Chapter 1
Alan
The room was dark, filthy, dusty, old. They say dust is skin which has settled from the air. The thick grey-brown layer on the furniture could have easily hidden a body. The smell was unwashed, unloved, again old. Furniture that was tacky and dowdy when it was new; it would not have been out of place on a rubbish tip. The sunken seats of the two chairs had concentric contours permanently indented which attested to habitual use. aged yellow Kapok billows out from the holes made in the sides of the arms of the chairs like an overheated pan of milk. Within these holes, Mayfair, Penthouse and Playboy, to name a few, their well thumbed pages curling at the edges, some left open at specific pages. Both walls and windows were grey, distinguishable only by the frames which separate them; none had been painted or cleaned in such a long time. There had been no reason to. No one was allowed in, Ever. Any would be visitors who had the temerity or foolishness to knock on the heavy, gothic wooden front door were never afforded entry or even a polite response from behind it. He discovered that he could wait for as long as it took for whomever to give up and go away by peering through the tiny strategic cut made n the net curtain on the bedroom window, which allowed him to observe ignore and finally dismiss. No one mattered enough any more to warrant an entry into his house. This was his domain, his home. He didn’t need do gooders or nosey people asking how he was, they were just interfering anyway.
But sometimes, just once in a very long while, he would slowly walk through the small bungalow, past the small rear bedroom that he used to store his “stuff” , into the compact kitchen and unlock the outer back door. If his timing was on cue the caller would be down the drive having given up at the front door right at the moment he stepped out from the fortified garage gate/door separating the front garden from the rear.
“I was in the back” he would say, or “Am just making something to eat or I would ask you in.”
Another one was “You must be busy so I won’t keep you but thanks for popping by”, all this done whilst deftly walking said visitor firmly in the direction of their car. The outside of the house still looked reasonable, compared to the inside. He had invested in a reputable firm of house painters many years ago which had paid off dividends, he hardly had to touch the paintwork in quite a while. Alright, there were some areas that needed a little “TLC” but that applied to most properties these days, didn’t it? As long as he didn’t attract any unwelcome attention he was content.
It had been a lovely house, small but presentable, a pretty front garden with private space at the back which wasn’t overlooked. It sat at the uppermost end of a long meandering street. The views were far reaching and majestic even on the worst of days! Sand, sea, sometimes a mist crept in from the ocean; a blue lighthouse displaying the traditional intermittent blue flashes of light illuminating the straits between the mainland and adjoining island, Verdant greens and undulating hills; profound mountains slopes and peaks. Rivulets of water forming streams , marrying into cascading waterfalls which formed underground faucets adjunct to the sea itself that were visible at the bases of the mountains. It was the view of the encompassing area which had been the deciding factor when the bungalow was bought.
When his Mam was alive, the place was relatively well cared for. He always had a change of clothes, either one sorted things out for each other. She did the cleaning around the house. She wasn’t house proud but this was the first owned home they had ever had so it had to be looked after, and properly. Mary Elizabeth was both proud and house proud. She cared deeply for her two sons, more so the younger boy as he didn’t seem to spend his time messing around trying to catch the eye of the some young girl whenever the opportunity arose. Unlike , of course his brother , the elder boy who had left his Mam and brother to marry another woman! The younger son never did that to his Mam, he promised her she was the only woman for him!
When her eldest had married, Mary Elizabeth considered it to be a fad, a passing fancy, something he would grow out of, except he didn’t and when the first granddaughter came along she was pleased she had another to love but still slighted and further usurped in his affections, even if this was not the case.
Her younger son though, he wouldn’t leave her for another.
“Play the field my boy” she would state safe in the knowledge it was her he came home to. To this end she cooked his meals, washed and cleaned for him and made him equal to her new husband in many ways that he didn’t need another woman in his life.- he had Mam.
She became ill very quickly, the disease taking hold rapidly and voraciously. Mary Elizabeth didn’t discuss illness with her sons, she had watched her first husband die of heart failure at quite a young age and her second husband had contracted lung cancer, eventually dying like a shell of the man she knew. That was not going to happen to her. So she didn’t tell of her pain and blood to anyone, especially her boy. But the cramps and pain became unbearable and one morning he found her rocking herself in the chair in the kitchen quietly sobbing.
The big “C” the doctor called it. She summoned her boys together, The C word was unmentionable, it spelt certain suffering and death but they understood.
They were not both there when she went, thin, wasted away, her face almost skeletal from the ravages of the disease and strong analgesia administered , but with a fiery intensity in her striking blue eyes. As she left them they both understood she had left them together for each other and not one woman should separate or come between them.
He retreated into his house bought for him and Mam and in turn retreated into himself. He hadn’t picked up a duster or cleaned anything since that last day she was taken into hospital. The place was to remain exactly as it was when she was last there. His “volkie Beetle”, bright as orange sunlight with leather interiors polished to perfection as only Mam would appreciate , stood in the garage, rotting in the salt air, never to see the light of day again.
His brother, however, vented his grief and frustration as anger on his wife and now three daughters. Always a drinker, he became more reliant upon the booze, drinking every night and more frequently during the day. He would strike his wife when he went home , it was his right. He was the man of the family and she did as he told her. He slept with many other women, not bothering to go home some nights. He didn’t care if his wife found out or the children- he didn’t bother to hide it. His children did find out though and when his wife eventually believed them she divorced him for sleeping with a woman old enough to be his mother! He moved back in with his brother and waited for the ” Mam told you this would happen!” Which did come, of course.
