seven years earlier
SEVEN YEARS EARLIER.
It was a cold and blustery November afternoon. Autumn leaves danced amongst the headstones in the church grounds. People gathered around the open grave. Pam, gripped hands with her seven-year-old son. A big baby bump protruded from her slender body. The wind picked up pace, whipping her long silky dark brown hair across her face as she threw a single rose into the hole. Her son held a childish drawing of himself, riding a scooter with one leg out, the way his father taught him. He turned to his mother. She squeezed her worried little boy’s hand gently and winked,
“Don’t be scared, Harry, be strong.”
Hands shaking, he dropped the drawing; it fluttered deep into the hole. The priest waited, then crossed his heart and threw a handful of dirt on top of the coffin.
“Let us commend unto the mercy of God, Joshua Harry…” his voice trailed off.
Creepy Carl edged closer to Pam. His dark wavy mullet defying the laws of gravity with equal contempt. His face like a mask, controlled, in order to have a particular effect on her. It doesn’t. Pam stood firm, pulling her black wool coat a little tighter around her body. She waited until the priest had finished his prayer, then took the boy’s hand and walked away from the hostile crowd. Creepy Carl followed. He grabbed her by the arm, Pam yanked it away, bent down to her son and whispered,
“Harry, be a good boy, go and wait by the car for Mummy.”
Harry did as he was told. As soon as he was out of earshot Pam turned to face creepy Carl.
“I don’t want to talk to you, not here, not ever, show some respect for your brother, will you?”
“Why should I?” he growled. “He never showed me any, you turned him against me.”
“You did that yourself, Carl. You poisoned your family against me with your twisted lies, but your brother saw straight through you.”
He leant into Pam, so close, she could feel his warm cigarette breath on her cheek. “It doesn’t have to be like this, me and you…”
“There is no me and you, there never was, and there never will be. You’re not half the man Josh was. In fact, what are you?” Pam eyed him up and down. “Five, eight, bit less, maybe?”
“Then you better start packing,” he sneered.
“Over my dead body. I will fight you all the way, not for me, for Josh’s children…ouch!”
Pam grabbed her tummy, stooped forward and fell to the ground.
“MUMMY! NO! Harry raced across the grass, tripping and falling.
