Peter stood in the front garden of Hope Cottage some distance from the house. Around him were the long abandoned vegetable plots that Alice and Jed had begun to cultivate and that he and Evie had inherited. It was a sunny day but a chill wind was blowing in from the North Sea.
His thoughts drifted back to the time when Jed was building the house, full of hope and ambition for Alice and himself. Within those walls, fate had dealt an uncompromising hand, one that had brought with it anger, recrimination and loss.
The machine’s engine started up and Peter felt a shiver run down his spine. There was a deafening roar as the driver accelerated and the crane came slowly into view round the side of the house, a large demolition ball hanging from its boom. The crane positioned itself close to the front door and, with a deft swing of the boom, sent the wrecking ball thundering into the wall of the front bedroom. Glass from the windows shattered and masonry tumbled into a dusty pile on the front porch.
It seemed to Peter that within those crumbling walls ambition and passion had created a toxic energy that had bred deceit and betrayal, contaminating each new generation with its venomous tentacles. Destroying the house, symbolically, put an end to the physical embodiment of this evil, though the psychological scars remained.
The wrecking ball came crashing into the roof, sending splinters of wood and tile cascading to the ground.
“Daddy, I can’t see from here. What’s happening?”
“I’m sorry, Michael. I got carried away with my own thoughts. Let me bring you over here,” replied Peter as he took hold of Michael’s wheelchair and brought him closer to where he was standing.
“Do you want to stand up? You can use your sticks if you want.”
“Can you hold me up, Daddy?”
“I’ll be beside you in case you fall,” replied Peter, taking care as he helped Michael to his feet.
“Is this where I used to live, Daddy, when I was first born?”
And here was Michael, tangible evidence of that inherited curse.
A shattering explosion brought him back to the present. The steel wrecking ball had delivered a terminal blow to the end gable which had now crashed to the ground leaving a gaping hole in what had once been Evie’s room.
“Daddy, how old was I when Mummy died? Daddy, you’re not listening to me. How old was I when Mummy died?”
“I’m sorry, Michael. It was seven years ago. You were just five. Mummy was there for your fifth birthday.”
“I think I can remember. Didn’t you give me a car that I could sit in and pedal? Was that my fifth birthday?”
“Yes, I think you’re right. I remember now, Mummy came downstairs and sat with us in the sitting room. Do you remember that, Michael?”
YOU ARE READING
The Guest Who Stayed
RomanceHe closed his eyes again and tried to remember. There had been a fight. Alice was there. She had been naked, screaming and hitting him. He remembered entering the house. He was holding his shotgun. He had wanted to teach them both a lesson. Before t...
