A long-ago, forgotten lost love...
Every now and then I get brief flashes in my minds-eye, fragmented memories trying to assert their presence. I think they're memories, I am not sure, I used to hold the notion that it was an untapped part of my brain firing up momentarily predicting my future path on the road that is life. Now I have become cynical, my views and beliefs in life rigid and fixed.
I have not chased these 'flashes' in more years than I care to remember, I blink and the dance away into nothingness. They seem so eerily familiar, and yet the nanosecond they disappear I forget until the next time.
A conversation I had today with my not quite 3 year old Daughter had a profound effect on me, through her imaginative play with her dolls a memory surfaced, I saw the scene play out in my head, yet I recognised none of the participants.
The majestic dolls house sat on display in the middle of the great room, I saw a child with bouncy blond curls hurry towards it "Its tea time" she spoke anxiously to someone I couldn't see. "they must be famished." She twisted the lock on the side of the doll's house and grabbed on, pulling with all her might. I could see her glaring openly at someone out with my field of view. Finally she pulled it open the huge door and sat cross legged in front of it. A small red haired boy appeared through one of the glass doors covering the wall to the far end. I hadn't noticed that before, now I look out onto a flowing field of green luscious grass glinting in the evening sun.
I sit back a moment perplexed, unsure who, where or why I was seeing what I was seeing. I shook my head and dismissed the persistent gnaw from my subconscious and continued playing with my Daughter.
The afternoon dawned of my Daughter's sixth Birthday Party; I had spent the morning in a haze of wrapping paper, presents and other associated accoutrements'. Lavender balloons and banners covered the walls of my living room, a table in the corner was covered with a lavender and cream cloth awaiting the food that would rest there. The un-opened presents sat stacked on a small table in front of the television – I knew they wouldn't stay there for very long. I glanced briefly at the calm before the storm, the storm being a few dozen six-year-olds timed to descend in T-minus 30 minutes. The doorbell sounded yanking me out of my calm ravine, checking my watch I wondered who it could be. Upon opening the door I smiled warmly at the man hidden behind a mountain of gift bags. He heaved them towards me then disappeared.
"Where are you going?" I asked.
"Forgot something, I'll be back in a minute." Shrugging I wandered back into the house, depositing the presents with all the rest.
I heard a grunt from the hallway and I set off to investigate, he was struggling to carry a massive box; it looked heavy.
"What have you got there" Curiosity piqued.
"Give me a hand into the living room and I'll show you? As long as you know who isn't around" I grabbed one edge of the box and he let me take some of the weight, my arms strained but we made it safely into the living room.
"She's not back yet, you've got about fifteen minutes, now come on let me see." He smiled mischievously at me and lifted the lids of the box.
I gasped in surprise, in recognition – something ebbed gently at my subconscious.
I was back in the same room I vaguely remember from a few years ago, the doll's house sat hugging the right wall, no longer given pride of place this day, the glass wall of doors stands open, the fresh breeze flowing in. I can smell freshly cut grass, roses in bloom and something else, mingled with the sweet scents something putrid and disgusting; I could taste metal in the air.
I jumped back quickly nearly knocked a stack of presents off of the table. "I'm sure she'll love it" I say as I run from the room. Even in my whatever-you-call-them I recognised the smell of blood. Rattled I wandered into the kitchen.
The gentle breeze tickled my legs momentarily while the sun hid behind the only clouds in the sky. I was grateful for that single moment of coolness; the sun however emerged victorious against the retreating clouds.
"Are you coming for a swim?" my Daughter appeared blocking the sun from kissing my skin. I lowered my sun glasses and looked at her. I considered the question but decided against it.
"No, not right now I'm enjoying reading in the sun" I said. She smiled the same mischievous smile as her Father. Neurons began firing, I knew what was about to happen but I wasn't quick enough. I could see his figure approaching fast; I had enough time to set my kindle to the side before he scooped me up in his arms and ran. I could hear the delightful sound of my daughter giggling as she followed us, it was the best sound I'd ever hear – I knew that from the first time I heard it.
"No, no don't you DAREEEEEEEEEE" I squealed as he jumped of the side, we seemed to fly through the air in slow motion before the cold water met our bodies. We sank to the bottom, he refused to let go, even with me struggling in protest, his grip remained fast. As we rose to the surface the sun's rays sparkled off the water all around us.
"You can let me go now" I motioned to him. He smiled.
"Watch out I'm coming" I heard her just as her huge splash sent water cascading over us again.
"No look, you've got to do it this way" the small blond haired girl said as she applied expensive looking makeup onto a doll. "I've watched my mummy do this, you have to get it perfect, she says it's even better when people don't realise you have got makeup on. Come here you try." The calmness of the great room overwhelmed me as it did the first time. The birds chirping outside, the aroma of freshly cut grass swirling in through the open door, the softness of the rug under my feet. It felt familiar, comfortable; until the raised voices and screaming pierced the air.
"Are you okay? You look scared" he said. "Where did you go?" his skilful hands stroking my face, I shook my head, yet the memories of what I'd seen in my visions stayed. It appeared that this time I could not shake them. I struggled out of his grasp and made for my sun lounger.
"I don't know how lucid he is today, so be prepared. Is your Husband not with you today?" The Nurse says as she leads me down an all too familiar corridor. "He's just parking the car" I say dismissively. "How is he after the latest infection, any improvement?" her eyes suddenly find something of great interest on the floor, she will not meet my eyes. "No, if anything his SATS are worse, can't get him above 93% and that's continuous O2. But I'm sure his Doctor will fill you in, I could get him to come and see you?" she questions. I shake my head "I'd rather hear it from you, you spend more time caring for him than anyone, you're the better informed." I see a ghost of a smile on her lips, a Doctor never mind a surgeon admitting that Nurses do a more important job, I must have made her day.
"Well, as I said we are having difficulty keeping his oxygen saturation up, it keeps dropping. But with COPD that's hardly unusual. We've given him exercises to try and dislodge the phlegm from his chest, but he's reluctant to do them."
"More like bloody stubborn" I fume, I gesture her to continue.
"Most of the nursing, Physio and care assistants have tried to persuade him, but there's not a lot we can do in that respect. If he's now willing I mean." I nod knowingly "The Doctor has requested a TEE – but that may involve giving your Father sedation to access the oesophagus, I'm not convinced. He's failing I'm sorry to say. Take a look at his notes and see for yourself I've taken the liberty of pulling them when I knew you were coming."
I took the thick bundle of notes from the nurse's outstretched hand, I smiled at this woman, she had taken exemplary care of my Father over the years. I knew I didn't need to look at the notes, I trusted her, my Father was on a steep downward spiral. He'd reiterated to me a number of times that he didn't want to be here anymore, I had seen it many times before, though it stung sharply when it was your own Father's words.
"You ok?" my Husband asked as he grasped me by the elbow, the nurse smiled politely and left us to it.
"She basically said he's failing and failing fast. I had expected it for a long time, but I don't know..." tears threatened to escape their watery prison; my Husband enveloped me in his arms and gently stroked my back. "Let's go and see how he is." I grabbed his hand, as usual he lent some of his strength to me as we walked into my Father's room.
"Hi Dad, how are you feeling today" I said, he was a ghostly form in a big bed that seemed to shrink him further.
"Alright darlin' I'm so, so. Did you bring my beautiful Granddaughter with you?" his face lit up briefly as the words spilled from his lips.
"She's at Elliot's Dad. Are you up for a little chat?"
"Ah you brought your Husband though, it must be serious. Aaaah sure, fire away, what's got you looking so worried?"
I pulled two chairs up beside his bed.
"For as long as I can remember I have had flashes of images in my head, suddenly I'd see a child's face, remember a child's toy or see myself in a great room with a wall of glass. Up until Grace was 3 I had ignored those flashes, pushed them to the back of my mind, but every now and again I go back if you like, am I seeing something that happened Dad or am I imagining it?" he considered my story carefully, his bony hand scratching his head.
"Tell me what you see." I described in detail the small girl with blond curly hair, the little red haired boy and the grand room with the elegant dolls' house. I told him about the sounds and smells, I told him how I couldn't understand what I was seeing. The little girl talking to someone I could not see. When I had finished he looked at me blankly as if staring into space.
"Dad?" I asked.
"Mmmmm I didn't think you'd ever remember that Con, it was such a long time ago." I looked at the two men beside me confused.
"Remember what dad? What happened?" I probed, hoping against hope he was able to tell me.
"One summer when you were about five years old, your Mother was ill and I got a job in the countryside. I had no other choice but to take you with me, I'd figured you could play while I worked, so I could keep an eye on you. It didn't work out that way, the minute the woman who'd hired me spotted you in amongst the wood and tools she said this wasn't a place for small children and rightly so." He paused gathering his thoughts and adjusting his nasal tube; we hung on the edge of our seats, praying for more.
"Morrison, that's what her name was, real nice lady. She offered to take you on the days I was working, I agreed after all I didn't want you getting hurt. She had two little kids of her own, Evangeline I forget what the boy was called. Evangeline, not a name you could forget." I gasped as memories began to detangle in my head.
"You spent the entire summer playing with those kids; I remember seeing you in that room from outside. I forget what we were building, a pool hut or something fancy like that. Then one day all hell broke loose, some nutter broke into the house in broad daylight, me and the guys were off in town picking up more stuff, I really don't know what happened. Alls I know is we came back to hell, Angela. That's Mrs Morrison was in the house with you kiddies, it was a big old place as well, I think they came from money, but were real nice people. She'd tried to fight off the men trying to steal things from right under her nose; it didn't go down well with them though. Now alls I know is from what Mike told me, they had sawn off shotguns and while one was struggling with Angela it went off by accident apparently – that I'd believe horrible things. The wee boy seen it all, everything he couldn't move with fear, rightly so I'd not have moved either. Up shot of it is Angela and the wee boy died, I found you hiding in the dolls' house in the nursery, I never forgot that ripped my heart out what those bastards did. You were safe though and I got you out of there as soon as I could, by that time your Mother was better and back living at home. We both hoped and prayed you'd never remember. Guess some things you're never meant to forget." He finished and we sat in stunned silence, for what felt like a life time. The disjointed images began to join firmly together. I remembered.
"What happened to the little girl dad?" he looked confused.
"When's your Mother coming home its nearly super time" and we'd lost him again. I got up and hugged him tightly, promising to visit tomorrow.
"Do you remember?" my husband asked as we both snuggled in front of the fire.
"I remember bits, I remember the shouting and screaming, the smell of blood and something else... the gun perhaps I don't know. I do remember that Eva and the fact we made a promise to be best friends forever. It's painful that I've forgotten her for so long." He placed a reassuring arm around my shoulder pulling me close to his side.
"I was enchanted by her, I remember that, she was this exotic creature that done everything with such precision and grace. She was bi-lingual too, she spoke French I think it was. She had a way of telling stories about her holiday's abroad that bewitched me; I hung on her every word. I wish I could remember those stories now." I said sadly.
"It's perfectly normal to block out a horrific experience from childhood, you couldn't remember her without remembering what happened could you?" I shook my head "Do you think that's maybe at the root of why you find it hard having close friends?" I hadn't even considered this; it was all foreign territory to me. Though some part of me knew that the events that day changed my course in life, who I would become and what I was to do.
"Before I forget I found this earlier while you were making dinner" he produced an A4 printed sheet of paper.
On the afternoon of the 25th of July armed robbers forcibly entered a house just off Hall Road, the occupants' of the house a Mrs Angelica Morrison, her 8 year old son Andrew were killed by the thief's. Who it appears were hired to steal a priceless Van Gogh painting that hung in their hall. Sources within the police tell us the young boy witnessed his Mother's murder. It is at this time unknown what happened to the Morrison's 6 year old Daughter Evangeline, she is thought to have later died in hospital. It was also reported that another child survived this brutal and vicious assault, said child was visiting for the summer. As of today nobody has been arrested, but the police have issued these sketches of the men believed to be fleeing the scene in a Blue Ford type car, if you have any informat... blah blah
"Quick Connie, hide!" I heard Eva say. "I'll go and spy to see what's going on" she helped me pull open the door to the doll's house and I hid inside. I heard her open the door to the play room. Minutes later I heard more raised voices and bangs, I covered my ears with my hands to block out the noise. The makeup and dolls lay forgotten on the floor.
"There wasn't anyone else in the room Sam, it was me she was talking too. That's why I couldn't see anyone it was me" I sobbed.
"It's okay darling, you're safe you are with me, I've got you"
I clutched the photo of Eva's family in happier times tightly close to my heart.
I continued to cry for my long lost friend whom I'd once loved.
