours of day to day life. Counter to that, I don’t want to miss signs that she might be floundering. I’ll just have to keep a subtle eye on her.

Work, at least, keeps my mind busy. It keeps my thoughts away from worrying about Amelia too much or dwelling on Sara or contemplating the future too far in advance. The future, I’ve learned, can bite you on the ass. You can plan all you want, dream about spending the rest of your life with someone…but the future has its own rules. All I can hope for is to get through one week to the next as happily as possible and do the best for my daughter along the way.

I continue to feel more settled at home, too. I am starting to feel less displaced living in Fallswood; starting to feel that I am part of a community, getting to know some of my neighbours, if only to say hello to. It’s especially nice to have someone directly next door you feel you can trust. I wouldn’t say I have gotten close to Jake’s mom – she remains a little guarded, perhaps after the breakdown of her marriage – but I like her and Amelia reports back nice things about her, too.

So, anyway, here’s to the future. The immediate future, at least.








CHAPTER 12
It felt like a landscape of raw meat. Amelia’s bare feet carried her across a terrain more akin to flesh than rock and earth, something wet and viscous splashing up her legs with each step.

Heavy, choking smoke barred her vision, keeping her gaze from whatever was creating the sounds of warfare echoing in the distance. She heard a high pitched noise coming towards her followed by a nearby explosion which threw Amelia to the ground. She crawled forward, trying to escape the burning flames behind her; her path, however, was blocked by two pairs of booted feet. She looked up pleadingly…only to find Goatee and G-Man staring down at her with grinning, maniacal faces.
* * *
The nightmare played on a loop through the movie screen of Amelia’s mind for much of her day at school. Sometimes dreams drifted into the ether as soon as they were dreamt, whereas others like this one left a long-term imprint on the brain.

With the school day over, she had agreed to meet up with Jake to go see a movie. She was stood near the school gates, waiting for Jake to show up. Whereas she had changed out of her uniform with minimum fuss, she thought to herself that Jake was no doubt taking an age over the process.

As she waited, she stood and day-dreamed and let her eyes wander over her nearby environment. It was interesting to people-watch and consider all the human interaction, especially the pupils being picked up by fussy, over-protective parents. As she scanned the faces, one face seemed to not quite fit. The face belonged to an old lady in bedraggled clothes, her expression seemingly filled with the legacy of generations of misery. Even though she knew it couldn’t be, the woman seemed to be starring straight at Amelia. Her body seemed to be as frozen as her gaze. Amelia realised how spooked she was, a chill running through her body and flushing her cheeks.

Feeling slightly uncomfortable, Amelia started to shift away from the gate, sauntering slowly down the edge of the school’s boundary fence. As she did, she continued to peruse the scene around her, her eyes falling on a young man leaning against a motorbike about twenty yards down the road adjacent to the school boundary. He looked like a throwback to the fifties, Brando-esque in his leather jacket, boots and jeans, with floppy jet-black hair and a cigarette hanging from the corner his mouth. The rebellious look was only thrown somewhat by the fact that he was reading a book.

Still inside the school grounds, occasionally glancing back to look out for Jake, Amelia wandered along the edges of the boundary fence in the direction of the young biker, trying to feign an air of indifference as she did so. She stopped at one of the trees about five yards from being directly opposite him. She leant against it, flicking surreptitious glances in his direction.

She could see now that he was about 5’ 9”, thin but toned, his tight white T-shirt accentuating his shape. His face was tan and clean-shaven with a defined chin and cheekbones. She saw also now that it was a lollipop hanging from the corner of his mouth and not a cigarette. She thought it was a cute touch.

She glanced back and noticed that Jake was exiting the school and heading towards the front gates. Here next to the tree, Amelia suspected Jake wouldn’t see her but she didn’t want to start yelling out for him. She gave her mysterious stranger one last glance through the slats in the fence. The instant she did this, he looked up from his book, turned left then right…before appearing to look directly at her. Amelia’s heart skipped a beat and her eyes involuntarily widened. As inconspicuously as she could, Amelia turned away and slipped out of view to the other side of the tree. Aware that her heart was racing, she gave herself a few seconds to calm down before slowly heading towards Jake.

“You trying to hide from me?” Jake put to Amelia as she came striding over.

“Nope. Just taking in the sights,” Amelia replied.

Jake surveyed where Amelia had been and nodded his understanding. “Oh, right, the dude on the bike?”

“Nope,” Amelia replied again, a little too adamantly, aware that the high pitch of her voice had maybe given her away.

“Yeah, whatever.”

“You don’t know anything.”

“I know you like that guy over there,” Jake teased.

“I don’t even know him.”

“You’d like to, I bet.”

“Why, do you know him?” Amelia asked as indifferently as she could muster.

“Oh, so you are interested, then?”

“No, I’m just -”

“Ah, so it all comes out now - Amelia likes bad boys.”

“How do you know he’s bad? Goatee and G-Man are bad boys. Little bad boys. I don’t like them. Anyway, what do you care about who I like or don’t like?”

“I don’t.”

“Good, so let’s drop it, then.”

“Fine by me.”

They walked for a few yards in silence. Amelia tried to stop herself but couldn’t. “So do you know him?”

Jake laughed and shook his head. “I knew it. No, sorry, I’ve never seen him before.”

“Ok. Forget it. Let’s go see this movie. What is it again?”

“Things Explosions Part Five.”

“Wowsers. My kind of movie.” Amelia looped her arm through Jake’s as they reached the front gate. Thankfully, she saw that the old woman had gone. Out through the gate, she threw a final glance down the road. The mysterious young man was back on his bike and starting it up. Moments later, the distance was swallowing him.




















CHAPTER 13
Sunday morning; the breaking dawn: a sudden explosion of fiery red and orange spilling out across the horizon.

Trent was out walking Sam, enjoying the spectacle of the sunrise and the start of a new day. Watching, he could understand why previous ages of man might have fallen to their knees and prayed: what could they have thought of this giant ball of fire bestowing them with a new day - a new start – after the dark, frightening blanket of night? Every so often, when he had the energy for it, Trent loved to experience the early morning, enjoying the world whilst the rest of it appeared to sleep. Not so easy to do in New York but Fallswood was made for it. On peaceful, still mornings like this one, it was difficult to believe that terrible things were happening across the globe.

Trent was half-thinking about Jake’s mother, Fay. As good a neighbour as she had become, that’s all she had been so far. Yesterday, though, he had been returning home late. Fay had simply been out on the porch putting out the trash, dressed in clothes that she was probably used to lounging around the house in: shorts and T-shirt, her dark, curly hair tied back for practicality. But something about her attire and the way she seemed at ease with herself had surprisingly and abruptly reminded Trent that he was still a red-bloodied male. He had said hello but hadn’t stuck around to shoot the breeze: he had been concerned that his piqued interest – and the guilt that came with it - would be writ all over his face.

Trent continued his walk parallel to Witches Wood, out towards the blazing horizon, his shades shielding him from the intensity of the light. It felt good to be on the move, his body working, blood pumping through his veins, feeling the warmth on his face whilst Sam darted in and out of the woods up ahead. She constantly flicked her gaze back towards Trent to make sure ‘dad’ was still close at hand.

They finally reached the small lake on the outskirts of the city, Trent calling Sam away from the waters edge. He had seen archive pictures of it in its glory years. Now it had fallen somewhat into disrepair, with litter and debris in and around the water. These days it was more infamous as a teenage hang-out. A real shame, Trent thought to himself, though he’d heard a rumour that the council had plans to give the place a make-over and return it to a family orientated hang-out. Money, of course - as with most things in life - was the stumbling issue to getting this project in motion.

By the time Trent decided to turn back towards home, a few more people had shown there presence in the world: all dog walkers and joggers. Trent stopped on occasion to chat with his fellow doggy compatriots, many of whom he had become acquainted with through previous dog walking sojourns. Owning a dog in a new town was a great way to meet new people because it always meant you had an obvious shared interest to kick start a conversation.

Fifty yards or so up ahead, a female jogger came to an abrupt halt. She offered Trent a little wave before semi-collapsing forward, hands on thighs, sucking in what appeared to be much needed oxygen. It was only as he continued on his way towards her that he realised it was Ella.

“Small world, hey?” Ella put to Trent breathlessly once he was in earshot.

“Indeed.”

Ella was dressed in calf-length leggings and a running top, her face flushed and covered by a light layer of sweat, loose strands of hair spilling from her head band. She finally straightened herself back up, her breathing returning to normal.

“You realise I only stopped because I thought you were a scout from a model agency and I wanted you to see me at my best.”

“Well, consider yourself hired,” Trent threw back at her.

“What – for the sweaty ‘before’ model on some anti-perspirant ad?”

“I think you do yourself a disservice,” Trent replied. “I’d describe your appearance more like radiant than sweaty.”

“Radiating more like it,” Ella countered. She bent down to fuss Sam, Sam’s tail wagging furiously in response. “You never told me you were the doggy type.”

“International man of mystery me.”

“Oh, I bet. So what’s your little chocolate friend called?”

“Sam.”

“Hello there, Sam,” Ella said, squatting down to fuss her even more, her tail-wagging intensifying. “She’s adorable. We have a dog, too. A Dalmatian called Brian.”

“Brian?”

“I like Family Guy.”

“A woman of taste. Ditto,” Trent told her.

“Who knew we had so much in common, hey?” Ella replied jokily. “Actually, when I say we have a dog, I actually mean I have a dog. Mike just allows him to lodge with us. So if you ever want to double-dog-date, just let me know.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“So how are things? Everything ok at work? I don’t really get chance to talk to you much there. Actually, scrap that, I shouldn’t be talking shop with you on a weekend.”

“It’s okay,” Trent replied. “Yeah, work is going fine, thank you. Better than fine. I’m really glad I made the plunge to come back to teaching.”

“Good. Well, anyway, I suppose I best shoot before the old legs seize up.” She touched one for emphasis, giving Trent the excuse to glance down and secretly admire them. “I guess I’ll see you around, Mr Karras.”

“You, too, Miss Bannerman.”

Ella did a little shuffle on her feet, seemingly readying herself to head off running again. “Oh, by the way - and I know it’s quite short notice so feel free to decline - but there’s a little soiree over at daddy’s place this afternoon. Starts about two. Won’t go on too late. Just trying to make use of the garden in the last vestiges of summer. It was also the old coot’s birthday recently which he pretends he doesn’t like celebrating anymore. You can bring your daughter along, too, if you like.”
***
Trent arrived at Karl’s garden party just after 2.30 pm. There was already a gathered throng with the light hum of music and chat filling the air. There was a small marquee housing a buffet and drinks and also a separate barbecue that was wafting tantalising aromas on the light early fall breeze. He had a strong sense of déjà vu and realised he was simply remembering a similar event he had attended with Sara about five years ago at a similar house with similar grounds. He half-expected to turn and find her charming her way through the crowd in the startling yellow dress she had been wearing that day.

Instead he turned and caught the Dean’s attention. Karl strode over to welcome them into the fold, apologising profusely for not having invited them himself in the first place. He impelled them to make themselves at home and help themselves to whatever food and drink was on offer, joking with Amelia not to get too drunk.

After partaking in some of the food and drink on offer – Trent sticking to orange juice – he amiably chatted to some of the guests, some of whom were colleagues from school. Amelia kept close by, finally asking if she could help herself to ‘just one’ small glass of champagne. Trent reluctantly agreed. A few sips seemed to free her up slightly. She got talking to another slightly older girl who mentioned that some of the ‘kids’ were going off to play on the quad bikes. Trent made sure there was going to be adult supervision before consenting for her to go.

Trent had been at the party just under an hour before Ella made an appearance, heading out from the house with a Dalmatian. Trent presumed this had to be Brian; despite not being on a leash, he remained attentively at her side. This was the first time he had seen her out of sports wear or work clothes. She looked beautiful, dressy but not in an overly flamboyant way, with sensible flat shoes but a lilac coloured knee length dress that hugged her figure. She nodded and said hi to a few people as she made her way through the crowd towards a man in his late twenties or possibly early thirties. From the manner of their greeting, Trent deducted that it had to be her partner, Mike. He was good-looking in a generic kind of way, Trent thought to himself.

It was another twenty minutes before Trent got the chance to speak to Ella. He tried to deny it but he realised he had been slowly making his way through the crowd towards her, stopping himself from getting too heavily embroiled in any of his conversations with the other guests. He couldn’t quite fathom what his own motives were. Finally, he saw her chatting with the person manning the barbecue and used it as an excuse to go get another burger. He realised he was a bundle of emotions as he walked towards her. He was undeniably attracted to her but was overcome with the usual guilty feelings: guilt that was entirely related to betraying Sara on some level; it had nothing to do, he realised worryingly, with the fact that Ella had a partner.

As Trent helped himself to another burger, he exchanged pleasantries with Ella who in turn introduced him to her Uncle who was overseeing the barbecue.

“Aren’t you partaking with one of your Uncle’s burgers?” Trent put to Ella, taking in a mouthful of his own.

“Bean gang member,” she replied.

“A what now?”

“Vegetarian.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Don’t worry,” Ella smiled. “I won’t hold your carnivorous nature against you. As long as you won’t hold my bean loving against me.”

Trent laughed at Ella’s turn of phrase. “No, no, not at all - my wife was a veggie. Ditto for Amelia. I guess I’m still in my Neanderthal stage.”

“Neanderthals have their purpose, I suppose,” Ella joked. “Where is Amelia, by the way? I can’t believe you would’ve left your daughter at home?”

“No, she’s around somewhere. There was talk of quad bikes?”

“Oh, daddy has a couple. Doesn’t ride them himself anymore but he likes others to be entertained when they come over. They’ll be over on the other side of the house. You rode one before?”

“I haven’t, no.”

“Want to go have a quick play? We shouldn’t let the kids have all the fun now should we?”

Trent followed Ella towards the back of the house, watching her throw a little wave to her partner as she did so. Around the back of the house a group of four kids – Amelia amongst them – were taking turns on the two quad bikes under the supervision of a young man who was just about old enough to qualify as an adult supervisor. After a bit of negotiation, Ella managed to persuade the kids to give them a brief turn. After a quick demonstration of how to ride one, Trent following Ella’s lead to cut into the patch of woodland that made up part of Karl’s extensive grounds.

“Aren’t you worried about messing up your dress?” Trent put to Ella, his eyes moving to the sight of her hiking it up her thighs so she could sit on the quad bike more comfortably.

“It’ll wash.”

Trent was reminded of Sara. Physically, they were very different but elements of their personality were the same. Both were clearly beautiful and could make themselves look glamorous but weren’t precious or prissy about getting stuck in and getting a bit of dirt (or paint) on them.

Ella came to a halt in the middle of the woodland with the sounds of the party floating in the distance. She laughed at the sight of her legs, leaning forward to wipe off some of the mud. “Mike is such a lucky guy to be with someone so classy.”

“I concur.”

Ella looked up from cleaning her legs, fixing Trent with a quizzical stare. “I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”

“Oh, I never joke with anyone,” Trent replied, poker face intact. “Ever. No, I mean it – he’s the luckiest guy on the planet to be with you.”

“Well, obviously. Though, of course, you have no proof that I’m not a monster behind closed doors.”

“I’m a good judge of character.”

“Is that so?”

“It is.”

There was a pause in the conversation, Ella holding Trent with that quizzical look again. It was a look she didn’t break. Trent finally felt compelled to be the first to look away, pretending to wipe mud from his jeans.

“Perhaps we should make our way back to the kids before we cause a riot?” Trent suggested.

“Why, is it making you nervous being all alone with me here in the woods?”

“Should I be?”

Again there was that deliberate pause. “No, I think you’re safe.”

“Good. So, shall we head back?”

“Lead the way, Mr Karras. Lead the way.”






CHAPTER 14
Amelia was at the checkout of her local grocery store, purchasing milk and bread. As she paid, she heard the roar of an engine and turned to see her mysterious biking stranger pulling up into the small parking lot outside.

Amelia pocketed her change but carried her bag to the magazine rack instead of heading directly for the exit. She loitered there, pretending to browse through some of the publications, using her vantage point near the window to keep an eye on the young man outside. He switched off the engine and removed his gloves and helmet but kept sitting astride his machine. He turned his face towards the sun and raised his hands to smooth down his wild black main of hair.

Finally, he dismounted, nonchalantly leaving his helmet and gloves on the seat before heading towards the entrance of the grocery store. Amelia could feel her heart start to race as he stepped towards the door, snatching up the magazine directly in front of her as a prop to psychologically hide behind. It didn’t register for a few seconds that it was a copy of Guns and Ammo.

Inside the store, the stranger headed towards the aisle where Amelia was stood. Her pounding heart seemed to rise in to her throat; for a moment, she was convinced he was heading directly towards her. Instead, he stopped at the other end of the magazine rack. Even though he was only about 5’ 9”, Amelia felt he was looming over her and that she was shrinking back into herself. From the periphery of her vision, she was also aware that he was looking directly at her.

Time moved at an awkward pace. Amelia found it almost unbearable being stood next to him with him looking at her. Ultimately, she couldn’t help herself: she felt inexorably compelled to turn and face him…and instantly realised her mistake. His gaze wasn’t on her but was scouring the various magazines shelved just beyond her. He, however, seemed to realise that she was now looking at him and shifted his gaze to Amelia. His eyes were piercingly blue – the kind Amelia had read about in throwaway romance novels – and then he smiled to reveal movie-star perfect teeth. And then he was gone, moving past her down the aisle, lightly brushing against her. She caught his scent: something sweet intertwined with the odour of something much earthier.
* * *
It was later that same afternoon. Amelia was down in the basement of her home with Jake. After the incident in the wood with Goatee and G-Man, this had become their new den. They knew as the fall made its inexorable journey towards winter that a den in the woods would become far from practical, anyway.

Trent had given them free reign (within reason) to do what they wanted with the basement and to make it their own. When Amelia and Trent had first moved in, the basement they had inherited was a drab, dreary environment filled with little more than junk, dust and cobwebs. Trent had agreed to pay for getting new lights fitted in return for Amelia and Jake putting in the graft to make it habitable.

With a deal struck, Amelia and Jake had gone about putting in numerous hours on evenings and weekends tidying the place up. They had removed all the detritus: paint tins, cardboard boxes, old magazines, rusted tools, old lawnmower parts and so on and so on. This had been followed by seemingly endless dusting, brushing, scrubbing and cleaning. Then, with new lights fitted, they had gone about giving the place a paint job before covering it with posters and bits of Amelia’s mother’s art. They had also managed to get their hands on some cheap (and free) second hand furniture as well as a pool table. The finishing touch had been to kit the place out with games, books, a hi-fi, a TV and a blu-ray player.

Of late, Amelia and Jake weren’t seeing as much of one another. Not only were both of them busy with school and homework, Amelia had started to meet and socialise with other people at school. It wasn’t that Jake was a loner and didn’t have other people to hang around with but he was naturally shyer than Amelia. Also, Amelia had recently found out that Jake’s best friend and his family had moved away – emigrated – only last April and that he was still reeling from it and was reluctant to open himself up fully to too many people.

“Do you know who this is?” Amelia asked Jake, showing him a picture she had taken on her somewhat reluctantly owned cell phone. It was a picture of the mad old woman she had first seen outside the school gates. Amelia had seen her on a number of occasions since and had gotten the spooky sense that the woman was watching her.

“That’s Jeannie-May,” Jake told her matter-of-factly.

“Who?”

“She’s like, erm, the town oddball? A nut job but harmless. Lives with a load of cats. I hear rumours that she’s psychic.”

“She gives me the creeps.”

“Why did you take a photo of her?” Jake asked.

“Because I keep seeing her around like she’s following me.”

“I think everyone thinks that about her. I wouldn’t worry about it.” Jake headed over to the DVD and blu-ray collection, seemingly looking to pick out something for them to watch. With his back to Amelia, he asked: “Have you invited Christa over to see the den?”

There was nothing in Jake’s tone but it suddenly occurred to Amelia that he might be a little bit jealous. Christa was a girl who shared a lot of Amelia’s classes and the two of them had become relatively close recently.

“Oh, you know, she’s been over a couple of times. That’s ok with you, isn’t it? I know this is our place but –”

“Hey, it’s your home, Amelia.”

“Sure, I know, but we did this room together and I don’t want you to…I just want you to be ok with stuff.”

“It’s fine. Christa seems nice enough. She’s not just hair and teeth like a lot of the girls at school.” Jake finally turned to Amelia and offered a brief laugh. “You just have to promise me that you won’t invite any assholes over, though.”

“You have my word,” Amelia replied. “I should never have brought it up. It’s just that you’ve seemed a little bit quiet since you came over.”

“Sorry,” Jake sighed.

“You don’t have to apologise.”

“No, it’s true, my mind’s been somewhere else. I’ve been thinking about my dad. It’s his birthday today.”

“Right. How is he?”

Jake thought on this before replying. “Well, I called him to see if he’d received the card I mailed him and…well, it was like he didn’t really want to speak to me. Not really. It was like I was inconveniencing him by calling him.”

“That can’t have been very nice,” Amelia said, trying to soothe him.

“It made me feel like crap city to be honest.”

Amelia got up and moved across to her friend, placing a consoling arm around him. “Grown ups can be real assholes sometimes.”

“Tell me about it.”

She gave him one last squeeze before giving him a light punch on the arm. “Hey, here’s something that will cheer you up. I was gonna keep this until later but what the hell. I know a girl who likes you.” Amelia could instantly see that Jake’s interest was pricked despite his attempts to play nonchalance.

“You making this up?”

“Nope.”

“Who is it, then?” Jake wanted to know.

“Me,” Amelia said, holding for a dramatic pause before saying she was joking. There was a look on Jake’s face that she couldn’t quite interpret. “No, not me - Becky Johnson.”

“Becky Johnson? I don’t believe you. How would you know anyway?”

“She told me.”

“Why would she tell you? No offence but it’s not like you’re friends or that you even talk to her.”

“Well, no, but…Ok, I admit that she didn’t tell me to my face…I overheard her saying it to someone else.”

“Saying what?” Jake asked, still failing to play it cool.

“That she thinks you’re cute.”

“Cute?” Jake thought on this, his expression a mixture of pleasure and disappointment. He appeared to think out loud: “Do I want girls to think I’m cute?”

“What? Of course you do!” Amelia told him.

“Surely I want girls to think I’m sexy, don’t I? That I’m mean and moody or something.”

Amelia rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Just be happy with cute, ok? Girls do like nice guys, you know.”

“You don’t!”

“Sure I do. I like you, don’t I?”

“Well, sure, but not like…well, not in that way.”

“Well, of course not in that way. You’re my friend.”

“Yeah, but if I wasn’t your friend, I still wouldn’t be your type, though, would I?”

Amelia rolled her eyes again. “Some hypothetical questions just aren’t worth answering. This is one of them. Be happy that Becky Johnson likes you.”

“I guess I should be. She’s quite…ok looking, I suppose.” A devilish, coy smile slipped across Jake’s expression. “And she has big boobies.”

“Sicko.”

“Can’t help it. So who do you like at school?” Jake put to Amelia.

“No one,” she replied. “Most guys at school are just silly little boys really.”

“You’re after someone more mature.”

“Something like that.”

“Like motorcycle guy?”

“Not at all.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I actually saw him at the grocery store the other day,” Amelia revealed.

“And did you go all weak at the knees?”

“I could barely walk,” she replied deadpan.

“Maybe he wants you.”

“Don’t be silly.”

“Why else would he be always be hanging around where you are?” Jake questioned.

“I’ve only seen him twice.”

“So you say.”

“Enough now, funny boy,” Amelia said, getting to her feet and heading across towards the DVD / blu-ray library. “Choose something to watch or I’ll do it for you.”

“How about the latest Star Trek movie?”

“Don’t be such a geek, geeky. How about we watch –” Amelia didn’t get to finish. She suddenly felt woozy, her legs unsteady. She slipped down to one knee, her stomach churning and her vision blurring. She was aware of Jake rushing to be at her side, concernedly asking her what was wrong. As he helped her back to her feet, Amelia saw something in front of her. It was a ball of light hovering and pulsating in the middle of the room. It seemed to open and close like a fist, like a beating heart, revealing blackness at its centre. There seemed to be movement within it. It was as if reality was nothing more than a paper screen with images projected across it and that someone had torn a hole into it.

As she continued to stare at the light – mesmerised – there was continued movement within it. And then abruptly there was something pushing out of the light and into the room: a hideous, sub-human face, hairless and scarred. It looked like it was being born, its features twisted with pain and its wide, white eyes starring directly at Amelia.

And then it was gone; all of it: the light and the face. Perhaps another trick of the mind, Amelia considered. But she still felt cold and anxious even though the dizziness and sickness were starting to subside.

“What happened?” Jake asked her again.

“I’m - I’m not sure. I just came over all dizzy and sick. Did you see that?”

“See what?”

“That horrible face in the light,” Amelia said.

“No…no, I didn’t see anything, Amelia.”

“Not even the ball of light? It was right there.” She pointed to the spot.

“Erm…no.”

“But it was right there!” Amelia reiterated, the emotion rising within her. Tears started to form and spill from her eyes.

“I think you need to come and sit down,” Jake told her, leading her back to her seat, aware that she was shaking.

“Just my mind playing tricks with me, that’s all,” Amelia mumbled mainly to herself as Jake eased her onto the couch. Her words came out without any air of conviction.
















CHAPTER 15
TK diary entry Sunday 20 November.
The old cliché remains. The older you get, they say (whoever they are), the quicker that time seems to drag the years from under you; this year has truly flown. The dark, cold nights have drawn in and summer seems like a distant memory. I know that some people don’t care for the long, dark nights but it’s not something that bothers me. I always enjoyed the cosiness of being indoors on a fall / winter night, especially with the approach of Thanksgiving and Christmas. Not that cosy nights in have been on my agenda without Sara.

One of the most painful things about losing her – on some level – is realising how much I took her for granted until she got sick. It’s human nature perhaps. Don’t get me wrong, I loved her to bits and told her so on many occasions and I made great efforts with our relationship…but a part of me just always expected her to be there. I can never make up for the time before she got sick; I can never make that time better. And that hurts. Maybe I’m being too hard on myself but it’s a nagging feeling that won’t quite leave me alone.

You don’t know something’s open till it shuts: a line from a song I remember. It might be a crass analogy but it’s the same with people. You don’t realise how much someone is embedded into the very fabric of your life until they are removed from it. It’s all those tiny little things two people share together that suddenly amount to an empty cavern in your world when they are all taken away. What do I miss apart from everything? Holding her hand, watching her paint, the funny way she walked, her smell, the way she would perch her reading glasses on the end of her nose, watching her sleep and so on and so on. Sure, I miss the sex, too, but I can just about live with that scenario. As I say, it’s the intimacy I can’t replace.

Ok, I’m lying. The lack of sex is something I am struggling with. I was invited to a party just over a week ago and found myself getting progressively friendlier with someone I met there. She wasn’t really my type – whatever that is – but she was chatty and flirty and I was flattered by her interest in me. Most sexual interest is pretty flattering to be honest when you’re a single man (not that I consider myself a single man). By about one in the morning, I found myself being dragged off into one of the bedrooms. I realised I was very likely about to have sex with someone and the feeling was unbelievably exciting…and also just a little bit terrifying. (It’s been a long time since I’ve had sex and god knows how long with another woman.) My emotions were also laced with my good old underlying guilt that seems to be with me every time I even look at another woman.

The bottom line is that I didn’t get the chance to see it through. In the room, on the bed, getting ourselves half-naked, I realised just how drunk she was; barely coherent. As much as she mumbled to me that she was fine and that she wanted me, I knew she wasn’t really in the best mental condition to make those decisions. Let’s just lay here and hold one another for awhile, I told her. Not long after this, she literally fell asleep in my arms. I lay there with her, brushing the hair from her eyes, sharing the heat of her body if not sex or intimacy…all whilst waiting for my hard-on to go away! Such is life.

Ella has invited me to a couple of parties, too, but I have politely declined. I found myself thinking about her a lot after Karl’s garden party a couple of months back and I knew it wasn’t healthy for me. As I say, it’s always flattering when you feel someone is interested in you. Though, in truth, she actually isn’t. Ella just happens to have a very open, confident and friendly manner about her which perhaps could be regarded as low level flirting. Either way, she has a partner. I still see her at work, of course, and shoot the breeze with her for a few minutes here and there…but it’s best I just keep it at that.

But the world of women, I realise, retains its allure. I have considered that it might be nice to go on a few dates if the opportunity arose (I don’t mean with Ella). Would that be so bad? What if a little bit of sex was involved along the way, too? I know Sara would want me to move one – and would tell me to screw my guilt – but I can’t help the way I feel. There are also Amelia’s feelings to consider. I’m not sure how she’d feel about me seeing other women. I half considered inviting Fay around for dinner just for a bit of female company and conversation…but I was worried how either of the kids would take it. Maybe it’s something I should discuss with Amelia before I do anything else.

Anyway, it’s late and I need to sleep. This is me signing off.